bc's random meanderings

some things are just too "out there" to classify. these are a few of my most degenerative works.


Forty steps down the road and still nothing. Sixty, nothing. One hundred, nothing. She is not coming. Am I surprised? No. It has always been this way. Walking away, heading nowhere except away. From her. So I keep moving, refusing to go back. Give in? I know I will break down later, but for now I am strong. The house is barely visible now. She is probably sitting downstairs, sprawled across her couch watching cartoons or some other drivel. I am already a fading memory to her. Giggling away any last wisps that I had just been there. I have had enough. She can't treat me like I don't matter. I won't stay around for that kind of emotional abuse. So I am walking. Where? Away from her. I need to stop all this. Not call her. Not allow her to have total control of our relationship. Relationship? Hah! Me! There is no common good in our arrangement. No democracy. So I leave. Protesting. Revolting. But mainly walking. Because someone has to fear a revolt. Someone has to listen to a protest. She does neither. So I am alone. In the cold. With no direction, save one. Hardly a movement at this hour. Darkness beginning to overwhelm, as the last of the street lights grow distant behind me. That won't stop me. I have walked farther than this. On colder nights too.



There are only so many things I still remember from my childhood. Each one like a card held in tight fists, but they continue to fall away. One by one the deck becomes smaller. A trip to the zoo. A happy day in the yard. Each memory slipping through my fingers, not to be replaced by anything of value. The new swingset at age ten. The birthday party at the neighbor's pool. All falling into the abyss of a forgetful world. I worry that one day, no memories will be left. Nothing to remember back on and warm my soul. Just facts and other trivial matters. Filling up all the holes in my brain. Then I remember the trip to Gatlinburg last year. The late nights playing spades with friends. Spur of the moment trips to the beach. And realize, no matter how many fond, childhood memories slip from view in my failing brain, I will always be able to find comfort in the new memories I am creating every day.



What was that?

* pop-pop phfft-phfft-shhh *

Didn't make much sense. I just had this thing fixed. Again. Oh well, back to the shop. Nothing to keep me from there. Certainly not my car. It must have fallen in love with a mechanic. Always returning. No, this isn't covered under the previous service. Surprise, surprise. On my way again. To the shop. The bank. A difference? No. Investing they say. My car. Health. Future. Sure, sure. Just fix it. Let me drive again. In peace with my car. Myself.

Once again, standing in line. Yes, it's me again. I don't know. Funny sounds. Oh, fill this out? Address. Phone. Etc. Yeah I know. You should have this memorized. Just hand me your bills. I'll pay them directly. Why the charade? Here you go! The keys. My life. Yes, a ride to work! Thirty minutes? I'll be late. No problem. Just money I owe you. You'll call me? Great. The Service-Junkies' Carpool. Complain, complain. Yours too? I know what you mean! Never fixed. Always something else. Nice to meet you.

Finally at work. Working, working. * Ring ring * Hello? How much? You're kidding? Ok, ok, do it. Tomorrow? Ok * click * Need a ride now. What can I do? Hate to impose. Again. Yeah, car in shop. Again. When? Tomorrow. Ok. Thanks. See you then. Working. Done. Going home. Not driving. Bus. Here I am. Only twenty minutes from home. Walking, walking. Home. Answering machine. My friends. The car people. Complications. More money. More time. Hey friend. Another day? Thanks, you're a life saver. Yeah, one day it will be fixed. Have to believe in something. Why not that? Ok. Thanks again. See you tomorrow. And the next.

Snore, snore. Working, working. Snore, snore. Working. * Ring ring * It's ready? Ten dollars less? Wow. Only three times more than I can afford. Not three times and ten dollars. * click * One more time. You can? Thanks. Again. You're a pal. I owe you one. Yes, this is the last time. I hope. Back in line. Yep, me again. Ready? Thirty minute wait? Ok. Flipping through magazines. Car & Body. Hot Rods. Never knew how interesting cams and carbs could be. Hmmm. Guns & Ammo. Don't even look. Too tempting. It's ready? Great. Pay? Credit card. Mastercard. Declined! Visa. Declined! Discover. Accepted. Just barely. The keys are mine again. There she is. Looks the same. It's what's on the inside that counts. Driving home. I love my car. You miss me? * pop *




