Into The Wild

Courtesy of Bo Bartlett (click to view more)

Daddy, why did you leave the gate open? Why did you allow me to simply slide through and out?

Darling, I had to. There was no other way for you to test your weight, to find your way.

But daddy, I might have gotten lost.

Darling, I had no doubt that you would, and I wasn’t surprised when you eventually did.

Daddy, how then did I return? How did I find my way back?

You didn’t darling. You didn’t.

But I am here now.

You are.

How?

While I may have been lost to you, you were never lost to me. I watched you run, first with glee, then in confusion, and finally with pain. When your running ran out, and you collapsed at the curb of disillusionment, I brought you home darling. Just as I always promised I would, for I will not allow you to fade away.

Daddy…

Yes darling?

Will you leave the gate open again?

Yes. But next time, you will be stronger. You will find your own way. The confusion will dim, and next time, you will build your own home, instead of being returned to mine.

Just for now?

You first must build a home, before you can come home. So yes darling, just for now.

Good.

Yes darling. Good.

•••

Listen, I’ve no real idea where this came from, nor what it’s supposed to be leading up to. But I do know it’s what fell out onto my keyboard, when Fay Moore – the Writer who wants to be a writer – asked us to use the following as a song prompt.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Crazy.

He was a client. Just a client.

Why am I sitting here, crying over the news of his sudden death? Why did he have to die while vacationing with his bride? Why did he have to die at all?

And the other? He was my sister-in-law’s father.

I knew him better, but that fact didn’t save his life. Maybe he’s spending time with dad now, maybe not.

Am I crazy for crying?

She’s a client as well.

One who’s been holding onto a very dark secret for far too many years. A secret she’s no longer willing to live with. A secret she shared with me. Again, impotent tears roam my pallid face.

And the one I’m supposed to be protecting?

Well, she won’t even protect herself. At the grand age of 14, she’s decided that life is a waste, bettering yourself, for chumps.

Am I crazy for trying?

Am I?

•••

Listen, I apologize if this one is all clunky and amateurish in nature. It’s just that here it is September already, and still 2012 continues to shit itself down the throats of my friends and loved ones. Shoving pain after pain into their lives while I sit idly by – a personally unaffected and powerless passenger on a bullshit scenic drive through the streets of Miserytown, population: too damned many.

And then Fay dropped “Crazy” by Patsy Cline as her latest song prompt, the very day I found out about one client, three days prior to other client’s unexpected and violent death. As one who seemingly can’t let any damned thing go, thoughts of these two brought to mind the other two. And the rage builds. The anger boils. The frustration, the God damned frustration… Part of me wants to fall down at His feet, and the other part wants to sucker punch Him in the gut. The 150 words laid down today aren’t a testament to Patsy’s lost love so much as they are an affirmation of her feeling like she’s crazy. Anyone who lets love in is crazy. But maybe crazy is the way to be. Maybe crazy is the sole path to salvation, the route to being reborn.

I don’t know, and to be honest, I’m not actually in the mood to care just now. Just now, all I want to say is “hey, Big Daddy Death and Uncle Devastation, fuck you. I’ve had enough of the both of you this year. Quite enough. Give it a rest already, will ya? Leave my friends alone. Leave my family alone. Just leave us alone.”

I’m terribly sorry about all the pissy posts as of late kids. I’ll try my best to find a better place, and write from there moving forward. For now here’s Patsy with “Crazy,” one of only (3) country performers I’ll ever admit to listening to on a regular basis…

Briefly… The Fay Moore Song Prompt edition

You knew it was coming. You heard the wind slapping itself madly against the window of your mind. The memories, now turning crimson and gold, now in the wind, dead, now gone, trampled under foot.

You knew it was coming, because you’d seen it before. “Not me,” you said, just like all the others, the “not-meers” who came before you, all of whom disintegrated in the final scene.

Your sun burnt hands begin to shiver as the cold sets in. Your sun burnt hands… are they yours? Are they someone else’s? The memories drift farther away as your mind recedes into it’s own dark closet, the black hole that is slowly eating It’s way outward.

The winter song becomes louder, blaring its rickety tune. It’s calling for you now, you know. One last memory before you heed its call – leaves, drifting by the window, leaves tumbling, red and gold…

•••

My Blogging Buddy Fay Moore was nice enough to use my suggestion for one of her ongoing song prompts. In a rare example of not being a total and utter douche (and because she usually otherwise uses songs that far exceed my ability to play along), I decided to throw in my two cents on the matter this time. I was about a sentence in when I realized that instead of the love lost I thought I would be writing about, my 150 words (I’ve no idea – 150 just sounded about right) would be instead about the good people in my life who I’ve seen fight, suffer with, and die from Alzheimers disease. You knew me without ever knowing me, but this is for you, Jack.

Now, here’s Keely and Louis, performing the bestest version of “Autumn Leaves” that has ever been slapped down on wax: