Eulogy

It’s been 365 days now.

365 days of fun and fuckery, of love and hate, of life and death. Of things going terribly and irreparably wrong, of putting my best foot forward (without always knowing why or what for), and of things finally starting to look up.

365 days in which I was unable to share any of it with you. Being unable to ask you for advice (that I wouldn’t have taken anyway) or support (which I would’ve). I was unable, because even though you were “there” the whole while, you are still gone.

It’s been 365 days now. And I still miss you Dad.

as long as i'm singing

When I was a child, I remember occasionally have night frights that would awaken me, rigid with fear. I would then creep into my parents room, edging my way up to the corner of their bed, while looking intently at my dad’s chest. I would do so until I could confirm that it was rising and lowering with breath, and only then, would I be able to shake the fright and return to my bed.

A little over a week ago, I was reminded of this as I found myself doing very much the same. I stared intently at dad’s chest. This time not so much to confirm that he was breathing, but rather, because I knew it would only be a matter of time until he was not.

My dad was almost there. Almost home. And now he’s gone. His was a very small and private service, but he is…

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And then THIS happened…

Yesterday, I saw a new icon on my notification tab. Well; I thought it was a new icon at any rate. Clicking on it, I realized that I actually had seen it before, exactly one-year prior in fact, as the following popped into existence…

Picture 5

That’s right. As of the 27th of May, this lil blog of mine is now two years old. And to celebrate, I got it nothing.

Abso-freakin’-lutely nothing.

No special posts written, no photos taken, no quotes retrieved. No reviews readied, nor songs chosen. Nothing. Hell, I didn’t even realize that its anniversary was coming due.

What kind of ass am I?

I mean, over the past two years, “As Long As…” has allowed me to share with you my father’s passing, my children’s growth, the struggles I’ve had with my faith, the recent and unexpected death of my 17 year marriage, the oft time battles I’ve had with depression, and of course the efforts that have stock-piled, resulting from my dreams of one day becoming a pretend writer of some sort.

Starting with just one follower – my bestest friend ever whom I’ve never met – this kid has grown slowly to a little over 230 more of you since. And I am as grateful to you all, as I am questioning of your literary taste… More importantly though, since its inception “As Long As…” has provided me with peace and solace during my dark hours. A place to scream, bitch, bemoan, play and flex my mental muscles and – to my albeit grateful surprise – it has brought me strong friendships that have only grown, as the challenges of life have become harder, though eventually overcome. In short, this blog has given me more than a lot of living, breathing people I know have.

And I didn’t even realize that its anniversary was coming due.

What kind of ass am I?

Hey you, As Long As I’m Singing, thank you my friend. I appreciate it… all of it.

As I noted previously, I didn’t have an applicable quote, nor a song chosen for this event. You know, in part because I totally forgot that this event was even to be an event. But I figured the following two will work well enough. The quote, simply because it’s about the truest thing I’ve ever read, and something I am coming to believe. And the song because, as you are an apple that fell pretty close to its somewhat creative tree, I feel it’s a good choice to describe how I feel about us both.

Happy 2nd, As Long As I’m Singing. Here’s to year 3 =)

•••

“Bad things can happen,

and often do–

but they only take up a few pages of your story;

and anyone can survive a few pages.”

~ James A. Owen

490 Words Plus A Sentence, AND One More To Boot.

I think I’m missing an assignment, but the Prof promised me extra credit, as long as I really “brought it” this week.

Damn. I could’ve used that extra credit…

Anywho, this week’s Master Class 2013 assignment had a bit of a switch in it, in that the prompt came from a song instead of a work of literature; to be used at the end of the submission. As such, and after reading the prompt, I decided to put one more switch into place, and also included a lyric at the beginning. One that was prompted by the prompt. Make sense?

Probably not. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and invite you to please click on the MC2013 link above, in order to join in on the fun! You know you wanna…

storch-badge

I’m standing in a line with a dirty mind. Clean it up on Sunday morning.

Yeah, yeah. Gotta go to Big God’s house today. Better clean up. Hide everything… get all the “stuff” put away. Yeah. He’ll never see it up there, tucked way away in the corner of my filthy little mind. All the things I want, all the things I crave. All the things I need, all the things I think would fulfill me. All the things that He said I can’t have, after He created them. Yeah, grab all that shit and hide it away.

Yeah. Put all that shit away. Just put it away, boy-O. No one, but no one, needs to know about all that. They don’t wanna know that you like it a little rough sometimes. No. Just sit there looking pretty. They don’t need to know that your first time wasn’t with the right sex. Oh, hell no! Just sit there with your eyes glued to the pulpit. They don’t wanna hear that you sometimes wish you could dress out here, the way that you dress behind closed doors. They don’t wanna know. They can’t bear to know the person that God made ya to be. They can’t stomach knowing how often you wanna share your love, and with how many different types you wanna share it. No. That would disgust them. They only wanna see the pin-striped, straight-jacketed version of the body that you deny weekly, all in an effort to appease them and their rules. To appease Him. Yeah. That’s what they want. That’s what He wants. Why’d He make you otherwise? Who knows? Cross-to-bear shit, I would imagine.

It don’t matter much. It’s His game, not mine. And every drop of sunshine he lets in, just confuses me more. I mean, why’d He give me these glimpses of happiness, only to have His tool of a shepherd-man tell me it’s all wrong, raining on the very parade He started? Gotta be cross-to-bear shit, man. Gotta be.

