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Thread: Crazy Love, The Odyssey of the Master Po.

  1. #1
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    Crazy Love, The Odyssey of the Master Po.

    My very own journal. Woohoo. Figured it was time as it does help log my thoughts and gives me useful reflection on what I have going on.

    No call or text from her. I feel sad but surprisingly calm about it. I suppose if I thought about it all I was hoping for was breadcrumbs... emotional scraps.. screw her but its on me as well.

    Got back from Vegas. Long, winding drive. Stopped at out of the way places, no real reason just one of those things I've always liked doing. Probably a left over from the war. Guess I better explain that... I came back from a hot war and pieced together by the fine people at Balboa. Ugh. Ugly time. I healed to the point where I forced myself to pass the walk-out physical, even though I nearly screamed a few times and left that horror house of burnt flesh and sobbing men.

    Nobody to call even though I knew they were concerned about me. I figured if I came home the sight of my wounds would unsettle the family. Muck it. I got use to changing my bandages and the trembling sweats were almost controllable. I would come home when I felt ready to, after all I had almost 90 days conv. leave.

    So I drove through the deep dark nights, some days sleeping in strange towns and eating even stranger foods. Took the time to sit in the sun and people watch. Many times the local law came at me, hard and demanding, guess they didn't see very many good looking guys sitting in the sun on a workday. Screw them. I was not so diplomatic. Told them to leave me alone or charge me with a crime. One time I had almost the entire force goading and lecturing me. I didn't care. When I finally got ripped off the ground and man handled onto the hood of a vehicle, I took strange pleasure in their fearful gasping. Wounds do leak and mine were particularly nasty.

    I was usually ordered to the hospital and I would return the juvenile goading, you arrested me - you ripped my stitches - you provide medical care. The EMT folks were always kind and understanding, never met a mean or indifferent one. With them I would open up and tell them about my wounds and simple ways of patching/disinfecting and to spot me a few of their mega painkillers. They never refused me. The law would be silent, apologetic and I would glare at them and tell them to go back to screwing their mom or sisters. Never understood my hatred of them. Probably just as well.

    Nobody ever arrested me. I would be released and no words were spoken, they just left. I'd go right back to sitting in the sun, a little more pained and angered but that was the life.

    At times I would spend days with people I didn't know. How they I ended up at their places was a memory loss, I was just there. On my good days I would work and build and organize, on my bad days I would sit by the fire and sleep. Not the good sleep but the sleep of restless jarhead's. You never let yourself go over to the healing sleep, always staying on the twilight of conscious and unconscious. Tiring but to do less was to invite the horrible dreams and experiences. Better to stay on that razor's edge.

    Never left a place worse than I found it. Always left on good terms, sometimes with tearful and demanding farewells. I would smile and drive off, never looking back. It just had to be that way.

    Back from Vegas. Nice mental trip to that time of my life. Beats thinking about her. Just barely.

  2. #2
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    Came back from a short walk, maybe six miles. Laughed to myself that I just fairly fly along, deep in thought. Today I thought quite a bit about the walk and all the experiences.

    Back in the dark ages, I was feeling the first pangs of her absence. Desperation and jealousy were beating the hell out of common sense and pride but thank god one of them carries a blade so nobody really wins. I had to do something, strangely enough, going to her and finding a way to resolve the break was not of them. I was pissed, hurt and vengeful. Normal feelings and so in love, all her stupid transgressions were forgiven instantly.

    So I started walking. First time out I was so self conscious, thought everybody was staring at me and bad things would happen. Sure people stared but the stare of the bland. Nobody cared, might as well have been a stray dog or a bird.

    Day after day I walked, didn't matter the weather, I walked. I discovered after I got pass the hip pain, blisters and weather, that I found what was left of the old me. Man, I looked for the guy. The guy that could solve anything, that could do anything but he was like a #$#$ty TV reception, sometimes crystal clear and sometimes you had to stare through the scramble.

    I could feel the strength rising in me, I was in fairly good shape to begin with but I was getting stronger and needed more travel to get my fix. My body adjusted and I walked faster, sometimes I would even throw on a pack and do my shopping at the other end of town. The extra weight was not noticed but ice cream running down my leg was, forget that - I would walk alone.

    As my time progressed. I started noticing people. My strange but predictable walking patterns were bringing out the lonely and obese. Some smiled shyly at me and waved delicately. I smiled and nodded, letting the cold snot stay put and not caring what the cold, cold wind was doing to my bod. I walked and they walked, sometimes we walked together but never spoke. I imagine whatever they had to say was important but at the time, I didn't care I was taking care of me. In a way I wish I had stopped and listened, maybe someone would've imparted the words I needed to hear. Maybe.

    After some months I got an email from her. It was a plaintive wail for attention and it screwed me up. Nobody told me that you never open up emails or at least the dangers of breaking no contact. All this is before I found the wise and emo hardened folks at ENA. I read it and she was moving away, moving back to the east coast. Away from me and probably forever. Part of me was exalted, I would never have to worry about running into her and part of me was stricken. She ended by telling me that she would always remember the hard lessons I taught her, skills and challenges I taught and shared with her and ... ugh. What a thing to read.

    So I walked into a blackened evening, snow clouds hung low and swollen, a false warmth flashed through our little abode. I walked, instinctively taking along a small pack filled with simple survival articles. I walked and I walked, at some point I remember walking through thick fog and heavy snow. I didn't care, I just walked. Morning found me, cold and wet, exhaustion was a long past. I hit physical bottom. So I walked into the woods and built a fire, making a cup of super hot tea and one of corned beef hash. I ate and scrapped out a resting area, fresh snow made it easier and I eased myself into a rain poncho. Fire was crackling along and plenty stood nearby. So I slept. How long I don't know. It was dark when I awoke, cold and so broken. My coals were sizzling and fresh snow lay over the land. I stoked the fire and watched her leap and felt the first pains of warmth rip through me. Ugh. Took the time to change my socks and flame broil my aching cold feet. Felt alive and she was at bay for now.

    The initial walk was incredibly painful. Everything hurt. I was miles from home and the distance began to spook me. It was a long way and nobody was traveling that side road today. Snow lay thick and unplowed and trudged along on old ruts. After awhile she returned and so did the pain, the miles fell away as I mercilessly beat myself up with that woulda-shoulda-coulda so part and parcel of this emotional thing of mine.

    My clothes lay damp and thick by the front door, I stripped completely and walked into my shower. Hot water coursed over me and I slowly warmed. I carefully soaped and scrubbed then allowed myself the luxury of a long tooth brushing. Wrapped myself in the thick robe and retraced my path, picking up my clothing and placing them in the laundry. I would wash and stay awake long enough to see it in the dryer. I would then allow myself to sleep as long as possible. My body and heart ached in equal torturous beats. Bruno Mars was on the radio. His words all made so much sense. I cursed hm.

    I walk again but nothing like that experience. Part of me was proud that I did it but part of me was spooked, why did I not stop? What could've I have done to ease the pain? I don't know. It was the beginning of the healing process, I was on my way back. Screw her.

  3. #3
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    A another year, 12 months if you are lucky.

    As I was walking deep into the desert this morning, I watched a column marching along. Surprised me that anyone would be out this day, thought the holiday was observed. Using my knuckles and SWAG (scientific wild-ass guess) I figured them to be about 10 plus miles from me, going southwest. My expert infantry eye watched them and they were military in their movement. Guess they were on a schedule and I bet they were sitting on a ramp getting ready to go. The route march was probably just to tone the muscles and for something to do. What service I do not know but whoever you are, god bless and get home safe.

    I hit my favorite climb and started the torturous mile long climb. My hips hurt and I grew thirsty but it was temporary pain, I would find relief in a few minutes. Usually the summit was vacant but today there was a nice girl sitting on my favorite PT rock. She had on headphones and the cold wind rustled her blonde hair. My initial reaction was annoyance, didn't want company this fine, cold morning and a lone girl usually had somebody in tow. She wasn't aware and I had walk past her so how do I do that with out scaring the merde out of her? Simple. Ignore her and walk past her, I would do my PT higher up. A little more wind but I don't care of an audience.

    I was on second set of crunches when I felt a set of eyes on me, eyes attached to blonde hair. Ignoring her I pushed on with the PT, my hard incentive was no more ice cream this year. It helped with the emo war but it fattened quickly and I bet I was as tender as Kobe beef. The blonde hair got brave and came up to the shelf I was on and sat there watching me. OMG! A big ass mountain and you want company, go away I thought. So I got up, looked over at her more like glared as she did flinch. Made me inwardly grin, I still got it. So with glare in place, I waved blandly at her and she brightened up. Great, now I have to talk. Ignoring her again, I went back to another set of pushups.

    The walk down was agonizing, my hip felt like sandpaper and I lurched along. Somewhere ahead of me was my new friend, all cute and blonde, smiling each time I came into view. Ugh. After I finished my PT, I did a hard stretch and then took a slight climb to view the long wide valley. One end was me and the mountain and the other was right into the heart of Mexico. Between us were probably the hidden caches of men and women, possibly children and a dozen border patrol agents. It didn't matter, it was beautiful in a cold, ugly way. Summer time you couldn't come up here, well you could but the place would melt you. My new friend came up and began to stretch, I was uneasy, hot women like that do not approach strange but good looking men in isolated spots. Hmm. Something was up and I maintained my ENA stance, no contact.

