fWOT?
-
fLike fZelda and fffscott Fitzgerald
was Bbutton his scripted, unconditional
doomed love
toward his doomed dove
his immortal love
typed
scorned
discarded
was...
5 months ago
Thursday, November 30, 2006
too familiar
"Hey, Timmy. Come here." I walked over to where she was sitting and she motioned that I should get even closer. "Why did your sister get fired?"
"I don't know. I didn't know she was."
"Is it because of him?"
"I don't know but that's the reason I don't deal with her anymore. I work for the city, my younger sister is a school teacher, she worked for some social service, none of us can be associated with drug dealers or users. I told her so but she did her own thing."
"It's too bad but at least you don't have to worry about her."
"I worry a little because she's my sister but the choices she made where her own."
"I don't know. I didn't know she was."
"Is it because of him?"
"I don't know but that's the reason I don't deal with her anymore. I work for the city, my younger sister is a school teacher, she worked for some social service, none of us can be associated with drug dealers or users. I told her so but she did her own thing."
"It's too bad but at least you don't have to worry about her."
"I worry a little because she's my sister but the choices she made where her own."
whata I know?
Walking to work today I had this desire to be great, great at something - to put an effort forth that few others would match but I reasoned that I didn't have time to be great, with all that required effort and all.
The few things that raced through my mind of which I wanted to do in a manner great all involved time I couldn't see the likes of me putting forth.
"What about being great at your job? Either or both."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"At least you would have the time."
I then wondered if people get as exasperated with me during a conversation as much as I exasperate myself.
Why can't that voice just go alone to get along? Why does he always have to be a prick? Why does he have to make points which I hate, but agree with?
To my surprise, writing was on the list. I wish to write greatly. I want to make people laugh out loud or quietly sob with just my mere words. I want them to mouth the word 'wow' afterwards. I want them to have to sit and think, rest up a bit before carrying on.
but...
you write what you know
The few things that raced through my mind of which I wanted to do in a manner great all involved time I couldn't see the likes of me putting forth.
"What about being great at your job? Either or both."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"At least you would have the time."
I then wondered if people get as exasperated with me during a conversation as much as I exasperate myself.
Why can't that voice just go alone to get along? Why does he always have to be a prick? Why does he have to make points which I hate, but agree with?
To my surprise, writing was on the list. I wish to write greatly. I want to make people laugh out loud or quietly sob with just my mere words. I want them to mouth the word 'wow' afterwards. I want them to have to sit and think, rest up a bit before carrying on.
but...
you write what you know
so i think i'm developing an armpit fetish, a hairy man armpit fetish.
That second part isn't true, it just seemed too ridiculous not to type and I mean no offense to those who like hairy man pits. It's just that I don't like 'em, freak.
am I going to be some weirdo's search results for some weirdo search.
I'm going to google "hairy man armpit fetish" right now.
...
Dudes, I'm trying to listen to a video so shut the fuck up. Why don't you marry each other? We are in Massachusetts.
I need to now something about the new MBTA fees and monthly passes. This video is damn important.
That second part isn't true, it just seemed too ridiculous not to type and I mean no offense to those who like hairy man pits. It's just that I don't like 'em, freak.
am I going to be some weirdo's search results for some weirdo search.
I'm going to google "hairy man armpit fetish" right now.
...
Dudes, I'm trying to listen to a video so shut the fuck up. Why don't you marry each other? We are in Massachusetts.
I need to now something about the new MBTA fees and monthly passes. This video is damn important.
Normally, in cases such as this, I would walk over and just buy a new thumb drive. I actually was in the store looking at a sweet little number that would only set me back seventeen bucks. The thing was tiny. TINY! I say or was that a shout. It was the smallest I've seen so far. It actually has the word tiny in its full and proper name 512MB Micro Vault Tiny USB Flash Drive - USM-512H it's from SONY.
But then that voice chimed in "What about your camera?" Man, I hate that voice. I did forget my thumb drive but I did have my camera and with my camera I carry a memory card reader which acts exactly like a thumb drive. Exactly! I say.
