Forwards is backwards is in reverse.

One of the most remarkable aspects of human nature is the complete and absolute difference between one person and the next. 

I am especially amazed by how one person is able to move on from something so much easier than another one.  Being fixed into a position and feeling powerless to move seems to affect every other person on earth, meaning the other fifty percent "unfix" themselves and walk forward eventually, or often immediately.
 
Maybe it is God and nature's way of maintaining a sort of balance on the earth.  When there is loss, one continually grieves as the other moves on...possibly being the idea that even though life goes on, a part of that person remains alive.  Love.  Another example.  One will continue to love somebody even when said person eased forward, far ahead of that person...so that way, something never meant to be makes a much better fairy tale.

All of this, really, is probably total garbage, but at least somebody has thought about such rubbish and had the decency to write about it.

*Strongly recommended film: The Beaver - a little gem no one saw because it had that evil Mel Gibson.  Listen, get the hell over yourselves and realize the world is fortunate it will never see certain aspects of you we may find as equally or far more repulsive.*

Lady in the Chair

Lady across the table
Sitting in your chair
Pink jacket adorning your form
Curls in your hair

Speaking in a mystery
Not hard to understand
Speaking with a lady
Speaking with a man

Darkness follows closely
It loves you much, indeed
Holds your past in vicegrips
Brings you to your knees

I cannot know your story
I do not know your heart
Nevertheless my spirit
And soul, they break apart

Your words within my earshot
Remind me of a child
I knew upon a time
For 'ere a little while

He walked his life straightforward
Until he was a man
Followed by a shadow
That always held his hand

The same one follows you
As the one behind these eyes
Which clave unto this child
And never left his side

I say a prayer for you
In silent, broken words
That may or may not be
But pulse with blood, so pure

Please utter prayers for me
If you can or dare
In a language of your own,
The lady in the chair.

*Sitting at Starbuck's in Hendersonville @9 pm on a Friday evening at the back of the store, behind a face with a story.

Head

I am currently dealing with a rare, 24-hour plus headache which has resulted from stress incurred as a result of my place of employment.  Even though the world does not give a shit, I will resume blogging when this headache has abated.

Writing fancies of recent...

I am currently toying with the idea of what, how, where, when, and above all...why...my next manuscript should include mythological or biblical background. I have no desire to delve into historical fiction, but since I have enough knowledge of biblical history, and the sense to educate myself on mythology (via history degree!) in a timely manner, methinks I shall do so. As far as the mythological, I am still a new learner in the sense, but here is my fancy of recent: the story of Medusa. I tend to feel rather sympathetic toward the character of Medusa in light of more modern renditions of the story. She was basically a lovely creature, ravaged by Poseidon, punished by Athena, and suckerpunched into a horrid existence, to which we still attach to her name to infamy. Naturally, I feel there is a lot to do with a character of that sort. Of course, my other manuscripts remain unpublished and will continue to do so until I am satisfied with my editing and I have made the all-encompassing decision to self-publish or spend arduous amounts of time pitching. Nevertheless, writing must commence soon.

We shall see.

Love Letter to Laughter

Laughter,

You are missed, my love. As a lover weeping over a darkened pit, where her loved one vanquished swiftly within the deep, I lament for your return unto me. We knew each other well. You taught me to love others more than myself. You taught me to walk into a war zone, smiling at the invisible beauties surrounding me as snowfall among hellfire. You looked at me, spoke a language known only between us, and taught me to teach it to others. But you have taken a season. I feel I have committed an unpardonable sin in allowing you to leave a void at my side, forever etched into existence to your shape, and yours alone. I cherished you, I needed you, I loved you. God, how I loved you. Come back to me, for you will be missed for all of time. Damned time.

Your servant,
Andy

The Pottie Humorist Never Sleeps

I have some details to divulge to you for your gandering pleasure. At my place of employment which shall forever remain unmentionable, I have a coworker by the name of ***. Like me, he is a dry humored fellow and appreciates my long history of pottie humor. Please bear in mind we are adult men and keep it within a reasonable context: we do not belt it in public, we do not embarass ourselves, and we keep it within the soundproof room, heard only by our third coworker (who is the sole exception when it comes to offending for the sheer pleasure of it). Nonetheless, *** attends the restroom frequently. As a recurring gag, I have begun composing some short rhymes which would be akin to being seen on a restroom stall. Since I do not vandalize, I have chosen the next best outlet for my toilet stall expressions. Below are seven, short rhymes I have composed and texted to my friend ***. They will remain untitled and speak for themselves. Enjoy, if you are indeed sick.

Took a healthy* shite at work,
That way we don't go beserk
Cause when you try to hold the loaf
You ruin your mind and then your soul.
Sent 12/13/11 @ 12:45 pm

Food goes in and doo comes out
That's what eating's all about
Slimy, chunky, without farts
It's our human work of art.
Sent 12/14/11 @ 12:52 pm

Day three in the can I am
Squeezing out the snake again
Brown and with an angry hiss
Followed by a steamy piss.
Sent 12/15/11 @ 1:11 pm

If this keeps up, these dumps of mine
Perhaps one day, they'll come to life
With crackled bodies and pungent stink
With fibrous eyes and corncob teeth.
Sent 12/16/11 @ 10:24 am

Carrots and prunes and oats in a bowl
Made a concoction and flew out my hole
Then they grew weary of going down south
So they made a u-turn and came out my mouth.
Sent 01/03/12 @ 1:00 pm

I took a shat, I tore it wide
I tore a hole through space and time
Now here I sit beneath a tree
In 782, BC.
Sent 03/06/12 @ ???

Perched upon my porcelain throne
Relinquishing the corn and bones
An iron-fisted reign of thrusts
Alas, is ended with a flush.
Sent 03/13/12 @ ???


*sigh* May God have mercy on my soul.

*'shite' is spelled this way intentionally, as it is the more wholesome, Scottish way of pronouncing it.

Untitled

Dream your precious ways this night,
As you lay down your head
Your bed's embrace,
Your pillow's grace
Caress you in my stead

I know not what your visions are
And pain in my heart grows
But doubt is mired
By my desire
To grasp with the unknown

Just know that here is mere a man
A human is his name
But in his blood
Breathes streams of love
At one glance of your face

So as you lie your stillness down
My rose, my rose tonight
Your name: my star
Be near or far
Has bathed me in its light.

Goodnight.