    I leaned against my truck sucking down some cold plastic water. My bod begin to chill, the sweat and water were dropping my temperature. About 20 feet away, my new friend stood watching me from the bushes. I imagine the eyes were big and mouth was dry. I picked up a bottle and turned slowly, making sure we made eye contact. My throw was perfect and she caught it with minimal movement. Who she was or what she was doing out there was put away in the area of brain I reserve for reading tax code and PG-13 movies. Time to boogie and I had alot of work to do. Maybe I'll see her next week.

    Neh.

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    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    I fell asleep in the lazy boy again, lovely device but hell on the bod if you sleep in it. Achh. My neck was almost touching my ass as I tottered to the kitchen for my evening feeding. Since I shop a for a few days at time, there was nothing. Began to miss the EX, she would buy little cans of this and that for me, knowing I ate anything I found in a can. I discovered ravioli this way and apple sauce and... and..

    Soldier life I'll blame that on.

    My thoughts rumbled through her pageantry, I knew it was coming and like the DT's you ride it out and hope you don't succumb. I forced my thoughts away for a moment, fixing on the mountain blonde. What was she doing up there? It was cold and remote place, not to mention dangerous in element and human or inhuman creatures. Lots of crime out our way, border being so close. I eased my conscience with the idea that maybe she was a failed decoy operation or armed and could take care of herself. No way of knowing. We are still free and people can do whatever they wish, thank god for that.

    As I was watching old Twilight Zone episodes I began to think of her in that manner. One particular event came to mind, and the person was involved was blonde - young and blonde.

    I was rolling back from a situation on the far side of my patrol route, the dispatcher wanted to know if I was passing through an area called Turkey tanks. I didn't plan to but it was about 30 minutes so why not, so I advised that I could. She then sent a message via my console and it was basically help out the County with a call about a misplaced child? Misplaced child? Apparently a child was seen dropped off by a school bus in an area where there was no known residence.

    Hmm. I mulled that over. Wouldn't the bus driver know that? Ach. Okay, I punched it and was there inside 20 minutes. A newer model sedan sat facing me on a wide shoulder turnout. I eased out and so did an elderly Hispanic guy, appeared he had other people aboard as well. We met and he started talking about how they stopped for the school bus, lights flashing with stop sign out, a young girl departed. When the bus allowed them to leave, they rolled on thinking nothing of it, except him - the driver. He grew up in the area and knew that nobody lived out there, it was remote and led directly to a volcanic canyon. Wild brush, woods and snakes, maybe some big game and wild teenagers partying but nothing else took up residence. It bothered him so he turned around and came back. I think I would have too.

    I pursed my manly lips, rubbing my smooth jaws in thought. Hmm. I asked again why he knew nobody lived there, he went on about noticing activity and if housing or homes were being built he would know about it. Besides, the only road in was a lonely two track and weed covered as well. I noticed that as we cast about for tracks. No tracks but it was all volcanic gravel so good luck with that. He was getting agitated as the girl was young, blonde and very pretty. His description of her dress, the lunchbox and even the bow in her hair made me uneasy, he definitely saw her and I suppose it was up to me find her. County units were doing something else. Darkness was in maybe two hours. So I had a good hour of searching then wait until first light. Lucky me.

    I went back to my unit, put in the information and probable situation involving a lost child. Dispatch should light up the County and School system as my witness was believable. I had detailed information on the subject and I would be searching, available units could see my unit from the road. All the normal traffic and then I walked over to the now seated Hispanic guy, he was crying and so were his women passengers.

    I felt bad but that was the way of crisis situations. Gave them my card and told them they could call my dispatch if they wanted an update, the women spoke and asked if they could join me in the search. They were all much older, heavy set and probably a set of medical problems each. I assured them I would take care of it and dozen Officers were coming to my aid. They weren't but it seem to calm them. Asked the guy to sit and watch my unit and advise anyone arriving where I went and he was free to stay as long he wanted. He felt needed so told me he would stay for an hour. I thanked him.

    The sun was down and I had about 20 or so minutes of dusk until the dark wood enveloped me. No sign of anybody, found a busted chainsaw and the remains of a dead hound. Nothing else. Nobody else, I even announced myself to the dark woods and my purpose. Why not eh? Some times people live where you least expect. My rifle bopped against my chest, you never know, and overall it was nice walk in the woods, if the girl was out here exposure wasn't too much of an issue. Thirst and hunger maybe but the weather was calm, almost hot.