Man! during the research for this post, I've found out that those tiny little USB flash drives normally retail for $34 or so. Now I have to buy one. I'll be right back or since we're online BRB.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah. You can," I said "I'd like one of those," I further said as I pointed directed at what I wanted.
"Okay," the guy said. A guy I really don't like because he's always asking if he can help me and I'm always, or nearly always, saying that I am just looking and because he can't operate my eyeballs and I have no hook-up to his eyeballs - he can't help. Anyway, the guy opens the case because I live in a land of thieves and the item I want is under lock and key, and he reaches for something I don't want.
"Actually, the one next to it is the one I want."
"This one's the same capacity at half the price."
"Yeah, but that one's tiny."
"Which will make it easier to loose."
I certain I went stone faced at that point in time because if I didn't control myself things were going to get verbally ugly.
"I want the tiny one."
"Okay, I was just trying to save you from just loosing it later."
The guy looks older than me (and I'm forty freaking years old), his job is to walk around his branch of this national chain office supply store and pester every person who happens to simply stop walking. And if you do want to purchase something that is locked away, he will escort the item to the front with you and place the item on the checkout counter with care that is similarly shown to the Queen's jewels.
If I cared about this guy's being even one minuscule little bit more, I would hate him but I don't care enough about him to muster up feelings of hate.
My reply to his latest and to date greatest bit of help was to offer no reply. I just followed the item which I wished to purchase to the front of the store, which is actually off to the side.
So, I guess in my zeal I misremembered certain things, like that the tiny flash drive was actually $34 or so and not the seventeen as mentioned above but I still bought one.
It's tiny
But then that voice chimed in "What about your camera?" Man, I hate that voice. I did forget my thumb drive but I did have my camera and with my camera I carry a memory card reader which acts exactly like a thumb drive. Exactly! I say.
Man! during the research for this post, I've found out that those tiny little USB flash drives normally retail for $34 or so. Now I have to buy one. I'll be right back or since we're online BRB.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah. You can," I said "I'd like one of those," I further said as I pointed directed at what I wanted.
"Okay," the guy said. A guy I really don't like because he's always asking if he can help me and I'm always, or nearly always, saying that I am just looking and because he can't operate my eyeballs and I have no hook-up to his eyeballs - he can't help. Anyway, the guy opens the case because I live in a land of thieves and the item I want is under lock and key, and he reaches for something I don't want.
"Actually, the one next to it is the one I want."
"This one's the same capacity at half the price."
"Yeah, but that one's tiny."
"Which will make it easier to loose."
I certain I went stone faced at that point in time because if I didn't control myself things were going to get verbally ugly.
"I want the tiny one."
"Okay, I was just trying to save you from just loosing it later."
The guy looks older than me (and I'm forty freaking years old), his job is to walk around his branch of this national chain office supply store and pester every person who happens to simply stop walking. And if you do want to purchase something that is locked away, he will escort the item to the front with you and place the item on the checkout counter with care that is similarly shown to the Queen's jewels.
If I cared about this guy's being even one minuscule little bit more, I would hate him but I don't care enough about him to muster up feelings of hate.
My reply to his latest and to date greatest bit of help was to offer no reply. I just followed the item which I wished to purchase to the front of the store, which is actually off to the side.
So, I guess in my zeal I misremembered certain things, like that the tiny flash drive was actually $34 or so and not the seventeen as mentioned above but I still bought one.
It's tiny
"If he keeps it up, I'm going to say it's harassment."
I rolled my eyes.
"I know you think I'm crazy."
"No. It's not that, I just don't think you have a leg to stand on. He has every right to wonder where you are when you're working and he can always say he's starting to crack down on it and he's starting with you and working his way down."
Your boss asking you where you were when you were over an hour late is not harassment.
...
"No. I can't guarantee that I won't fall in love with you."
...
He mumbled something.
"Excuse me"
"Ten"
"Ten?"
