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Crazy Love, The Odyssey of the Master Po.


MasterPo

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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.

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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.

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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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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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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.

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  • 3 weeks later...

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..

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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.

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  • 2 weeks later...

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

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  • 2 weeks later...

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.

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  • 1 month later...

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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  • 2 weeks later...

Last night was rough, had a very long trip accross the eastern desert and it's boring! At least the western half of my route has old towns and distractions, east.. not so much. Dark, quiet and full of illegals coming accross with the odd Border Patrol in tow it seems. The driving is getting to me, pretty much every day around ten hours and all of that on the full run. Can't ***** too much it's a paycheck and I needed one.

 

Didn't think of her all that much, some thoughts keep coming to mind, mostly tender moments but I brush them away. I tried to find comfort with the memory but it is like finding out your hot fast fast bag contains the wrong meal - and you paid for it! Bleh. So I brush her away and think of just about anything else. No much luck. No radio reception other than the nuclear ones blasting over on the other side, no idea what they are saying but it sounds festive. I like that about Mexican radio, bad news is always a party.

 

Payday is days away and I've got $2 to make until then. Getting good at buying at buying hot bean dip and chips and making it last, not the healthiest of food but it is filling and doesn't get me sleepy. The big danger of this kind of driving is sleep, we run at all hours so you have to adjust your clock accordingly. New guys are always found sleeping in their rides and most times we try to get them up so then don't burn. It gets very hot down here. I watched a young mom make a sun tattoo, she put a taped cross on her arm the heat did the rest. She's very proud of it and annoyed that the rest of us don't share her religious views. Very opinionated and doesn't like her resulting nickname, Taliban.

 

I've gotten to the point of the job to stop in out of the way places, former tourist traps that got mauled by the bigger, cleaner truck stops. They still don't offer much to the consumer, other than the aged bathroom and stale fast food. I like to stop because its history and sooner or later somebody is gonna raze the place. I find myself staring past the cheap whitewashed walls and following the skilled work of some past mason. Wonder how much they paid them to put this place up, probably the cost of my rich coffee per day. Yeah.. I started drinking coffee again. Went from coffee every day to diet coke..now back to coffee. About all I can say is it keep you awake and the hunger pains from distracting you.

 

Every now and then I get a load of guys that ask to stop someplace for food. I oblige and drop them at whatever convenience store or fast food joint they want. Normally I pull away, keeping to myself while checking my vehicle. I don't want to owe these guys although I do know my fellow drivers are notorious mooches. If I'm cornered I usually ask for a bag of "yeller M and M's", makes me chuckle that so far everyone knows what that is. The bad part is starting a two hour drive and smelling all that food getting choked and chewed down. I tell my bod to burn fat cells and that better days are coming. Surprisingly enough that when they do, better days, I usually don't bother with fast food and am surprisingly stingy with the coin I have remaining. Ah, things will get better.

 

Started to go down on the return trip, just eyeball raw tired. Found another former tourist stop and pulled in. Parked in a secure and open spot just away from the feeble security lights. Walked about, twisting and cranking my tortured muscles into place. Usually I do a set of pushups, crunches and maybe a fast walk to get the blood going. Old routines, when I used to wear the badge I did the same routine but in far remoter locales. I drink my water, and set the internal clock for 50 minutes, don't know why I can't get more it just always settles on 10 or 50. I then sleep. Nothing fancy, just close my eyes and hope I don't have horrified tourist staring at my drooling mug on the window. Now that was a good sleep.

 

Got up. Felt better. Raw eyeballs are gone, mentally facilities are tuned and other than a screaming bladder I'm ready for the road. I look around, no surprised at all. For as long as I've done my 'rest periods', people seem to find me and pull up along side for the same reasons. Truly reminds me of the wagon trains of old. I get out quietly, checking my vehicle and the assorted lights. accross from me is four girls crammed into car designed for 3 it seems. The driver is X'd out but the girl in the back seat fixes pretty brown eyes on me. Suspicious and alert. I smile and wave with my fingers, not caring if she answers. The rest are guys and some older folks. I finish my vehicle check, she looks seaworthy and I roll out quickly and quietly. A glance over at the party of girls finds brown eyes tracking me and she looks wistful. Wonder what her story is?

 

Neh, time to go and I have miles to cover. The EX will make her appearance somewhere along the way and I'm in no hurry to meet her. I'm going to miss these drives.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I received my orders a few days ago, I was to depart within the hour to a far point of the realm. After reading the brief, I looked over at my stacked laundry - perfect timing. I was good to go. As I finished packing the BGB (big green bag) a text comes in from my pimpled boss, he's so young that I do my best not to tussle his hair as he gives me orders. No big deal, glad he's open to suggestions and is fearful of me. Alpha male in me likes respect and men to run from my presence. I'm kidding. Mebbe.

 

He's polite and as an afterthoughts asks me if there would be a problem with the departure orders. I run a cool hand through my fresh crewcut and tell him, neh. Things are good, I'm on my way and understand it will take 3 days of travel. As long as my rooms are set up, I will blaze in a good safe fashion and do our little bit town proud. He doesn't know how to take my comment and brightens up by telling me it's significantly more pay. I chuckle and tell him I'll call if I run into any problems. I don't. Usually solve them myself. Wonder if that works against me in a work cultural that's always whining about the job.

 

It's early the raging, baking sun hasn't made a full appearance, I figure if I run hard and take a short cut I'll be in the low mountains where it's cooler and a bit more life to it. As I stack the BGB, I think of her, we used to do this kind of spur of the moment travel. Heavy sigh, I miss my friend - I miss her alot. To my one reader, you know who you are, I don't think I'm truly over her and it's okay to have these kinds of 'achey' thoughts. I'm in a far better place than I was 3 years ago. I have my spine back and to me.. well, to me its a far better place. I figure I'll live in this cardio purgatory until someone else comes along, hope she comes quick.

 

The trip is rather fast, I drive-eat-sleep and get to my duty station. Meet the location boss and she doesn't like me. She doesn't say it so much but her body language is screaming it, probably remind her of somebody abusive or maybe old Marines are just a pain in the butt. I don't care. I do the job. When I leave she's going to miss me and she does, trying to give me a cheap coffee cup as a momento of our time together. I smile graciously and accept with humbled appreciation, knowing I'll pitch it out the window 2 miles down the road. LOL. I'm kidding, relax my one reader - thought you might need a laugh.