    My unit was there, the Hispanic guy was not and I popped the hood and started chugging water of a gallon jug. I would leave one behind, just in case and then advise my dispatch of the no-go search. Maybe she had information - she did and it was shocking.

    A County Deputy card was on my windshield, a quick note was posted for me to call the deputy and nothing else. My dispatcher immediately advised me to go active and return, search was not feasible. Okay? Missing child and search was not feasible. Great. Ugh. Such a mess. I had mentally prepared myself to walk the ridges at night, building fires here and there and patrolling back to check on them. That's how we did it back in my woods. Maybe she would see the fire and come in, maybe.. but I was told to abort and return. Angered me and this was all before I had a child of my own. So I went active and began the two hour drive home.

    I was home rather late, almost 11, and being confused and irritated I decided I would call the deputy first. He answered on the first ring, I introduced myself and the situation. He was a great guy, we would have beers later on in my career but his explaination staggered me.

    First he asked me the bus number, which I had, 808. Then he asked me about the Hispanic guy and the two women. I never told anyone about the two women! He then asked if I had a description of the driver, was he wearing a hat? It should be a black cowboy hat. Wow. Exactly so.

    Every so often he explained, someone calls in the situation and units respond. Nobody wants a young child left alone and seemingly abandoned to the fates. The call was old, going back to the late 70's and it was part of Police lore. It never happened. I was on a ghost call.

    He told me one of supervisors opined that something bad probably happened involving all the participants, including the Hispanic gent and his passengers. For whatever reason, the spooky Turkey tanks were their emergence spot. Some times the calls came in the winter, raining, great weather, all that - nothing to indicate a pattern. He went on to share a experience about finding a bus 808 just up the road, some recycling facility and figured the story was connected to that particular bus. The bus was fairly abused, lots of parts missing but it apparently rolled and there were still kids jackets and lunchboxes inside. Rusted and alone.

    I thanked him and told him my area had similar situations and that I was glad I could help. I suppose I could've shivered and rolled my eyes in fear but nah, it was part of the job. I imagine that those kids are okay and perhaps once a year or whenever, they get to go home and maybe someone sees them and hence the calls. As for the Hispanic gent. I don't know. Maybe he caused the incident because his info did not check out and neither did his plates. Ah well. Maybe one day when I jump the fence for good I'll hear his side of things.

    The Blonde Girl. Wonder if she met a dark fate up there, I would not be surprised.

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  6. #5
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    There are those that have good friends. Good, patient friends that hold your hand, cry with you and give great advice. Those people need to be treasured and honored with a fatted pig or banquet of pleasure. Unfortunately, I don't have have any. I'm sure I do but it is not my nature to go seeking help even when grievously wounded. Maybe that's a social failing but to me - why be a bother? Heal your damn yerself and get cracking.

    My discrepant version of this visioned friend showed up one day during my time of extreme woe. I had once listened to his drunken tale of a lost love way back when we were young and arrogantly gifted. As I recall, I was not a good friend and terms like "suck it up loser" were uttered frequently and to my chagrined shame. He stared me, bewildered and needing guidance, and I preached topless bars and a nearby college. He followed me and last I viewed, was drinking out of a pristine navel. Life was good and he smiled drunkenly at me, life was great. I now realize I had only put a drop of glue on a jugular wound. Damn my ignorance.

    Said creature was now on my doorstep, as you were - in my frig deciding on Kronenburg or Heinken. I didn't care - I'm sure either pain killer was acceptable. A long silence enveloped us, no big deal as we had once operated side by side in smaller confines for days at a time. Even snuggling unabashedly for warmth on some nights. Ahhh, the life of a military man.

    Finally he spoke, ignoring the obvious and related at once the deaths of former team mates. Each was sad in its own right but to us, at least they went doing what they enjoyed. Very Alpha male conversation and totally not PG-13. Then he fixed me with beady dark eyes, much like a obese rattlesnake and shook his. "She messed you up bad.. when was the last time you shaved??" I started to puff up but it was too much effort so I scratched my eyebrow with my middle finger and he grinned. He began to speak again, something about his job and adventures, I listened with feigned interest and dozed off.

    I woke up to a dark room, a heavy comforter lay over me - covering me like a damn corpse. My anger was brief, the idiot stripped my bed and tossed it over me, it was thoughtful I suppose I could've froze. He was somewhere in the kitchen, still talking and laughing at his own wit. Nothing changed, he was still who I remembered. My watch showed maybe a hour or so had passed, I'd shower and then bring down some feed for the both of us. Steak sounded about right. I stood in the doorway and he was in the process of ransacking the frig again. As was our former profession, I talked with my hands, indicating I would shower, dress and we would leave - maybe 10 minutes total. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up. Frig door slamming and I could hear the whispering click of a bottle opening. Motherlover probably drank all my pain killer.

