Kenny & Lucille

Have you been stabbed in the back and gossiped about by people you thought were your friends?

How do you deal with it?

This short story might give you some insight.

(If this sounds like anyone you know personally – it could be pure coincidence… but probably not.)

Short Story:

Once upon a time, it was the last Friday in December of 2012.

The sun was going down after a beautiful day warm winter day in Taiwan.

I, David, was eating a veggie breakfast at a quaint roadside café watching the World go by on DongShan Road (East Mountain Road) reflecting  all the work I’ve been involved with over the last few years involving Community… and the People who have come in and out of the Community – and my Life.

I smiled, I grimaced, I laughed out loud when I thought about certain people I have observed (especially over the last year).

It has been quite the learning experience and I must admit, I thought things would be a bit different.

Isn’t a Community much like a Tribe or (for many expats) a family?

I manage a Music/Art Venue. It hasn’t been easy… but it has become a way of life. No one really gives much thought to all the ‘behind the scenes’ stuff that happens when we put on Events: the planning, the networking, the PR, the physical labor, etc; they just come and enjoy The Events, The Gatherings & The Activities -  not realizing how it got off the ground in the first place. That’s OK. When I went out to parties with nice sound systems, sound men, people that picked up garbage, put up direction signs, decorated the venue etc – I never used to give it much thought either.

All the Earthlings that have come in and out of my life have had some kind of impact. Though sometimes the experiences shared – or thrust upon me – at the time may seem negative, over time, I gain clarity and perspective.

I, David,  am beginning to understand. I have come out a stronger person, more loving and able to spot BS from a greater distance and deal with it promptly rather than letting it fester and becoming a Virus or a Disease rather than just a Quick Sneeze.

I have learned – over the years – patience, how to persevere; and how to deal with the Loudmouths, the Gossips, The Pessimists from a variety of People from around the World whom have come to settle here on our Island in the South Pacific Sea.

As I sipped my coffee and waved at an acquaintance riding by on his bicycle I began writing down all my thoughts – negative and positive – about events, situations, dramas and such that I observed while working in the Community – especially over the past year.

My cell phone beeps and I read a text message, “They are at it again” … I roll my eyes and continue writing in my notebook.

An example of showing patience, perseverance and learning how to deal with people in the Community – and The World at Large – and subsequently making appropriate and necessary changes in my Life comes from observing a Couple  (the they of they’re at it again)  who – at the outset – I thought were real and down to earth people…

I also pondered the concept Down To Earth.

The Woman Lucille and I met about 15ish years ago at a rooftop party. Though she did not make any significant first impression on me, through mutual acquaintances and the fledgling community of ravers and hedonists, we found ourselves at many of the same gatherings and got to know each other.

She – a Taiwanese – eventually met her European husband Kenny while he was a DJ at a rave pub.

Long story short – this is a short story after-all – they moved back to Europe where they lived off his parents’ inheritance, a small side operation from home, and money from the government for his disability.

They barely left their house but to get food and necessary bits to exist… that is a story in itself and one I would love to write… not quite Trainspotting, but just as pathetic.

…we’ll jump to about 12 years later of their Lifestyle (to keep this short story short) and that brings us to about a year and a half ago – when they decided that just maybe they needed to change.

Those that initially cared encouraged them to come to Taiwan to make a better life for themselves and to perhaps break their debilitating habits.

His wife, Lucille,  had visited Taiwan a number of times over that 12 years to see her family, but usually stayed with us, sometimes for a week, sometimes a month or more – always Rent Free.

Lucille comes from a very well-off family who owns lots of land and businesses, (and now we suspect she moved back to Taiwan to get some of that when it is time) and never offered a dime… no worries, we didn’t expect it because we know how to treat our friends.

Finally, preparations are made for Kenny to come over, he visits first for a month – stays with me (of course) – David – and my wife – then goes back to finalize everything in his home-country where he is met by the police for some things he had directly or indirectly been involved with there… somehow he manages to escape back to Taiwan.
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Where do Kenny & and Camille go to for help and support?

Damn straight – straight to us.

They live with us a while longer and we eventually help them to get their own place, help them move their stuff to their new place, realize they took our blankets… (no worries, we’re friends, we’ll just lend the blankets to them), helped them broker a deal with the landlord and even got them their cell phone – under my name (David) of course.

When they moved out, they weren’t able to give us our house keys back because they had lost them (or did they?) and never offered to make new copies.
We introduced them to many of their current friends they hang out with now through the Community.

One would expect to be appreciated when helping people out, eh?

But no, Kenny & Lucille, the Dynamic Duo of  Bullshit instead spread rumors and gossip (and continue to do so)  behind our backs (especially me, David) and gossiped about us like it was the Gospel Truth (to people who have known us for years, no-less).

We never thought we would have to defend ourselves, because of our role in the Community… so, initially, we didn’t defend ourselves.

But after quite a large number of people started coming to us asking us questions about what they heard… we got sick of trying to explain what really happened or kill the rumor.

I, David, decided to write this piece and then just direct people to this blog – as I’d much rather be talking about Things That Matter than about a couple of desperate, pathetic, scumbags who have nothing better to do than gossip and spread BS about not just us, but other people they know (their old roommates that had to get out of their house because they were driving them crazy!   Lucille is the owner of The Mouth – Kenny should get an award for putting up with her as long as he has except he is almost as bad as she is).

Lucille would have made a wonderful Fundamentalist Evangelical Preacher…(Lucille can talk for at  least 3 or 4 hours non-fucking-stop – we’ve timed her).

They talk shit about The Community and People in the Community (we hear it all)… and why?

What I should be asking is not just why they feel the need to say bad things about people, but why have we put up with it for so long?

How many times did we have to apologize to Guests when Kenny got drunk and started feeling up the pretty girls (and even a pretty boy!) and even broke a dividing wall near our bar, drunk, trying to kiss a girl – with his wife looking on in disdain?

We heard about and put up with all their personal attacks (never to our face, always behind our backs), all the gossip and shit talk and we never said or did anything… they were usually nice to us when they were around us… but me – David – does look big and scary and Kenny is a skin and bones straw-man.

What could I – David -  do? Beat them up? Talk shit about them? Even when I (The Dave Man) brought an item up now and again to Kenny he just denied it or blamed it on Lucille.

Weak, Gutless and Delusional… believe me (divaD)… and I’m being kind when I describe them this way.

We (me David and my wife) just scratched our heads and asked what did we ever do to them personally?

We helped give them their head-start here and were as kind as we could be.

We made plans to have parties so they could make a living (Neither one of them works and they have very little cash until someone in Lucille’s family dies and she gets a little inheritance).

They pulled out of plans to do future projects together before the projects even got off the ground… and why? Because they have gossiped so much about us, they started to believe their own bullshit… and took a few gullible people with them.

We had a two trial parties where Kenny said, ‘ I don’t do this for the money, mate,’ and then subsequently Lucille let us know that their share of the proceeds were not enough… which we paid them to keep the Peace. We wrote everything down, and gave her a copy of the account. Nice right?

But Lucille kept that paper and for months showed it to everyone that she knew/would listen. Huh? Indeed, it did not stop her from gossiping about it a few months later though!

..and now they have moved on to another group of ‘friends’ to use and abuse.

Let’s see how these friends help them after Lucille & Kenny have lived with them for a while and really get to know who they are.

They tell everyone that they ‘know’ music.

Personally, I (Day-Vid)  love music and listen to everything. I like some genres better than others, but I appreciate what goes into Music and I love the Creative Process.

They – Kenny and Lucille -  listen to one genre of mostly computer generated music with one steady beat that sounds great when you are at a rave and on Mind Altering Substances. They listen to it in their living room on a Tuesday afternoon with coffee and cigarettes. Yet, they are quick to judge all other musicians and genres because they live in a delusional world where they ‘know’ music and everyone else sucks. Giving credit where credit is due… Kerry has been involved in the trance scene and has helped produce music with other musicians – Lucille however doesn’t know shit about music as all – though she does claim that she does (talk with her for 3 minutes – if you can stand it – and you’ll know she’s full of shit).

One night, Lucille loudly exclaimed at the bar – while people were having fun – at an impromptu Jam: He/She sucks! when someone was on the stage giving it a go.
They seemed to enjoy breaking people down and making them feel like shit.

I David – not to be confused with Davig, Davis or Davik – called out to Lucille from The Stage – after over-hearing her give her ‘professional’ opinion (she doesn’t play an instrument at all) on music – to get up on the mic and show us (all the people having fun making music on Stage)  how it is done… a few laughs from those around her broke out – but she was either oblivious or ignorant (or her mouth never stopped talking and she could only hear herself over the 5000 watts of amps pointed right at her).

I have learned through my work in the Community that most of the people that talk shit (and there are not that many thank Zeus) generally can’t back their shit up… being around these kind of people (and I have a few more examples, but I think this Couple wins The Prize) makes me ask myself, do I, David, ever get like that?

Even remotely?

If I do, I hope that someone gives me a fucking bitch slap and wakes me the fuck up. For my worst nightmare is turning into a bitter, pessimistic, uncreative gossip like I have seen in this couple. A marriage made in Hell’s Heaven.
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That being said, I guess I should try to be evermore forgiving and understanding… or should I?

I have been trying to promote Peace, Love and Community for years. Perhaps I should just act like everyone else? Perhaps I should go and beat the shit out of people that piss me off (there would have been quite a few beatings last year and believe me, I’m capable).

Is it Kenny and Lucille’s fault that they act like Pathetic pieces of shit? Are they just products of their Hereditary and Environment as a Hard Determinist believes?

Over a decade of Heavy Use (of this and that) has seriously affected their brains. Over a decade of not leaving their house in the UK has made them Socially Inept.

They are not able to feel remorse or empathy.

