Life ain't linear.

[KB.]

Life ain't linear.

"Even there, in the mines, underground, I may find a human heart in another convict and murderer by my side, and I may make friends with him, for even there one may live and love and suffer. One may thaw and revive a frozen heart in that convict, one may wait upon him for years, and at last bring up from the dark depths a lofty soul, a feeling, suffering creature; one may bring forth an angel, create a hero! There are so many of them, hundreds of them, and we are to blame for them."

- The Brothers Karamazov

If you saw someone reading, and quoting; Fyodor Dostoevsky while listening to Tone-Loc sing "Wild Thing", what would you think?

I did something for the first time in all my thirty years today. I left a place when I really didn't want to. Want and need are far apart, Jupiter sized distances. I walked into Joanie's today after I had packed, can you really call it packing when a grown ass man can fit everything he owns in an eleven year old semi-compact car? I guess to be fair to myself I did leave behind a desk, a chair, some plastic container half full of things I hadn't looked at in six months, and a 27 inch television. I figure Andrew will claim the chair, the desk might be fit for kindling, the container is up for grabs, and the television will help to entertain the beautiful young son of a Muse. I walked in, sat down at the bar lit a smoke, got my glass of tea, and ordered my chicken sandwich, with bacon. They need to make that a special, Kevin's "everything is better with bacon" crispy chicken sammich. Serve it on Mondays, you have to leave the tomato on it, and it comes with extra chips. Don't forget the hot sauce. I don't know what it will cost, but it will cost you more than it costs me.

Mona had me a little present, a nice Hawaiian shirt, Samoan colors she said; earth tones. She also had a copy of her group's CD; I can't wait to listen to it. I was there for all of four minutes before the Allman Brothers came over the radio singing "Rambling Man"; got to love it. Joanie made sure I got a shirt finally, extra large, olive green. I tried my best to get out of pictures. I got the address of a someone who can't read these stories on the internet. I'll just have to print them up and mail them. I asked Christine to take some pictures over the next week, send them to my email, and she told me she would make a cd and mail me that as well. I tried my best to get out of the pictures, but Mona figured out how to use her camera phone, and so I got one with Lauren, and Lauren took one of Mona and me. I have a huge freakin head. I stayed a couple of hours, putting off the last paragraph. I used to many adjectives. I got my hugs, a kiss on the cheek, a hand shake, and I walked out the door as Mona said Ryan wanted me to come back and give him a hug and kiss too. I smiled, nice and big; even chuckled a little. It was a nice paragraph. Only thing that could have made it better was naked women and bags of money.

I drove down I-55, south, dreading the lack of a radio. I was scared what my head would conjure up as I sat there in the quiet. Maybe it was a prayer someone said for me. I asked an old friend to say one for my poor car, and my poor head. They both made it just fine, only one small moment of doubt for each. That was the easiest trip away from a place I have ever made. I had a lot of fine, fine thoughts to keep me company. Already got a trip back working its way into fruition.

I'll tell you a secret. Life is not linear, and neither are my stories. Watch.

Sunday was an interesting day. I spent nine hours, sober until the last two, at the center of the universe. There were quite a few people missing, but the company was good regardless. There was of course the guy who told the story about hitting a man so hard it gave him a heavy concussion, yet oddly enough there was not a mark on this pugilists hands. I heard that story fourteen times, yes I counted; unoriginal bastard. Then just as the coast seems to clear in walks some construct of horror; had to have been a robot, no way a human could talk for three hours, loudly, and never take a breath. I love commas. I had Al, and Dennis to keep me company. I had Ryan, and Colleen (I figure I spelled her name wrong, someone who knows can correct me), and Christine to sit around with. Romeo showed up around nine, and when the robot finally left we moved back to the bar. We talked about Baseball, music, and vernacular. We talked about how Missouri ain't the South anymore, regardless of the fact that Mark Twain was from right up the road, to the north. We talked about White Russians, Al makes them smooth as silk. We talked about obsessions and compulsions, we discussed the fact that Microsoft Word doesn't think that ain't is a word, and that hollar is spelled with an "e". Dennis pointed at me at one point a few minutes before the doors closed, and referring to the pretending pugilist asked why couldn't he move and I could stay. Amazing how something so simple, maybe not even remembered the next day by the person that said it; can mean so much to the person it is said to.

