Reaching For The Brass Ring.

 

I don't always explain what I am thinking as clear as I would like, but here I go again, trying is still free. see the thing is, lately I have noticed that some of the most interesting things happen right after I wake up, and they usually happen at Walmart or some other such place where people of all walks of life seem to congregate. I have learned a lot by simply watching people, How they interact with strangers in public. And there are a lot of unhappy people around here. Wait a minute. Back up, let me pour myself a cup of morning brew and chew on this for a minute. Ok, that’s enough chewing. I have reached the conclusion that most people in the population at large wouldn’t know happiness if it walked up and bit them on the butt. Wait, let me tell you how I got there. Strictly for the sake of argument, let's leave the poor people out of this picture, for the moment at least, and concentrate on the other two types of people that I noticed. One Being, the people who seem to have everything and constantly find themselves wanting, craving and or demanding more. The other being, the people who have enough, but can never seem to have enough.

See, before anyone starts to think that I’m just spouting off, let me just say that I know, first hand, people in the very positions of which I speak. Let's take Joe Blow Jones. He has the perfect house, the fancy cars, the high paying job. Etc… Etc… Etc… so what’s his beef? Joe is so caught up in his material possessions that he’s forgotten how to just relax and enjoy life. His greed for more and more material wealth, has become all encompassing, and misery has become his life. He worries about losing what he has, so he is constantly looking for the bigger and better deal. And it doesn’t matter to Joe, who he has to step all over to get the brass ring that he believes so defines his life. Ok Now move down the food chain for a minute and right below Joe is John Blow Smith. Now, John doesn’t have quite as much as Joe does, but he still has much more than the average American who is busting their hump to scrape by every day. He has a nice house, He has a nice car and a beautiful wife but can’t seem to enjoy any of it. More. More. More. The common thread that will tie Joe and John together forever is their misery. They seem to have everything and yet have nothing. Both unknowing victims of the perception that the more you have, the more you need. Greed is good.

See now Let me get away from those guys. It could be contagious, and I don’t want to become infected. See? I never had much. I always worked hard enough to earn enough money to maybe not get Everything that I ever wanted, but I think that I have everything that I really need. Most importantly, a good perspective. Ok Joe. John. Lay off of your obsessions with material wealth for a minute and let me take you on a little trip, if you will. It won’t cost either of you a single penny, and it will only take a moment of your precious time. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. It's in the middle of July, you're baking in the summer heat, and when you open your eyes you're standing on the beach at Lake Tahoe, Nevada. And as you slowly approach the water you can almost taste its cold refreshing waves as they lap at your feet. Slowly now, wade in and let it consume you, until you are totally lost underwater. And when you finally resurface, you can feel the suns' warmth reflecting off of your skin.

Catch your breath… Ready? Close your eyes again. You hear that sound? Do you smell that? Damn. My favorite time of year. Fall. Leaves shedding from the trees. everything is golden brown. There are a bunch of kids piling up leaves on old man Nestor's front lawn, while he sits on the front porch watching them like a proud Grandpa. You can hear them all giggling and laughing, as they line up single file to take the plunge. You ever do that when you were a kid? Have You ever done Anything that didn’t involve money? Roast marshmallows or hotdogs over an open flame? Have you ever told ghost stories around a campfire and end up scaring yourself and everyone else silly? have you ever been camping or fishing in the woods and woke up in the morning in a sleeping bag covered in dew? I could go on with this forever, but I won’t, but see there is an old saying that I recall hearing as a child that stuck with me that says “one man's curse is another man's blessing” the world is full of blessings that don’t involve having that competitive edge that you think you need, it doesn’t involve material wealth or money, see, it isn’t difficult to be truly blessed in this life, all you need to do is to learn to look past what you perceive to be important, and embrace what truly is…

~Scratch~

It Rocked Me Like a Hurricane... Beetlejuice? was that you?

August 3rd, 2015...