All they have really are their Mouths to gossip about everyone else – especially the ones they have it in for. … Does this constant berating of others – behind their (and mine!) backs – make themselves feel better?

And were they so ignorant that they did not realize that all the shit they talked about us (most of it just simply delusional & malicious) was all reported back to us (David and Me Woman) eventually?

Not much gets by me (me – David… just in case you forgot) – and in the way of life I (David) have found myself in, I usually let it roll off my back.

I just keep on doing what I do. .. (or as I fantasize others saying – David just keeps doing what he does…)

Slow and steady.

I am  David hear me roar (slowly and steadily – of course).

I stumble sometimes, I fall down occasionally, but I get right back up, smile, keep striving and doing and keep being me (David).

As they say, Actions speak louder than Words… unless of course you are Lucille, she is Loud in her own Slithery kind of Way.

This could be Lucille’s year (it is the Year of the Snake, is it not? perfect!)

The Community I’m involved in is an ever-growing entity and with that growth comes ever-more responsibility… I am learning how to deal with it daily; despite the Negative Ones.

I – David – put myself out there and thus expect verbal assaults from the Nay-Sayers; The Pessimists, The Skeptics; The ‘I can do it better than You-ists; The Take Advantage-ists; The Talk Behind your Back-ists; The Perpetuate and Exaggerate-ists, The Gossips, the Jealous Ones and The Trolls…

…what makes me feel good?

I’m actually doing something positive with the beautiful people I’ve surrounded myself with and they ain’t.

As a Wise man once said, The Best Revenge is Living Well (and I’ll add – Be Careful who you let into your Life).

What makes it all worth it is The Ones who believe in what we are doing, help when and how they can, and are positive… fortunately The Positive Ones far outnumber the Bitchy Whiny Negative Ones.

For the New Year, I (The D Man)  will use this valuable experience and try to stay Positive.

We (me and all of you) should all keep our eyes out for the Users & Abusers and while keeping them at arm’s length, figure out how to help them realize their own potential, help them take a more positive view of Life and hopefully we can all learn – as we do – the True Meaning of Friend and our roles in The Community.

I hope this short story of our plight helps you, Dear Reader.

Peace, Happiness & Love to you all for 2013 (or as Kenny likes to write PLUR  – though he seems to have no understanding  or respect – the UR part – of anything ).

THE END

If you would like to read a bit more on FRIENDS, here is a fine essay, also written by yours truly:
http://bostonpaul.wordpress.com/2012/08/13/who-what-is-a-friend-really/

Bitter Mad Woman: When Past Relationships with Born-again, Republican, Evengelical, Erstwhile Chums emerge and Go Completely Fucking Mental.

Here’s an ongoing  story about a Boy and a Girl.

The Story, the Saga, the Epic Nightmare continues!

Childhood Church Buddies, separated for 30 years and then re-united through a Social Networking site.

One would think they could pick up where they left off 30 years ago, but alas! It was not meant to be.

Time, Experiences, and a Vast Ocean all have their part in how things turned out.

Read on Dear Reader and hope this never happens to you… and if it is does, turn into a positive experience, something to better your life and others around you.

There have been a few Updates & PROgression in this ongoing drama… kick off the shoes and get the mind ready!
Social Networking Sites have their Pros and Cons, I focus on the Pros i.e. Putting Ideas out there to seduce a friend (or Foe!) and entice dialogue where those reading, hopefully, will take something away to somehow enrich their Lives as it somehow does mine.

Often posted are Quips slamming organized Religion, Politics and poking a bit of fun at things that happen in our Day to day Lives. Nothing too serious or grave… just asking questions and watching the People react.

From the interesting debates – debates that were fun, not ‘too’ serious, and offered a little something for everyone – many of you witnessed the emergence of my Erstwhile Chum named Kristen (I’ll keep her full name off my Blog for now).

Many of you – some of you long time friends here in Taiwan; others long time participants on the goings-on on my Wall, blog and other media – began asking who this woman was and why she hated me so.

All of the Kristen Hullabaloo these last few months has spurred me to write a bit of History (scant as it is) and my thoughts on the whole affair.

I must preface with what I am to write with -I know her about as well as she knows me -  which is not very well at all.

All I have to go on are memories, my journal I kept from then, my poetry (some of the poems dedicated to her, I’ll post a few in the near future) her posts and limited information about her from her profile, but I will be as articulate as possible and recollect some events as best as possible.

I do know this, she is a Born Again Christian Evangelical Fundamentalist who loves Jesus and who votes mostly Republican.

Writing this piece (written in haste and only two revisions) is as much for me as it is for you, Dear Reader.

Questions abound concerning Kristen. Who is she? Why is she so bitter? Where is her sense of humor? Is she for real? Were you lovers at one point? Was it a Bitter Break-up? Is she dangerous?

Rather than answer each question individually (very time consuming), I tried to get all the bits (I slammed out in an hour as succinctly as possible) in this all encompassing Narrative.

Apologies for any discombobulated bits.

Get yourself a cup of tea, or a beer, perhaps a glass of wine; sit back and enjoy the Latest Diatribe (or Pertinent Information for some of you!) so you know how to deal with this woman (and there are more like her in the world) in the future when her proverbial pen vomits on my little piece of Cyber Space (or, egad, yours!).

Kristen and I were Church Buddies at a church called South Shore Baptist Church in the very affluent town of Hingham (where Kristen apparently resides now). I think I was about 8 or 9 when we started going to that church. I enjoyed my time there mostly, I made friends, went on their picnics; went on their Jesus Camp-esque retreats and summer/winter camps.

I was, to many I suppose, your average Christian Kid trying to do right by Jesus.

When I was about 12 or 13 – you know, when the hormones get going and you start to re-think looking at a girl with lust in your heart as a sin – I started asking questions about what I believe.

Kristen and I would have long conversations, sometimes on the church steps; sometimes by phone, the conversations were often about Jesus, our lives, my relationships with people, her relationships with her mother, which at the time were not good… especially if her mom knew she was talking to me.

Her mom absolutely deplored me.

Lots of Christian Moms deplored me, but Kristen’s Mom took first place.

Note that I have fond memories of Kristen that I try to keep alive despite her recent on-line activity.

My rebellion at The Church was evident and many of the parents cautioned their children (my friends/acquaintances) to stay away from me as I might corrupt them. Kristen still snuck phone calls to me and I called her too. When her Mom answered I disguised my voice and asked for Kristen or I would hang up the phone and try again later. We were buddies… and I must say that she did stick to her guns – despite her mother – then, as she does now.

Note this relationship between Kristen and I was friends only, I don’t think either of us ever thought it was more than platonic. In my mind, she was kind of like one of the boys. She was tall and athletic and had a nice loud boisterous laugh and I remember she had a great sense of humor (I’m not sure where that Sense went).

I continued going to the church, but was rebelling even more – giving smokes to the church boys; sneaking whiskey into Sunday school; and at the same time struggling with my relationship with Something I was not sure existed, at least not in the sense I was being taught.

Prayers went out for God to show his grace on me, I even made the ‘prayer chain’ (this is what X-ians do when they feel there is an Emergency Need and someone needs help – helping without really getting their hands dirty) so that I had about 100 people praying for me in one night.

I look back on that time, and I must admit, I am a bit flattered now!

Their God must not have been listening, or had another plan… because I, except for the occasional visit to the church when I was 15 to see some of my buddies, stopped patronizing the Church and went out into the ‘real’ world.

I hitchhiked across the great ol’ US of A and was gone for months (this is another piece I have been working on for a year or so and will publish soon – Hitchhiking Adventures Across Amerika).

When I got back to Massachusetts, I was almost 18 and I joined the Military soon after. The Military got me out of my Childhood.

At once, I was thrown in the Mix with people from all around the States, mostly from the South.

I trained, fought & killed with the elite 82nd Airborne Division and was stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

I think I may have called Kristen once or twice from a pay phone my first year in, but we never saw each other again.

I had little or no contact after I was 17 years old with Kristen until 2009 when we found each other on line and became ‘friends’ again… and that is a mighty long time.

Letting go of the Past and accepting the Now can be a difficult thing after not seeing someone for so long. Meeting someone after years of no contact can be a bit traumatic as no one is the same they were 25 or 30 years ago. Based solely on her posts, she too is not the girl I knew 25 or 30 years ago. She seems to be struggling with this.

However, after just under two years of Wall Posts, Emails and the like with Kristen, and observing how she interacts with people in the Forum, she, in my opinion, which I know are like assholes (opinions that is, everyone has one), has become a bitter, man-hating, angst filled, self righteous, old lady. The kind I used to run away from when I was a boy… I mean, you can’t berate an old lady, can’t beat em’ up either… staying clear of them and waiting for them to die is about the only solution.

And yes, it pains to me to describe my Ol’ Chum this way.
Kristen apparently married, had a very unpleasant divorce (this may be where the Man hating comes in) and then met Husband Number 2. He also sounds like a very interesting guy as you will see in a moment.

Her second husband (would love to meet the first husband, perhaps I will someday, he must be a hoot) apparently is as brash as she is.

I am flattered that they sit around and talk about me at home… nothing like a bit of Old Woman gossip about little Ol’ me … it tickles me pink.

Here’s an example of what they chat about – directly from the Horses Mouth:

(Posted by Kristen) “So occasionally I will talk about Paul’s posts with my husband and kids. The response is always the same. Tonight I brought up this thread, and my son said: “He would never make it in the real world.” My astute, no-holds-barred, in-your-face husband said, “A grown man who sits on the computer playing bickering games. Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time? Doesn’t he have a house to work on or a lawn to mow?” And then he remembered Paul’s comments and said: “Oh, right. He doesn’t ‘own’ anything. What a f*ing loser.” As the aunt whom I adore says : ‘Nuff said.’”

Of course calling a Dog a Cat doesn’t make the Dog a Cat.

