Under the Boardwalk

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Under the Boardwalk,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

Step lively, step quickly

My feet in the sea

The currents, the currents

Will carry me

Why am I so unnerved by my feelings? The time and the tide that keep turning, pique my yearning. Gotta give the gods credit for influencing the creative spirit, making the world my Muse. Seems all I am right now is filled with ideas and thoughts and aspirations. Now, all I have to do is zero in on them. Focus. Hopefully, I won't be overrun by my imagination, drowning in those bitter little frustrating muddled up crumpled pieces of paper! Writers often have too much or too little. Never "just enough" to gain a clearer understanding of what to do first. That would prove too simple. So right now it is the insomnia, the details, details, details and the half-mad rants at three in the morning over characters which interrupt my sleep! It's pure bliss and delicious torture. I secretly admire the romance of figuring scenes out, analyzing the plot from every angle. I let those damned voices speak to me until the me that I know is cast away from myself to let the other players have their say. ..and boy, can they talk! For now, it's just Jane in her Candie's high-heels and blood red toenails. She loves to steal every scene, and if it weren't for Ruth, the Sheriff, and Cy, she'd get her wish alright. The mighty Aphrodite of my murder mystery.

Indio smokes his tobacco from his tightly wound cigar but hides from me when I turn the lights back on. I find him there, atop the refrigerator. A minitiaturized version of the being that lived; with handmade beads wound 'round his base. It is he whom I spot, every now and then, moving from his stationary post. He squats, he sits. He raises his hand to shade his brow. But when I turn, he is back in the same place as he was before. I know that he was given to me to serve as a guardian, protecting me from harm. I know too that this relic houses a spirit that will one day be my final guide. It will be his face I see: noble, stoic and unyielding; on the other side. When that day comes, I will turn to him and say, "You've served me well, old friend." And perhaps, he will finally show me a smile. And perhaps, God will let me in the front door.

See what I mean? A million thoughts. A million roads, a million different directions. Which brings me to the parallel notion: What if there were a back door in Heaven? What's a cat gotta do to get in?

I'm hoping Heaven has a back door, to let some sinners in

The battle for the soul, I hope, won't let the Devil win

If last is first and first is last and the meek shall inherit the Earth

Then I hope God lets the pauper get himself a fortune's worth

G'night.

And now onto my favorite subject in the world…ME!

…because it's all about ME all the time.
…because my arm's too short to box with God, so let's just talk about…ME!
…because you give us the news and we'll give you…ME!
…because, Luke, I'm leaving you!
…because I think to myself what a wonderful world (with ME in it)!
…because you scream, I scream, we all scream for ME!
…because it still is ALL ABOUT ME!

And so on.

So let me start with the fact that I love my shoes. Shiny gold ballet slippers. I know, I know. Perfectly Yummy (if you're a girl) and "Why'd-you-decide-to-buy-those-things?" (if you're a boy). Ten more points if you're an adorable cutey of a boy. Minus ten if you're a jerk. So I'm happy and contentedly wearing these beauties to work (and I know that they can be considered a little loud for the workplace but I'm just a temp so…WHATEVER!) and the aforementioned jerk approaches. Let's watch.

Jerk - (giggling) "Oh, what are those?"
Me - "They're shoes."
Jerk - "OK, Dorothy…there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
Me - "Shut up!"

Yeah, I know. Snappy comeback, huh? NOT! I can't think of 'em quick enough. But that one jerk managed to ruin a good portion of my day until…

Cool Office Chick - "I loooove your shoes!"
Me - "Really? Jerk just made me feel so bad before…"
Cool Office Chick - (rolling her eyes) "Whatever! I really loooove those shoes."
Me - "Thanks! You really made my day."
*smiles all around (except in the dark cloudy area by Jerk)*

Which brings me to my next thought: Why do I care what others say? The answer is…there is no answer! OK. Reality. My vain little heart really does get broken when people are all judgemental of me. I really hate to be odd man out. That's despite my wish to be all independent and "who-the-heck-cares" nonchalant about things. Truth is, I am extremely sensitive and most creative people who appear to have the thick skin of a rhinoceros still secretly feel inadequate and just plain weird. But when in doubt, GO ALL OUT! I mean, do whatcha wanna do badass! That's right I'm talking to you in your "Bert and Ernie"-striped shirt and bellbottoms. Go ahead and be who you be and never let The Man get you down. Gotta admire the differences. Otherwise we'd all be Stepford clones…or working for the US government. And who the heck wants to do that?! Later, Gators (and Playa Haters)!

Harpy

Harpy,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

'Twas the harpy that seized me very soul. She
led me to the cold, inviting water with her gaze.
As I stood with spear in hand, she sang her sweet
song of longing. She fixed her eyes upon the surface of the sea beckoning me to approach ever
nearer and like a lovesick fool, I did. My vain attempts to avoid her stare only left me worried. The ship she rocked and I lurched forward to hold me steady. When I did, this clever creature swam up near me, close enough for me to gouge out 'er eyes. But lo, she was more keen than I. She called out to my very soul and I could not protect it. She bade me sit beside her on a wave as I slipped into the murky deep; never to be heard or seen again. Some say that she is destined to lure sailors and lovers to their deaths with her songs, shaming the sirens and Circe herself. Harpy, this I swear: if our paths should cross again, I will kill thee! Yar!