"Yes"
Ten bucks for a cover to that place was steep, or so I thought.
I rolled my eyes.
"I know you think I'm crazy."
"No. It's not that, I just don't think you have a leg to stand on. He has every right to wonder where you are when you're working and he can always say he's starting to crack down on it and he's starting with you and working his way down."
Your boss asking you where you were when you were over an hour late is not harassment.
...
"No. I can't guarantee that I won't fall in love with you."
...
He mumbled something.
"Excuse me"
"Ten"
"Ten?"
"Yes"
Ten bucks for a cover to that place was steep, or so I thought.
The solution he devised was to make the problem something out of his realm of responsibility. He made the problem someone else's, and when he presented the problem to that someone else, that someone else asked why he couldn't fix the problem by doing something else, and that something was in his realm of responsibility.
"How comes every time I ask him to do something, he puts it back on me? I'm trying to get rid of some work, not take more on."
I just shrugged my shoulders.
...
"You can take that left."
"I don't know if you can," he said, not as an argument, but as if he was answering a question
"I'm telling you, you can."
...
http://www.themoodswings.org/
I believe one the trumpeters was making eyes at me.
...
"How comes every time I ask him to do something, he puts it back on me? I'm trying to get rid of some work, not take more on."
I just shrugged my shoulders.
...
"You can take that left."
"I don't know if you can," he said, not as an argument, but as if he was answering a question
"I'm telling you, you can."
...
http://www.themoodswings.org/
I believe one the trumpeters was making eyes at me.
...
like magic things pop up
We all know the only reason you're walking around is because you are a spy.
Eve Angel is not a bad looking woman
Easy there big boy. and what's odd is that the preceeding sentence had nothing to do with Eve.
I was goofing around, thinking, and I hit the shift key five times in a row and a window popped up and told me that I had just said the magic word to get that window to pop up.
I was excited there for a moment.
Eve Angel is not a bad looking woman
Easy there big boy. and what's odd is that the preceeding sentence had nothing to do with Eve.
I was goofing around, thinking, and I hit the shift key five times in a row and a window popped up and told me that I had just said the magic word to get that window to pop up.
I was excited there for a moment.
it's a short story but it's a long one
"I'm going to stay and get some sun."
I did a quick look to the sky which I knew was overcast, as my right eyebrow went up and the other, slightly down.
"I mean fresh air."
I smiled with satisfaction because I just want him to say what he means.
...
He never dreamed but all his dreams came true.
All his dreams came true but he never dreamed.
Doesn't one seem sadder than the other?
...
Dreamella
Dreamette - a brief dream, a briefly lasting dream
Novella, Novelette - a brief novel or long short story
...a long short story - seems a lot like my life.
I did a quick look to the sky which I knew was overcast, as my right eyebrow went up and the other, slightly down.
"I mean fresh air."
I smiled with satisfaction because I just want him to say what he means.
...
He never dreamed but all his dreams came true.
All his dreams came true but he never dreamed.
Doesn't one seem sadder than the other?
...
Dreamette - a brief dream, a briefly lasting dream
Novella, Novelette - a brief novel or long short story
...a long short story - seems a lot like my life.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Five miles of dirt road in either direction, which is a lot for a city boy.
'87 four wheel drive Toyota pickup
hubs locked
push it 'til it breaks
push it when you should have braked.
mountain roads and drop offs
I dropped off
forward was down
backward was up
I refused to go forward
the truck refused to go backward
sideways was the hard reached compromise
live and learn - step one live
lesson learned?
slow down?
no. start blind curve even earlier.
'87 four wheel drive Toyota pickup
hubs locked
push it 'til it breaks
push it when you should have braked.
mountain roads and drop offs
I dropped off
forward was down
backward was up
I refused to go forward
the truck refused to go backward
sideways was the hard reached compromise
live and learn - step one live
lesson learned?
slow down?
no. start blind curve even earlier.
I've been down that road before
Push it until it breaks and then if there is a next time push it until it breaks.
"What's up with all this broken sh%t?"