 

One my drive back I come to the realization that I'm truly alone out there, if I have a vehicle breakdown or maybe emotional..lol.. there is no help other than what I can do for myself. For some reason that settles me down and I feel a massive surge of confidence. Things are getting better .. I'll learn to love again, stealing a line from PINK.

 

Darkness is coming and my next rest town is an hour away, I picked my way through a gorgeous oak covered mountain pass. No animals but the air was fresh and the scenery recharged the hunger my soul has for mountains. After all I am a mountain creature by birth and in heart. Figures though I would be rebellious and live in a hellishly hot desert town.

 

I see a train coming from a distance and brutishly calculate the intersection time with my foot, it will beat me and I'm on a restricted speed setting. Augh. No matter, I can arrive after dark - after all what am I going to do but sleep anyway. I'm fairly tired and look forward to a hard sleep and then maybe a lazy walk in the deep cold early darkness. The train is halfway through the crossing when I arrive and it fairly zips along. I entertain myself by looking for unauthorized riders, finding none I switch to the various graffiti signs. That thought brings to mine a college professor I had at the U, he wrote a book about railroad graffiti and explained with great enthusiasm how he became one of the covert taggers, he explains it as a matter of necessary social conformity to understand a covert, rebellious culture. I thought it was BS and the hard nosed cop in me wondered how many objects he defaced. He ended his research when someone shot him twice in the nuts with a slingshot, he has no idea who it was other than he spent hours crawling out of the rail yard he was illegally in. I think of him and wonder who did it. Probably one of the train guys tired of cleaning the mess up.

 

The train has slowed down quite a bit, I'm annoyed as I hope it doesn't stop while I'm the only at the crossing. Nobody around it's getting dark. What I see next shocks me, sends a shiver of fear through me and in a way humbles me.

 

On a rusted and aged chemical tank is my name scrawled in foot high letters. My name is not very common as far as names go is probably obsolete. Nonetheless, there it is and going by me at 3 miles per hour. I feel a chilling fear, a fear of the unknown that maybe its a warning. The Alpha male shows up and smiles tightly, its a just name and if death was calling it would be more original. I breathe deeply, yeah.. that's all it was, just a coincidence. I nod at the rail tank and immediately my heart kicks in, she was thinking about you and there lies the proof.

 

I smile sadly. I wish. Miles to go and I wish her replacement would show up soon. More importantly I hope I'm ready and don't push her away. Achh..

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  • 2 weeks later...

School is over. Have a good life. I think those were the only words remembered from my college experience. It was a rough time and I damn near threw my books away many times, however I did not. Quite frankly, I don't recall my strategy other than to stop throwing the tantrums and books and getting busy again. Some classes were awesome and I truly enjoyed the time, others were not so much.

 

I recall sitting in a anthropology class when 911 happened. The class and the instructor sat there drinking coffee and not talking very much at 8 AM. Some crying was going on and my thoughts were simple, what would I do if I got called up? Men I knew were disappearing hourly and I figured even if I was a few years out, skills and experience had to come into play. I would go but I didn't want to, I had a baby boy and there was no interest in facing what most fear. I wanted to watch him grow up and buying diapers was still a unique experience for me.

 

Finally, I had enough. The instructor sat there with a bemused expression and I figured if he wanted to teach he would've done so by now. I respectfully walked up to him and pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote my name and smiled at him. He sort of glanced at it over his coffee and nodded. No words, I don't know why I did the name writing but it seemed.. appropriate?! I left and before I hit the door I heard shuffling and pencil scraping as others signed the sheet and left as well. Nobody said a word.

 

People had high hopes for me at the time, hell, I had high hopes for me. The first male in both my families to ever hold a degree, I think I was the 4th one to have high school diploma. Heady times. LOL

 

I'm watching my nephew ascend with his peers and receive his degree, he will be No. 7, and I am so proud of him. Despite his spoiled parents he managed to get himself a full ride into an engineering program. Everybody has high hopes and I can see in his eyes some fear, that maybe it might be too much for him. I want to tell him to just do it, forget what others want or think, to live and enjoy the college experience. He won't. Too much like me. He looks like a taller version of me but I'm cuter. lol Uncles can say that.

 

I traveled through his college town, looking over rentals and possible employment opportunities. This town was funky and nothing familiar about it. Even though its one of the bigger AZ cities, it was strange to me. Reminded me of the loathing I had for Lebanon back in the day. Just could not be comfortable there, even though it was very much like my home base of San Diego.

 

This was the EX's hometown. How interesting that here I am and for family. Briefly wondered where she hung out and decided that was enough, I didn't need to dwell on that.

Maybe a neighboring town would suit me better? Big decisions and I better make them fast.

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  • 2 months later...

Well my one fan... looks like you found me UA and need some a fix. Okay, I can do that.

 

Been busy, really busy. Working two jobs with a some big life goals on the fire. Seems so strange that last year I was so not into doing more than walking and mooning. Ugh. Such a waste. I can't say I'm over her but I have no desire to be with her. Hope that makes sense. Still though, on long, quiet drives I wonder if the phone will ring and just what I'll say. I hope I'm a hard ass and hang up. I doubt it though, mom trained to be polite at all costs so maybe I'll just listen. For what? I don't know.

 

Listening to Alison Krause and John Waite, MISSING YOU, it has a different meaning now. As in I miss the old me and feel glad he's coming back. Maybe not the old hard nosed clown but humble and a good catch. If you are reading this Jessica Alba, I'm almost ready for you to come over. You better know how to make Menudo. Just saying...

 

Reading alot as well. Ask me anything about Nora Roberts and/or the Civil war and I got you. Nah, mostly whatever strikes my fancy. Keeps my imagination alive and a boring person to be in a car with. lol

 

Dating. Yeah, did some of that. I'm a bit of a caveman though, have no desire to change either. Dates kind of fizzled out as I didn't care to hear about banking, hotel sales or .. I forget what the other was.. something in real estate. They were hot though and certaintly blew up my ego, it was nice to see people stare at all that gorgeous female and the drog behind her.

 

I'll tell you about the dates, I'm tired and feel like a good sleep. Have some moving to do. Oh yeah, I moved to a new place. I think you

will like my roommate stories, he is a bit eccentric.

 

There you go.. be good.

 

Mpo

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  • 2 months later...

Hi my one fan and the new one. I shall name you OF and NF, pretty original eh. You can call me Master Po. lol Relax..

 

Where have I been? Busy and sans computer. Really sucks when you go through the internet withdrawals. As I'm tech savvy lite, I decline to hear about gadgets, laptops, etc. that can give me access. I want what's familiar and so bear with me as I go through this life stage.