Romeo and I walked outside, sat down on the same bench that I had sat on when the dog parade came through Soulard. It was a cold day, I sat there with a young man and we aggravated his mother. Both times I sat there, one on a cold windy day, and the other on a warm rainy night I was pretty damned content. Anxious and worried, but content. Romeo and I talked about a lot of things, while pale soviets sang us lullabies. We talked about writing, how cheap the cost of housing is in Boise. We talked about love, and humanity. We watched the robot stumble out of the gay bar across the street. There might have even been a declarative statement made. I got home, sat down to write and decided to succumb to the lullaby instead. Fell fast asleep, no dreams about spiders amd thier webs, brightly colored trains, or men fighting in tall grass. (Weird ass ****, yeah I know believe me).

I missed a redhead who should run for Queen of Soulard, a short Mexican named Juan, a fast talking brother named Brian, and a long legged blonde named Lauren. (Yall really screwed up my rainbow coalition picture I had planned) That's alright though. I had an Italian with a mean sense of humor, a Layman who plays poker, a man who knows as much about baseball as music, a Philipino who gave me a book about hell, one about three brothers, and one by Pascal. There was a White Russian or three in there some where as well. Someone should paint a mural.

I have no fear that someone may try and steal my car tonite, I didn't even unpack it yet.

Sometimes the end happens before the beginning. Life ain't linear. Love may very well precede friendship; forget chemistry and emotion both. Fate rules them all from a very high seat.

I've got myself some time to relax a bit before I head back to work, I need it. I have a lot of things I need to try and get done in the next year or so. I was in St. Louis thirteen months to the day when I left this afternoon. Almost to the hour. Fitting number, I don't believe in luck, not one bit.

Life isn't linear, only a zombie walks mindlessly from point A to point B with out distraction, turning back, taking a side road. Some folks will never ever really live or understand what it is to live. It is all about the stories. As long as you have a story you have done good for yourself. It can be about the baby's first laugh, the date with the guy you didn't know was engaged, the time your husband drove to Kentucky looking for valentine shaped runts. It might be a story about buttercups and your Grandmother, it might be one about the beautiful little girl you adopted. The story might be about your daughter winning a softball tournament, or dance lessons with your husband. The time you destroyed the competition while playing washers in Kirby's back yard. It might have something to do with riding a motorcycle to Little Sturgis with the person who knows you best. The crush you had in the third grade that wore a charm bracelet. Maybe when you got married even the preacher wore a Hawaiian shirt. Maybe someone wrote you hundreds of pages of letters one time when they were far away from their best friend. You might tell about a barn close to your house that you think someone would like. You might recall one day while sitting in some dark, smokey bar about the smartest, kindest, darkest haired little woman you ever knew. Tell some folks about how you and your favorite bartender were born in the same hospital in Hawaii, and both ended up in small towns shortly afterwards, then found yourselves talking about Percy Sledge in a little corner bar in Soulard. Do you know someone who has a fish named Merlot that they keep in an oversized wine glass? You might tell someone how your daddy was a God fearing man, and it was in your DNA to love like you do, and how Jesus sneezed. Maybe you will tell a story about a Muse, a love, a chicken sandwich, a stolen pickle, and pizzeria that is located in the exact center of the universe. Just remember to tell a story about a mean son of a bitch, nasty, cussed like a sailor, smoked like a freight train, and never smiled, much. Literary license works in real life to. Hell, I might tell a story about them all.

KB

People create stories create people; or rather stories create people create stories.

Chinua Achebe

[Patsy Warnick]

Loved your story

cussed like a sailor, smoked like a freight train - you met my Dad.

Patsy

[minks]

that was good.

[RedGlitter]

Another winner, KB.

[zinkyusa]

i think you're a hit.

[KB.]

I think this was my favorite so far. It may be the first I send in to a few magazines, journals, etc to see if I can get some ink on my resume. I'll have to revise a bit, and edit some. but I liked this one.

[minks]

KB.;629685 wrote: I think this was my favorite so far. It may be the first I send in to a few magazines, journals, etc to see if I can get some ink on my resume. I'll have to revise a bit, and edit some. but I liked this one.


let us know when and where you get it published

[KB.]

minks;629686 wrote: let us know when and where you get it published


I like the way you worded that.

[minks]

KB.;629690 wrote: I like the way you worded that.


YW