"Why don't you ever ask, what's up with all the cakes?"
"Everyone has a story to tell. A lot of people only have their own story to tell. I can make up stories." I smiled because I was just thinking that I was being told a story.
Everyone has a story to tell.
Some stories aren't worth the listening
You can tell me how you got that scar but all I'll believe is that you have a scar.
True, could be true, doubt it's true, not true - prove me wrong. I dare you.
pure heart or lusty soul?
The mean was justified in the end.
"What's up with all this broken sh%t?"
"Why don't you ever ask, what's up with all the cakes?"
"Everyone has a story to tell. A lot of people only have their own story to tell. I can make up stories." I smiled because I was just thinking that I was being told a story.
Everyone has a story to tell.
Some stories aren't worth the listening
You can tell me how you got that scar but all I'll believe is that you have a scar.
True, could be true, doubt it's true, not true - prove me wrong. I dare you.
pure heart or lusty soul?
The mean was justified in the end.
Monday, November 27, 2006
So I got to speak to her again and she started telling me more about herself and after about her third story, that voice said "She might be playing you."
"She might be playing me?!"
"Yeah, I'm not saying that she is. I'm just saying that she might be. So keep an ear out."
"So, you had me going all weekend that I mightn't have done the right thing and now you go and say that she might be playing me?"
"Yup"
"And you have no problem with that?"
"Nope."
"All weekend you had me thinking about it."
"Yeah. Listen with what we knew Friday night, you didn't do the right thing and that's the bottom line but now we know other things, so just watch out."
"I hate you."
"Whatever"
"She might be playing me?!"
"Yeah, I'm not saying that she is. I'm just saying that she might be. So keep an ear out."
"So, you had me going all weekend that I mightn't have done the right thing and now you go and say that she might be playing me?"
"Yup"
"And you have no problem with that?"
"Nope."
"All weekend you had me thinking about it."
"Yeah. Listen with what we knew Friday night, you didn't do the right thing and that's the bottom line but now we know other things, so just watch out."
"I hate you."
"Whatever"
I never knew I used the word 'quite' so much
So, I hear that Sony digital cameras are sometimes having problems and I worry that my camera is one of the models identified. So, I go to the Sony website and look for cameras trying to find out the models numbers that are having problems but I can't find my model number anywhere.
Most likely because I have a Canon.
...
Why is my quote of the day something from Kevin Costner?
...
My fortune for today is:
You constantly struggle for self improvement.
First - that ain't a fortune*.
Second - I don't struggle for it I struggle with it.
*I wanted to type "that ain't no fortune," which is something I would have no trouble saying to someone in person but I just can't bring myself to type it.
...
She didn't call me old, she just merely stated that those other guys were young but to my surprise it bothered me.
...
(those three dots get counted as a word)
I sometimes wonder how far from normal I am even though I live my life like I'm normal is everyone else is off the mark.
"Spot on" is a phrase I like to use.
...
It's not so much that I can't stand the place it's that I have no reason to keep me at my desk.
Freedom beckons and I oblige
Have you ever read the definition for oblige?
It runs quite the gambit, or so I think - to bind morally or to be kindly accommodating.
Like the difference between a hammer to the head and a welcomed kiss.
...
It's not so much that I can't stand the place, it's just that I can't stand the place.
...
I sit by the conference room so I get a lot of people milling about and sometimes they will start to talk to each other and sometimes they will stand in my way and sometimes I may get a little rude.
...
The place was busy, too busy for anything of an average day. We started to guess at the event.
"Maybe they're swearing in new citizens."
"No, the crowd is too bourgeois."
new lawyers taking the oath
...
"Maybe you hit the speech recognition button by mistake."
"No. I don't think I did."
Well, I think you did especially because it wants you to set up the speech recognition feature.
Most likely because I have a Canon.
...
Why is my quote of the day something from Kevin Costner?
...
My fortune for today is:
You constantly struggle for self improvement.
First - that ain't a fortune*.
Second - I don't struggle for it I struggle with it.
*I wanted to type "that ain't no fortune," which is something I would have no trouble saying to someone in person but I just can't bring myself to type it.
...
She didn't call me old, she just merely stated that those other guys were young but to my surprise it bothered me.
...
(those three dots get counted as a word)
I sometimes wonder how far from normal I am even though I live my life like I'm normal is everyone else is off the mark.
"Spot on" is a phrase I like to use.
...
It's not so much that I can't stand the place it's that I have no reason to keep me at my desk.
Freedom beckons and I oblige
Have you ever read the definition for oblige?
It runs quite the gambit, or so I think - to bind morally or to be kindly accommodating.
Like the difference between a hammer to the head and a welcomed kiss.
...
It's not so much that I can't stand the place, it's just that I can't stand the place.
...
I sit by the conference room so I get a lot of people milling about and sometimes they will start to talk to each other and sometimes they will stand in my way and sometimes I may get a little rude.
...
The place was busy, too busy for anything of an average day. We started to guess at the event.
"Maybe they're swearing in new citizens."
"No, the crowd is too bourgeois."
new lawyers taking the oath
...
"Maybe you hit the speech recognition button by mistake."
"No. I don't think I did."
Well, I think you did especially because it wants you to set up the speech recognition feature.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
I don't look because I'm pretty certain of what I'll see
She was new, or at least she was new to me. She was sitting in the have-a-nice-day guy's place; she may have even been using his milk crates for a seat.
I chose not to really hear what she had to say as I walked by but what I did hear was as statement about the Godiva Chocolatier bag I had. But then how could she not have noticed it? The thing was shiny gold and must look huge as it swings at arms length nearly scraping along the traversed sidewalk beneath it. But I had chewing gum to buy so I ignored her, or at least did my best to look like I had.
In Seven Eleven I was standing behind a homeless looking man counting out change for his Lays Sour Cream & Onion potato chips. Behind him was some other asshole like me wishing he was just hurry up. I peeled two one dollar bills from the roll I had in preparation for my turn at the register and when I looked up, the homeless guy was still determined to find enough change.
It was probably a lack of patience and not a burst of compassion that caused me to start to debate on whether or not to pay for his purchase. The sticking point was that I wasn't next in line, it would be ridiculous to pay for the chips and not pay for my gum at the same time but if I did that, then I would be effectively cutting the line and the guy in front of me didn't look like the charitable type.
My debating ended when the guy finally gave up hope on having enough pocket change and pulled out some bills. I caught glimpse of a ten, two fives and several ones. "He doesn't need my charity today" is what crossed my mind followed by "What about her?"
The cash I had in my pocket was pretty much spoken for, I had an open ended commitment to have a drink or two with a former bartender of mine on her birthday at her new place of employment. I didn't know how much my endeavor was going to set me back. But what I did have was premium chocolates. After I picked out what I wanted at Godiva's the total came up five dollars short of me getting a free box of chocolates. The cashier was kind enough to tell me what purchases were available for that amount. I settled on two of the discounted chocolate turkeys.
From the convenience store I walked back across the street and handed her one chocolate turkey.
"I've got no money to give but I do have this? It's from Godiva."
"Hey, that's good. I used to go to Godiva before I was in this situation."
And before I could get away she told me part of her story. She told me she had done two tours in Iraq and when she returned her job wasn't waiting for her. She said she would have gone back to Iraq but that she knew she would be labeled expendable because she doesn't have kids, a spouse or any other family.
She must have noticed my step backwards because she thanked me and mentioned again that she does like chocolate.
"Yeah, before this situation, I used to come Downtown a lot. I would go to Borders and Starbucks and whenever I could get the chance I would pick up something in Godiva's. I'm addicted to books and coffee, unlike some of the others."
I was looking around mainly so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye. I would look to the left in such a way as to cause my body to shift a bit and I would move my left foot back a bit. I would do the same as I looked to the right pretending to watch out for any pedestrian wishing to use the sidewalk. I had an hour and a half to kill before I could deliver my chocolates but I really didn't want to spend any more time on this particular street corner.