So you go on denying. You go on pretending that it’s girls you like, and white lace, and picket fences in the moonlight. You make sure you rough up your brows, just so no one notices that they look a little too nice otherwise. You keep grinning with that same stupid-ass grin you slather on your face every Sunday morning. The same stupid-ass grin your daddy slathered on his face before you. You grin it, and you ignore every last nerve inside of you, screaming to God for freedom in a world that He created, and then gave over to the power-hungry, the homophobes and the pricks.

I mean, why not, right? Cross-to-bear shit, man, cross-to-bear. Besides, it ain’t gonna rain unless it pours anyway. Until then, there’ll be no sun, and no rain. Just constant and oppressive pin-striped straight-jacketed grey. So what’s the point? Like daddy used to spit out through his stupid ass grin, well before the day he blew out his denial-doused brains, “No umbrellas, no sunglasses, hell and hallelujah everyday,” right?

•••

This week’s prompt came from Incubus’ “If Not Now, When?” and the subsequent prompt to the prompt came from The Bolshoi’s “Sunday Morning.” That’s right kids, that means it’s a double song day bonus!

Briefly… the Douglas Adams Remembrance Saturday edition

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Happy Towel Day everyone. Let’s make it a good one!

It could very well be our last.

Are You Gonna Go My Way?

I liked this one.

I can’t be too sure that many more will. I hope you do, but you know, they can’t all be zingers.

Friday Fictioneers, HO!!!

danny-bowman

Copyright – Danny Bowman

Jesus???

Ain’t no flippin’ way you’re Jesus. That’s bullcrap!

Then why’d you answer? Weren’t you just now asking for some sort of sign; that I’d “call you?”

Well, yeah… but a phone?

Look, the device is obviously defunct. Inoperable. You’re pretty dense Dave, and I had to get through. Plus, I thought you might also enjoy the spectacle of it all.

I suppose…

I have been talking to you your whole life. You get that, right? You just never listened.

Yeah?

Yeah.

…Yeah.

So, do I need to perform these asinine tricks anymore?

No, we’re good.

Good. Now hang up and go your wash your hands. That thing is filthy.

•••

The Letter

When someone as gifted as Ela asks you to write with her, you do NOT say no. In fact, if you’re anything like me, you jump at the chance. And, since I am almost exactly like me, that is exactly what I did.

Now, I think we’ve all come to grips with the fact that I don’t really “do” prose well, whereas Ela is really quite gifted at it. As a result, she and I decided to be creative in working our way around this slight issue, and in the tale we crafted, I hope you’ll be as pleased with the results as we are…

theletter-copyDeath sat at the edge of the bed, slack-jawed and stone-faced. Well, more stone-faced than usual; as the crumpled piece of paper formed an impenetrable barrier between It and Its intended cache for this night.

Why had It done it? Why had It read that infernal letter in the first? An effortless matter, this should have been. Just one more soul, ready to be extracted. One more life, simply at its wick’s end.

And yet, this time was different. This time, as Death glowered over this weak and puny, yet oddly contented man, a strange new feeling came. A crawling, warming sensation previously unknown to It. Looking at this creature – this sheet-white man-ape of no previous regard – It felt something akin to what It imagined affection might be described as.

Utterly ridiculous!

Shivering, It dismissed the thought altogether and slowly rose from the bed, in order to do what It should have done in the first. But right before doing so, It once again did what It shouldn’t have done in the first, and glanced at the letter once more.

That damned letter. With its presence, Death knew that this man-ape with the childish grin, would live on. Well, at least until it was her time to be taken too. Sighing resignedly, It stalked forth from the room, forever more trying to forget the words that It had read:

“My Love,

You have waited for me an eternity
Trying to see me in a million faces
Yet you never could, for it was not the time for us.
Tonight sleep peacefully knowing that the nightmare is over
And that I am on my way to you.
Tomorrow, when you will open your eyes
You will see my eyes mirroring you.
No pain, no chain, not even Death
Will stop me this time.
I thought I saw you millions of times
In millions of lives, my Love.
But every time I lost the illusion
Like a smoke scattered above the frozen waters of my broken heart.
For you were nowhere else but here all the time, waiting for me.
Tomorrow, when you will open your eyes
We will finally start to live.
Let the past die and rise from this tomb of agony
For Tomorrow is here
And I am coming.”

———————————————————————————————–
Ela&Troy, 2013
•••

Please follow Ela at MeMyselfAndEla, a wonderful and gifted poet-writer who speaks eloquently from her heart.

Beyond The Sea

You know what I said last week about finding inspiration for these pictures? Yeah, well this week none of that happened, as the very second the prompt picture popped open, I shouted excitedly – and to no one in particular – “PEN PALS!!!”

That’s right, this week’s Friday Fictioneers immediately made me think of the pen pals bit I wrote a little while back for the 100 Word Song challenge, and I thought we’d revisit these kids now to see how they’re doing, cool?

Hope you enjoy!

aqueduct-sarah-ann-hall

Copyright – Sarah Ann Hall

Wanting to touch her cheek, he reached out slowly, till his fingertips softly tickled the image on the screen before him.

They were so much alike, yet different. They were so very connected, yet far apart, each firmly entrenched to their own place.

He longed to traverse those few thousand miles, but was unable to break himself free. So instead, he continued sending pictures and words across the ocean, hoping that she would see in them, his love for her.

Sighing, he wondered what she was doing at that moment.

Wanting to touch his constantly tossled hair, her fingertips softly brushed the image on the screen before her…

•••