Blog 11 Random Thoughts

Blog 11 Random Thoughts

Hello my friends.  I haven’t been able to find the time or the energy to blog much lately.  That doesn’t mean that I haven’t been writing.  I’ve been jotting down quick notes and thoughts in my Google documents.  I thought instead of creating a new blog on a particular subject, I would instead put in some of my random rantings.  Enjoy  8-)

October 12 On the subject of things I have and things I lost.

I really hate that I lost my favorite denim jacket from my high school years, I thought about it as I looked around.  It was a direct tangible link to my past that I loved to put on both physically and spiritually.  I always called it my girl.  I found it in the debris but for some reason I didn’t take it back to our refuge.  The first team to “gut” our house got rid of it-they didn’t know and I wasn’t there.  That makes me really sad.  Feels like I lost a friend.  F*cking hurricane.

September 27 On the subject of my Mistress.

I’ve decided to come clean and admit a few things.  You know, try and clear my conscience.  The truth of the matter is, I have a mistress.  

There I said it.  I proved Bonnie right I guess.  You should see her though.  One look at her will change your life.  Get to know her, and years fall like leaves in the Autumn.  She’s tall and thin, with long black hair so dark it could easily pass for blue in the right light.  Legs, oh the legs, the best kind.  The ones with feet on one end and ...well, never mind.  Her skin is soft and pale and she has eyes that seem to burn a hole straight down to your soul.  They’re empty eyes though, like a shark, just as Quint said.  Most every time I see her she’s dressed in either black or white.  No color, no joyous yellows or sky blues.  Not even a ruby red.  Just black and that pale skin.  Waiting for me.  Every day.  Every night.

Sometimes she’s a dragon slithering under my blankie and settling upon the small of my back.  I can feel her weight, and I cringe every time her nails pierce my flesh.  The gargoyle in my window hasn’t been able to stop her from spending the night with me.  When I find myself alone and the world has gone silent, I talk to her.  I beg her to leave but she doesn’t listen.  She seems to love me with such passion and conviction.  One would think that my spirit and my appearance has diminished to a level which she would not find acceptable.  But alas she loves me yet.  

I have a mistress, and her name is pain.

August 27 Friends

We went down and picked out the coffin.  Made the other arrangements.  Bought the flowers. It feels like you are just going through the motions at that point.  Taking care of what has to be done.  Trying to get everything set up right.  The funeral home worked with us and we had things as best we could.  Later that night we held a wake.  Somehow I managed to hold it together throughout.  Dad’s body looked horrible.  The pain in my back from all the standing was some of the worst I’ve experienced, as was the pain in my heart.  I had a lot of help from Robin, Britney and Xanax.  The funeral was set for the next day.

The next day I put on a dark suit and traveled to the run down ratty funeral home to bury my father.  Robin helped me through the front door of the funeral home and then my life changed again.  There standing before me was Jeremy Lloyd Burge.  Let me be more clear, there standing before me was my brother Jeremy Lloyd Burge.  In all my life I have never had such a feeling. Jeremy landed in Tennessee and couldn't get a flight back due to a huge ice storm.  So, being the man he is, he rented a car and drove 8 hours through an ice storm to carry my father to his grave.  If you are lucky, I mean really really lucky, you get 1 friend like that in your life.  

     I had lived my entire life up to that point as an only child.  But it was there, in that shit hole of a building, that I saw my brother for the first time.  I saw that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do for me.  Tears, excitement, gratefulness...I ran a gamut of emotions. I pray that in the time he and I have left here on earth, that I somehow get to repay him for this kindness.

This is a short story I wrote while waiting for Robin at a hospital.

As I sit here in this ever shrinking waiting room, I start to imagine who my wait-mates are.  They, just like me, have a loved one a few yards behind a huge door.  Every few minutes a different nurse pops her head and shouts one of our last names like a hostess at some dank eatery.  I keep wondering, how many different nurses do they have back there?  On we wait.  Hoping and praying for our dears.  I’ve been playing this game for a long time and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest to sit here for several hours.  I love my wife, and I would do anything on Earth for her.  This is nothing.

Some of my neighbors look positively disgusted that they have to be here.  As a man, I can not imagine feeling that way at a time like this.  Your love is alone back there.  Cold.  Hoping and praying for good news.  You’re sitting here in the sun with a view of The Big Easy out of the south window.  Undoubtedly it will be your ass on a slab back there one day.  Then maybe you’ll feel a little differently about having to share this room with me.  

A quick scan reveals that we are at about roughly 50% capacity.  Plenty more room for my fellow waiters.  Over in the corner is a young fellow who looks to have made about 25 or so trips around the sun.  Rather sloppily dressed.  No socks.  He’s been playing on his cell all morning.  I wish my battery ran that long.  I can’t imagine who he’s here waiting for.  This area is usually occupied by those of us who, like the proverbial fine wine, have aged a bit.  

Across and to the left of me is a man of advanced years.  75ish maybe 80.  It looks like he finally managed to wrangle that booger out of his nose.  I don’t know who it was bothering more, him or me.  He’s now moved own to running a pinky in and around his ear canal.  Shit, he earned it.  Let him dig.  I think I’ll tag him “The Miner.”

Eh, a few more new friends and I’m going to have to take my backpack out of the seat next to me.  So far it’s been successful at warding off all comers.  And of course I sat on the end of a row so as to eliminate the possibility of someone touching me on that side.  At times my damaged olfactory nerve is an annoyance, days like this it’s a true blessing, for a lot of my roomies here look like they smell bad.

An hour or so ago they rolled an elderly black lady into the room.  She’s still sitting there breathing in the oxygen affixed to her nose, the bottle resting on the step of the wheelchair.  She’s frail.  And she’s loud.  She’s made me snicker a few times already.  I don’t think she puts up with any shit from her (grown) kids.  I hope she’s OK.  Based on my expert peer observation, her spirit is  as strong as ever but her body is fast giving up on this life.  I hope she’s OK.  She looks like a Melba to me.  I bet they call her maw-maw Melba.

Wow, that kid is still on his cell gaming.  Hell of a battery.  And sadly, the Miner has discovered the other nostril.

The room is filling much faster now.  Only a few seats left.  Almost no pairs to be had.

A dying laptop battery just sent me scurrying through the waiting room to find a wall outlet for my charger.  Thankfully the logical part of my brain was still in control and located behind a tiny love seat free power.  Now I have a whole new set of  immediate neighbors.  I feel like the new kid in school.  I said the proper “Hello” to these new friends of mine.  None of them wanted to converse either, thankfully.  The influx of new roomies has began to ebb somewhat.

Now on my left is a man wearing slacks and cheap shoes.  Short sleeve button down shirt.  Mustache.  Not intelligent enough to be an engineer.  Perhaps a middle school science teacher.  I don’t see a wedding ring, and I’m not surprised.  Suddenly just as I was evaluating his future, the nurse called his name and he bolted without haste.  I realize that he wasn’t waiting on anyone, he was waiting to go back for a procedure.  There’s no-one here waiting for Joseph, and that makes me a little bit sad for him.

The flow of the room is changing again and a sudden tsunami of humanity has descended upon us long time waiters.  There are so many choices for me to stereotype.  At least they call you by  name here and not a number. Over and over I have hard “I can help the next person in line.”  They’re fast here, and I like that.  Clear.  Efficient.  Things I strive to be in my own chosen profession.

Right about now I’d kill for a cigarette.

Fate has now dropped Adam and Eve into my lap.  They have taken over the seating formerly occupied by poor Joe.  And they’re speaking Francis.  That explains a lot.  They’re obviously married and look very happy together.  Moving and chatting as my own bride and I do.  The woman is having a procedure I manage to hear her say.  I really should have paid more attention during those two years of french I took.  They’re both very calm looking.  I feel like they know that they are here for each other and that’s really refreshing to me.  Nice looking couple.  He’s white and she’s black.

Ah shit.  Someone brought a damn kid.  Man, I don’t want to hear that bull shit.  Kids are the devil.  Abandon all hope!  He’s got some body's cane and he’s running around with it.  Little rat bastard.  Looks to be about 5.  Why aren’t you in school?  I can tell you his name’s Lane.  I know this because his fat ass mother has been screaming it for the last 5 minutes.  Some people shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce.  I bet when Lane grows up he’s profession is going to be inmate.  I could smack him around a bit, make it look like an accident.

The Miner is just staring out into space, and I think the 20-something lad finally killed his cell’s battery.  The science teacher is back in the OR getting violated.  Melba has been rolled to another corner of the hive.   I’m just sitting here charging my electronics and making up stories about these poor souls, just as they are likely doing to me.  My other has been back there for a long time and I’m worried.

Random and Dateless Babble
I just carved your name into the side of a bullet.

ANYTHING  ANYTIME  ANYWHERE

But we’re both good for a trip together once in a while, just to remember the times we spent together.

To K, I am so sorry.

Drive it in deep

I want to be somewhere where I can drive with the lights off on a full moon night.

We have our own secret hand signals and looks.

To be the best at what you do, you have to absolutely know that you are the very best.  And you can never tell that to anyone.

As I stepped between my two friends that were about to come to blows, reality slapped me in the face and reminded me that I’m 5’10” and 150#.  What the hell was I thinking?

There is something magical about doing something that requires you to put on a helmet.

THE GNOMES HAVE MY SOCKS AGAIN!