Monologues & Meanderings

Illusions Of Grandeur (6S)

2010-07-25T21:10:00.000-05:00

My parents were always drunk; they were drunk when they met, and when I was conceived, and even when I was born. They stayed drunk until my 8th birthday when they drove their El Camino, (drunken, need I add) into a bread truck while on a beer run for what should have been my party. In the waiting room of County Hospital; laying on Nana’s lap and nestled against her ample bosom, I slept.

I dreamed again of mom and dad and me descending the steps of Air Force One, smiling and waving at an adoring America. Just as I got to the part where dad sweeps me up into his arms, I was wakened by official words, hushed voices and quiet sobs. With great effort, I tried and failed to muster a substantial measure of grief before once again giving in to the sleep, and the dream.

The Last Request (6S)

2010-07-25T21:08:00.002-05:00

“Stop it with the singing,” She almost screamed, then was so surprised by her own volume that she hurriedly sipped too much of her hot cocoa. The old diner had been crowded for most of the morning so only a few people close by had heard her. For some reason this particular spirit, Margaret, had taken to singing and had barely shut up the entire three-hour trip up to the little town.

With no small effort, she forced herself to ignore the singing and the watching eyes of the sullen faced locals and focused all of her attention on the round, fifty-something, gray-haired gentleman sitting by himself in a corner booth. In one fluid movement, she rose from her table, took five swift steps, stood in front of the man, sang as loudly as she could, and then leaned forward to look him straight in the eye. “Margaret wants you to sing Amazing Grace at her funeral.”

Atonement (6S)

2010-07-25T21:07:00.002-05:00

There comes old Paul Miller, stooped over and headed for that fire station again, no doubt carrying that bucket full of water. Folks say Paul lost his mind sometime ago after his grandson burned up in a fire when a lit cigarette fell out of Paul's mouth during a drunken nap. If you ask me, his daughter Mabeline knew full well Paul couldn’t resist a beer in the early afternoon, even if he was supposed to be watching little Dakota James. He was a rowdy something that Dakota, and just loved going down to that fire station playin’ on all those old trucks they kept out back. I guess Paul is off to put him out again. Maybe one day Paul'd take that bucket and pour it on his own head.

Blind-Sided (6S)

2010-07-25T21:06:00.000-05:00

Girls love me, sexy girls, because I’m tall and muscular with a great smile and blazingly white teeth. This girl, Aisha, is tutoring me in math today because I need at least a C to stay on the team, then more girls can fall in love with me. As she turns the corner I notice she’s alright looking but not nearly my type and she’s a nerd. Right away, she starts in with Geometry, telling me I can do it and that I have lots of potential and that if I put my mind to it I can really be good at it, smiling and reassuring me and singing my praises and not belittling me and not berating me and not looking at me with that mixture of shame and disgust that says all you’ll ever be is a dumb jock and a cute face.

The 5th period bell rings and she moves to clear the table and smiles again and stands and says how she can’t wait for our next meeting and reaches over and touches my shoulder. It is the gentlest most caring and frankly the sexiest thing I have ever experienced.

The Day Sadness Died in Kipper

2010-05-16T16:45:00.001-05:00

The Bellamy Brother’s circus truck meandered down the dusty side streets of Kipper Daley, Wisconsin. There had been two final shows the night before. The early one featured two fat ladies holding two scrawny poodle pups in their mouths as if preparing to eat them. The evening show pulled out all the stops. Those fat ladies, apparently having had their fill of the poodles, laid sprawled across the stage, burping and passing wind in matching yellow body suits. Kipper Daley rang with laughter for two whole days after.

Blind Sided

2010-05-16T16:43:00.000-05:00

Girls love me, sexy girls, because I’m tall and muscular with a great smile and blazingly white teeth. This girl, Aisha, is tutoring me in math today because I need at least a C to stay on the team, then more girls can fall in love with me. As she turns the corner I notice she’s alright looking but not nearly my type and she’s a nerd. Right away, she starts in with Geometry, telling me I can do it and that I have lots of potential and that if I put my mind to it I can really be good at it, smiling and reassuring me and singing my praises and not belittling me and not berating me and not looking at me with that mixture of shame and disgust that says all you’ll ever be is a dumb jock and a cute face. The 5th period bell rings and she moves to clear the table and smiles again and stands and says how she can’t wait for our next meeting and reaches over and touches my shoulder. It is the gentlest most caring and frankly the sexiest thing I have ever experienced.