The outside lights were all burnt out on the outside of my cozy little tomb like habitat, now under normal circumstances that wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest, but it was starting to get dark outside then, and before that I had hearing this strange moaning sound that came waffling through my open front window. So I stepped out the front door and looked both ways and-- nothing… Nothing moving and nary a sound but the haunting silence of nighttime. I walked to the edge of the balcony and peered around the corner, and again, nothing but the sounds of sparse evening traffic traveling up and down Fifth street.

Blaming the incident on an over active imagination- I came back inside, and turned on the television and returned my attention to the internet, only to moments later to hear that same haunting moaning come drifting through my window. “what in the hell WAS that?” a sick dog? And a snarling kitty cat that’s been over doing the catnip? Beetlejuice? is that you? Strange indeed, but I do so love a mystery, so once again I went outside to investigate, this time I turned my attention to the right side of the building. Nothing, not a sound, so what in the blue blazes was that? So I slowly, carefully, crept past my then neighbors, an older lady perhaps in her early 70s, kinda grumpy at times but over all not terribly so, so I went the three doors down and glanced through the open window and inside, the lights in her apartment were all on and there she was, lying on the couch, sound asleep, snoring up a hurricane force wind.

Now, I’ve been told on occasion that I snore a bit at times too. Course, I don’t sound like a 747 being cleared for take off at Reno International Airport. No, now I’m not saying that her snoring was loud mind you, and I’m not saying that the noise I heard was nasal in origin. All I’m saying is that when she got up off of her sofa, came out the door and left in her car a couple of minutes later, I didn’t hear the noise anymore. Could it have been a loud wounded animal? Well it sounded like it, could it have been the wind howling through the trees? Could have been. I’m not saying that it was her, but honestly, though, that is probably the first time I’ve ever heard someone make hurricane noises through their nose. Whatever it was, I’m glad it went away. I was getting ready to call in those guys and gals from Ghost Hunters.

Wrath of The Hive Mind.

 

After looking around at the world, if I may stay on the side of sanity, I see that people are just different, sometimes extremely so, that's cool, you be you, I'll be me, we don't have to agree on anything, as long as we are still allowed to be civil to one another. it's all good, and then there are those, of course, that have to have a cause, They are a hammer and the world is their nail. They wake up in the morning pissed off, they go to bed at night pissed off, and everything in between those times are just varying degrees of outrage. Then there are those fuckers, they try to trick you into saying what THEY want you to say, but they're easy to spot too, aren't they?  they might look like an adult, but the second they don't hear their opinion coming out of your mouth, they become petulant children. waving their little fingers at you. Actually I can live with that, they are kinda funny in a demented, mentally ill sort of way, you don't tell them what they want to hear, their eyes turn red, their little crumpet shaped noses start twitching, their lips wrinkle into a pout, like they're trying to hold in a wet fart. 

You have to laugh. arguing is pointless, you see, I'm not sure how it happened, I suppose it's because I belong to a different generation that was taught to question everything and never to take someone at their word just because they said to. Never follow the flock, think for yourself, be a wolf, not a sheep. You can always tell who the online cowards are, they all have the same play book, accuse everybody who doesn't agree with their fragile opinion of doing the very thing that they themselves are doing, fling shit, retreat back into the shadows to avoid criticism. I've learned not to argue with people about shit that is beyond my reach or control. They don't want to hear anything outside of their own opinion, and I won't deal with the assholes anymore. Life is too short to deal with close-minded people. So in conclusion, I Suppose it would be easier for me to just embrace the insanity, Because I have come to realize, that the whole world is one big raging lunatic, and the rest of us are just here, patiently waiting for that Mount Everest sized meteor to come home to roost, to put this planet out of its fucking misery. I am barely clinging to hope, but the more I witness the blatant disregard for our own sanity, The more I feel it slowly slipping from our grasp.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2024~

Freedom Blvd.