 

I was in LA the other day, had bidness and it was quick and painful. Hate driving in mucked up roads and even more mucked driver, I say forget Guantanamo bay, just have the terrorist ride 1-15 every morning and twice on the weekends. To you careful LA drivers, all 3 of you, thanks, to the rest I'm holding up one finger.

 

Ahem. I came over the mountains and stopped at the quaint little burgs scattered here and yon. Had a good time. Interesting conversations with the opposite gender and I found myself promising to come back. Oops. Bought some odds and ends that will get trashed when of if/when Mrs. Po decides to show up. I think maybe Jessica (Alba) might be bargained with though, I can only hope.

 

My neighbor in my new 'hood came over as I was putting new battery cables in the battle taxi AKA Mark 5. She was all upset and needy. I puffed out my manly chest and opened up the one good ear. It seems she promised some people a pot of POSOLE and couldn't deliver, never made the stuff in her life. I'll let you google that dish. I nodded, indication my listening skills, as my 10 thumbs struggled to unscrew the bolt that could not be unscrewed. Figures I would find a virgin bolt in my ride. Every now and then I'd pop up, wipe the manly sweat from my brow and nod intently. Not telling her the one good ear had sketchy reception. Five hours later she finally got to the point, COULD I help her make the dish?? I realize I can never be a poker player as my eyebrows hung high in absolute surprise. What made her think I knew how to cook? Much less Posole? Achh.. must be the hard bod. Ahem.

 

Two hours later, I had lips pursed over a big spoon, the dish was done and I had no idea what it was supposed to taste like. Once I got through swirling it in my mouth and the obligatory lip smacking I thought it... good. I would eat it. She says it had too much pepper and I wrinkled my nose in disagreement. Bleh. I thought it was good. She was happy and someone was getting a big pot full of eats. I was not offered any. Serves me right for being so damn helpful.

 

I'm a bit tired. Had a fitful sleep and have to go hard this afternoon to get some errands locked up. I think Chinese sounds about right and maybe a DVD or two. Work is probably coming in the early hours so a little downtime must be planned.

 

I must include "HER" so here it is, not too bad this month. It's been 4 year this month, I'm okay. Walked through that nightmare but something in me still misses her. Let's hope I run that feeling off. There you go.. OF and NF .. some more to read.

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  • 1 month later...

The weather went sucky on me, it was cold then it started to spit snow every so often, now its icy mush and annoying to me as my vehicle doesn’t know how to get through without a wild-ass slide.

 

Tonight though, I managed to get by the worse and now I’m on my way home. Miles from anywhere but homeward bound – if you would call a motel room home. I’ve been out too long and I think I need to get back Arizona. Yeah, I think I’m done with the idea of being loaned out.

 

The other night was the Marine Corps birthday; we are 238 years old and still have pimples for the most part. I generally find a bar and get close enough to outright inebriation for my own YOUTUBE video but I suppose I’m getting older as that did not appeal to me. Instead I chose a fancy chophouse up near the Montana border; figured I would wrap my lips around a good prime rib and thank god I’m not sleeping in cold mud. I did so, got in early so there was only a few couples scattered about. Felt a little self-conscious but then again, I’m me and that feeling passes way too fast.

 

Service was lousy, got a menu and brief annoyed look when I asked for a diet Coke. Oops. Most times I walk out when I get this kind of wait staff but I was hungry and I was seated so there. Ate my skimpy salad with grudgingly served salad dressing, waiter was probably taking pics of me in case I jumped my bill. Screw him.

 

My ribeye was pleasing to the eye but was barren, I guess anything else with it is extra or you need to ask for it. I was hoping for some mushrooms but ehhh.. it was still a platter of meat and the waiter was gone. So I sliced my beef and ate in reflective silence. It was a good piece of meat, just enough fat to make it flavorful and wrinkle the nose of any date I’ve had to date. Seems it isn’t proper to eat meat fat in front of gorgeous women, one always has to make a comment and I’ve since learned to ignore it.

 

There was a time though I would drop fork and have it wrapped up ‘to go’. I was bit immature I gather, I would sit there eating bread and stoically ignoring them while they ate their food. Yeah, very few second dates and yeah, no more comments about fatty meat either. LOL

 

I could hear dance music in the bar, I tuned in half-heartedly and started thinking the last time I danced. I mean flat-out danced until I was winded and sucking beer to cool down. I would gather it was around Nov. 10th on any given year, more so when I was young and adorable.

 

My good friend, I’ll just call him Vasquez, was handsome SOB from the hills of California. He was about the most squared away Marine I’d ever meet, the guy just loved everything about Mother Corps and so did she. I was always a month or so behind him in promotions. He was good friend and we had love of oldies music and dark, dangerous BS of our chosen work. Was… he was… strange how that word effects the veteran.

 

It’s not important what happened to him, just that he didn’t make it and I did. I took another bite of ribeye this one more flavorful and intense- I guess memory will do that. The music grew louder and the so did the crowd, my waiter came over and hovered quickly – depositing a big check and small half smile, he wanted my table it would seem and resigned himself to no or miniscule tip from me. He was right. Imagine that.

 

We were 19 years old when we became friends and it was on this night many years ago. Marines were strutting about the dance floor, some with enough medals to make a Russian General jealous. I vaguely remember being pleased at the clinking mine gave off when I walked; a boyish pleasure if you will. The band struck up LA BAMBA and Vasquez became entirely possessed, his drink glazed eyes brightened and he bailed on his date to hit the dance floor. As he passed me, I was grabbed and dragged along, angered a little because I spilled my beer. In minutes Vasquez and I bounced and strutted through the entire song, I recall laughing trying to follow his moves. I suppose I did alright as the crowd was roaring and the band was persuaded to hit the tune one more time.

 

Afterwards we gave each other manly abrazos and for the rest of the evening and our service together, it became our skit to hit the dance floor every time the song came on. Guys used to pay the band to play the song, usually waiting till one of us was in the head and roaring as we came out in a frenzied rush. It would not do to have the song waiting, honored demanded the dance.

 

After he was gone; I went to one more ball and as they say, the song must go on. I walked out to the floor and stood there. Some of the guys came out and stood with me until it was over. I suppose I was pretty drunk or sweaty because I couldn’t see anything, so much moisture in my eyes. Just as well, he would’ve been mad that I didn’t follow his moves or show him something new.

 

I cranked up my ride, left a few bucks in tip and nodded my head as the song came through the window and into the parking lot. The band was sucky but they played it, I wish you well my friend and I miss you.

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  • 11 months later...

The Cousin

 

Every now and then work sends me to some obscure railroad town, places I like to call ‘the land that time forgot’. As I get older some of those places begin to appeal to me, as in low population, real estate is rather cheap and I would rather spend this time in my life measuring boards, pouring concrete and carefully stroking expensive paint. I think pop culture calls it ‘nesting’ – well so be it.

 

It was in one of these places that I found myself one late Sunday afternoon. My motel was a good hour away and the railroad crew was late for an infinite number of reasons. No big deal, usually I finish up a book or start another resume. Sometimes but not often, I’d do some exercise (Physical Training = PT) but I hate being interrupted and liked a long cool down.

 

This particular day I was perusing the map and noticed that my eventual route home took me to the outside corner of an old Police patrol route. I once wore the badge for a semi-modern department, we were modern in terms of equipment but mindset and training was still in the 14th century.

 

I left the department for what I thought was a better gig but as in all ‘old jobs’ there are some things that you fondly remember. For me, it was the people, they were hard-working folks frustrated by the economic reality of their times but for the most part patient and glass half full people. I liked them and cut them far too many breaks which disturbed my 14th century administrators.

 

Breaks you ask? I’d always enter their area with a long yelp of my siren. The canyon country would echo it long and loud, I’m sure even the dead got a good shaking and behaved themselves. By the time I parked at some highly visible portion of their bustling three car road all the scofflaws would be closing their doors or standing in the shadows. If you wanted to be in agency custody, well you had to work damn hard at it. Never had a DUI or aggravated assault during my patrols through there and believe me crime statistics pointed hard to that area.

 

I’d sit there for a good hour, letting them eyeball me and for ‘word’ to spread. Sometimes I would get approached, usually with an arms length list of complaints or perennial legal advice. At first I was happy to accommodate but as the sameness of company and complaints developed I began to realize it was better to listen, nod sympathy and change the subject every chance I could. I suppose that worked as the complaints grew fewer and I started getting hard notes about criminal behavior, such as so and so is selling weed at this location, illegal alcohol over there with assorted domestic violence. I’d spend the day dragging the badge through those places and sometimes arrests were made.

 

My radio barked to life and I groaned with dismay, my railroad crew was delayed for what I guess would be another hour or so. Not that I had any where to go, I was billeted in a small one-way town that became famous for once being part of Route 66.

 

 

 

 

What was I going to do if we got back early? Probably PT and take a few pictures for the memories. My thoughts in those desperately quiet hours would drift back to her. I hated that. Before I knew it hours would pass as I replayed some of our moments and conversations. If you haven’t been in love then only by experience can you relate. It is a hard road to travel and relief only comes with frenzied activity or dark sleep.

 

So I thought of her. What was she doing? Where was she at? Last I knew she went back to her home to family and whatever else. I coldly estimated it would take me three hard days of travel to be near her but forever for me to actually ring the doorbell. No, it was over I could never be with her again but the heart doesn’t play. It’s a very long healing period. Better to let it heal and endure the babble of ‘get over it’ or to rush healing it with pop psychology. Endure it and as the saying goes, ‘all suffering is its own reward’. It will pass.

 

I found myself pitching rocks down a lonesome road, my cargo van perched shiny and safe a few hundred yards away. I slowly turned and started walking back. On the horizon I could see the bulky angles of the railroad cars coming my way, almost time to go back. Back to hot chicken-fried steak and a lonely night at the motel. I thought of her and decided it was a good that I was going home tomorrow. Perhaps a sharp detour to my old stomping grounds would do me some good.

 

My last thought before I dismissed her for the moment, did I ever take her there? Hope not.

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A Cousin Part II

 

The phone rang in the dark bleary hours that it only seems to know, I answered at first with dread and to rapid joy – I was going home. After listening to the drone, pre-recorded message I hung up and dressed quickly. No shower, I’d do that at the next motel as I jumped my way back to Arizona. It was better to dress, check out and be on the road.

 

I met my partner down by the vehicle. He was doing laundry late as he always said nobody does laundry after midnight. I could tell by the surprised look on his face that he hadn’t gotten a ‘go home’ call from the soulless work phone. I waved and mimed that I was going to eat. He didn’t stop me and waved with his back to me. Thank god, the man would question my orders and try to order me to confirm the call. Screw that, I was going home. Overall he was a nice guy but a lousy supervisor, as he worried too much and second guessed simple orders. It made for a long day when he was near. Yes, I was glad to be away from him.

 

Miles went by and the travel of new country was refreshing and I did not think of her once, little things like that are gold to me. I looked at the time and figured it would be a great time to get something local to eat. As I was in my old patrol grounds, I had a few places in mind but as I passed by I could tell that economy dumped hard on these guys. No food vendors and even less traffic. Grimaced, I hated to see that and wish I had a few million to help them out.

 

There is a big Y in the road and there was once a bar right above the split, named with great originality the “Y Bar”. One of those places that produced a generation or two of dedicated alcoholics and innumerable road kills.

 

My training officer once remarked to the owner that he should sell crosses and placement services as a side income, being that he was responsible for most of the local deaths. The remark got us both in trouble and required a day of incident writing and standing at attention. My training officer was not one bit remorseful and refused to deliver the department apology. I was sent instead. I don’t remember exactly what I said but it was not well received, something along the lines of apologies for insulting the business but the cross idea was probably a gold mine. I stood at attention later that afternoon.

 

I took the right arm of the Y and rolled slowly passed the ruins of the old bar. In a weird fashion it was the media and vigilante action that blew it out of existence. A band of brothers, actual brothers, 17 to 30’s, stopped there one afternoon and bought a case of cold refreshments.

 

As it is among the drinking crowd, they were miles away finishing up the last of their alcohol when the decision was made to go back to the bar and reload. They never made it, all five of them perished in a head-on, high speed collision. I know as I was the first on the scene. About all I could do was promise the barely living that I would tell their families they weren’t drunk. It was not one of my better memories. The youngest was going into the Marines and I could still hear him asking me the 1001 questions Marine boots have. Damn shame.

 

 

The local media got involved and fairly stoked the local populace into a rage, someone with knowledge – probably one of the nefarious ones that the statistics were always pointing to – developed some type of flammable substance and delivered it covertly. I was on my way to better employment at the time and sources remarked that the firemen were slow to respond and even slower to unload their equipment. The place burned hot and not much left except for gutted rooms, collapsed walls and a deep black pit of char only high octane fuel can cause. Bet it was pretty hot.

 

Up the road if my memory was blessed, there would be an outdoor market of sorts; basically offering hand-me-downs, old cooking utensils, with various food merchants scattered about. One of those places that my aging home economics teacher liked to call ‘acquired tastes’. Hell yeah and it was good too!

 

There it was, all loud and smoky and took me back to when I worried I wasn’t buff enough and my gun belt had a slackness that allowed me to eat whatever I wanted. I wore that uniform like a glove and probably raised local eyebrows; some amused, some thoughtful and some indifferent. The law was about and in hindsight; I bet I was like the juvenile grizzly wandering a parking lot. Nobody knew just what it would do but they’d be damned if they turned their back on it.

 

Time to eat and mentally reproached myself to make damn sure I had extra for dinner, damn the cost.

 

I had filled a dingy plastic bag with a few paperbacks and action DVD’s, so far nobody remembered the kid that once rode herd – I suppose I changed and got more handsome, it happens. My lunch was grilling and once I passed through the one long consumer aisle I would go back and pick it up.

 

With a few exceptions, time had stopped and even the prices were about the same. The people still had that tired, resigned expression of suppressed hope. As I said my kind of folks and I was glad that I amongst them again. If I were smart I would find ‘the one’ amongst them and grow old and fat with no remorse whatsoever. I’m not that smart.

 

The murmur made me look up, the wreathed smiles made me wary until I realized the vendors, two older ladies, were looking behind me. Whatever or whoever was behind me was obviously a pleasurable entity. The entity gently shouldered me aside and I was swirled in expensive perfume, cloying and pleasing to the nostril. I moved with the gentle shove and slowly turned to see what entered my airspace. I viewed a gorgeous woman, hair long and smile infectious, genuine. Once she noticed I had recognized her, she shoved roughly and excitedly greeted the vendors.

 

Hmmm… I wandered away from the cheerful clucking, checking wares as I went.

 

Family arrived and it was in cousin form. Oh joy.

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  • 3 weeks later...

A Cousin, Part III

 

“I was thinking about you the other day… almost put in a call to your parents but decided I would find you before that. How about that??

 

I glanced over at her, “I’m not one bit surprised, we always had that about us…the caveman psyche in us I gather. Remember the time you came for me hitchhiking??

 

She chuckled and we slowly walked back towards the cook shacks.

 

“I remember… the girls were furious at me for going your way… told them it was a guy I needed to get…” I laughed.

 

Back when cousin and I were very young, we, along with her three sisters and my Dad, did the weekend rodeo circuit. Dad and I roped and every now then rented out our second string roping horses. It was Dad’s thing and he loved the competition and prize money. I’m certain it was type of gaming lust but I was young and didn’t have much say. My mom had her hands full with my sisters and I think considered our time away a vacation.

 

Cousin and her sisters had a father that was a functional alcoholic. When he could function he got them to where they needed to go but when it grew quiet and restful, he disappeared into his liquid bliss. Why he drank I didn’t know but it was long time thing and the family made their living on the weekend rodeos. Their mom was absent and the grandparent’s, Dad and assorted relatives raised them.

 

As for the rodeo they were much like the carnies (carnival folks) each sister had a job and they worked seamlessly to get it done.

 

Cousin(14) was the backup driver/mechanic, she and the youngest(8) could sling wrenches well enough to make NASCAR envious. Cousin 2 (11) was the barrel racer/horse healer, it fell to her to place in the money and keep the horses healthy. Cousin 3(13)was the cook/banker, it seemed they always had plenty of poached deer and assorted vegetables. They all rode when funds were available and competed in assorted events.

 

I didn’t know their schooling situation but I imagine they stayed with grandma until the weekend and then busted loose to be with Dad.

 

I wouldn’t say they were totally helpless, they had beauty and knew it. Just about every single male in the given rodeo locale would show up and hang around their camp. You can bet each one was suckered in with a smile and chatter, work and funds did their part to keep the bunch down to the in love and friends.

 

On the night of my road rescue, my father had made one of his many tactical blunders by loaning our roping rig (truck and trailer) to a friend as he couldn’t make that particular weekend. Dad was the rare rodeo gypsy as he had a great job and had just enough sense to keep it.

 

Normally I stayed home if Dad couldn’t go but on this trip I went along and did very well, well enough that it angered the friend and he drove off without me. His BS excuse was that I said I was going home with another person, Dad knew it was BS as I wouldn’t leave my horses. I suppose his friend talked his way out of Dad’s wrath and we never loaned out the rig again. Mom didn’t know and I never told.

 

Those were the days when phones were enclosed and it took a long finger with quarters to get a message going. I was 22 miles from the nearest place that could be called a town. It was dark and cold, so I rolled the dice and started hitching. I figured if I couldn’t make time in 2 hours I would stop, build a fire and get some sleep. Cousin found me inside that 2 hours; cold, thirsty and near bawling as I was scared and feeling sorry for myself.

 

She later told me that she knew something was wrong and spun the wheel, heading back towards the empty rodeo grounds. When she spotted me or sped by my hitching form, she was happy that she obeyed her instincts and I distinctly remember her asking if I wanted the rifle. Justice was and probably still is pretty severe out there, I declined. Dad would make the rifle seem like a blessing. The friend would get his. Cousin didn’t say a word and I was babied into a pile of blankets sleeping until they hit my doorway.

 

Even though I hadn’t seen cousin in 11 odd years I immediately went into brief mode and covered my entire family’s known activities or whereabouts. I figured she knew most of it but it was our family nature to speak as if it were not known. As we walked I flipped open my phone and broke open the pictures of my blue print, the sweet prince - my son.

 

In that late afternoon sun, in a smoky venue we walked slowly, talking, every so often a squeal would be released as she discovered the cuteness of his pictures and activities.

 

“He looks just like you… old wranglers and that monster straw hat you wore and it’s you!… *squeal*…it’s like going back in time…”

 

“Hey, I liked that hat!”

 

“I don’t doubt it, guys wear stupid #$#$ and think its cool!”

 

I paused and glanced over at her. She noticed immediately, apologizing but still thumbed through my phone. I also noticed she was reading my mail. It was alright, she was that way, always inquisitive and always wanting information nobody else had. We are all insecure in our own way but still I snatched the phone back.

 

“I don’t want you reading what my fan club sends me…”

 

“Which one? … New Mexico Correctional or Pelican Bay?”