Atonement (6S)

2010-05-16T16:35:00.002-05:00

There comes old Paul Miller, stooped over and headed for that fire station again, no doubt carrying that bucket full of water. Folks say Paul lost his mind sometime ago after his grandson burned up in a fire after a lit cigarette fell out of his mouth during a drunken nap. If you ask me, his daughter Mabeline knew full well Paul couldn’t resist a beer in the early afternoon, even if he was supposed to be watching little Dakota James. He was a rowdy something that Dakota, and just loved going down to that fire station playin’ on all those old trucks they kept out back. I guess Paul is off to put him out again. Maybe one day Paul will take that bucket and pour it on his own head.

The Reluctant Rock Star (6S)

2009-11-22T14:58:00.000-06:00

The venue was packed out.
The tickets were sold out.
My hair was blown out.
But... the songs were played out.
The band was burnt out, then, my voice went out.
How do I get out of here?

The Reaping (6S)

2009-11-15T19:39:00.000-06:00

The impact was deafening. Dull thuds of pain spread from his eyebrows down to his cheeks and neck then rushed over his still body leaving tingling sensations to rest in the tips of his fingers and toes. From somewhere near he could hear staccato clips of sound, words maybe, building in volume and speed that somehow, he knew, was meant as a warning. Convinced that he had mere seconds to react, Remy rolled over onto his stomach and pushed up on his knees. Suddenly, a load of invisible pressure rested on him like an overstuffed laundry bag and pinned him to the cold ground. “Stay down Remy, or they’ll know we’re alive,” the other boy said.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat (6S)

2009-10-31T10:31:00.000-05:00

In June of 2006 my son’s febrile seizures finally stopped jerking him around. I stopped crying that year too and found a place to dispose of my sackcloth and ashes. That annoying lump in my throat, yep, gone too. It really made a difference when I started writing songs again that I didn’t have to sing around it. The other day my wife calls me to say that it had all started again. I couldn’t believe it took 3 whole years to feel unsafe again.

THE PRAISE TEAM

2009-10-17T07:23:00.000-05:00

Hey,

I am in the process of writing the first 3 chapters of my new blogopera, The Praise Team. Blogopera, (a word I think I coined) is a soap opera played out in blog form. I will be posting a new chapter every week for as long as I can. This should be a lot of fun. Stay tuned...

T4 (The "Twin" Final Chapter) (6S)

2009-10-16T07:57:00.000-05:00

David and Donnie Gemelli’s mom, Camille, taught them to always stick together and to stick up for one another. When Delores Marconi’s boy, Jimmy, rolled away on David’s big wheel, it was Camille who sent her oldest, Donnie, careening (football style) into Jimmy, sending him flying into Carmine Costanza’s “Fine Ice Cream and Delectable’s” cart. On their 10th and 11th birthday, when the bakery sent over a cake with the words Happy Birthday Gemelli Twins written all over it, it was Camille who subtly suggested to Donnie and his friends that someone ought to give that bakery “a good egging.” So when her son David got himself into a little trouble down at the university with some little blond tramp, it was Camille who begged Donnie to take the fall for him, “David won’t last a night in the joint,” She said. Donnie’s funeral was the worst though, what with everyone in the neighborhood whispering about David in his sunglasses; that whore on his arm; and their little bastard son walking behind them, it was a wonder Camille got any grieving done at all. When Father Lahey began the prayer, Camille squeezed her eyes shut, in mock reverence, and managed to produce a single obligatory tear.

T3 (The "Twin" Part 3) (6S)

2009-10-10T09:09:00.001-05:00

My hands are nearly raw from wringing them when he walks into the room. He’s still about thirty feet away but I can see that he looks like me walking toward myself in the mirror, where I’m a year older sporting an unkempt beard and a government-issued orange jumpsuit. We make haste to sit, as there is much to say, angry words looming just under the surface, a pair of chipped teeth nearly escapes my notice as he begins to speak. “I cannot believe you married her, after all this time I’ve spent in here, you go and marry her!” I’m thunderstruck, even with a practiced speech sitting on the tip of my tongue, caught of guard by his abruptness, I’m only able to manage a quiet I’m sorry. Suddenly he’s pulled out of his seat and led away by a guard for raising his voice, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I see my three-year-old son as he darts away from the play area and latches on to my brother's leg.

