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What can once be written as the fortitude of possibility, of hope and dreams, of beauty in its uncertainty, is now tainted by the blaring horns of reality--relentless in tone and strength. "An evanescence of perceived good," one might say, though it's hard to diminish that which never was. In such foreboding times pride makes for an awful crutch, yet it wouldn't do much to idly stand in place. No, it's important to project happiness at all times--for this world, albeit limpid in its intention to be rooted to the ground, seeks only to float among the clouds.
I.E. - Fuck this.
My legs dangled from the cliff. The hair on my arms swayed with the errant breeze, and the grass beneath my fingers tickled the palms of my hands. I inhaled the sweet, ocean air that brought to mind my youth. A clean slate that remained so kind; so fragile.
I breathed deeply before letting out a roar as loud and clear as I could produce. My eyelids remained shut as the air projected itself from my lungs, through the canal of my throat, and into the wind. I was so angry at the wind. I wanted it to know how angry I was. But no matter how much I huffed, and how much I puffed, the wind did not seem to notice. I felt its serenity, as persistent and pronounced as ever. It is then, as the wind embraced me into its arms, that I realized that I will always forgive the wind, but never be able to.
2009-10-23 17:41:46 by NightCrawler
"Meet me by St. Francis." I've heard that phrase too many times to count throughout my youth. It started as the common place for all us kids to get a nickel's worth of candy from the gas station across the street from a statue of St. Francis. But eventually, as the years drifted by, candies turned into cigarettes, and St. Francis was our go-to guy to light up a smoke. It was a hotspot for the fellas and I, and only the fellas and I; that is until we got some lovely young ladies involved. Smitty was the first to bring his girl around and introduce her to the boys. It was awkward at first, every guy trying to act too cool for his own good, damn well makin' a fool out of Smitty. But the awkward first few minutes hardly ever last, and as the boys all loosened up a bit, laughter came through. Soon, our little circle of five young teenage boys evolved into a little circle of five young teenage boys with five young teenage girls. Then those pretty girls started bringin' some of their pretty girlfriends, some of which had boys with them, and before anyone even knew what happened, our little spot at St. Francis became the equivalent to the town plaza. This woulda bugged the shit out of me ordinarily, but seeing as how the boys and I were what you might consider founders of this here spot, there came a nice fluffy cushion of respect from all who attended. Hell, I could certainly live with that. Not to mention, jolly ol' St. Nick across the street would toss us a few free packs of cigs every now and again, for helpin' him bring in new customers.
Those were the years. But as is the case with all children 'cross America, we got older. My old man always taught me, "Age is defined by responsibility." Horseshit, I said in my head as I continued with the day's chores. But man, was he right. Much to my dismay, Momma became a widow when I was only nineteen. The scene continues to play in my head, from time to time. I was sittin' comfortably watching some Saturday morning cartoons when Momma picked up the phone. I didn't pay much attention, until I heard her body collapse against the wall, followed by her fallin' to her knees. I watched as she struggled to breathe. She only exhaled, didn't inhale, as if she was trying to get all of the hurt out of her body. But she didn't get the hurt out, and even though that was nearly sixteen years ago, I can see that it still lingers whenever I go and visit.
Pop never liked me goin' to St. Francis. In his eyes, I was avoiding responsibility. And looking back, I s'pose he was right; even though I'd be caught dead before admitting that to him back then. I haven't talked to any of the fellas in quite some time, and I'm sure all of 'em have moved on to bigger and better things by now. Only recently, I stopped by the gas station to pick up a pack of smokes. Jolly ol' St. Nick was replaced by some prick, all-too concerned with keepin' an orderly store than makin' friends. Reluctantly, I gave him my money, and as I stepped outside to light up, I looked across the street. Standin' as tall as ever, there was our man, St. Francis. But as I looked around, I was saddened to see that the town plaza was now vacant; not a single soul left. I walked across the street, set down my hat and briefcase, and propped myself up against the statue. I looked up at St. Francis, determined as ever to spread the good word. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed one of the greatest cigarettes there ever was.
While everyone seems to speak of the weather, and how it's slowly changing from pleasant to brisk, I seem to be one of the few admiring it's change. I've never had a problem with cold, to me it's always been more manageable than heat.
Actually, one of the best feelings is going to bed with nothing on but boxers and a t-shirt, and putting mass layers of blankets and quilts over you. You feel naked and bare, but you continue to harvest and amplify your own body heat. It's a bitch to have to wake up and get out of that though, I'll tell you that.