 

“Pelican Bay doesn’t allow cell phones but Vincentes’ does (women correctional)”

 

She put her hands in her back pockets and sashayed quietly, I could tell she was thinking and that meant a big question was coming my way. A big ‘none of your business’ question but what the hell, she needed to hear no every now and then.

 

“How’s that girl you were with?…the one that %#$#$ you over?”

 

“You have to be more specific….I’ve had quite a few…”

 

“The one that put you off everybody’s radar… people talk…and it wasn’t good. Shall I find her?” With that she smacked her fist into her palm.

 

I laughed. Looked at her appraisingly and laughed some more- she was too cute.

 

“Nope, no need that for that… Vincentes’ got her handled”

 

“Really??!!”

 

“No”, I glanced at her sideways, “she’s far away and couldn’t find me if she wanted to…just how I want it”. I emphasized the last words, finite, no more talk of it. She moved her hands to her front pockets and we walked quietly.

 

She filled me in on her life, it seemed that cousin 3 had married and the guy was from the area but passed on. Walked into a truck and nobody knew why. As Cousin 3 was fairly independent and useful, her in-laws were comfortable with her staying. Having kids as well probably had something to do with sealing it. This cousin showed up to baby sit and run horses with her sister on their little spread. It seemed cousin was on her second divorce and swore off men for time being.

 

“Let’s eat and you can figure out some other way to interrogate me”

 

“Okay.. but I only have ten dollars”

 

“Did I ask you to pay for anything?”

 

With that we settled into a late lunch and I glanced at my watch, I had time but it there wasn’t much of it. A few hours of travel was still on the books.

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The Cousin Part IV

 

One of my great weaknesses is a well-grilled piece of meat wrapped in stretchy tortilla – tortilla that is handmade and doesn’t come from any major grocer.

For the meat I don’t care what it comes off of as long as its lovingly laid on a hot bed of coals and cooked to pink perfection. Generally I prefer it off a cow but I’ve had it in other forms, each as mouth watering as the next. For the moment, I had it right in front of me and I chewed slowly, damn close to ecstasy.

 

“So tell me about her… heard she was some kind of pretty”

 

“Where you hearing all this? Got me bugged?”

 

“Ha ha….I talk to your sisters…they don’t leave much out”

 

“Oh…” Yeah they didn’t and she probably knew more about me than I did. With little preamble I laid out the last great relationship I had. Cousin listened, sharp and attentive, I knew she was laying out the blame frame as in where it went wrong and who started it. I didn’t care as I’ve been analyzed by many and it was all just opinion. Generally I was spared and she got the barb.

 

“Wow…she’s very young… I don’t see you to as the type that goes for youngsters… hell, she was born right after you came back from the war”

 

My gut tightened and in quick fashion so did my expression, cousin raised up her hand, temporary surrender and went back to her meal.

 

“She was my friend… she was not a youngster. At least I never saw her that way. Anyway, it’s over and I don’t look back…”

 

“Damn… you got your pride don’t you? It’s okay to grovel and swallow some of it if it means you want that person!”

 

“Okay…. Say that’s true… what happens if the other person sleeps with another? Can you swallow that?…Grovel for more time together??”

 

“Oh…” Back to the meal and heavy furrows as she thought it over. I was getting impatient, I’ve always had diarrhea of the mouth when it came to the ex. I hated that I sought confirmation for my side of the argument and couldn’t shut up about it when asked the why of the breakup. I suppose that is the nature of broken romances, some can put it away and apparently I wasn’t one of them- yet!

 

“She loved you, probably still does… but she waited as long as she wanted to or could… probably gave you a deadline which you blew off… at least that’s what I think…someone else came along, it doesn’t matter if he was good for her or not. He was there when she needed someone and you got replaced.” Clicking her fingers to indicate the speed of the activity, she patted my hand and I waited for the sympathy statement which never came.

 

“You are such a … but that’s US… our way… she couldn’t understand that, in a way I wish I had met her… I think I could’ve helped…” I straightened up, slowly blew out suppressed air and made a wry face. We went back to the meal and cousin stared at me with my own eyes, we shared the same dark eyes and smile. Looking at me but not looking at me. Probably pondering my mental state, I ignored her and finished my meal. The waitress slowly made her way towards us dinner was coming to a close.

 

“How come you didn’t go after her?” We stood outside toothpicks dancing accross our lips. It was a good meal and I could tell the waitress was ecstatic with her tip. I liked to spread the joy.

 

I shook my head. Starting to clam up, the whole conversation was getting painful and pointless as in, why talk about it anymore? There’s no revelation or joy to be found.

 

“I couldn’t get over how fast she hit the rack with the other guy… how she threw it at me… and later on…the many guys she slept with … I couldn’t deal with that… felt betrayed…but that’s US I suppose.”

 

“She was just having sex. Nothing more, bet she called out your name afterwards or even during. Betcha this ten bucks…”

 

Cousin tried to push it on me, paying for her dinner and I caught her thrust and pushed it back at her, pride runs deep amongst us.,

 

“… that she cried afterwards and all that stood or laid there next to her …hating your guts!”

 

“Get the next meal… and here…” I handed her a $20, another one of the gypsy mannerisms, we always gave away money because someday it might be our turn in need. She took it automatically. Slight pause then slid the bills into her back pocket.

 

“You should stay with us… we have room… kids would be happy to know you…”

 

I glanced at her, all cute but hard as nails, wish I had my camera as she had the kind of looks, bathed in the soft afternoon sun that sell calendars.

 

“No, I’m on the job… still have three hours to go… that way.” Jerking the direction with my chin and spitting out the toothpick. Nasty.

 

I got a tight hug, the squeeze getting tighter as she formulated her thoughts. My ribs began to ache and just before I began to squirm, cousin spoke.

 

“ I think she misses you…if she was smart she’d come for you soon. She’s had enough time to figure out men and knows what she gave up…”

 

“You forget…she’s married.. .has a child or two.. “

 

“Doesn’t matter… I think she wants to come back.. if she does… listen to me!” Her voice growing sharp and the hug a little more painful, “let her in.. and be happy… if it doesn’t happen.. at least with her… someone else is coming… don’t be stupid.. let them in!”

 

Cousin released me and stalked away, not looking back lingering sentiments were not us as we were programmed to plan ahead. Nothing existed behind us.

 

Miles rolled by, every so often a herd of wild horses blanketed the roadside probably lonesome or thirsty. I thought of her and Cousin’s remarks, ‘let her in eh?’

 

I doubted I would, time to make distance and pray that my pain would subside as this was all so new to me. I did know that although I thought of her at least once or twice a day, I didn’t hurt when I did. That to me was important, I didn’t hurt anymore and I didn’t wish for or pray for her return – thank god that time had passed.

 

A big coyote stood at the edge of the road, I was beyond stopping speed and knew impact was a possibility so I increased my speed and angled towards it. I knew the coyote would choose self-preservation and run directly away from me, which in turn would save its life. It did and I decreased my speed, no sense in avoiding one and hitting another.

 

Yup I wouldn’t say I was over her completely but I did waste a major portion of my time waiting and wondering. It was time to keep on keeping on, as the good folks of ENA once told me, “it will pass… you won’t believe us but it will pass”. I’m grateful and I think I’m firmly on the other side, a relationship or two is not out of the question. Time to let it happened.

 

Yeah. Let it slide and be happy. I could do that.

 

 

 

 

For the fan club, hope it was worth the wait. Mpo

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  • 1 year later...

Listening to Rihanna on VD ..lol... seems to fit the late hour. It's been a long time since I've been on here, just about forgot my password. Thank god I remembered, it seemed fitting to read some of my postings and realized I've come a long way. For those that remember me, I was in busted up pretty bad with my breakup. I haven't been with anyone new, probably a very good thing.

 

For those that are in dire throes and searching for answers, it does pass and the pain goes away. Small comfort but there it is, I said it.

 

I got alot on my mind, writing here used to work out the issues and I'm hoping it still does.

 

It's late, I have to work in a few hours so I should probably sleep. Be up early working side gigs, one is orange orchard trimming trees and the other at a horse ranch. I like them both but they pay very little, mostly barter and all the horse time I want. I take two horses out into the deep desert, it's cool now so do-able but in a matter of weeks it'll be dangerously hot. I wish I had discovered this riding gig awhile back, nothing like riding to clear the soul and mind. Probably should go armed as I run into people way out there, some hiding and some sketchy. Border patrol almost always hails me down and I get interviewed, no big deal but it did make me angry at first.

 

What to write about.. no clue just wanted to write. Read a good book, Rogue Lawyer, and it got me moving and thinking again. Love that about books.

 

Write some more later. I think maybe... something paranormal. Sure why not. LOL

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Can't sleep. I figured it was time to start a new project, something memorable. I have a book in mind, a cowboy book set in the early 70's. Back when rodeo was a way of life and rodeo tramps made a living crossing the country. I knew those guys, knew them well because rodeo is a very small world or was back then. Many colorful characters, people should know about them and their adventures - good and bad. How to go about it though? Start in the middle and run both ways? I don't know. I'll just get it started and see it come to life.

 

So now I'm torn.. which tale to flesh out? I'll have to think about it.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Broke. Absolutely broke. Well, not totally I had a few quarters inside a jar, a jar somewhere in my disorganized table desk. I mentally calculated I could go two days without food. Drink water and keep busy, once the hunger pains subsided, the experience wasn't so bad. I felt it might be a 20 lb loss, weight comes to me quickly but involuntary hunger disappears it fast - sadly to include muscle. Oh well, life was getting easier, why go that route eh?

 

Tomorrow I would go for a walk, no particular direction just walk early in the morning and lay up midday. The temp was in the 100's, dangerous weather but only if you forget to hydrate. I passed through transient areas, most were empty but the belongings said eyes were watching from somewhere. I kept my pace, looking away and feigning disinterest. No sense in starting something or causing undue stress.

 

I'm not sure what I was looking for, certainly not a job or food. Hunger I suppose has it's own compass and it's reins dragged me through the older parts of town and down into the steamy river bottom.

 

As I moved through the thick willows and swarms of insect..................tbc

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Broke. Absolutely broke. Well, not totally I had a few quarters inside a jar, a jar somewhere in my disorganized table desk. I mentally calculated I could go two days without food. Drink water and keep busy, once the hunger pains subsided, the experience wasn't so bad. I felt it might be a 20 lb loss, weight comes to me quickly but involuntary hunger disappears it fast - sadly to include muscle. Oh well, life was getting easier, why go that route eh?

 

Tomorrow I would go for a walk, no particular direction just walk early in the morning and lay up midday. The temp was in the 100's, dangerous weather but only if you forget to hydrate. I passed through transient areas, most were empty but the belongings said eyes were watching from somewhere. I kept my pace, looking away and feigning disinterest. No sense in starting something or causing undue stress.

 

I'm not sure what I was looking for, certainly not a job or food. Hunger I suppose has it's own compass and it's reins dragged me through the older parts of town and down into the steamy river bottom.

 

As I moved through the thick willows and swarms of insect..................tbc

 

..swarms of insects, biting flies so there must be some cows or horses here about. About half hour later I got my answer, big dairy cows. I know that because I stumbled upon a poached one, with the poachers standing around looking at me. I moved quickly, got up close to the guy with a rifle and snatched it from him. Minimal resistance, guess he was surprised or big motherlovers like me coming out of the dark bush are paralyzing. I hope for the latter. Did a quick safety check on the rifle, dumped the round in the chamber and slowly shucked the rounds in the magazine. We stared at each other and then the girl, 4 girls plus the guy shooter, pointed at the cow and made a pistol out of her hand and mimicked shooting. I looked at the cow, motherlover! it was still alive. Big brown eyes, trusting eyes, the kind that would make every hot chick in America bawl and a few guys I'm sure. Shooter was a lousy shot and judging from their sweaty brows, they had a long chase.

 

I would like to say I nursed it back to health and all was sweet and rosy. Nope. Everybody was happy as they ate roasted strips of dairy cow and hung additional strips over willow racks. Racks fashioned out of the valley willow bushes, good material just had to look for sturdy limbs. I carefully cleaned my hands, getting under the nails just in case the law made an appearance. The smell of the butchering though was not so easy, raw blood still smells wild and bilious. My kind of cologne but a judge would not be pleased to have a dairy killer in his court.

 

My fire was almost finished, I had mimed to the girls that I wanted a fire - this big, this wide and this deep - probably thought I was asking for wild sex but the message got through. They got a fire going and keep it stoked with dead hardwood along the shores. My attention was on the cow head and the ribs. I cut them to sized and laid them between two aluminum street signs I salvaged from the debris strewn against the river edge. I might lose some meat to along the edges but enough would cook well, buried in the glowing coals. Poor man's bbq.

 

The shooter disappeared but the girls didn't seem to mind, guess he was more weight than help. I wondered about his rifle and whether or not I should have searched him. Small details like that get people killed. I stressed but my only options were to walk away, forget my roasting meal or be extra alert.

 

The sun was glowing, big orb covered in a layer of diffusing sand, it was great lighting for pictures but to the girls it was time to find shelter or get under cover. I suppose I was invited to come along but wasn't sure, signing isn't all that great for specifics. They were fed and had enough in the racks for a good feed or distant travel. Try as I might, I couldn't tell their nationality, chinese hispanics? I don't know but they were in true survival mode and getting to location was job one. The dairy cow was a successful pit stop.

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Hard Times, 01

 

My head swiveled to noise to the east of me, it was a couple arguing. I listened intently, ears angled strategically I suppose listening for violence. There was none, just the strained tone of an angry woman and the pushed deep whine of her man. I lost interest when I heard argument, violence I might have walked down and intervened.

 

As much I try to stay out of social interaction, the registered law in me didn't tolerate violence to others – much less women or bullied. I had in front of me a child's bow, salvaged from a side job mixing mortar. Mixing mortar from a man who had far more money than experience slopping brick. I bit my tongue and earned my $20, the bow and some nylon twine. I was going over the twine, braiding it tightly as a makeshift bowstring. Makeshift sounds flimsy, not my bowstring it would outlast me and the bow.

 

The southeast of my position was a irrigation canal, a canal filled with monster fish. Some catfish but mostly carp and some others mixed in – probably abandoned aquatic pets. Walmart's contribution to Arizona wildlife. I didn't care, they were big and fat and I intended to find out if tasty to my palate. I had 2 pounds of rice to last a few months, reality – but a little fish and some teriyaki sauce might just work for a fine dinner.

 

When you are seriously unemployed and hungry all the time, you get creative. Finish the bow and start on some arrows. I was content, had a project and the satisfaction of a hunt was all I needed on this godawful hot day. Weather was a hundred plus and no wind. It was alright though, I had good shelter and judging by the lizards and such stopping by they thought so to. Hard to bypass a cool place, law of the desert.

 

I smelled her before I even met her, well actually I heard her, loud relief filled piss roared through my ears. She was pissing almost at the door of my well camouflaged position. Annoyed I thought of picked up a gritty dirt clod and tossing it, smack her hard shapely butt. Instead I figured I'd introduce myself, who knows that solid piss might turn to a fine spray or abruptly shut off.

 

“You know... it's bad manners to piss at a man's front door!”

 

Yup, the roar ceased immediately, I worked the twine, my mental image of her was alert and confused, a little fear mixed in possibly. Some long minutes passed and the piss, involuntary I'm sure, dribbled on and I could hear the shuffle of clothes and scrap of sand.

 

“If you would, bury it deep. I don't want to smell it...” I almost laughed at the immediate silence.

 

“WHO ARE YOU???”, her voice was rigid, strained but polite undertones. I was pleased this one had some manners

 

“Do what I said please, then come to the sound of my voice.” If she did, then I would be okay with meeting her but it was 50/50 of her racing off to her spot down below and the other guy.

 

A few minutes later I heard labored scraping, she was shoveling with her foot a good pile of dirt. I imagine it would be a small pyramid. She was caught, confused and curious. I don't think afraid as a normal deviant, if such a thing existed would have attacked at her most vulnerable. I was polite and I figured she responded the strength in my voice, people are strange that way.

 

There she was, peering through my brush screen, a good looking woman, crouched low and deep worried lines around her eyes and mouth. I figured about late 20's and whoever she was, she had muscle tone so well nourished. The guy below was pretty lucky.

 

“Come around to your right... or not... “ Added that just to push her curiousity.

 

She did and I had my first visitor, a hot babe and my ego was content. Just like old times, I still had it.

Her eyes were blinking hard, I gazed over her body, there was no defensive posturing, she was in guest mode so be it.

 

“It's dim but a foot to your left is a sitting spot... would you like some water? Or a soda?... I have diet Coke and Dr. Pepper.... Cold.”

 

Her voice was pleasant but cautious.

 

“Can I have water and a diet Coke?”

 

“Sure...”

 

She sat down, staring intently in my direction, it would be few moments before her vision adjusted. I pondered my move, if I stood up, my shelter was sloped so I could stand and walk to her, which might cause a panicked rout and destroy my little home or I could toss it at her. I would toss her the water, let her drink that as she relaxed and could see, I would roll the soda towards her with the bow. No, I would not get up, anxious women were like mules facing a grizzly.

 

The water thumped at her feet, a slight gasp, and she slowly retrieved it. Must suck to be totally at the mercy of a man that heard or watched you piss and then offered gracious hospitality. Screw it, her problem not mine. I smiled as she tried adjusting to my world, eyes purposely wide to adjust to the cool darkness, this wasn't a dumb bunny. She was tactical. Good girl.

 

I continued my work on the bow, forgetting her for the moment and wondering what I could use for arrows. If I could find a power saw, I was fairly certain I could make some killer arrows of the scrap 2x4 hardwood. If not, plan b on a cutting tool.

 

She broke the silence and gave me her name, I grunted, a bad move as her body tensed. She was either in here or not, I wasn't in the mood to make friends. I was concerned as well, she would bring her guy or others up here, strength in numbers and there went the neighborhood. She would not be someone to converse with surrounded by others. Let her run. I would pick up my possibles, collapse the shelter and move immediately to my other 'hide'. Make the situation a tactical exercise. I didn't have to, she stayed put and drank water, guzzling it – my hot babe was thirsty .

 

“I'm not going to throw the soda... listen for the movement and here's another water” The water thumped in front of her and I carefully rolled the icy cold can towards her. She leaned forward and claimed it. Cracking the soda she drank deeply then relaxed against the plywood beach chair. Legs long and lean and surprisingly large breast. I felt lecherous and quickly returned to my project.

 

In the next hour, we became good neighbors, I don't know if she adjusted optically enough to view me but I knew she understood I was working on something. For whatever odd reason, we fixated on the movie Casablanca and shared favorite scenes. Abruptly she left, thanking me for the drinks and apologizing for her ill manners, pissing on my front door as it were. I said something stately like 'no problem and 'mi casa es su casa' and then she was gone.

 

It was the beginning of a good friendship as the line goes, but for now, I dreaded a visit by her man and all that drama. Surprisingly she didn't bring him, if I ever find myself talking to an attractive, tactically minded woman, question one is “why not?”

 

Unemployed, unfed and highly skilled sooner or later life would be good again. For now, survival baby and let the good times roll.

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