Before they came into my life
I was expecting to live fast and die before 45
Whoops that changed when I bought life insurance on them and myself
Before they came I was very self centered and felt I could just drop out of married life
Before the arrived I thought the title father would never be applied to me
Before they arrived I thought I knew what exhausted was
Before they arrived I knew that I didn’t know what love was about
Before they arrived I didn’t feel the need to ensure my legacy
Before they arrived I knew emptiness
Before they arrived bath time was a bottle of wine, candle and some jazz playing from the other room
Before they arrived is a place I never want to visit
SlurWhen I played tuba in my high school orchestra, the notes blended together smoothly, velvetly. We were one voice and our audience was the target.
The books I’ve read, both comics and straight literature, contained millions of words in various formats. I’ve lived my life studying the written page, and it all breaks down to 26 letters in various combinations. You’d think by now we’d have more letters at least.
I’ve spoken billions upon billions of words, mostly pronounced correctly, mostly in English, some were from the page and some from my imagination.
I’ve dreamed amongst the best of them, fantasy and nightmares beyond reason or explaination. But can I tell you what I dreamed of last night, not a chance.
People have drifted into and out of my life on a daily basis, recalling their names if a gun was put to my head would lead to a quick death.
It seems to me this is all based on memory, and mine is faulty. Regurgitation of facts, poems, notes and melodies, nomenclature and fiction seems to be a poor way to truly live.
I have 6300 pictures and videos of my daughters in hopes to provide them with a fixed point of remembrance, as they learn to dechiper language, music, art and life.
Today’s challenge is rythmic
I’m standing in the rain on a bridge crossing I95 facing south
The whoosh of the cars is infrequent as it is 3am on a Sunday
Sometimes it is long as they travel down the far right lane hitting the oh shit rumble strips with their tires thuda thuda thuda for a few seconds until they wake from their soft slumber and jerk the car to the left instinctually
Other times it reminds me of dragonflies whisping by, hurtling their metal bodies into the dark after a failed attempt at romance in the big city, they are trying g to escape the walk of shame or the knowing looks from strangers who always seem to know you came to quick or not at all
The late night CSX trains can be heard between the early morning wolfpack commuters, the churning struggle to get all that cargo to DC or farther up the coast. The engines resigned to the fact that their eternity is spent on two rails and their future is not their own. Waves of despairation echo off the trees, bogs, hills and shopping centers
The parking lot sulfur orange amber flood lights provide the backing bass hum that ties it all together when there are no other noises. Even in the winter chill, as long as that light is on the world is a tenth of a degree warmer, I feel safer as now I can see potential evil and good
My late night symphony is complete, I applaud it and am an unwilling patron of this art. My season pass does not include a seat near the orchestra, I lean over the railing with my tin encased coffee mug, pinging off anything metal and making a medium high pitched resonate tone, maybe mezzo soprano.
Bravo civil planning bravo
I used to roll my cigarettes in this case
The design became a tattoo
Now I hide coins from trips to Paris in there
I smoke to get away from the stress of the day
I once smoked as a treat for hard work
As my friends stopped smoking the place where I now imbibe is getting colder
Now my hard work has turned into just getting through to the next break
I’m hiding out on life by keeping people away with a puff of smoke and wondering why the lonliness creeps at the back of my neck
My hideout is my addiction and I want to break free
I want to create a new persona that isn’t keen on self destruction
I want to shake your hand and introduce myself as who I want to be
Great article on why I call myself a writer
My girls looked out the window as I left for another appointment
Waving frantically for papa to return
Their eyes glitter in the sun
Their smiles fade to sobs then tears as my wife nudges them back to the table
When I return home pictures will appear
They will have napped and forgotten that I left
Another round of hugs and kisses
And the glitter in their eyes return
The first year after the birth didn’t go by fast
I just can’t remember anything
I have pictures I have people who told me what happened but as far as 4k high definition memories I haven’t a clue
I know I bought a house, I know I had 4 surgeries, I know I essentially took over my department, but that is all I know
I bought comic books I don’t remember reading them
I took a video at my mother’s grave but I haven’t been back since
I’ve lost that year forever, it’s only in pictures now
I’m wondering how many others I’ve lost that I can’t remember not remembering that I’ve lost them