 

It’s always been the same here, for what seems like forever, and it's been here that long, too. Freedom Blvd. Freedom my ass, more like a rat trap. All sides surrounded by a slum lord's wet dream, endless buildings stuffed full of hopeless people, living for the fruits of hopeless dreams, with nowhere to turn but in circles. Living out their lives in an endless maze of sun baked asphalt. they told me, "don’t settle here, man, you’ll never get out alive.” I thought they were joking… Turns out the joke was on me. Now I spend my days working down at the docks, breaking my back, toiling for a thankless wage. And I spend my evenings up here on the fire escape slash balcony of the luxurious hotel Belvedere, throwing back cold Corona’s, dinning on Cheetos and stale beer nuts, watching as life unfolds itself, slowly baking in the afternoon sun.

She came out when the clouds rolled in, gliding through the fresh falling raindrops like an African gazelle, gracefully eluding a lumbering lummox of a predator. Arms stretched out, open wide as if, thankfully, she was trying to hug God almighty himself. Her white wet tee shirt clinging to perfect bra-less skin, long jet black hair all wet and shiny, looking like she just stepped off of a movie screen, Planet Hollywood come to life, and it's the jealous boyfriend to the rescue, covering her young perfect wet body with a blanket, just before he slips and falls on his ass in the middle of the rain soaked street. With a whole plethora of neighborhood children all simultaneously laughing their asses off. All in his honor. Maybe he should have just let her dance.

And the rain keeps falling down, small droplets bouncing off the scalding pavement, forming into small puddles and puddles into ponds. As curious, borderline angry, mothers yell from open kitchen windows for Junior to get his ass home to wash up for dinner. And now as the rain slows to a slow drizzle, the sun sets on another day here on Freedom Blvd, neighborhood kids hurry home promising each other, next time, yeah the next time we play cowboys and Indians YOU get to be Col. Custard. And somewhere in the distance a window breaks, an alarm goes off, and sirens echo down an empty street, and you just have to smile to yourself, because you just know that somebody is going to get busted. Because someone always does. And now, the Corona’s are all but gone, the Cheetos bag is empty, and the beer nuts are still stale. And as the curtain slowly drops, the shows over, and it's time for me to call it a night here on Freedom Blvd.

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright © 2008~

Through the Black

 

Although I don’t recall what my exact age was, I was very young when I figured out that I wasn’t afraid of the dark. Coming nose to nose with a prowler probably helped some I suppose, I was alone at night I was 13 I believe, I just pulled back the curtains and there he was, I think I scared him worse than he scared me, he ran without incident. I don’t recall ever being terrified of being alone at night. So what is it about that special time when the sun goes down that make some people get so freaked out? Perhaps it is indeed that same feeling as swimming out in the middle of the ocean and not knowing what big nasty shark might be swimming up behind you to have you for a snack. It makes people uncomfortable, not knowing, not seeing, wandering around in a black hole with no light to illuminate your path. Not knowing what is making that strange noise in the distance that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Is it an animal? Is it human? A man? A woman? Or perhaps it is something that hasn’t been encountered before, and you are about to be the first person ever to see it in all of its true hideous glory.

The truth when you are able to rationalize it, and see it, and clearly think about it is quite simple, actually. When it comes to nightfall, when it comes to the dark, there is actually very little in it that isn’t there during the day. And the biggest fuel source that your own fears of it have, is your own imagination. Some animals are just nocturnal, animals such as say, bats, owls, possums, skunks, badgers, ,raccoon’s and deer, and of course your standards like. vampires, werewolves, zombies, toads, and of course the Frankenstein Monster, and the ghost of Jack The Ripper. Toss in a few ghouls and a couple of axe murderer’s, and you could have quite a night of it. People can learn to rely too much on what they can and can’t see, and the end result of it can cause quite a bit of paranoia. Just in case, do the following if it helps you to sleep better at night. Make sure that you check your outside porch lights regularly, make sure you have several working flashlights and candles handy just in case the power goes out in the middle of that dark and stormy night coming up. And just remember that it is more likely than not, that the most dangerous monster creeping around in your backyard at night is in reality quite human, or no more or less than the product of your own imagination.