    Dinner was excellent. Nobody could burn ribeye like the Australians. My friend's eyes were cloudy and mocking, probably on the verge of a bar fight or maudlin display. I smiled. He could be funny when he hit this zone, I would be the nice host and pour him into sleeping quarters if need be. Hadn't decided if I wanted him at my place or a motel. Sometimes it was easier to do the motel as I didn't know his plans and guys like us don't go in for long farewells.

    He surprised me and related stories of his past loves, the pain and utter devastation they brought. So much so he never actively chose to find a mate again, instead contenting himself with the odd bounce and quick departure. I listened and knew that he lecturing without lecturing me, using his template as resource. I nodded, appreciating the effort but waiting for the body shot. It wasn't long in coming.

    "Remember the butter bar??" I laughed, amused and we made eye contact and laughed a bit louder, attracting some of the neighboring patrons.
    "I remember.... I tried once.. but it was never as good!". He nodded, using his hands to display agreement and that he tried as well, several times. "She is like the butter bar... you will remember her that way.. just think of it like that... okay??" Amused at the thought and intrigued I nodded.

    Back in the day, we became friends during a rigorous military course. Difficult is the understatement and the instructors were fond of saying that Superman himself quit on day three. One of the iniquitous methods of selection was to strip us down as we trained deep in the cold, cold timbers. Hypothermia was constant companion and we strayed right up to her borders. The idea was to operate in a level that irreparably harmed the average man. We were not trained to be average men.

    So it was mental game, putting your wet clothing on was like jumping into a sauna after being blue and vulnerable. I'm sure it had its purpose and as far I know, I was never truly cold anytime I operated in the sea or other inclement weather conditions. However we certainly watched our class size drop alarmingly. Another fond saying was our class would graduate in a phone booth. I wanted to be in the booth and so did my friend.

    We didn't know it but last day involved dragging a huge log up a mountain to a sheltered shelf. I was done and so was he, we ordered to line up for a medical check. The sick and dying were sluffed off, well, I'm sure they were nicely but I stood on my hind legs. I wasn't about to sign off or get removed. After each man was checked, an instructor would physically aim towards a now raging bonfire. Courtesy of our former tree. It was over, a long nightmare had passed. We made it.

    I was in the process of lurching over to the fire when I noticed friend moving along on all fours. He was physically done but no way was he gonna quit until he got to the fire. I stumbled over to him and threw him over my shoulder, not a movement of protest. As I marched along under my load, his deep sobbing rocked me. I understood, it was rough time we had. I guess we bonded then and there.

    At the fire, one of our devil incarnate instructors was passing out something. It was butter, sticks of butter and it was so good that words don't work. It was heavenly. The trouble is that the experience cannot be duplicated, a one time ecstasy and yeah, I think we all tried at one point or another.

    My cargo, my roguish bud was telling me that she was the stick of butter. I would have to appreciate the experience and know that it was never to be again. I scratched my eyebrow again with said middle finger and he laughed. A hardy slap on the shoulder and he was gone. I suppose he had traveling to do and I hope he did it safely. Such of is the way of men like us.
    Last edited by MasterPo; 01-08-2013 at 04:20 PM.

  7. #6
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    Today was set aside for the flea markets. Generally, I have a favorite or two but since that was the what 'we' did I have not gone back to several of those once favored haunts. Teach me to share my secrets with any one - any more. Next time, I'll keep a few things to myself.

    So I woke early, listening to the cold wind blast my cozy home. I need to stop doing that. A homeowner is very much like a ship's captain, you take some satisfaction in the feel and hearing of elements raging your home but there is the worry that maybe something broke loose, is leaking or its time to stock the paint budget again. I burrowed deeper into my comforter and distracted myself with the day's list of priorities. I would roll out and hit the flea markets, starting with the one I dreaded, our former favorite.

    Some where in the thick dusty shelves of the ENA cyber library was a line I remembered, by who I have no idea, stating that you must take back what was once a favorite. Take it back from the memory of the EX and enjoy it, never let it go without a fight. Words to that effect. Whoever the author was, thank you, your words stuck and here I was making my stand this cold blistery morning. I would it take it back and it might be painful. So what! time to man up about something beyond my control.

    The crowd was small and the vendors were well layered, steam rose as they traded information with semi-interested buyers. I was always a fan of books and looked for unusual stuff or perhaps something modern with an agreeable market price. My other thing was guns and knives. I liked to find something old or broken and like some people building ships in the bottle, mine was to carefully scrape, rebuild and display. Likely cheaper to buy it but that was my enjoyment, blast what anyone else thinks.