"I should be all right though, after this situation, because I have a lawsuit against my employer. I should end up getting more money than if I had worked but things take time."
"Well good luck," I said as I finished my escape.
I walked six blocks to South Station and ordered a number eight from the McDonald's value menu and then sat and watched the hodge podge of people catching trains or trying to get on the bus. When I got bored with that I pulled out a small notebook and started to hand write a blog post.
I had a hundred words or so before my conscience kicked in.
"You could have done more."
"You didn't even give her both turkeys, or that free box you got. You're out nothing."
"And don't you write for a blog whose very existence came to be for people like her, soldiers who have been let down? Or at least didn't you?"
Then I changed the post I was working on to this one. I wasted time until quarter of ten and then started walking to the club. At the front desk, I asked where my former bartender was working and I was told she was on the third floor. I cut through the floor of pool tables at the top of the winding staircase and read the note on the back door, there was a private party for some high school reunion of some suburban town. I didn't bother to work out the age difference between myself and the party goers that I would soon see, I knew I would have at least ten years on them.
I stood mostly out of place at the end of the bar, my former bartender had her back to me. As she turned around, she greeted me with a great smile and introduced me as her favorite customer from her former place of employment. I placed the bag on the bar and wished her a happy birthday.
Our conversation was brief, I was out of place at that particular club, at that particular reunion and in her particular life. I refuse the shot she offered; she promised me an email as I said goodbye.
On my way out, I thanked the girl at the front, who had told me where Danielle was working and as I stepped out into the mild, late Fall air, I heard "She's eight blocks, that way, if she's still there."
Eight blocks in real shoes; I had been walking a lot that day and I almost never wear real shoes, but the club I had just left doesn't let you in if you're not wearing real shoes. Sometimes, I make sacrifices.
"Eight more blocks in real shoes is not a lot, and you didn't spend a dime in there. Everything in your pocket is expendable."
I grinned at that nagging voice's choice of words. He's good. I hate him.
During the walk back, I wondered if I could post her story, maybe even get a picture. I worked on an opening line: "Hey, I sort of write for blog that came to be because of soldiers like you. If you wanted, I could post your story."
As I got closer I relocated a twenty to the left pocket of my four hundred and fifty dollar leather coat, a coat I received as a gift. I still worried about how to approach her. I've been careful all this time not to get too close, all my other help has been through a third person, I've avoided saddened eyes, broken bodies, damaged minds and injured souls. I've done quite well in not getting any on me.
I was half a block away when I could see someone still on the corner. I remember thinking that she hadn't seemed so tall while she was sitting, but it wasn't her, it was some other guy that I've never seen before.
I didn't get his story either.
I chose not to really hear what she had to say as I walked by but what I did hear was as statement about the Godiva Chocolatier bag I had. But then how could she not have noticed it? The thing was shiny gold and must look huge as it swings at arms length nearly scraping along the traversed sidewalk beneath it. But I had chewing gum to buy so I ignored her, or at least did my best to look like I had.
In Seven Eleven I was standing behind a homeless looking man counting out change for his Lays Sour Cream & Onion potato chips. Behind him was some other asshole like me wishing he was just hurry up. I peeled two one dollar bills from the roll I had in preparation for my turn at the register and when I looked up, the homeless guy was still determined to find enough change.
It was probably a lack of patience and not a burst of compassion that caused me to start to debate on whether or not to pay for his purchase. The sticking point was that I wasn't next in line, it would be ridiculous to pay for the chips and not pay for my gum at the same time but if I did that, then I would be effectively cutting the line and the guy in front of me didn't look like the charitable type.
My debating ended when the guy finally gave up hope on having enough pocket change and pulled out some bills. I caught glimpse of a ten, two fives and several ones. "He doesn't need my charity today" is what crossed my mind followed by "What about her?"