Attention:Walmart Shoppers!

I would usually hear the voices whenever I was in the throes of impulse shopping whilst in one of those super Walmart's or in any one of the local grocery stores. Oh sure, I always made a list. But c’mon, nobody ever sticks to those things. I would write shit like, “ok. I need toilet paper, paper towels, shaving cream, uhmmmm. Razors and a rotisserie chicken for dinner. Sure, that’s what was SUPPOSED to happen, but of course it never did. Once inside the door, those damn voice’s would take over. “Ok now. I’m just here to buy a new pair of Jeans and some sweat socks!” yeah, right, sweat socks. Try as I may, I could never truly totally avoid the food aisles. The P.A. speakers would crackle to life with something like. “Attention Walmart Shoppers. Green Beans on sale now in the produce section. 3 lbs for a dollar.”

Of course what they said over the P.A. and what I actually heard were two totally different things, I would hear something totally different like: “Attention Walmart Shoppers! Come to the food section. We have Chocolate. We have Peanut butter covered in Chocolate. We have Peanut butter thingy’s covered in chocolate with coconut sprinkles! We have Dove Ice cream bars! (Also covered in not just chocolate, but Triple thick chocolate.!) Come one! Come all! To the super-duper Walmart mega Chocolate Sale! While supplies last!”

yeah, yeah, yeah. They knew they had me at ‘Attention Walmart shoppers.’ I always tried to fight them, you know?, but the damn voices, they wouldn’t leave me be. “I’m not going over there! Dammit! I’m not gonna do it! Damn you all to hell! .” so I would push my cart (Slowly) in the opposite direction. “Gee. I wonder what new DVDs they have on sale this week?” that was about the time when the voices would take over.

“HEEEEY! Where ya goin dumb ass? The Chocolate is over there! That Way! Yeah, over there!”

I tried desperately to ignore them, but to no avail.

Almost involuntarily, my cart would slowly change directions even as I tried to deny the impulse to go take a look, “Over There.”

“Jeans… Uhh. Shaving cream… Sweat socks uhh. Didn’t they say something about fresh green beans? Oh, I love fresh green beans. Maybe I should just swing by the produce section for a quick peek.”

Oh, sure. I really did want to go check out the green beans, but always seemed to enter the grocery section of the Walmart super center right at the freezers. Right where they kept the triple thick chocolate covered Dove Ice cream bars along with a colorful array of other sugar-coated delights that are intended to make you sit in one place and vibrate for an hour or so, immediately after consumption.

I always made it to the register, but the many detours along the way to what I really came to the store to buy were costly. “Lets see here. I have a pair of blue jeans. (Three boxes of triple thick chocolate covered Dove ice cream bars.) I have four pairs of sweat socks. (Two bags of Reese’s pieces.) and some after shave lotion and shaving cream. (Four bags of bite sized Kit Kat Bars. With a two liter bottle of Hershey’s syrup for dipping.) ok, ok, so I may be slightly exaggerating here, and maybe my sugar addiction wasn’t quite that severe. But at any rate I am slowly showing signs of over all improvement, I don’t sit and vibrate anymore, and when I get up out of my chair I don’t bounce my head off of the ceiling anymore.

The nervous twitches have somewhat subsided. So its under control, but I fear however that an entirely new problem may exist, to take my mind off of my sugar problem I have begun eating these strange little cracker things that one of my friend’s gave me, and the other night I was laying on the sofa watching television, and a strange impulse took control over me. I tried to lift my right leg over my head to scratch behind my ears with my toes, and fell off of the couch, dead on my ass. I think the little bastard may have slipped me some dog biscuits. If this keeps up, I may go have to go back to Dove bars.

~Scratch~

Blood, Love And Chocolate. (A Twisted Love story.)

Many times in his still reasonably young life, Henry P Higglebum has tried to embrace the most wretched of holidays on the human calendar, the one day that made womankind glow to the point of erupting into a super nova. V Day for women, D-Day for men, Henry thought. Why couldn’t he get it right? Why didn’t he get it period? His Girlfriend Imogene got it. His mother got it. His sister got it too. Hell, even his cat Freckles seemed to get it. But Henry? Nooo not Henry P Higglebum, see poor Henry was afflicted with the disease that every man who had the unfortunate fate of being just like him suffered from, you see Henry not only had the man disease called Dumbassitis, but in Henry’s case it was terminal. He had it ten years ago when he had first seen his lady love Imogene, and every year since, the disease seemed to intensify. Last year it struck just two hours before Valentine's Day, all of Imogene’s plots to aid in the blessing of receiving the perfect gift from Henry went completely unnoticed, the Dumbassitis had all but taken complete control of poor poor Henry. In fact, he didn’t even realize that the dreaded Valentine's Day was even upon him until it was far too late. Completely oblivious to the dire fate that once again awaited him, Henry wandered aimlessly through the isles of Walmart, his mind drawing a total blank until finally the veil of darkness had lifted, leaving him in a fit of utter panic.

He began to hurry up one aisle and down the next, a cold sweat oozed from his pores, one hour passed, then two, then three. Until he had arrived at the point where he could no longer stand the pressure and decided to buy Imogene, the first thing that he’d thought of. It was not only ‘the perfect Valentine's Day gift’ it HAD to be the perfect gift. Then half dead flowers from the local Quickie Mart, followed closely by a box of semi stale Chocolates. Followed even more closely by a heartfelt “Happy Valentine's Day Honey!!” and the very next day having to face the utter humiliation of having to explain to all of his friend just exactly how he got a powder blue and hot pink weed whacker stuck up his hind parts and why he needed help to pull it out. That however was last year and this was this year. THIS year Henry P Higglebum was a man on a mission, THIS year he had been doing his homework. This year he had made reservations at that swanky new French restaurant Ma Cherie, he had gone shopping and found a perfect pair of diamond earrings, he had even arranged for a bouquet of long stemmed roses wrapped in delicate paper to be delivered to their table during dinner.

The fateful night had arrived and Henry, adorned in a new suit and tie, wearing just the slightest splash of Aqua Velva, showed up at Imogene’s door with a box of Chocolates. Holding out his arm, he led his beloved Imogene to his pickup truck and drove them to the restaurant where they would share a perfect Valentine's Day romantic candlelit dinner. This was however still Henry P Higglebum, and perfect was not yet a word that seemed to fit him in the least. After they had been seated, the kid that was delivering the flowers almost took them to the wrong table, causing an agitated Henry to snatch them from his hand, which he brushed a little too close to one of the lit candles from the candle lit dinner, causing the paper that was wrapped around the bottom of the flowers to ignite into flames, causing Henry to panic and knock over the other candle which ignited the white linen table cloth catching it on fire which immediately caught the attention of not one, but two slightly overzealous waiters who each threw an entire pitcher of water on the flames which completely ruined the dinner, which caused a completely stunned and humiliated and more than slightly pissed off Imogene to storm from the restaurant leaving behind a fumbling Henry P Higglebum who was frantically searching in his pockets for the diamond earrings in hopes of salvaging yet another horrible Valentine's Day only to finally realize that he’d left them in his other coat at home. Causing Henry to go to a bar alone, which caused him to get blind stinking drunk, which caused him to realize that maybe he should have bought her another weed whacker instead, and Maybe, just maybe this time he would have gotten REALLY lucky, and Imogene would have killed him with it.

~Scratch A.B.T Copyright © 2009~