Thank You

I unrolled the window and smiled. She asked me to turn down the music and I waited a moment…just because sometimes it is how I roll.

“Whisper of the pain
Tears of loves lost in the days gone by
Our love is strong
With you there is no wrong”

“Unlock the door.”

I laughed.

“I don’t let strangers get in the car with me, especially strange women.”

She told me to shut up, walked to the passenger side and got in.

“Is this the part where I ask how much? I have never done this before.”

I received an icy glare in return.

“You don’t always have to push your luck.”

If you asked she’d say I kissed her first, but we both know that is not how it went. It wasn’t like that the first time and it wasn’t like that this time.

I was tempted to tell her that I wouldn’t go any farther if she didn’t say please or thank you, but sometimes I actually listen to what she says.

Don’t tell her that or it might go to her head.

 

You Can’t Kiss Me

“Don’t say you don’t want to kiss me when I know you do.”

She rolled her eyes at me and gave me that look that women give men when they are irritated.

“Your voice says no and your body says yes. You are leaning in towards me and your breathing has changed.”

I smiled and told her I was waiting to be insulted.

“C’mon now, start a fight with me. Say something to piss me off so that I’ll walk away. You don’t really want me to go, but you are afraid of the complications so you’ll try to push.”

She stared at me and said nothing, so I took a step closer.

“You want me to take you. You want me to do something so that you don’t have to make the decision or so that if you change your mind you aren’t going to be held accountable. Well, I am not going to make it that easy. I am going to tell you again that you want this, that you are curious and that you are as accountable here as I am.”

I took another step towards her.

“If you don’t move I am going to scream. I am not kidding.”

I laughed and took out my cellphone.

“Call the police and tell them what you are really afraid of. Or just walk out of here. I am not stopping you. I haven’t touched you…yet.”

She glared at me again, “you better not.”

I laughed again.

“Remember when you told me that you would never say no and I said you shouldn’t say things like that unless you mean them. Well, here is the time when you are going to find out if there are consequences, but not because I am going to force you to do anything against your will.”

I made a point to cross the room and sat down.

“Look, my legs are crossed and the door is over there. You can’t kiss me, I won’t let you.”

This time she laughed.

“This isn’t working for you. You are so not getting laid with this tactic.”

“See, you just admitted you are thinking about sex. You never would have referred to it if it wasn’t on your mind.”

She turned red for a moment and then laid into me with a good tongue lashing.

“Let it out, because soon we’ll have a chance for make up sex and you can apologize for being a pain in the ass.”

“I will do no such thing. I have nothing to apologize for.”

I nodded my head, stood up and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

I turned around, “sometimes you need to hear no. You aren’t getting laid tonight. Call me when you are relaxed and not hysterical.”

It too some effort not to laugh at the last part. She wasn’t hysterical, but I was pressing her buttons intentionally.

Five minutes later I was in the car. Just as I was about to leave she knocked on the window.

Getting Older

They take their football seriously in Texas.

There were two of them sitting at the bar talking about the draft and what they think their team should do. When I sat down they took a moment to look up at me and went back to staring at the talking heads on the screen above the bar.

I wasn’t there to drink or hang out.  The mission was simple, order a meal for takeout and then go back home where it would be quiet enough to hear my thoughts without effort.

The place was packed so the bartender told me it might be twenty minutes before my meal was ready. He asked if I wanted a drink and I said to bring me whatever was good and on tap.

So I grabbed a seat and stared up at the screen. I wasn’t really paying attention to much of anything, but I figured the commercials would be more interesting than being forced to listen to the guy next to me try to talk the pants off of the woman on his right.

The guys on my left were at an impasse about whether the Cowboys quarterback was worth his contract and asked me to weigh in. I told them it didn’t matter because they weren’t going anywhere this season, too many other issues and an owner who was a pest meant they would be done before it all began.

I heard a voice from behind my left shoulder say I was wrong and that I didn’t know what I was talking about.

“You might be right, maybe I don’t.”

Twenty years ago I might have chosen to engage, but I had no interest doing so now. I just wanted to grab my food and go.

“You give up easy for someone who sounded so certain he was right.”

Jeans, boots and a University of Texas t-shirt were his evening attire. Might have been in his early twenties, might have been older. Couldn’t say one way or another. Guess I have reached the point where it is harder for me to distinguish some of these things. Twenty-five or 30, it looks about the same to me.

“Not that big a deal to me. I don’t care if the Cowboys win or lose. Not my team.”

“You shouldn’t talk shit then. If they aren’t your team, why are you talking.”

I made a point to take a harder look at him and sat up a bit straighter in my chair. I made eye contact and asked him where his friends were. I did my best to say it with a smile but made sure my eyes were flat.

“Why are you getting in my business. What is your fucking problem!”

Twenty years ago my forehead would have already been pressed against his and I would have intentionally marching him towards a corner. I liked those corners. If I got jammed I would try to slam him against the wall.

I didn’t have many of those occasions but when I did it usually worked out in my favor. The wall always lived up to its end of the deal and was completely unforgiving. One of the boys once told me he thought it was unfair.

“I don’t want to be the guy in the hospital bed who says he fought fair.”

It was true then and it is true now, but the difference is that a forty something year old man doesn’t want to fight period.  Toby Keith is right, I can be as good as I once was, but I respect the “once” part of it.

Got too many responsibilities and I have no interest in adding to the mystery aches and pains I already carry around.

The kid was a couple of inches taller than I am and had spent at least a few minutes in the weight room. What I wasn’t sure of whether he had done more with his bad attitude than wave it around at people. Sometimes all it took to adjust one of those was a fist to the mouth, but not always.

Twenty years ago you didn’t have kids growing up with the desire to become an MMA fighter. That doesn’t mean we didn’t get into fights because we did, but there wasn’t the same sort of mystique around it.

Nor did we have the YouTube effect. You didn’t fuck with people so that your friends could film and upload the event.

The challenge for the moment was to try and prevent this from escalating. Instead of responding I just stared at him and took another sip of my beer. Sometimes silence is intimidating.

He spat out a bunch of insults and tried to get me to engage but I remained silent…almost.

The man child who I once was was roused from his slumber. I’d like to say he took control of my mouth but that is not entirely true. I was mostly aware that calling the kid in front of me “a stupid fucking Aggie” would have some impact.

A thousand years ago when I was in college my friends at that school in Austin always used “Aggie” as a term that was less than endearing. I sort of figured that this kid might be offended and he was. Or  maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was just the excuse he needed.

He tried to use my old trick of trapping a guy against an object but he wasn’t as smart as I was because the bar doesn’t provide the same utility as the wall so my head didn’t smack against anything.

In a movie I would have smashed my beer against his head, watched him slump over and then asked the bartender for another drink. But that didn’t happen here. I am not really sure what happened to my beer, but I am guessing he ended up wearing part of it.

When he wrapped his arms around me I started pounding on whatever part of his body I could reach, grabbed onto one of his ears and yanked hard. I got him with knee to the face before I was pulled off of him.

I like to think that it took four or five men to make that happen, but it probably didn’t.

A couple of days later I am grateful that I didn’t go to jail and that I didn’t break anything. But I hurt in ways that I haven’t for years.

Parts of me make an eggplant look white and I am eating Ibuprofen like candy. It might be a week before I don’t go to sleep in a bath tub filled with ice.

 

Dancing In The Fire

“Well, I know it’s kind of late
I hope I didn’t wake you
But what I got to say can’t wait
I know you’d understand
‘Cause every time I tried to tell you
The words just came out wrong
So I’ll have to say I love you in a song”
I’ll Have To Say I Love You In  a Song- Jim Croce

“Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;”

The Passionate Shepherd To His Love- Christopher Marlowe

Dancing in The Fire seemed to be an appropriate title for that song I said I wanted to write. The idea was to set a tone and then paint a scene. I want to tell a story with both the words and the music. Something that would touch you, remind you of what lies beneath the surface.

Dancing in the Fire is an apt description of how I feel. In your absence I go wandering around the places inside my head and my heart seeking the kind of answers that are more than just words and feelings. They must exist, these answers I seek. At least I tell myself that they must because it is inconceivable to me to believe that they cannot.

Fire is a wonderful tool to use for writing as it is both beautiful and dangerous. There is a reason why so many different artists have used it in their songs. it is hard not think of Johnny and June singing about that Ring of Fire. They say that June wrote the song when she was trying not to fall for Johnny, but sometimes, some things happen. Love isn’t always logical or reasonable.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire”

Really, I have tried to look at it any number of different ways. It is not so different from listening to other artists perform the same song. The words are the same, the tune is different but that meaning still comes through.

I sit there and remember how one day you were someone who was completely unknown to me, a mystery yet to be discovered. Sometimes I think that it was better than because I didn’t know what it mean to burn and to ache. I didn’t understand what could happen and or the ramifications of those moments. I didn’t know that one day I would find myself Dancing In The Fire. I didn’t know that the pain of separation could be so exquisite and so awful.

It was inconceivable because I had never had the experience and so when it was described to me by others I nodded and smiled, tried to pretend that I understood. But I didn’t. Didn’t know what it meant to be so in love that I would lie down before you, leave my neck bared for rending or for succor.

Now a thousand years later I am a man who understands that he once walked with one who was able to open his eyes to something more. And with that understanding comes the realization that the moment is gone and it is unclear if it can ever be recaptured. So I continue to burn and I continue to ache.

Lost beneath a star filled sky I walk and remember. I embrace the fire and bathe in it. Cloak myself in the pain of loss and its twin the hope of tomorrow. I close my eyes and feel your touch. I close my eyes and hear your voice and I remember.

Remember the promise to build you a castle in which to live out our dreams. Walk through the woods under the moonlit sky Dancing in the Fire remembering things that cannot be described and smile at the role reversal. Remembering how you once were the one who feared that I had left, gone on to places far from here.

Those days that seem so distant and yet so recent when I could quote It Ain’t Me Babe and pretend that I really wasn’t him.

“Go lightly from the ledge, babe
Go lightly on the ground
I’m not the one you want, babe
I’ll only let you down
You say you’re lookin’ for someone
Who’ll promise never to part
Someone to close his eyes to you
Someone to close his heart
Someone to die for you and more”

But the truth came out and I had to admit that there was more there. What can I say other than I am Hard to Handle. I was honest when I said that storms follow my feet, but there is a quiet majesty about lightning. Presence that you can sense, thunder that you can hear. And it all comes from Dancing In The Fire.

And in the end all that can be said is that you are loved. You are loved and appreciated, cherished for who you are not just yesterday but today. Loved because that is just how it is. And maybe one day we’ll find that quiet moment again and you’ll see that I never stopped Dancing In The Fire.

Mumbo Jumbo

He sat down at the computer and flipped on iTunes.

The first two songs to play were The Beatles singing Come Together followed by Something.

He pursed his lips and a few words about it being time for the universe to send him a sign that made sense. Come Together and Something made sense to him, or at least he thought they might.

Truth was he wanted to believe it made sense but his head restrained his heart and suggested that you can find meanings in anything. Look hard and long enough at something and you could find a million angels dancing on the head of a pin or something like that.

That was part of the joy of being a fence sitter. He wasn’t quite an atheist nor quite agnostic. It meant he wanted to believe but found it hard to give in completely to either side. What he wanted was to get a complete picture before he made his decision.

He wanted to feel confident and comfortable that his decision was based upon something solid. So he asked the universe to prove his position right or wrong. He asked for empirical evidence that there was nothing more or that there was something more.

Heart laughed at head and called him a fool for asking what was obvious. Head looked at heart and said “what the fuck are you talking about!”

Heart laughed again, “joy is in the ear that hear and the eyes that see. Open yours and all the answers you have asked for will be obvious.”

Head responded with a curse and a comment about not being taken in by” mumbo jumbo” and heart responded with a deep sigh, “then live in your sadness.”

The Bells Are Going Off

There are bells going off in my head, not literally but that is how I think of this feeling. It is the sensation I get when I sense you are thinking about me.

I would say us but you would refuse to acknowledge it because you can’t deny it with a straight face. Not that any of it really matters, we feel what we feel and we see what we see.