T2 (The "Twin" Part 2) (6S)

2009-10-03T07:14:00.001-05:00

Katherine was surprised when the tiny hint of a giggle tumbled out of her mouth. Her entourage of twelve sorority sisters, six on either side of her, held up both her arms as she passed through the courtroom doors. The irony of their gesture dug holes in her cheeks, revealing dimples she hadn’t seen in more than a year. She was mere seconds away from daring a laugh when she spotted him sitting by himself in the center of the room, stone-faced and seemingly oblivious to the grim occasion. Suddenly halted by the scene, she couldn’t help thinking about how she had nearly ruined his life a year ago, and that he too, had endured so much at the hands of her voracious supporters, It really is a shame he looks so much like him, she thought.

The "Twin" (6S)

2009-09-30T12:28:00.000-05:00

We were not twins.
We only looked alike, talked alike, had the same birthday, and dressed alike since we were 2 and 1. At 16 and 15, my mom had to bring our birth certificates to the DMV to prove that only one of us was getting our driver’s license. At 19 and 18 the birthmark on my chest proved I wasn’t the one who had raped our RA at the University. At 26 and 25 when I visited my brother in prison, I had to hum a special song in the ear of my three-year-old, so he would let my brother’s leg go and come home with me. At 30 and 29, when my brother was killed in a prison shower, I wore sunglasses to his funeral so people would stop looking at me like a ghost.

One For Me (6S)

2009-08-23T17:55:00.000-05:00

They were the ugliest shoes Sharon had ever laid eyes on. “Those are exquisite, Maggie,” she lied, “you’re going to be a beautiful bride.” The bride quickly paid for the shoes, nodded a tearful thank you, and fumbled through her purse until she found an extra invitation. Outside the conference room door of her attorney’s office, Sharon paused to shake the remnants of a shredded wedding invitation into a wastebasket. She could hear David’s impatient voice carrying out into the hall, “Where is she,” he said, “I have to pick up Maggie in ten minutes.” Right then, she could feel a crooked smile spreading wide across her face as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Future (6S)

2009-08-23T17:49:00.000-05:00

Their voices were raised to decibels unknown, quick, sharp voices speaking of a Future where I’m happier, safer and in another state. Mom is in this Future with me now. We drive Future’s big car and live in Future’s quiet house. Mom says I won’t ever have to cry again, that from now on my Future is bright. I watched, in horror, as her lips formed those words, tears lapping under my red cheeks. Trembling on my knees that night I prayed, to God, that Daddy would never have a Future.

6 Sentences

2009-08-23T17:23:00.000-05:00

Ok, "readers" I have just discovered something that has been a tremendous asset to my writing. It’s called sixsentences.blogspot.com It’s a site that challenges you to write a complete story in just six (6) sentences, a complete story! This has helped me learn to scale down all the crap in a story and get down to the meat of it.

So now, until further notice, I will be posting my six sentence entries in my blog, along with other short stories and updates as it relates to me and my writing. Enjoy.

Here I Go

2009-04-25T09:56:00.000-05:00

Ok here's the thing,

I started writing my book yesterday. It's been a long time coming and I'm glad it's finally here. Anyway, I am stuck.

I have a terrific story, with a fantastic setting and an awesome feel for the plot and where it's going. I just don't know what my style is. The book's got all the good stuff in it... love, action, discovery, coming of age, revenge, everything. It's will probably be a best seller. IF I EVER FINISH IT.

I like the way I write, I'm just not sure if I feel comfotable with what my style is yet. I love the simple words of the contempories of the 50's. I love the fast pace writing of some more modern writers. I even like the conversational (and comical) styles of your John Greens and your Hayley G. Hoovers.

I need help. Meanwhile, I'll keep writing and keep you posted.

Blog Extravaganza

2009-04-24T16:19:00.000-05:00

Welcome one, welcome all.

What a pleasure it is, for me, to be able to express myself, (well, I never really had a problem expressing myself) What I probably meant to say is what a pleasure it is for me to be able to express myself to you, in this format, today, everyday... Well, you know what I mean.

There are lots of things you'll get from this blog, my friends. One of them being my opinion. Even if you didn't ask. Be it corrupt governors, (Rod Blagojevich) or intolerant homosexuals, (Perez Hilton). I'll be there to weed through all of the crap and give you the "truth" as I see it. People are always out there doing things so I'll be here to discuss them. You'll come to rely on this blog, I guarantee it, probably... You get the picture. Bye