What Kristen and her In Your Face husband, does not know is that I ‘owned’ 3 English Schools for 14 years, an entertainment company, a Martial Art School and now for all intent and purposes and for the sake of argument, I ‘own’ The Refuge Community Venue.

All were/are successful.

(Note –  I like to call myself the assistant director – and yes the janitor -  at The Refuge as it is run by the Community and everyone helps out, and contributes vastly to the organization of The Refuge Community. It is a true Social Experiment that seems to be working… no one ‘owns’ it in the American I want to own everything sense. It is a Community Venture).

Let me digress a quick moment on this matter and mention my thoughts on owning a House or a piece of Land:

The problem with the word ‘own’ is that the word is arbitrary.

Mr. Astute also thinks he ‘owns’ his house. Does he?

Does anyone own their house in the US?

We can all agree that One must pay taxes on the house that they bought. Those taxes can be raised, changed and the person that owns the house does not have much say in it. What happens when Mr. No Holds Barred doesn’t pay his taxes?

Well, he gets into trouble.

And what happens if Mr. In Your Face still refuses to pay his taxes (and then the back taxes and the subsequent interest on the taxes)?

I’ll let you answer that – but try not paying your Taxes on your Land/House and see if it is still yours when you get out of Jail.

(…and wait, did The Astutes buy the house outright? Do they still owe the Bank? Do they have a mortgage? I don’t know, that is personal information, but if so, they don’t own shittles.)

Owning a house is a fallacy.

‘Nuff Said.

The house does own you though.

The ‘owner’ of the house is chained to it.

No Freedom for that Fat Cat, is there?

Funny thing is, Kristen is in Real Estate, she sells this lie to people. (She also works with Children).

Digression complete.

Why haven’t I blocked her?

(MY NOTE: I eventually and reluctantly had to block her as you will soon find out)

Why haven’t I shoved her out of my Cyber-Box and barred the Door?

I was actually wondering the opposite.

Why hasn’t she blocked me?

What is going on her head that she would stay acquainted with a Rapscallion like me?

There are a few reasons why she remains on my People I Know list.

It could be that there is always that thread of hope that she will ‘come around’ one day and be nice, that she will debate and parley for the sake of Truth & Fun and learn how to Agree to Disagree.

Perhaps she will – one day – understand that she takes this a lot more seriously than many of us (or at least I) do.

Perhaps she will see that I am trying to get under people’s skin now and again… proverbial slaps in the face to wake people up (I get those slaps constantly… but I don’t get bitter about it… I embrace it).

Perhaps she will understand that many of us have very busy lives and only get on-line when we can (for me I post a bit of info for awareness sake and f*ck off. I read the Comments when I can and learn from them. I comment when I have time… though she has taken my silence as not being able to debate or not being smart enough).

Perhaps our Dear Acquaintance Kristen may even one day dispel of the self righteous, snarky, demeaning, holier than thou, boxed in, angst filled characteristics she displays with vigor whenever she responds to anyone’s posts that she disagrees with.

She has not learned the Art of Agreeing to Disagree.

If there were People out there that felt they needed Saving through Jesus, she is definitely not his Poster Child… and if anyone was teetering on the Jesus Fence, all they had to do was log on to some of the Dialogue I initiated, take a look at The Self Appointed Jesus Rep and be pushed onto The Other Side.

You know, the Fun, Grass is Greener, Search for Truth with an Open Mind Side.

But come Boston Paul… a thread of hope? That may be asking too much, there is not much that hangs on a thread. There must be more reasons for not blocking this ______ woman!

Indeed there is!

She’s a Writers Dream.

She is my unsuspecting Muse.

Hemingway, Poe, Kafka, Kundera – all  wish they had a Kristen.

You can’t buy one in any store, very difficult to find one on-line, she is all mine (and I share her with all of you).

Take and do what you will, don’t worry, it seems she can take it.

This very piece I am writing now has been inspired by her!

I have not thought so much about my Church Days as I have recently with Good Ol’ Kristen of The Wall.

I look back and have a few fond memories of being at The Church. Kristen has brought a few of those memories out…

The differences between us are vast now, as I chose to take Life by the reigns and Ride while she still sits in her little house in Hingham with her 2nd Husband and her Jesus and her daughter off at school and her son wondering who the hell this guy is on the other side of the planet that does not know what real life is (Join the Military, young boy, see some combat, have a few bullets zip past your ears, watch a friend die, kill someone, then come back and we’ll have a chat about Real Life… meanwhile Young Lad, you bask in the upper-middle-class fantasyland mommy & daddy have created for you and perhaps one day, when you break out of your safe little Hingham, Massachusetts Life, you will discover what is real and what is not.).

Kristen seems to have a lot of time on her hands. She is frustrated with many things in her Life me-thinks and I am her release, her scapegoat… we can’t take that away from her.

On another note, for those who know me personally and have not heard much from me, here is a quick update:

I am very happy where I am in my Life. I am surrounded by intelligent beautiful people that care about the Community, the World and little old me… who could ask for more?

I look down that long road I have traveled for 45 years.

I see Happiness at the beginning of that Road, Happiness only Children seem to have.

Then I see confusion, bitterness & searching for almost quarter my Life, then Happiness again.

Y’all know the allegorical Valley of the Shadow of Death?  Well – allegorically – I made it through.

I might add one last little bit to this piece.

I lived with Kristen’s Cousins for a total of one year – we’ll call them The Martinis.

It was some of the greatest moments of my life.

‘Chad’ and I are Life long Brothers – soul mates. Chad even came to live with me here in Taiwan for a year. Sister ‘Julie’ (also Kristen’s cousin) is a beautiful person with a hint of rebellion in her too (it’s been a while since I have seen her, there may be more than a hint of Rebel.)

The Martinis were a wonderful influence on me in many ways and I believe they helped shaped who I am now… and yes they were a Christian Family too… but not the Kristen kind of Christian.

Julie and Chad have also smashed out of their Boxes, so I know staying in said box and being the various adjectives Kristen is described as above and below, does not run in the Family.

Looking back, I see an emergence out of the Darkness onto a new path, the Path I am on now.

I have a beautiful Wife of 12 years and a Beautiful Son of 6 years who is my Everything.

If there is a God, that God sent Kristen to me, not to help save my soul (as she may hope), but as an instrument …and yes Entertainment.

I copy and paste every bit of Hilarity she posts with relish.

Indeed, like many of you, her posts at times make me wince, laugh at loud and indeed, give a bit of topic to chat about over beer and foosball when we all meet on the weekends.

She also gives us a bit of a glimpse of what goes on inside the mind of these Born Again Fundamentalists – this is valuable information. She may not strap bombs to her Chest and carry out Terrorist Attacks in the name of her God, but she would if she were commanded by Jehovah, I reckon.

To many of us who have got to ‘know’ her on-line in Various Discussions, she represents The Demented Jesus, the Awfully Affluent, the Ornery Old Caged Minx.

She is our very own Facebook Jester dancing around, falling down and getting back up unaware of the Smiles, The Grimaces, The Laughter.

She delights us all.

I may revise and update this bit when I get the chance, but in the meantime, I have to go mow the lawn of the House I do not own.

Peace and Love y’all.

INTERESTING UPDATE February 6 2012:

Sometime at The end of The Summer of 2011 I had to block Kristen from The Social Network Site. (Kristen can find me here… and she does read my Blog [Hello Kristen!] – she never dares comment of course for this small town, middle class Woman would never get away with what she has been trying to get away with when debating with an Intelligent International Audience), but she was just too much for many of the friends, acquaintances etc that I am connected to there.

People did not want to comment anymore because of this bitter woman.

It was either lose smart, intelligent people (who I also may or may not agree with) or Kristen.

I chose to lose the latter.

Months of quiet and relative peace ensued.

Then just a few short weeks ago, Kristen began looking for my contacts on-line and writing them private letters.

Here is one of them – Let the Good Times Begin!

From  Kristen:

Hi-

I saw your responses to Paul’s post about things all theists should keep in mind or something like that. Here is an exact quote from a message he sent me about a year ago on FB. You can imagine that it is only a small portion of a much longer, preachier, message from him. I am sending it to other people too. Thought you might find his flip-flopping interesting. He claims to be an atheist in order to align himself with the Cousin Avis of the world (great guy, I don’t blame him – that is pure sarcasm, by the way), and yet this is what he truly believes, at least according to him.

[BP:  Cousin Avi is a Very Good Acquaintance of mine that I do enjoy talking to on occasion. Aligning myself with Cousin Avi? I’m not sure what that means… since Cousin Avi and I probably disagree more than we agree.]

I will never understand why anyone would think Paul is a great guy. Charismatic, yes. But a great guy?! Those of us who knew him in his previous life see right through the act.

[BP: Kristen only knew me through my previous life at The Church. Me being a Christian was The Act… what people see now is The Real… as real as I can be).

At least most of us do. Poor Susan Howard is not known to have much going on upstairs, and the woman from his graduating class is just as clueless (and pretty angry).

[BP: This is how Kristen talked in the Debates as well… demeaning, name calling… what would your Jesus do Kristen? Would he act this way? Poor Susan Howard? How so? ]

Everyone else from his life before his move to Taiwan has very little to do with him. One of the guys he considers his closest friend actually warns people to not get involved in his posts. That speaks volumes!

[BP: I have been in Taiwan for over 17 years and have not been back to the states for over 5 years. When I left The States my relations with my family and friends were excellent and for the most part –as time not only heals wounds but nudges us from A to B are pretty good now considering I do not live in Amerika anymore.  Who is this ‘closest’ friend?]

I hope you appreciate how he adds the caveat at the end – essentially “my theism is better than your theism,” and his use of the word “tenants” instead of “tenets.” Anyone can kill this guy with intelligence and logic (i.e. So you believe in a god of your own creation who has lesser morals – no dogma=no law=no one does anything wrong – than you do? So you worship a lesser being? Um, what?!?)

[BP: My sentiment exactly…  Um, what?!?]

Please note that I never published any of this in response to his bizarre rants about me – but I felt it was kind of timely in light of his post about theists, and I am more than happy to provide context – in particular our more pleasant exchanges when we first became FB friends:

“Note that I am not an atheist. I do believe in the possibility of a higher power (as any skeptic studying the various tenants [BP: Ooops there's the typo!] of physics should).

Unlike most religions, there is no dogmatic mire in my belief of a higher power I believe may be there (using rationale philosophical deduction). ” – (a.k.a “Paul Davies” and “Boston Paul”) 1/18/11

[BP: Yes, I see my Tenants & Tenets Typo…  what can I say? Because of a Typo, Everything I say after is wrong…. Yes that’s it!]

And since Cousin Avi was so vocal on Paul’s post, I thought I should include some of his comments. Here’s what he had to say to me about theists (Paul never disclosed that he considered himself a theist…obviously):

[BP: I am so happy she included this, it is worded well and describes Kristen (in light of recent events concerning Kristen) to a T!]

From Cousin Avi:

“Since you are the sort of gutless, stunned, stupid, yammering fuckwit who insists on having the last word and then running away like the coward you are [BP: she blocked Cousin Avi after not being able to keep up with the Dialogue]- completely and utterly lacking in anything like the conviction or principles you pretend to have but so plainly lack – I forward this to you, you simpering, Jesus cock gobbling bitch. You were told at least four times to FUCK OFF; to take your narrow minded, ignorant, uneducated, stunningly stupid, insistently myopic, willfully blind ass sucking religious bullshit off somewhere and blow it up the hind quarters of someone dumb enough to consider the tripe that spills from your mouth as anything other than sewage flushed from a decaying, desperate, putrescent cavity. But you can’t. You not only insist on remaining stone fucking ignorant of the world around you, simple scientific fact, the mountains of evidence piled up by great thinkers and researchers, history, geology, physics, chemistry, cosmology, biology…to name but a few disciplines…you further insist on trying to condescend to your intellectual betters as though you had some basis for doing so; as though you knew anything beyond your certain, completely fucking insane, unwarranted, unprincipled, illogical, ginned up, papier mache fantasy god – a thing for which you have no evidence whatsoever (which makes you exactly like every other stupid fucking theist of any stripe), and yet which permits you, in your infinite fucking brainlessness, to not only dismiss all those OTHER theists (all as fucktarded as you are), but the greatest minds in history and the entirely of scientific progress. You. Stupid. Fucking. Cunt.” -Cousin Avi

[BP: Cousin Avi does have a way with words!)

My friend – who Kristen contacted - replied:

I happen to know Paul very well. He's a fun loving, peaceful guy with a big heart. You on the other hand, I don't know at all. I can only guess from the nature of this message that you are not a good person. Seriously, who does this? This is vindictive. Please don't message me again.

[BP: Kristen of course messaged him again]:

Kristen:

A peaceful, fun-loving guy does not post stuff attacking theists all the while claiming to be a theist himself. Who does that?!? He has you duped. You won’t hear from me again.

[BP: She is a bit confused on my Theist Views… but oh well].

My friend then writes:

You have gone out of your way to try and contact friends of someone that you don’t like, just to slur his name. You’ve gone behind his back to try and get his friends to turn against him. I say again, YOU ARE NOT A GOOD PERSON!

She then breaks her word and contacts my friend again with this:

Kristen:

I contacted people who had posted on his derogatory thread about theists. The point was not to turn people against him or slur his name. The point was to demonstrate, using his own words, that Paul is himself a theist – albeit a closet theist. A closet theist who slams theists. Kind of ironic and hypocritical, don’t you think? I thought it might enlighten you, but you missed the point. For the record, I never said I didn’t like Paul and I never said you weren’t a good person because of things you said that I didn’t like. I don’t like the approach that Paul chooses to take, and I don’t care for his double-speak. He is a poser. Your comments about him being a peaceful, fun-loving guy with a big heart would never jive with anyone who has known him in his “previous” life – namely his family. Ask him about his mom sometime. Or his little sister. Ask him about his Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Tom. ASk him what he said to them when they buried their son. There is so much you don’t know. But I don’t think that makes you a bad person.

[BP: I’m pretty sure everything with my family is cool… my sister and I have always had an on-off relationship… but My Mother? My Uncle Tom and Marilyn? My Cousin Tommy who was like a brother to me as kids growing up?  What did I say while I was in Taiwan and they were Burying my cousin in Amerika? Pray-tell!  Kristen, I know you are reading this, do you have one shred of evidence? I never thought you would be a Slanderer, or guilty of Libel! My, what time does to the Soul!]

Kristen then goes on:

By the way, Paul and I have a very long history. I have said plenty to his face. Feel free to share his comments about being a theist with him. You can tell him it was from me. And while you’re at it, maybe you could ask him why he is a liar and a hypocrite. He unfriended [BP: I blocked her] me and told people it was because I had contacted the powers that be at FB and said he wasn’t using his real name so they forced him to shut down his account. [BP: Someone did and it may have been her I never said it was definitely Kristen … but we’ll never know... she was the only one to use my full name in her posts to me, FB might have picked up on that.] That is a blatant lie. First of all, his old account is still active. Secondly, who cares?!? I certainly don’t. And he still isn’t using his real name. No one cares. He didn’t like that I had things to share about him that he would rather people didn’t know. This of course was after he went out of his way to write 7 or 8 blogs about me (yes, you read that correctly). [BP: Basically I just reposted her dialogues with my commentary, it makes for awesome reading!] He insulted my mother, my son, my husband. And me of course. [BP: I did not really insult anyone... But of course Kristen has not insulted anyone, eh?] Real nice. Paul is only fun-loving when you agree with him. When you don’t, he is psychotic.

[BP: Everyone is psychotic, some of us hide it better than others… that is how e all get along!]

My friend then wrote “You come off as a mean, spiteful person. So full of hate. The more you write, the more I don’t like you.” And subsequently blocked her.

Then I started getting Emails from a variety of people saying that Kristen had contacted them.

Hey Paul,

I debated whether I should send you this, but I feel perhaps you should know that that woman, Kristen, has emailed me privately to besmirch your name. It’s not the first time, but it is the first time in a while. I have provided below what she wrote and my response. Again, I’m not sure what good it will do, and I’m not trying to prove you or her wrong, but I think maybe you would like to know that her efforts to slander you continue. See below:

Kristen sent the exact same letter to Friend 2 and he replied:

please do not contact me with this sort of email, please. I rarely ever see Paul, I feel he is a bit kooky sometimes, but at the same time a well-meaning and giving individual. I have no problem with him at all, mostly because I do not find my self-identity in his belief system or in critiquing it. He has his beliefs and they are his own, just as I have mine. He is a bit inflammatory, and sometimes rude, but sticks and stones, as they say.

I do not understand why you put so much personal effort into denouncing one man. As far as I know, he is not a thief, rapist, or any of the many things that far surpass his “evil” of talking shit. You personal mission to destroy his name to others has not succeeded, nor will it. People are allowed to make up their own minds, and if you’d just put yourself in others’ shoes and considered: What if someone from one of your present list of real or online friends’ past kept railing against that friend? What if you had never ever met that person? Would you be prone to believe them? I doubt it. You appear to us who do not know you to be obsessed. Again, I don’t care why. But I will not just jump on your bandwagon and hate a man who has never wronged me just cause you say so.

I do not see him much at all, we live in different parts of Taiwan. But as far as my experience with him, he has never wronged me, nor have we ever had cross words for each other. I wish you would just respect that and remember, he isn’t a rapist or thief. Any killing he ever did was at the behest of his nation, for which many would call him a hero. That he doesn’t, and takes no pride in his actions, is to me, a noble trait.

Cousin Avi, on the other hand. I do not know him at all and have only ever seen him once in my life. I find him to be extremely odious, bitter and unhappy. And if his words sting, just imagine what it must be like to walk around day to day with the impotent rage and frustration so evident in his horrible texts. As they say, it truly does “suck to be him”.

I don’t know you, so I won’t assume to your motives or tell you what to do. But I think, since you are a Christian, you should just ask Jesus what you should do. Should you use this amount of energy to lambaste one man who frankly, one offends your personal sensibilities, or should you use this vast resevoir of energy to do something to help yourself, your family, community, world, etc….

Happy new year, and God bless. I am not averse to having continued contact with you and discussing things like religion and life, but I do not condone this sort of vindictive behavior.

These were just two of the few.

I have not contacted any of her friends. But as you can see, I have kept the transparency.

Stay tuned!

Peace and Much Love

LAST UPDATE February 6, 2012

The Express Lane: 10 Items or Less

I was going through the 10 item lane with 11 items.

I had 10 items, then I picked up a pack of gum while waiting in line… (I almost picked up a package of razors, too.)

The Cashier said, “I’m sorry sir, but you have 11 items.”

I said, “you actually counted?”

She said, “yes sir, this is the 10 items or less lane, you will have to go to the next lane.”

(I looked at the next lane, it was a long line)

I said, “seriously? I just grabbed this pack of gum, just now.”

She said, “it is still 11 items, sir.”

(Meanwhile during the banter, the ‘express 10 items or less’ lane was growing longer)

I said, “look, we could have already been done by now, could you just ring it up?”

She said, “I don’t make the rules sir.”

I said, “Stop calling me sir please. It doesn’t sound right. You can call me New Acquaintance. It’s a mouthful, but I think it is better than sir.”

The woman behind me wearing a large, printed blouse said, ” could we get a move on here?”

The Woman with a double chin behind Large Blouse said, “Just get to the other lane, you have too many items!”

I said, “I just picked up a pack of gum! IT’S GUM.”

The Man, unshaven, behind Large Blouse and Double Chin said, “it’s just a pack of gum! Ring it up!”