    Our old bench was still in use, I eased into it with a cup of swirling hot coffee. My mind bravely allowed her memory to be conjured but there was little to remember. I suppose I was healing and as the more experienced wags report, the EX disappears daily. I was definitely over something and it was little sad. So I drank my cup of heat and perused the stack of magazines I had to have.

    The drive home was uneventful. I had thought of stopping at one of our favorite chow spots but declined. It was a couples' place and being single would make it awkward. Instead I would stop at America's favorite diner and have a burger. Seemed right and it takes alot to screw up a burger.

    No great treasures were found, I reclaimed what was once mine and in the greater scheme of things, that's about all you can do. She needs to go away and I have better things to look forward to.

    Yeah..

  8. #7
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    My god, it's over. This week is all about going in for a checkup, some legal talk and getting paid. I don't miss the jungle or even the people, I miss the purpose and long hours, love keeping busy. Almost got bit by a deadly insect, at least that's what I'm told by "little marius", the French Legionaire. I don't know, it was there and then it was dead. I think I did get bit but no poison or side effects, other than my mouth tasting like I licked a rusty can.

    I am going to miss the Hilton though, friggin loved the bedding or maybe its just the contrast to the jungle discomfort. Walked the thick carpet in socked feet and thank god I was born American. Drank a few beers and watched the planes leave LAX. Had company for a short while, couple of the crew and guys came by and I signed their pics, etc. Posed for a few shots and almost got laid, no interest. Hmm. sucks getting old.

    Thought about her a little, it was exciting what I was doing and I wanted to share, probably because I was lonely as well. Imagine that, a hellish shooting schedule, all kinds of dangerous critters about and I'm thinking about her. I don't fight it anymore, just let it run and sooner or later the tape ends. I can't remember what she sounds like anymore but I do remember conversations, deep pillow talk and that's depressing.

    I think it has to do with the Hilton itself. My most painful memory.

    I was 4 months into the breakup or 3 months into the pain. I mean that godawful, " I G%$##$# D#$#$# MISS YOU!!!" pain. Couldn't sleep and it was all about her. So in the midst of it all I went to Vegas. Actually I went for a drive and ended up in Vegas, memory lock I suppose. By the time I pulled my head out I was parked at my favorite hotel, the Tropicana, but she was booked tight. As I was dropping quarters into a poker machine I noticed a magazine laying nearby, on the cover was the rock group, HEART. OMG! I had always wanted to see them but never had the funds or time, well.. they were here or at the Hilton to be precise.

    No idea why I didn't take my truck but it seemed easier to jump into a cab. The Hilton was off the strip and secreted almost in the back alley's of Vegas. Nice place but lousy location. I found the ticket counter and for a hundred something bucks, I had a ticket in the 3rd row. Figured if I was going to spend money might as well get something good. A chat with the counter girl got me a secret note to take to the reservation counter and I had me a room for $60 odd. Wow. Thought about going up to the room and taking a rest, show time was a few hours away. Nah, I walked back out and back into a cab. Better to have my truck close by and I still needed my bag.

    My bag was fairly hefty and I lugged it accross the lobby, each time I do that I remind myself that its time to ditch it and buy something with big wheels. Nah, I doubt I ever will. The trip to the Tropicana was odd, cabs line was fairly long and I sneaked into a strip bound shuttle, made it to a few blocks short and walked the rest of the way. My truck was well parked and I didn't want to disturb it, so I pulled my bag and found myself on a passenger bus heading my way. I remember I had exact change and that pleased me. Sat there with the local wildlife and really suffered through the mental pageantry again. She had me hooked and at the point, I was confused, angered and more confused. Pain was constant. Never ending pain. Ugh.

    Took a shower, enjoyed the water pressure and did a few pushups to relax a little. I'd call down and have them wake me in two hours. A good hard sleep would do wonders. Yeah..

    As I was sorting my bag, pulling my SIG for a quick weapons check as well, I came accross my red fleece jacket. I hadn't seen it for awhile and then remembered she loved wearing it. I pulled it out and softly shook out the wrinkles, bringing it to my nose and there she was, I could inhaled what was once all mine. OMG! I fell on the bed and hugged the jacket tight, grief was intense and closed my eyes to ride it out. I heard myself talking to her, " I miss you.. I miss you.. I miss you... Why?" I suppose I allowed myself to openly grieve, about all I remember is my chest shaking and I gently kissed a golden hair she left behind. I kissed it once more and fell into a deep sleep.

    The concert was okay. I realized that HEART had gotten older and I was so close I could see them all sweat. The songs didn't hold the magic they once did but that wasn't the disappointing part. For all my money I was reduced to staring at the ass end of the front two rows, nobody sat down the entire time. After awhile I didn't care and simply thought about her and some of the songs. The crowd was slow leaving and I migrated along with the well dressed crowd. I spent some time in one of the casino bars, listening to young talent and wanting very much to talk to someone about my experience. I wanted advice.. as is the nature of grief, you never hear exactly what you want. Maybe you do but you don't understand.

    Yeah. It was rough but I survived it. Thank god.

  9. #8
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    There are some days when you just need a laugh. My oddball military buddy, butter eating type, sent this along and I laughed demonically most of the evening. Kind of scared me, I was laughing so hard that I couldn't stop. No more crunches for awhile I think I'm all 'abbed' up because of it.

    Felt better than I have in a long time. It was one of those moments where I wanted to pick up the phone and asked one of the wizened 'breakup' people if my "uncontrolled laughter" meant something or is it just the amusement of a joke. I feel relaxed, very sleepy and content. I imagine this is what a 'good bawl' must feel like. Another emotional first for me to experience, not too soon I hope.

    Tomorrow is Valentine's day and I can't remember any of the stuff we once did. Simply can't remember. Too much pain and other events shoved her somewhere else. I admit that is a good thing. Props for keeping busy and doing all manner of activity.

    Nope. Can't remember a thing.

    Went back up the mountain this past weekend. All the way to top again, still cold and windy but awfully bonito. Yes, I looked for the wayward thirsty blonde but she was not in residence. No matter, I was truly alone up there with exception of military helicopters out doing something. Picked up a part-time job and now I think I'll just concentrate on working, stockpile some funds and figure out a do-able future. Getting there, not as fast as some but faster than most. It truly does pass. Ugh. About time.

    TURKEY RECIPE Thanksgiving Horn of Plenty Turkey Wave Pilgrim
    > I thought this sounded good! Here is a turkey recipe that also
    > includes the use of popcorn as a stuffing ingredient -- imagine that. When
    > I
    > found this recipe, I thought it was perfect for people like me, who just
    > are
    > not sure how to tell when turkey is thoroughly cooked, but not dried out.
    > Give this a try.
    >
    >
    > 8 - 15 lb. turkey
    > 1 cup melted butter
    > 1 cup stuffing (Pepperidge Farm is Good)
    > 1 cup un-popped popcorn (ORVILLE REDENBACHER'S LOW FAT IS BEST)
    > Salt/pepper to taste
    >
    > Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brush turkey well with melted butter,
    > salt, and pepper.
    > Fill cavity with stuffing and popcorn. Place in baking pan making sure
    > the neck end is toward the front of the oven, not the back.
    >
    > After about 4 hours listen for the popping sounds.
    >
    > When the turkey's ass blows the oven door open and the bird flies
    > accross the room,.... it's done.
    >
    > And, you thought I didn't cook... Life is short, Break the rules,
    > Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly, Love truly, Laugh uncontrollably, And
    > never regret anything that made you smile.
    >
    > HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE Do I have crazy friends, or what? I'll
    > never cook another turkey without thinking of this

  10. #9
    Platinum Member MasterPo's Avatar
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    Today was good. I have two job interviews, both are practically throwing money at me. Wow. I suppose there is some truth to a job being a man's identity. However, the optimist in me is struggling to be happy, had it all slip away before. No matter, enjoy the damn moment and good things, no matter how insignificantly tiny will happen.

    Thought about her today but in a different light. The pain isn't there anymore, that crushing, anxious, painful grip that comes with any abrupt memory of her. It isn't there. I want to talk to her but I want to talk to my sweetheart, who of course, has been gone a long time. I feel more and more that I dodged a major calamity. I thought of life together and our children, chances are very good that she would've left anyway and I would be in a legal fight for visitation crumbs. No, I will not put my children through that. So good riddance, now just have to figure out how to purge the emo residue that is her.

    On my way to a funeral. Sad day but in some ways a relief for the deceased and maybe his family. He was sick a long time with an ailment I cannot recall. Going by the medical wags he was dead 8 years ago but managed to squeeze out more time. I have to admire that. The man was a neighbor, the only son of older parents. One of those medical things that are frowned upon but like all happy accidents, he was welcomed and lived a fairly cherished life. I didn't know it but my life was a fascination with him and his parent's would come visit mine and he would ask all manner of where I was and what I was doing. I hate to say but I was not the frequent visitor I should've been. I am sad about that.

    One of his daily duties was to write me in painful phonetic script. At times I would get a stack of his letters and answer them with pics of me and mine, sticky emblems and maybe a few military souvenirs. His mother explained to my parents that a military ration pack was a cherished treasure. He wanted to open it so bad but decided it was better to have it whole. When I came back from one of the wars, I rode my horse Cherry over to see him. He was not feeling well and I spent my time fixing things around the place. Evening would find us cooking over an outdoor grill and he would sit there eating whatever I put together. No way was I going to impose on the family for my meals, they didn't have very much to begin with. I think that was the longest I stayed with him, about 5.5 days. I don't know why I did it but when you seek peace you find it wherever you can.

    One of his rare and shyly related talks involved a rapt interest in the dress blue uniform, made famous by my service. He knew more about than I did and we talked about the medals/ribbons I earned. He stressed that he always wanted to try to make the cut and wear such a glorious garment. I was rather jaded at the time and smiled wanly at his request. It was a hard life and he had no clue.

    Upon hearing of his death, I pulled my 'blues and all the bits of color and pageantry out of a long stored box. It still fit perfectly and so I placed it in the carrying bag. I would wear that uniform to his burial, I think he would be thrilled. A quick thought entered my head and I called the local recruiter, asking him if he was available perhaps some other Marines as well. Recruiter was awesome and in a short time we had 8 Marines ready to go, my neighbor would be buried properly. Although he was not a Veteran, he was American and he deserved every bit of what we had to offer.

    I am sad but he goes to a better place, his suffering is done and I worry that his parent's may go quickly. I hate to say it but they hung on for him. God bless the love of a parent. I'm on my way friend and I will be there, count on it.

  11. #10
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    Yesterday I was out in the deep, dark American desert. Not the seemingly abandoned places cinema makes it appear but places so out of the way and forgotten, well, they might as well be deserted. All courtesy of my second job, had to keep busy somehow and filling out resumes by the truckload got me this one. Makes you believe the saying, fortune favors the prepared and alert.

    The job isn't lucrative, no big benefits and minimum wage for six months but the perks are what you make of it. I get to drive a newer model cargo van with all the A/C (air conditioning) I want, plus travel at odd hours to destinations hours apart. Kind of loving it for now.

    Stopped at this former lakeside resort, the lake is terminally ill and nobody comes out for the once fabulous fishing and water activity. So the town is on communal life support, generally older couples and urban transplants. I stopped because I was hungry and spotted a big barbeque sign, big fan of BBQ and if it isn't overpriced or bland I make a point of coming back. Besides, I figured they could use my economic stimulus. The gent of the place was apologetic, BBQ was a thing of the past and nobody had the energy to tear the sign down. Asked if I would be interested in some hash and eggs, no meat. I demurred, damn it - had my mouth all set on BBQ.

    So I drank soda and the gent and I had a talk. His wife, bearer of his children and long suffered resident of the business, up and left him some months prior. She had enough apparently and better places, people, etc. were on the horizon for her. I listened and could hear the raw hurt in his voice, I knew that hurt and nothing I could do or say would balm it. I felt bad for him but listened anyway.

    As we talked he began the fixings for his lunch and I noticed he loaded a second steak onto the grill. I figured I would ease away, asking about the bathroom and keep on moving. He pinned me in place with his sad tale, I could see - like most recently broken hearted - the small similarities of our pain but that was it. I must be healed as the EX was not a favored memory anymore, I had cast her out and didn't allow myself to dwell on her anymore. He was not so fortunate and the questions about her were frequent, I shrugged and held open my hands to show my lack of mindreading skills. He would twist up and get angry quiet, he wanted answers to the unknown and too bad that he would be in that place for quite some time. How do you tell a man not to care anymore You don't - you just listen.

    I was on my second soda, the sun was unbearable hot and the tiny breeze that cooled the place shut down. I figured it was time to go, still had hours to go. A somber man came out with two plates, nicely piled with eats and placed one in front of me. I ate with the man, we made no talk but chewed and contemplated things in our lives. Obviously the woman for him and for me, I was thinking about all the people that tried to be there for me. Some were real troopers and stayed for as long as they could, moving on when they realized that I wasn't reachable and/or got sick of the talk of her. I must remember to thank them but I probably won't. It is the way of this thing.

    I moved to pull some bills out my wallet, the man put his hands up in firm disagreement, the lunch was on him. Sitting back down I thought about some kind of payment, it is my way not to owe. So I told him the story of HER, how after almost a year of no contact on my part, hard no contact, she tried to come back. I had secured the door to my heart and disappeared, how it may have turned out I don't know.. but she did try to come back. To me, what she did was unforgivable and I knew that it would hang over us forever. Some can find forgiveness but I wasn't one of them, I made my decision and after long years, I am glad I made it. Painful as it was.

    He stared at the counter, wet rag in hand and no words or expressions were offered. He simply stood there, I left a few bucks anyway and left him like that. Good luck my friend, I hope you pull through. I hope you sell the place and find your happiness.

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