It is all a question of how honest we are with ourselves.

Audio Post

Intimacy

Intimacy is not purely physical; it’s the act of connecting with someone so deeply, you feel like you can see into their soul ~unknown

There is more truth in that than some people realize. There is a place that lies just beyond the physical where you give yourself to another and allow them entrance into places and parts no other have seen.

And there is another place that lies just beyond that located at a depth few ever experience where you connect with the other because you are compelled to become as one and when you do you don’t any understanding where you start and they finish.

You simply are…you.

And a man who finds a woman he can do this with, who he can be with in this fashion learns a lesson that cannot be discovered or taught in any other way.

He finds that a woman’s love is a well whose depth cannot be seen, measured or felt and when she decides to give herself completely he gains entrance to paradise.

Adult Content

This could be very graphic. This could be something that will make it clear who is a Puritan and who has a more open approach to…life. This might be the post that leaves you breathless and asking for more.

It could be the one that reminds me of you of moments where you and someone else pushed the boundaries and left that safe place you had occupied because you had the sort of chemical response to each other that made it impossible not to touch each other.

And if that relationship ended you were careful never to be alone with them again because you weren’t ever sure if you could say no if things started up between you. There was too much fire and way too much heat.

So much so that years later you sometimes wondered whether something like that ever goes away.

Yeah this could be that post.

You Give Me Gas

There was a simple explanation for why his shoe smelled like gasoline. Really, it was easy to explain how a man who had filled his tank about 982,000 times would spill two gallons of gas on his left shoe.

He thought he saw her.

Yeah, her, you know the girl he said he didn’t love, think or care about.

The same one who said the same about him but read all of his words and followed all of his exploits.

He looked to his left and he thought he saw her. 

It was completely unexpected. There she was standing with her back to him, filling up her car.

This was destiny.

This was fate.

This was his moment.

He decided to go for it. He was going to walk right up to her, wrap an arm around her and say something cool in her ear.

It wasn’t without risk. There was a chance she might squirm or scream. A woman who was grabbed at a gas station might not react the way you wanted her to. She might scream or try to fight, but that was only until she recognized him.

And this was destiny. This was fate. The universe wouldn’t tease him this way.

The last time he saw her she looked spectacular, twenty years younger and sexy as hell. 

But he never told her that, never said anything to her that day because things were weird and he had intentionally ignored her.

Ignored her because she hated being ignored and he wanted to make a point. Wanted to make sure she understood he wasn’t some weak fool who would fall down and beg her to be with him.

So he ignored her because he knew it worked. Every time he did she would come closer.

It was stupid. It was juvenile. It was childish.

But it worked and he figured that if they ever got over the hump one day they would laugh about this and if they didn’t, well it just made it easier.

Only a moment had passed since he noticed her but it felt like a lifetime and he knew that if he was going to take advantage of this offering from the universe the time was now.

He decided he wasn’t going to worry about what he looked like. Didn’t matter if he wasn’t wearing a suit or his hair wasn’t quite right. Didn’t matter because once upon a time they had sworn that nothing could stop them, not age, not time, not circumstance, people-nothing.

The moment had arrived. 

He took a deep breath and prepared to walk over, but first he had to take the nozzle out of the tank and place it back on the unit.

Shook his head once to flip the sunglasses back down upon his eyes and James Dean cool pulled the nozzle out of tank and watched as gas spurted all over his left foot.

Fuck! Damn! Shit!

So much for wishing upon the suave factor of a dead celebrity. Hell, for all he knew the ghost of Cary Grant had risen from above and slapped him in the face with reality.

It wasn’t her.

It looked like her.

Damn, it really looked like her.

Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t done anything.

Hell, it was a really good thing he hadn’t done anything. This woman definitely wouldn’t have recognized him.

Two minutes later he sat in the car and laughed. She would have appreciated the story and she would have laughed.

Once upon a time he would have told her and made some stupid joke about it and she would have laughed. It made him smile to think about it. Every time she laughed her whole face lit up.

Three minutes tops.

Three minutes tops had been all it had taken from time he thought he saw her right through the cleanup and the time back in the car.

Still made for a good story, maybe one day he would tell her about it.