The Cashier said, ” I don’t make the rules, sir.”

(I put the gum back)

I said, “OK, I have 10 items again.”

(I noticed the slightest hint – almost imperceptible – grimace on her bland almost emotional-less face).

She began to ring up my stuff.

(I looked at the 12 people in the ‘express’ lane and shrugged my shoulders… the express lane people waiting in the express lane seemed exasperated.)

I looked at them sheepishly and said, “it was just a pack of GUM.”

Large Blouse behind me said, “you should obey the rules.”

I said, forcing a peace-loving smile,”it was gum! That is like less than half an item… it’s like I had 10 and 1/2 items. Maybe even 10 and a quarter items”

Double Chin said, “it is still more than 10.”

I said, “but it still has the number 10 in it.”

The Cashier said, “that will be 18.50, please.”

I asked, “do you get in trouble if you ring up more than 10 items? Are they watching you?”

(I looked to see where the cameras were)

She said, “I don’t know… I just follow the rules.”

(I gave her the 18.50 – Exact Change – you know, to save time.)

I grabbed my 10 Items (exactly) and got another 50 cents out of my pocket. I picked up the gum and asked Large Blouse “could you get this for me – here’s the money. I see you only have 7 items, this gum will make 7 and a 1/2 items which is still less than 10.”

(Large Blouse ignored me.)

I asked Double Chin. She only had 9 items.

The Unshaven Man behind Large Blouse and Double Chin spoke up, ” Christ, I’ll get your gum for you, pal.”

I said, “looks like you have about 10 items, though.”

He said, “damn, you’re right.”

We all looked at the Cashier.

The Unshaven Man put his razors back and grabbed my gum.

He said, “I didn’t need to shave today anyway.”

I walk out of the Store, gum in hand, triumphant.

A Good Young Man (or Locke’s Socks) The Would Be Patriot

This is a story of a good young man.

We all know good young men.

This particular good young man was esteemed by his family and admired by his community.

He was Smart.

He was Considerate.

He did well in school.

The Good Young Man was taught to love his country.

He said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning – Monday through Friday – for roughly twelve years as he was indoctrinated in his country’s Education System (he even said the Pledge in front of his mirror – hand over his heart – before school and on Saturdays before he went out).

Like everyone else in his country, he watched the movies at the local cinema where the Villain is the Enemy of the Country he grew up in (Amerika in the 80s for example: the Villains were Russian. Now they’re Middle Eastern).

This Good Young Man went to a religious institution with his family. He learned the ways of his Religious Community.

He was taught to Love his Deity.

Being a Good Young Man (GYM), he helped his neighbors (especially the frail old man who lived next door) frequently …and always for free. Often, he did this in the name of Deity, but some surmised he may have done good deeds anyway because that’s the way he was as long as I can remember.

“He is a good young man,” everyone said.

GYM (Gym) decided to join the Military. It was – after all – the godly, Patriotic thing to do. He had to give back for all his country had done for him. He never made a list of what his country did for him… but he supposed it must have been a lot.

Indeed, Gym (Jim) loved his country (why does one ‘love’ their country?) and believed (through the media) that it is under ‘attack’ (or could be under attack at ANY MOMENT) and it should be defended at all costs.

Perhaps he also wanted college benefits.

Jim’s Mother wept and his father – chest swelled with Pride (but still stealthy wiping a tear from his eye) – when Jim said good-bye and left for Army Basic Training.

Army Basic Training is where they ‘break you down to build you back up’ (think about the implications of this ‘breaking down’ and the subsequent ‘building back up’).

After his Initial Training, Jim, whom everyone loved back home, is assigned to his unit.

It is Airborne Infantry.

NOW living and working with his Comrades, some of them seasoned vets with rank, he is hazed and further indoctrinated through peer pressure. Being a subordinate, he wants to please his Commanders and those who outrank him.

Jim is now part of a Machine (a lean mean fighting machine is what they call themselves).

To Jim, life becomes Us and Them. More often than not – Us Versus Them.

Sentimental feelings or feelings of empathy for them (the Military vs. Everyone Else) are now obsolete or if not, they should be.

Everyone is a potential Enemy.

They use words to deHUMANize the Enemy. It is easier to kill something that is not Human (we all remember various points in History: Gooks or VC for Vietnamese; Chinks or Dogs for Chinese; Wetback for Mexicans; Japs for Japanese; Niggers or Coons for Blacks; Kraut for Germans – you get the Gist).

During the Occupation & Rape of Nanjing, a Japanese Commander said, the Chinese are Pigs… but actually Pigs are more valuable because one can eat a Pig!

Once the Enemy is not looked upon as Human, they are easier to torture then kill.

Jim (Gym) finally gets the opportunity to fight (and possibly die) for his country. He gets shipped to an ‘enemy’ country – let’s say Iraq – for the final nail in his indoctrinated coffin.

The training has hardened him; and now he is living with like-minded individuals in a Reality Box. They think alike. They look alike. They act alike.

He goes to combat with his Comrades.

Now the Enemy that Gym has been taught to hate – the Towel Heads, the Camel Jockeys – are shooting at him. This clinches it. These animals really are bad.

Gym becomes a seasoned vet. The appalling becomes mundane. The shocking becomes ordinary. He laughs at things that would have turned his stomach years ago.

He does things he could have never done before. Heinous things.

Through school, through the Military, he has been taught to obey orders.

Do what you’re told private!  If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you!

The once Mindful becomes Mindless. Don’t think… just do!

All for Love of Country.

All for Defending his Country (how does one defend one’s Home by invading the Home of others?).

All for National Pride.

Gym (GYM) is a True Patriot.

But is this Patriot still the Good Young Man he was, once upon a time?

Is he like Plutarch’s Ship of Theseus? Perhaps Plato’s Carriage or Locke’s Socks?

The original Young Man has been slowly broken down (psychologically/socially) piece by piece only to be built back up again. Is he responsible for his actions?

Who is doing the breaking down? Who is doing the building back up? What is their intention? Their motive? Do they care about all the GYMs in the world?

What of the residual repercussions?

Is our Hero the same Good Young Man he was before?

Was he ever a Good Young Man in the first place?

SHORT STORY: The Flame That Softly Danced

The Flame That Softly Danced

By: Boston Paul

Gypsi

I SAW A CANDLE BURNING IN A WINDOW OF A HOUSE DURING one of my midnight walks.  The roof of the house sloped down until the corners of the house pointed up, like a temple in China or Japan or one of those far away places I read about in books. I liked to venture out late at night in this small town, situated right outside of suburbia. I liked to go out at night when the World was quiet and asleep. I was glad that I changed my usual walking route that night.  Had I not, I would not have seen that Dwelling and this would be a tale that would not have been told.

A cliché Moon enshrouded in see-through clouds, hung in an ink black sky. She (the Moon) told me that it might Rain tomorrow. I imagined this Moon to be like the Moon during Ramadan.  How she shone!  I did not know when Ramadan was.  But I like how it rolled off my tongue. It sounded Romantic to me.

The Moon…

Indifferent to the Armies below that hustle and bustle about.

Planning strategies.

Intimidating the populace.

Pillaging the masses.

The Moon was indifferent to those below that tried to give their lives some meaning while succumbing to their insecurities. She was indifferent to the race that the Rats seem to be winning. She was indifferent to the conspiracies the powers that be wielded. It was a quiet night and I could almost hear the flicker of the flame as the candle burned.

I sat down against a tree across the street from the house.  It was a special house. No doubt, the owner had added the sloping roof after a visit to the Orient or after looking at pictures in a magazine.  It was a bit out of place in this quiet neighborhood, so I stopped to look.

The Flame in the window of this house was Hypnotic.  I lost myself in thought as I stared at the reds, yellows, and oranges that flickered and danced in the night, through the window, in the room of that house, that Warm house.

Those moments I watched the Flame, I felt Peace.

Floating Peace.

Warm blanket Peace.

For a moment, I forgot what so many others try to forget in their day-to-day struggle.  My insecurities, for a fleeting moment, vanished.  At last, I was the Ruler of my own World and the Master of my Destiny.  I saw my future expand with every quiver of that small Fire in the window, dancing just for me.

Dancing for me to see…

I do not know how long I sat there, but at once, the Flame went out, and I was jolted back into Reality’s grip. What blew out the Fire?  Did a small breeze blow through a crack in the window perhaps? It was then I saw a Silhouette in the darkness of that room draw the curtains closed.  The Moon at last had disappeared while I had been reveling in contemplative thought.  And the Rain decided not to wait for tomorrow.

I stood up.  Did the Silhouette see me?  The Rain must have been soaking my clothes, but I had not yet noticed as I struggled to hold onto that Peaceful feeling I had as it ebbed like the tides. And alas, the bitter cold Rain reminded me that I was not in a Peaceful world, after all.

The Rain.  From inside my Dwelling, I can hear the pitter-patter on the roof above. So inviting, so comforting.   From inside my room, I can hear the Rain hitting the street, the rooftops, and the leaves of the trees… how soothing!

It was not soothing then as I stood in it, clothes soaked.  The Peaceful feeling that had been slowly fading, vanished all together.

I decided to kill the person who extinguished the Flame.

I had never killed before, so I was not quite sure how to do it, but I had thought about it many times.  So many nights I lay in my bed.  Thinking.  If I were to kill someone, could I get away with it?  I always came up with a Master Plan for every situation I conjured up.  I would read or hear about others who had killed and had been caught.  How stupid they were!

In order to kill, it seemed essential to have a Plan.  Think the Plan over.  Play your own Devil’s Advocate.  Perhaps go through a trial run or two, and then execute… the Plan that is.

Execute the Plan.

I forgot how wet I was.  I walked away from my spot.  I was not sure if anyone had seen me from within that Warm house or not.  The Shadow that blew out my Peaceful Flame may have seen me.  So I had to be careful.  I walked a safe distance from the house to where I was almost out of sight.  Then I circled back around.  I walked down another side street keeping my eyes on all the houses I passed.  Making as sure as I could that no one could see me.  When I was positive that I could not be detected, I made my way back towards the dwelling.  I went straight to the backyard.  Stealthy, I made my way to a window on one side of the house. I did not dare look directly into the window.  I could see that it was dark inside. The Rain, still pouring down, once my Foe, now became my Friend and disguised any sounds I may have made.

I stayed at the side of the Warm house and listened for any sounds coming from within.  I heard nothing.  But then I surmised that the same Rain hiding the sounds that I may be making, might be hiding the sounds that the Silhouette that blew out my Flame may be making.

I sat at the side of that house for a long time.  It could have been a very long time.  When I was sure (I am not sure of what), I slowly stood up and took a  peek in the window.  I saw Blackness. I could not make out any light or anything.  I tried to open the window, but it would not budge.  Locked, I surmised.  But it could very well have been stuck from not being opened for so long.  I crept to the next window.  It would not open either.  Locked or stuck.  Hhhmmm…

I moved around to the back door.  I turned the doorknob and then pushed ever so lightly on the door.  It resisted and then at once opened!  There was a little vibration from the corner of the door and a squeak sound.  I froze.  Could someone have heard the sounds?

Adrenaline peaked as I thought about what I was doing.  I began to get excited as I slowly pushed the door open and then… CLUNK!  The door was still secured by a chain.  One of those blasted chain locks!  Who uses those anymore?  Discouraged, I sat down on the step leading to the locked door.  Damn!  The Rain beat down on me, but I was still sweating.  I lifted my face towards the Heavens and let the ever-increasing intensity of the Rain fall on me.

Miserable Rain.

The thunder was sporadic and the lightning fantastic, but they came at long intervals.  I sat their wondering what to do.  When I was a boy, my Mother used one of those chain locks for the front door of our rented house…  then I got it!  Maybe if I opened the door and pulled the chain over to me, I might be able to unlatch it.  After all, these chain locks were only designed to keep the honest people honest.  I tried it and indeed the chain unlatched.  I opened the door fully and  entered.  I stopped in the doorway and listened for any sounds. I was in the kitchen.  I heard nothing but the refrigerator.  The Rain seemed to muffle the sounds of the night.  I closed the door ever so gently and sat down on the floor.

I thought about how I would carry out my Plan. Should I use a gun?  Maybe not.  That was too messy and besides, I didn’t have a gun.  A knife?  No, that was messy and too violent as well.   I do not think I could ever bring myself to stab a person.   Poison then?  I did not have any and I was not much of a chemist.

Suffocate them?  Strangle them?  Yes, yes, this sounded better.  It was clean.  No blood or guts.  Except that… when if this person was stronger than I was?  When if it was some big construction worker or someone who knew some kind of martial art?  No, suffocation or strangulation put me in Danger.  That only left one other option… I could bludgeon them to death.  I would have to be careful to hit them in places that would not explode with Blood, like a nose.

One good blow to the head would give me total advantage. I could then beat them at the place where the neck meets the back of the head. That’s how I would do it.  I looked around the house for something I could use.  I tip toed around, gently opening closets and cupboards, careful about getting fingerprints on anything.  I looked for something heavy, like a baseball bat perhaps.  I found nothing.

I walked into what seemed to be a living room and saw a Piano. Upon close inspection (as close an inspection one could do in the dark), I found that it was a beautiful Piano with a beautiful bench.  I admit that I am bias in that all Pianos are beautiful to me.  Then a thought occurred.  I could use a leg from the Piano bench.  It should be heavy enough.  Yes, the leg!

It took a while, but as quietly as I could, I separated the leg from the bench.  It seemed to be cherry or mahogany.  It was nice, hard, heavy wood.

Mission accomplished, I took my new tool and set out to complete my Task.  I paused for a moment trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness.  I couldn’t make out everything, but it seemed to be a very nice living room.  I would have liked to sit and play the Piano for a while.  I was quite good actually. I am self taught. Some called me a child prodigy.  The living room was Warm and perhaps with the lights on, it would have had a nice ambiance.  Warmth.  The feeling of Warmth.  I imagined sitting with my Sweet-heart as the Rain fell outside.

Romance, then Fallen days and Saddened nights.

The Sweetness still bitter on my Soul.

I walked out of the living room and came to a closed door.  I opened it slowly, it creaked and I hesitated a moment.  I pushed it open a little more and it creaked again.  It must have taken five minutes to open that door.  At last, I peaked in. Total blackness. I crept in and as my eyes adjusted, I looked around.  I did not see a bed. I saw books and a desk.  Nothing else.

I crept back out.  I contemplated closing the door.  I did not want anyone to know I had been there.  I left the door open and found my way to another closed door.  I slowly turned the knob.  So slowly.  Thank a god it was Raining out.  The door did not creak as much as the other one did and I pushed it open.  I stepped inside the room.  I saw the outline of a bed in the Shadows and I heard breathing.  Slow, deep, slumber breaths.  I could hear my own Heart beating and wondered if my Heart beating could be heard in the Silhouette’s dreams.

I went to the side of the bed.  I saw a bump in the shape of what seemed to be the fetus position under many blankets… or were they quilts?  I raised the Piano leg high over my head as I tried to determine where the head was.  I focused my eyes to better my aim for a lethal blow upon my target.

I had to do this just Right.

The bump moved.  I froze. There was a grunt and a small fart followed by the smacking noises one makes whilst sleeping.  The slow breathing from this Soul continued and I stopped holding my breath.  I let out a quiet sigh.  I had not lowered the Wood.  It was still high above my head ready to strike.  Every muscle in my body was flexed and ready with anticipation.

Once again I focused and was about to swing down with all my might when I paused and thought…. When if this is an old woman?  A child?  A pastor of a church? I thought and thought some more.  How can I beat an old woman?  How can I beat a child? Then I thought: Wait! To beat them would be wrong. But I did not come here to beat anyone.  I came here to Kill.  I have no idea who this is.  I have no idea about their age, gender, creed, or color.  I don’t know about their physical condition… and it doesn’t matter.

Death does not Discriminate

We all Die.  It is just a matter of how and when.

When your ticket’s up… they say.

I thought back to when my Childhood friends and I would talk about Death.  We talked about an Afterlife. What our funerals would be like… who would read whose Eulogy.  We decided that when it’s your time to go, nothing could be done about it.  Then I reminisced how we would all get drunk together as teenagers and laugh, go on long drives and go skinny dipping in the nearby lake on hot summer nights.  Those days when my Life seemed to be full of

Love and Surprise…

I don’t know how long I stood there with that piece of wood poised above my head, ready to attack, recalling my younger days.  But then, the body moved again.  I did not move.

“Who…?” the body said.  The voice was a bit gruff.  The just woke up voice that could have belonged to anyone.  I swung the wood down in the direction of the voice.  A sharp crack rang out and then a sudden expulsion of air from the body’s lungs.  One hit.  I listened carefully and heard no breathing.  I wanted to turn a light on and see, but then decided that lights were out of the Question.  I swung down again.  I was sure that I hit the skull from the blunt crunch sound that it made.

The temptation to look was so great, I wanted to see if I had finished my work, but decided instead to hit again and again… and again.  Each time I swung down, the feel, sound and crunch were unique and different.

Drenched with sweat and wet from the Rain, I finally put the wood down.  The Silhouette  just had to be Dead.  I sat down on the bed next to the silent bump under the quilts and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my Rain soaked shirt sleeve.  The bed was quite comfortable.  I wanted to lie down and sleep for I was quite exhausted.  I sat and waited for feelings of Guilt to wash over me.  Feelings of regret or remorse.

None came.

I decided that we are all animals.  Darwin came to mind as I pondered the survival of the fittest theory.   Fittest not necessarily meaning strongest, but perhaps smartest, most cunning.  Yes, I believed that I was smarter than this Soul.

I stood up and stretched.  It was time to leave.  I had to get some sleep.  I walked out of the room taking the Piano leg with me.  I went back into the living room.  I really wanted to play a tune on the Piano. I decided maybe another day.  I went over to the window where the Candle was.  There was a box of matches on the window sill.  I re-lit the candle and sat down on the floor.  I watched the candle for a long time.  I felt that Peace again.  That Warmth.  I knew eventually that I would have to go back out in the Rain, but for now, listening to the Rain outside and watching the Flame softly dance… I was at ease.  Momentarily consoled.  Satisfied.  A roaring Fire could not have given me the Warmth that candle gave me.  It danced.  It flickered… it sang…

I drifted in and out of a light sleep and had dreams mixed with memories until at length I knew it was time to go.  I got up, went to the back door, and let myself out.  I still had the leg of the Piano with me.  I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I took it with me.

The heavy Rain became a light drizzle as I mused and made my way home. Home?  Actually, it was a room where I merely existed.  I left Home a long time ago. Home is the place I hang my hat, I heard some say.  I did not own a hat.

I pondered that night’s Events. What is the difference between murder and killing?  Both involve taking a life.  The accepted idea generally is that Killing is to cause the Death of something.  Murder is to kill unlawfully with malice.  It seems that I did both.  But did I really kill with malice? Does an animal murder?  Aren’t we just that?

Four legged creatures that stand up on two?

I went home. And as I made my way back to my hovel, I turned to take one last look at the house, now ablaze.  I turned back and walked quicker as I realized that the candle might have caught the curtains, setting the entire house on Fire.  The Flames grew bigger and danced in the Rainy night sky. Now I would never get the chance to play that magnificent Piano.