I sometimes wonder what things would be like if any one thing had gone differently in my life. What would happen if I hadn't gotten a black eye from wrecking my bicycle at the age of 6? If I hadn't jumped off the roof with an umbrella in hand at the age of 12? If I had paid more attention in 2nd grade? So many minute and momentary things controlling my fate. Did I have a choice when those events happened? The way everything continues to happen? What could a small pebble could do to my existence as a whole? And then I wonder, how many lives have been affected by me? How many lives have I saved by running a red light? How many I have killed by throwing away an aluminum can? The possibilities keep expanding and branching until every breath I suck in and then exhale causes whole civilizations to fall, worlds to explode and new species to be created. With everything hinging on my softest whispers, I dare not speak, nor move, fearing the worst. But my lungs force the air out of me and my needs put me back in motion. I can not worry about all the harm and good I project with my unconscious actions. So I continue on, always curious what things would be like now if any one thing had gone differently in my life.



Words. Our whole lives are based around words. Words civilized us, words guide us. Today words are declining. The government, the Illuminati or someone wants us to turn away from what has kept us moving forward all these years and turn to an easier path... TV. Mass media is destroying our civilization. Subliminal messages and lack of reading are molding our society into a dumber species. People rebel against reading today. Meaning people are rebelling against schools, against libraries. Music has degenerated to the point of no longer listening to it, only hearing it.

Words used to move the world. Now words only move a few of us. Will we be swept under the rug?




disclaimer: for a brief few weeks i began writing strange stories for my outgoing message on my answering machine. while thankfully, most of those little lapses into retardation have been long lost and forgotten, a few of them have lasted long enough to be included on this page. please forgive me in advance, i knew not what i was doing.

The other day a yellow bird landed on the hood of my car. It was one I had seen many times before but now it seemed much larger. I yelled at it to scare it off and with a grin on it's beak, it flew away.

"Just fabulous!" I said as I was forced to allow another car to pass. "At this rate I will never make it home!" When my house was finally in sight I noticed smoke and flames bellowing out the windows. I laughed to myself and drove on by.

The crowbar smashed through the glass. He stepped into the room expecting to be cold, but the air around him was warm, almost burning. He grabbed all the smaller items in view, stuffing them in his makeshift bag. The phone rang as he stepped back out the window. The answering machine clicked on and all was normal.




Happiness is an elusive substance causing more harm than good. The flavor is rare, almost nonexistent. You may only taste it once but you will desire it forever. So you continue life with the taste of bitter unhappiness on your lips. Wishing one day to experience joy again. But life is created from misery with happiness being only a dream you might have had once. Go back to sleep, your thoughts deceive you!



I can't believe I am doing this! I only met him 45 minutes ago and already I'm on this smelly hotel bed waiting for him to do to me the only thing he thinks I'm good for. I should get up and leave now, but how will I afford to pay the rent next month? Here comes that sleazy, awful man. Overly fleshy stomach and ass glowing in the pale fluorescence emitted from the open bathroom door. My insides are crawling at the thought of allowing him to desecrate my body. I need to leave now, before it is too late. I am already past help now though. He is getting in bed beside me, stroking my exposed, goose-pimpled thigh as he makes the bed shriek under his weight. Gripping my already numb breasts, he hovers over me for a moment before pressing me into the uncomfortable mattress stained from the thousands of couples that had been here before. Then he pushes into me. The pain and humiliation melt away and I realize, this is not horrible. I wipe away a tear with the back of my sweaty palm, tilt my head back and moan, an act of course. I can almost hear by business teacher now, "The customer is the most important aspect of any job."



Life has been a mystery to me from the time I began gaining some inkling of intelligence until now. The curse of life is, the more you learn, the less you know. I know very little now and that makes me sad. But who needs to know anything in our conformists' world of conveniences? Let me die like the rest and walk around content and unthinking. At least life would be easier.



The positive flow of atoms destroy all the good things in my life, as they flow into my head and then out of sight. I do not like anything that has happened to me, as of yet. I do not expect to like anything as time progresses, finally falling into nothing and I become one with the earth again. I dull and tarnish under the racing disgust that has become my existence. I bore myself with everything I say, do and write. Life has become nothing, life has become less than what it is worth living for. I want to die now, die now that all is no good and nothing can rebuild what was once grand and delightful. I cry until I scream, then I lie down and accept what I have always wanted and always expected.


the adventures of a failed writer - 2003
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