Another reason I appreciate the cold is the fact that it's fire season! And by fire season, I don't mean San Diego, I mean fires in a fire place! I've always found the concept of having a maintained fire within a very flammable house peculiar, but nonetheless, I appreciate it. I suppose what I appreciate most is the mystery you get from simply watching a fire. The ever so subtle roar of wood turning to ash, and the eventual crackle and pop you hear from who knows what; certainly not me. I sometimes curl up into as small a ball I can manage, and just lay there on the ground next to this flame, eyes adoring all it's beauty. How the fire brings pleasant sights and sound to make it all the more relaxing to delve into your own thoughts and fantasies. Oh how I could leap past those buildings, and have the strength of a thousand men combined, to be the perfect specimen of a man with the trio of beauty, brawns, and brains, all while continuing to be curled up into a ball, as vulnerable as I was when I believed these to be possible.
And with colder weather, there in lies another probability... snow. Another year, another place, another trip down memory lane.
"Stop recording! I look horrible," my mother would say. Would dad ever listen? Of course not.
"You never look horrible, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A corny remark, but who says corniness doesn't work? Certainly not my mother, as she laughed while decorating the Christmas tree with my sister. My sister was born 6 years before me, so in this memory of mine she was 9. Old enough to know how to change the record to play Bing Crosby's version of "White Christmas," not old enough to understand what he's singing about; or perhaps not old enough to care? Either way, clearly there was merriness in the air, everlasting memories caught in both film, and our hearts.
"Where was I during all of this?" you might ask. I was quiet, looking at the snow dwindling out of the visible moonlight, with my nose pressed against the icy glass. My head stayed tight, my eyes had an agenda of their own. It was the first memory I've had of snow, probably not the first time I'd seen it, but definitely the first time I quietly questioned it. The snow didn't fall straight down, as it hardly ever does, rather it glided on an angle, flowing with the steady current of wind. The shed which was distant in the background gave life to the snow accumulating on top of it.
"Hey little bub, what're you looking at?" My dad's camera was now pointed in my direction. I didn't lift my face from the glass, or even bother to turn my head. I didn't even open my mouth to speak any sort of words I barely had a grasp on at the time. The only reaction my dad received was the smile of sheer delight as I continued to peer out to the falling sky.
Jump to present day.
"Man, it sure is cold outside," you say to me, clearly desiring an alternative, to which I blissfully reply,
"Yes... yes it is."
The segments in italics represent a flashback sequence. :D
With a long black double-breasted coat, Edward stopped at the foot of her grave. His face, expressionless; but his mind was going through all the painfully happy memories he still had of Sally. He was still unsure of what he was doing there, rather than paying condolences after one year of her dieing, but there he stood. He stared to his left and saw the endless line of tombstones and memorials, all without visitation or any loved ones or friends. But as he turned his head and glanced to his right, along another seemingly endless row of graves, he saw a child. She couldn't have been more than 4 years old, and yet there she was placing a single red rose on the patch of grass in front of her.
Edward now knew why he was there. He swallowed down the excess saliva he had within his mouth, and began to speak.
"I remember when we were that young." His eyes weren't looking down, but rather staring straight out in front of him, looking into the distant hills. "How I miss our freedom, simplicity and innocence. I wonder where all that went..."
Edward paused for a moment, but continued. "Do you remember how we first met?" He nodded as if she had somehow said yes from her grave. "I was outside in the yard, walking around in the garden, and out of nowhere you approached me. We must've been five years old at the time, maybe younger."
"What are you doing?" Young Sally curiously asked.
Startled, little Edward wheeled, clearly inexpectant of anyone being there with him, especially a girl. "I... uhh, I'm trying to find a pink rose." Little Ed was clearly nervous.
"What's a rose?" Sally asked yet again.
Ed was surprised she didn't know. "Well, It's a flower, and it's very pretty. I have a red one here." He turned back around and picked up a red rose that he had found merely moments ago. "See?"
Sally smiled in a way only a child can, and laughed. "It IS very pretty. Can I keep it?" She gazed into Ed's eyes, hoping he'd share.
"Okay." Ed didn't know why he said okay, he had been searching for a red rose just as long as he'd been searching for a pink one! But maybe it was her eyes. He had never seen eye's like that. They were a piercing blue that glimmered in the sunlight. Realizing he'd been staring for quite some time, he asked, "Who are you?" He desperately wanted to know her name.
"I'm Sally! I live right there." She pointed to her left, to the house nearest. Apparently she had just moved into the neighborhood and was looking for a friend. "What's your name?"
"Eddie," he couldn't help but giggle.
"Hi Eddie," she giggled back. "I have to go back home, bye!"
"Wait!" But it was too late, she was already gone. Still on his knees, Ed was left in a state of awe by this strange yet mystifying girl who he'd known for less than a minute. But from that point on he knew he would love.
"It's weird how your presence made me feel... happy. And after that, I was always on the lookout for more red roses which I could give to you. Growing up, you and I were inseparable, it seemed. And you would always want to be my Valentine whenever February came 'round. I'll never forget that. It's a shame you and I never really got to be closer than friends. Well... except maybe that one time when we were 15."
"Ed! There you are!" Sally was now a lot taller than Ed, and was sprinting toward him on the hilltop. They embraced each other with a hug.
"Where have you been Sally? You were about to miss it!" It was the fourth of July, and it was 9:51 P.M. A mere 9 minutes away from blast off.
"Sorry, my friends were holding me back. Ugh, how dare they, right?!"
Ed chuckled, admiring the fact that she would rather be with him rather than anyone else. "Yeah, how dare they!"
Sally laughed and chit chatted with Ed for a bit, waiting for the fireworks to come along. But Ed noticed the goose bumps on Sally's arms. "Take this," he said as he offered her his jacket.
"Thank you so much! But what about you?" She was happy at the fact that the jacket was still warm.
"I'll be fine, don't worry." And out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. A flint of red light, which was followed by an explosion of light and sound. Looking down at his watch, he saw that it was 10:00 o'clock on the dot. "Perfect timing."
The spectacle went on for a while, and both seemed to be enjoying it very much in a nice silence. Sally was particularly enjoying it. She was always fascinated by light, and it's power to awe. It's why July 4th was her favorite day of the year. She turned to Ed, expecting him to also be left in a state of awe. She was half right. As she looked at Ed, she noticed he was not looking at the fireworks at all, but rather at her. He had a very faint but noticeable smile.
Sally chuckled and asked, "What?"
"Oh nothing, they're just so beautiful."
"Yeah, I love fireworks." She looked back out into the sky admiring the display.
"I know you do, but I was talking about your eyes." Ed didn't know why he was saying this, or who was saying it for him. But he never lost his composure.
Sally of course wheeled, not expecting that to happen. She thought he was just trying to be flirty and spark some conversation. But as she looked again into his eyes, she knew this was far from the truth. She could see something, something different about him. This was not the playful Ed she had known since she was a child; this was a serious and compassionate Ed. One who had never introduced himself. Unsure of what to say, she let her mouth hang open slightly; as if she was about to say something foolish but caught herself at the last second. Instead, she just continued to gaze into his eyes, realizing what a great guy he was. After about a minute of gazing, she let her emotions take over.
"It was my first kiss, late I know, but it was easily the most memorable. I had so many mixed emotions at that time, but one thing was certain." He finally decided to look down at her grave, as if he were looking right into her eyes. "And that was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life by your side. It's a shame we never became boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, but I know that deep down, we always loved each other.
The breeze picked up slightly, and Edward felt peaceful. It was very quiet, but he invited the serenity for it made what he was about to do all the more easier. Edward tried to clear the notch in his throat, but couldn't. Instead, he slowly kneeled down on one knee, looking at Sally's named etched into the stone in front of him. He read the epitaph beneath her name and was hit with another wall of pain.
She went too far in the search of flowers.
His voice quivering, he continued. "I don't really know what I can say now. It's too early to say see you soon, but it's also too late to say goodbye."
Hesitant at first, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single pink rose. With water forming in his eyes he blinked, letting a small tear escape from his eye, climb down his cheek, and then plant itself into the ground below. He slowly placed the flower down on the dirt.
"Thank you for helping me find what I was looking for."
FUCK YES. Bungie.net announced you'll be able to have a 4 person party playing campaign online together.
You can hear it yourself in their latest podcast (very entertaining by the way).
2007-07-18 00:48:14 by NightCrawler
In the summertime when the weather is high
You can stretch right up and touch the sky
When the weather's fine
You got women, you got women on your mind
Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find
If her daddy's rich take her out for a meal
If her daddy's poor just do what you feel
Speed along the lane
Do a ton or a ton an' twenty-five
When the sun goes down
You can make it, make it good in a lay-by
We're no threat, people
We're not dirty, we're not mean
We love everybody but we do as we please
When the weather's fine
We go fishin' or go swimmin' in the sea
We're always happy
Life's for livin' yeah, that's our philosophy