The cash I had in my pocket was pretty much spoken for, I had an open ended commitment to have a drink or two with a former bartender of mine on her birthday at her new place of employment. I didn't know how much my endeavor was going to set me back. But what I did have was premium chocolates. After I picked out what I wanted at Godiva's the total came up five dollars short of me getting a free box of chocolates. The cashier was kind enough to tell me what purchases were available for that amount. I settled on two of the discounted chocolate turkeys.
From the convenience store I walked back across the street and handed her one chocolate turkey.
"I've got no money to give but I do have this? It's from Godiva."
"Hey, that's good. I used to go to Godiva before I was in this situation."
And before I could get away she told me part of her story. She told me she had done two tours in Iraq and when she returned her job wasn't waiting for her. She said she would have gone back to Iraq but that she knew she would be labeled expendable because she doesn't have kids, a spouse or any other family.
She must have noticed my step backwards because she thanked me and mentioned again that she does like chocolate.
"Yeah, before this situation, I used to come Downtown a lot. I would go to Borders and Starbucks and whenever I could get the chance I would pick up something in Godiva's. I'm addicted to books and coffee, unlike some of the others."
I was looking around mainly so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye. I would look to the left in such a way as to cause my body to shift a bit and I would move my left foot back a bit. I would do the same as I looked to the right pretending to watch out for any pedestrian wishing to use the sidewalk. I had an hour and a half to kill before I could deliver my chocolates but I really didn't want to spend any more time on this particular street corner.
"I should be all right though, after this situation, because I have a lawsuit against my employer. I should end up getting more money than if I had worked but things take time."
"Well good luck," I said as I finished my escape.
I walked six blocks to South Station and ordered a number eight from the McDonald's value menu and then sat and watched the hodge podge of people catching trains or trying to get on the bus. When I got bored with that I pulled out a small notebook and started to hand write a blog post.
I had a hundred words or so before my conscience kicked in.
"You could have done more."
"You didn't even give her both turkeys, or that free box you got. You're out nothing."
"And don't you write for a blog whose very existence came to be for people like her, soldiers who have been let down? Or at least didn't you?"
Then I changed the post I was working on to this one. I wasted time until quarter of ten and then started walking to the club. At the front desk, I asked where my former bartender was working and I was told she was on the third floor. I cut through the floor of pool tables at the top of the winding staircase and read the note on the back door, there was a private party for some high school reunion of some suburban town. I didn't bother to work out the age difference between myself and the party goers that I would soon see, I knew I would have at least ten years on them.
I stood mostly out of place at the end of the bar, my former bartender had her back to me. As she turned around, she greeted me with a great smile and introduced me as her favorite customer from her former place of employment. I placed the bag on the bar and wished her a happy birthday.
Our conversation was brief, I was out of place at that particular club, at that particular reunion and in her particular life. I refuse the shot she offered; she promised me an email as I said goodbye.
On my way out, I thanked the girl at the front, who had told me where Danielle was working and as I stepped out into the mild, late Fall air, I heard "She's eight blocks, that way, if she's still there."
Eight blocks in real shoes; I had been walking a lot that day and I almost never wear real shoes, but the club I had just left doesn't let you in if you're not wearing real shoes. Sometimes, I make sacrifices.
"Eight more blocks in real shoes is not a lot, and you didn't spend a dime in there. Everything in your pocket is expendable."
I grinned at that nagging voice's choice of words. He's good. I hate him.
During the walk back, I wondered if I could post her story, maybe even get a picture. I worked on an opening line: "Hey, I sort of write for blog that came to be because of soldiers like you. If you wanted, I could post your story."
As I got closer I relocated a twenty to the left pocket of my four hundred and fifty dollar leather coat, a coat I received as a gift. I still worried about how to approach her. I've been careful all this time not to get too close, all my other help has been through a third person, I've avoided saddened eyes, broken bodies, damaged minds and injured souls. I've done quite well in not getting any on me.
I was half a block away when I could see someone still on the corner. I remember thinking that she hadn't seemed so tall while she was sitting, but it wasn't her, it was some other guy that I've never seen before.
I didn't get his story either.
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