For weeks, I stayed in my house.  Coming out occasionally only at night, very late at night for my walks. I changed my walking route once again. I whittled the Piano leg into a fine statuette of some Asian Goddess.  For those random rare occasions that I saw someone else, I had to wonder if one knew or suspected.  It seemed they all looked at me with accusing eyes… I looked back with knowing eyes…

I followed the news on my black and white TV that needed a bent coat hanger for an antenna.  I read the papers I found in the garbage.  I listened to the gossip at the diner and the radio when I sat on my porch.

It has been a quarter century now and nothing has ever pointed to me.

I still feel no remorse

I feel no guilt

There was no face for me to remember

No windows of the Soul for me to see

No post traumatic syndrome this time for me

Just a memory

A Candle and a Flame

Boston Paul: Short History/Resume

Boston Paul

(Short History/Resume)

• Boston Paul left home when he was 16.
• Hitchhiked across Amerika when he was 17.
• Joined the Military when he was 18.
  • He ’served’ in the elite 82nd Airborne Division
  • The 82nd Airborne is based out of Fort Bragg, North Carolina. 

    He is a combat vet.

POST MILITARY

• Began doing Police Work & Armed Security in the City of Boston (1990 -1995).
• Joined the National Guard in 1990. Discharged in 1994.
• Attended the University of Massachusetts (Boston) 1990 – 1994.
  • Majored in English & Philosophy.
  • Minored in East Asian Studies & Creative Writing.
• Visited Taiwan for the first time during the Summer of 1993.
  • He was part of the Chinese Language Program at Donghai University.
• 1994 return to Taiwan for another Summer.
• Moved to Taiwan in January,1995 and never looked back.

Taiwan

• 1995: Moved to Taiwan
  • Opened Boston English School, July the same year
  • By 1999: opened 3 English schools in the cities of Taichung, Zhuo-lan, Xinshe
  • Through Boston English School, he began editing/translating English/Chinese.
• 1996 opened an Entertainment Company.
  • Was an Exotic Dancer until 2005.

English Editing:

His Clients include(d):

• Various Taiwanese Machine Company Magazines: Articles/Manuals
• Taiwanese High School/University Students: Essays/Reports
• Assistant Curator of the Botany Department @ the Taichung Science Museum/PhD Paper on the Begonia Parvula
• Horticulture/Botany Professor @ Zhong-xin University
  • Eulophia graminea orchid for Plant Science Journal
  • Erycina pusilla orchid for PhD. Thesis

• 2000: Began focusing on Music.
• 2002: Started the Band ‘Native Space’
• 2004: Began writing for The Taichung Voice Magazine
• 2004: Opened The Refuge officially.
• 2005: Became a Father and had his World rocked
• 2006: Started the band ‘Militant Hippi’ after a book he is writing.
• 2006: Co-founded The Basic Aid Project in Taiwan with Geoff North.

Other Tidbits:

Through the Refuge Community, Boston Paul has (with the help of many others) initiated the following Organizations/Events:

• ~ LUVstock  (2011 7th-ish annual)
• ~Winter Solstice Celebration (Annual – more details soon) 2010 3rd annual
• ~Spring Equinox Gathering (Annual – more details soon) 2010 3rd annual
• ~Basic Aid Charity Event (Annual – more details soon) 2010 4th-ish annual
• ~Basic Aid Charitable Organization (with Geoff North and others -more details soon)
• ~B.P. has  not only been a performer at PeaceFest but has also been an Admin for the PeaceFest (Annual – more details soon) 7 years.

Let’s get Personal

Massachusetts is considered to be a Liberal State (Massachusetts was the first state to approve Gay Marriages for example which I applaud but also find odd because of the prevalent Catholic Presence).      The Republican Protestant is the minority in good Ol’ Taxachusetts where I grew up.

My family is very Protestant & very Republican in a very Catholic/Democrat Environment.

What a dynamic.

I was a ‘Born Again’ Christian (see John 3:16) as a child.

Yes, 15 years of Religiousness and a Personal Relationship with Jesus.

Not only did I go to Church on Sundays (Sunday Service, Sunday School, sometimes early service and evening service); but I also attended Youth Group during the Middle of the Week; participated in Weekly & Daily Bible Studies; had Daily Devotions; went to Bible Camp in the Summer in New Hampshire; went to various Retreats; and even participated in a couple Billy Graham Crusades (where I was a ‘counselor’ at 14 years old). If I had to do it over, I am not sure I would. But the learning experiences have been invaluable.  Concerning Religion, I’m more cynical & skeptical than ever.

Thank Christ (pun intended) for showing me how f*cked up it all is.

Truth is not found in One Book.

 

Truth is a Quest that requires an open mind, and seizing opportunities to obtain knowledge from everything & anything.

 

Truth comes in many Guises and often un-expectantly.

 

Question what you believe for this does 2 things:

 

Re-affirms what you already Believe

or

Causes you to Change or Modify what you Believe…

 

1LUV

 

SHORT STORY:David & Boston Paul Chat about $ & the Amerikan Bank Bailout.

David and Boston Paul were sitting in their chairs, each in front of their own Computer on opposite sides of the Planet.

Paul was drinking a cup of very strong Herbal Tea with his Breakfast and David was sipping a whiskey on the rocks.

As their beverages worked their Speedy Magic and neurons began dancing in each of their brains;  their whimsical conversation turned from updates on Family, recent elections and news of high school friends to the subject of Money…

Here is how the chat went down…

David: – wipes up a bit of  condensation on his desk from the whiskey glass: Sunday there already?

Boston Paul: Yawning: Sunday AM, indeed.

David: Did you drink last night? How’s the head?

Boston Paul: I didn’t drink too much last night. I fell asleep early trying to get my son to sleep. I missed my buddy’s house-warming party … oops. What are you up to? Must be 9PM there, eh?

David: I’m just winding down, myself.  Helped my brother Pete tile his bathroom floor. Then I helped another buddy put in a new bay window and a back door, too.

Boston Paul: Right on… you are just the Little Helper!

David: I’ve been going for 12 hours! Slowing down now and finally relaxing.

Boston Paul: You should move to Taiwan, I could use your help & expertise as well!

David: They do it for me, too. It’s all Payback. We call it a Day for a Day.

Boston Paul: Aaahhh, there it is. I like Payback in the form of NON-monetary trade

David: I hear you. It’s always a good thing.

Boston Paul: Especially when you realize the paper currency used in trade has no real value.

David: My friend just turned me on to a new song by The Tea Party called Paint it Black.  It’s a Rolling Stones cover.  This economy is sucking so bad right now.

Boston Paul: It will continue to suck, Ol’ Chum. The Amerikan government has no control of its Monetary System.

David: True! I guess you know we got a new Prez.

Boston Paul: New Man same BS though! He is not much different from McSame (McCain).

David: Its our only hope now -  always so much BS. McSame – LOL I never heard that one. Funny. Ultimately, they’re all the same.

Boston Paul: The only difference between both of them is the one is 1/2 Black and the other is 1/2 Retarded & White. One is Young & the other is Ancient.

David: LOL

Boston Paul: Neither of them support taking Troops out of Iraq. Both of them support the Bailout Plan for the banks - The Banks that f*cked it all up in the first place, by the way

David: Oh, I know!

Boston Paul: So now YOU, my brother &  friend, have to bail out the banks and save them from their f*ckup – which is interesting because what most people do not realize is that the Federal Reserve Bank is NOT a government entity. It is a Private Bank in partnership with the Government (It is still early, I’m typing slow, be patient with me).  The Federal Reserve Bank (FED) is about as governmental as Federal Express.  You know the History of Paper Money, right bro?

David: Probably not as well as you. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me. Ha ha.

Boston Paul: I am going to tell you as fast as my delicate little fag* fingers can type.  In 1913, The FED took Power/Control of the Money Supply in Amerika. The US Gov now has to borrow money from the FED (if it was a real Government Agency, how could it borrow money from itself and then pay itself back with interest?). The History of it goes basically like this: You had some gold, but it was too dangerous or cumbersome to carry it around, so you would bring it to a ‘safe house’ (we now call them Banks).  They would give you a receipt letting you know how much you deposited.  To make a long story short, People started using these receipts instead of money because of convenience. Why travel 100 miles on Horseback to take out a few grams of gold out to pay a Debt, when the receipt has the same value?

David: Fag fingers doing well.

Boston Paul: lol

David: It all makes perfect sense.

Boston Paul: The banks realized that no one was trading in their receipts for Gold and Paper Money and subsequently modern banking was born.  That’s when they started lending out Paper (OUR money), but it was always backed by gold.  We have been off the gold system a long time now (since 1971) and this is where it gets interesting.  Inflation and devaluation of money are intentional. This is how they control the Masses.

David: I can see that happening very easily.

Boston Paul: So the government is going to borrow money from the FED so they can start  bail out the banks.

David: …and with my money.

Boston Paul: The FED is going to go to their Printer and PRINT this money (which is backed by nothing) and lend it to the Government at interest.

David: It’s brilliant, isn’t it?

Boston Paul: It is. The Value comes in form of Debt. Debt is value to them because if you are in Debt, then you are their Slave.

David:  Interesting thought. It seems it’s hard not to be a slave.

Boston Paul:  This is madness! They are trying to pay off this debt WITH MORE DEBT.

David: That can only lead to a dead-end.

Boston Paul: Indeed! Or a total crash of the market which is what is happening now.

David: A very deep black hole that nothing can get out of. I’m feeling that now.

Boston Paul: This loan that Obama is supporting only prolongs the Inevitable.

David: And what do you say that is? Complete collapse?

Boston Paul: It could very well be. My advice to you Brother Love, is to quietly take your money out of the bank and invest it in commodities, or gold. Except you really can’t eat gold or use it for much of anything practical.

David: Not much left right now… these are tough times.

Boston Paul: There is not a lot Americans can do about it unless they Unite… Bush & Cohorts have taken away all your rights with the Patriot Act.

David: That is good advice. Bush’s Cohorts are probably reading this right now.

Boston Paul: It’s all good.

David: Yes it is good. Nice chat. Your hands must be killing you. Good talking. I really miss our conversations.

Boston Paul: I miss it too, bro. Tell everyone hello.

David: You too.  Have a great Sunday!

Boston Paul: Have a great Saturday night! I wish I was there.  Peace & Love…

David: Out for now…

* Fag: The term has additional meanings in British English, where “faggot” traditionally means a bundle of sticks and faggots are a kind of meatball. In British English, “fag” is common slang for a cigarette or for hard work. In some UK public schools, fagging was the name given to the practice where a younger boy (a “fag”) acted as an unpaid servant for an older boy.

SHORT STORY: Stoned at The Fair.

 

Stoned At the Fair
Boston Paul
“Gypsi”

I was 17 when I decided to hitch hike from Boston to California. I don’t know… maybe I was trying to find myself. Maybe I was running away from something. Or perhaps, just maybe, fate had it that I was running to something. I am not a psychiatrist, so I don’t know the deep complexities on how the mind works and why we do the things we do. I won’t attempt an educated guess as to why I left home and set out. I ponder the “whys” sometimes, but that time in my life is over and no matter what the reason is, it helped shape who I am today.

But we are not going to talk about who I am now, but rather about a boy who thought himself a man and was on a quest. Aah yes, that’s it.

A Quest.

I set out and was barely in Massachusetts when I ran out of money. I left home with about 40 dollars in my pocket, and that did not last long. I needed to find away to eat. I could hold up a gas station I mused, but I knew I could never go through with it. No, no, my money making scheme had to be somewhat legit.

As I was hitchhiking through the countryside nearing New York, a driver picked me up, listened to my sad pathetic tale of having no money and took pity on me. He told me about a fair in a small town called Great Barrington. He said they were always looking for help and I should check it out.

There was nothing really great about this town. It was a small town. Imagine the neighborhood that you saw in the old TV show “Leave it to Beaver.” In retrospect, it made that neighborhood look more like a big city. There were actually people driving up to convenient stores on their tractors and other farm equipment. But the fair was quite the attraction and people came from miles around.
There were about ten of us that made up “The Help.” Our duties were easy. They had some of us parking cars in the morning and I made a few tips from the men that wore big hats and spent a lot of money betting on the horses. “Watch my car, here’s ten bucks.” Pocketing the cash, I would watch his car for about thirty seconds and then move on. In the afternoon, I walked around picking up trash and keeping the place orderly. They also had me doing little odds and ends for those in the hierarchy. “Take this over to the office…” or “Pick up that horse shit over there.” When the fair closed at the end of the day, usually as the sun was going down, we swept up trash. Nothing like the smell of fair garbage at the end of the day. Instead of chanting; “Get your hot dogs here!” We would all cry out, “Get your garbage here!” and laugh. Only we thought it was funny though.

One day, the Head Grunt said he wanted me to work the horse track. Woah!

The Track!

 

I thought of it as a bit of a promotion. No more parking cars and no more garbage! The work was simple enough. The track was shaped like the lower case letter b. The stem of the b is where the horse gate was. That is where the horses were loaded up to get ready to race. Our job was to pull a special gate across the stem so that the horses only saw a circle. They didn’t want the horses to round the circle and then take a right back up the stem, so the gate was there to prevent that. After we pulled the gate across, we had to take rakes and smooth out the dirt and then get the hell out of the way, because by that time, the horses had already started making their way around the track and were heading right toward us. An easy enough job. Each race I worked about three minutes with my partner and then we chilled out until the next race was ready to start.

My partner was this manly woman named Jill. She was great. A kind of Flower Child Lesbian. I was a skinny, seventeen year old going on thirty, she was thirty and took me under her wing. We worked together pulling out the gate and smoothing out the dirt, that was our job.

Pull gate. Rake dirt. Pull gate. Rake dirt.

The first part of the week this job was interesting and even a bit exciting. That wore off quickly. The job became monotonous. Everyday for six hours it was the same thing. At first we had lots to talk about and got to know each other pretty well. But after a few days, we just kind of did our work and then stared up at the sky until it was time to go to work for three minutes again.
One day Jill asked me if I wanted to smoke a little pot with her. She told me it was great stuff and would knock my socks off for sure. She also said that it might make our job a little more interesting. I quickly agreed. We lit up right there. A big wide open space. She lit a cigarette as well and away we smoked. We got baked in front a few thousand spectators and not one of them knew, although in retrospect, there were people with binoculars, perhaps they did see us but doubtful they would have cared.

We finished the joint, sat on the grass and watched the horses get into the gates. This usually takes a little while because some of the horses don’t want to get into the gates. They need to run and be free, and now they are being crammed into this little box until the bell goes off. This could be very amusing. Sometimes that horse would simply refuse to go in. They were yelled at, tugged at, pushed, threatened, sworn at, bribed. Well, as luck would have it, the Number Four horse did refuse to go into the gate and they tried everything. Jill and I, high as kites, were laughing our asses off. My side hurt and the back of my skull was aching. Jill was in tears. The horse had just had enough and was kicking and bucking. They tried using food, a big stick, and other methods including about ten people all around the horse trying to push it to get in the start box, to no avail.

Number Four’s ears were flat back and its hair was raised ever so slightly on its back. It looked really pissed off. They delayed the race and decided to pull the horse to the owner’s chagrin. Then we heard this little Japanese looking guy, “No, No No!” he yelled. “No race… No money! No money… No eat! We put horse in gate! I help!” He then starting cooing and blabbered something in his language that no one seemed to understand but Jill and I.
“Jill,” I said, “do you understand what he is saying?”
“I told you this was good shit!” she laughed.

A few more minutes went by and the Japanese jockey had coaxed the horse into the box. He stroked the horses face and kept whispering in its ear. Jill and I were over by the gate, waiting to work, but laying down in the grass. We were both comfortable and no one seemed to notice us. We heard the warning buzz signaling the start of the race. A second and a half later we heard the bell and the announcer over the loud speaker say “Aaaaaand they’re off!” Jill and I watched as the horses, in slow motion, burst from the gate and sped down the track. We watched in awe as they got farther and farther down the track going into the first turn.

I heard Jill say, “Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?” I asked over the din of the crowd cheering.
“The patter of their hooves as they run.” she answered.
I listened and watched as they rounded into the second turn. “Yes, I can hear their hooves. Wow!” I could hear everything, and smell everything. My senses were so keen I could even hear the horses thinking. This was very good weed. Too good. They sped towards the third turn. The pit pat of their hooves became louder and more real as they neared us. We watched them run. They were so beautiful. I secretly rooted for Number Four. The horses passed us and rounded the last turn and headed for the straight away to see who would be the winner.

We both sat up.

“Go Number Four!” I yelled.
“Come on white horse with the black spots!” Jill blurted out.

I looked at her.

“That was quite a mouthful,” I said.

She ignored me.

“GO! GO!” she yelled.
“Come on!” I screamed.

And then the race was over.

 It was a photo finish and we would have to wait a moment for the result of the race. It was between the Number Four horse and the Number Six horse. Jill swore. “Dammit! I thought for sure the white horse with the black spots would have won!” She wiped a tear from her eye, “but that was beautiful wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. That was the most beautiful race I had ever seen!” I replied.
We laid back down in the grass and looked up at the sky. We both let out a long sigh and waited for the results of the race.

“Hey, can you hear footsteps?” asked Jill.
“Yes, I can,” I replied.
“This stuff makes you so aware doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes it does,” I agreed. The footsteps got closer and closer and got louder and louder.

The ground vibrated.

“What the hell are you two doing?” It was the Head Grunt.
“Taking a break,” Jill said.
“Taking a break?!” He screamed. “You take a break after you work. You forgot to bring the gate out and smooth out the dirt!” My heart sank. Damn! We forgot. We really forgot.
“Aahh, aahh….” I stammered.
“Oh shut up!” ordered The Grunt. “Stand up! You’re going back to park cars and sweep up garbage.”
“No I’m not,” I blurted out. The Grunt looked me up and down.
“Yes you are! And you are going to do it now!”
“I’m going to California.” I turned to Jill, “Jill, it was nice getting to know you. Thanks for the moment.” I walked past the Head Grunt to the office to collect my wages for the day.
“Hey! You have work to do! You just can’t leave!” he yelled after me.
“I think he just did,” said Jill. “Bye my friend! You take care and I hope you find what you’re looking for!”

I went into the office and told them I was on my way.
“Can’t you just stay and finish out the week?” said one of the office workers.
“You can’t just leave,” said another.
“You are going to stay,” said a rough-looking, fat guy.
“We’ll up your salary a bit, how does that sound?”
“Pleeeeease stay!” said the secretary. Right when I was about to give in to their country hospitality (and the secretary was beautiful), I looked out the window and saw Jill waving from a distance. Then I saw her point to the finish line where the results from the race were posted. Number Four lost by a nose. The horse that was pushed, tugged at, yelled at, sweet talked and bribed to get into that box, only to lose the race anyway.
“No,” I said firmly. I began to feel hot and I swear I felt my ears go back flat against my skull. “Give me my money – I’m outa here.” They weren’t going to stuff me into any box, no siree.

My mind wandered for a bit during the commotion I caused by my abrupt resignation when I realized someone was asking me,” Did you just say we can’t get you into the gate?
“What the hell are you talking about?” said another.
“If that’s the way you want it,” said the rough-looking, fat man. He pulled a few bills out of his wallet and gave them to me.
“Thanks,” I said as I stuffed the bills into my front pocket and walked out the door.
I looked over at the horses getting ready for the next race and over the dissonance of the crowd, I swore that I heard the pit pat of their hooves as they were led to the gate. I saw Jill in the distance sitting on a fence waiting for the start of the race and staring up at the sky.

I raced to California.

 

Ended up in Arizona…