Writing Out the Storm

There are many wonderful people in the world. I know this. I know many of them. Most woman are supportive and caring. Most men are kind and respectful. However, I am always amazed by how many people are giant jerkwads. I have two kids, both teens. I've been spending a lot of time thinking about being their age, and to be honest, it really doesn't seem that long ago. I've also been going over situations I experienced, which I wish I could have understood, and had the confidence to better handle. This isn't meant to be an over-dramatic log of Poor Me Moments. I'm merely attempting to untangle some memories.

A few moments so impacted me that I carry them with me, today. Unwanted tattoos that I didn't design. A big colorful one was applied during drama camp, circa 1990. I was 15, and as self-conscious and awkward, as you might imagine. It was summer, and hot, so I wore shorts; but hated my legs. My mother raised me on a steady diet of the physical attributes of my ancestors. "You are made of sturdy German stock" was one of her favorite go-to explanations for my wide knees and solid ankles. I recently did one of those mail-in DNA tests, and guess what:  96% English. 0% German. I suppose there must be hardy women out there in England, also.

Anyway, for this camp we all chose a song to sing, and a monologue to perform. We also took a tap class, but the most exciting part of the day was learning how to act in television commercials. The instructor had the dubious distinction of having been cast in a national commercial for a cold medicine. He played the dopey, middle-age husband with a horrible cold. He was proud of that commercial, and behaved as though it gave him supreme knowledge of all aspects of TV acting.

We each got some sides to perform in front of a camera. "Good, darling!" he would shout out, or "Fabulous!" When we watched the playback of my performance, he said:

"Well, my-oh-my, this one is so ugly she's cute."

So ugly she's cute. 

I laughed along with the others. My sweet friend tried to translate these words into something positive, but she was not having much luck. I spent a long time staring in the mirror that night. I've looked at photos of myself from that summer, and I gotta say, I was a babe. I have no idea why this man chose those words, but they've been burned into my skin.

In high school I travelled with a group of theater kids, and was lucky to always have friends to hang out with. One of them was a boy whom I admired. He had so much talent, was so enigmatic -- and he beat me up, almost every day. I bruised easily, and made the mistake of talking about it with the gang. This particular boy thought it was a riot to try to make welts all over my arms and legs during every lunch break. I acted like it was all such great fun, so no one ever thought to tell him to stop. One day I was wearing a denim jacket that I had patched with a piece of lace, and he ripped the lace off the jacket, and hooked his fingers into the tear, ripping a path down my sleeve. Not once did I tell him to leave me alone.

A few years later, I was in a production, which included people of many ages. A guy, who was in his thirties (I was 19) asked if I was wearing a different bra, because my "boobs look[ed] different." I was so uncomfortable, that of course I answered his question. Want to know how I know that he knew it was inappropriate? He brought my favorite candy the next day, handing it to me sheepishly, without a word. I thanked him and ate the goddamn candy.

That same year, a man stalked me at the mall. He sat down at the table where I was eating dinner on my lunch break, at McDonald's. He told me he had been watching me. I had nice hands (I don't), and he wanted to marry me. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He wasn't on drugs, he assured me, his eyes were always red, like that. The manager asked if I was okay, and of course I said I was fine. I don't know why I said that. In fact, I was pretty sure my body would be discovered by the dumpsters, in the morning. Thankfully, the manager didn't believe me, and called security.

These weird moments weren't just confined to the male species. Women chose to do weird crap, as well. A female theater teacher at the university I attended told another student that I was too fat. Why that person chose to share this with me... who knows? But how it burned. Weeks later, a male teacher in the same department informed me that "Every woman gets a window of time when they look their best." He insisted that I was in the window, and I thanked him. Then I couldn't stop wondering:  When would the window close? How would I know? 

If any of these accounts made you cringe, then good for you:  You are most certainly not a jerkwad!

I have hundreds of stories, like these. Am I sensitive? Yes. But why are some people such jerks? It makes me afraid for what my children will encounter. They are stronger, more vocal, than I. They've been taught to speak up when they feel uncomfortable. I know how hard that is to do in the moment. I pray for strength for them, that they know their worth. And that they have developed a fantastic jerkwad detector.

Please Have a Rolex or Two

Just like most people I have a lot of crap.

I've managed to arrive at a mostly Kondo-approved selection of stuff, only hanging on to T-shirts, shoes, photos, and the like, that bring me joy. Great joy. Euphoria over those two remaining V-neck T's. However, I've lost three grandparents and the things I've inherited (read:  hoarded from their empty homes) are impossible for me to throw away.

I mean, who could toss a pair of sunglasses from the 1950's? Army medals? Great-grandmother's peach dressing kimono? Silk stockings with seams up the back in the original packaging??? Come ON! I'll admit my walk-in closet smells like old man hair, but that's beside the point.

If you tell me you could get rid of these things you're a liar.

Fun Fact: The baby on the charm with the giant pom-pon on its head is ME!

Whenever I look for something ... modern ... like a book I've set aside, or blank cards to send to a struggling friend, I inevitably come across some part of my forepeople's history.

Yesterday, it was two counterfeit Rolex watches.

Sometime during the 1980's all four-feet-eight of my grandmother, Lulu, somehow got wrapped up in the fake Rolex black market. I know it sounds hilarious. Indeed, I am LOLing, as I type. But this really happened. I know, because I have some of the merch in my bedside table.

What time is it, you ask? Why, let me check my 100% genuine Rolex (Wink-wink)

Stay with me, here:  Christmas, 1985. Under Grampy and Lulu's tree is a Rolex for my dad. Wow! Hooboy! What an extravagant gift! Only, further examination reveals it's a Fauxlex (sorry, not sorry, had to do it). Careful questioning reveals that Lulu's gotten herself accepted into a gang of fake Rolex peddlers in Santa Clara County. Met 'em at the Garden City Casino. I am totally serious. Now I own two of them, and for some reason they must remain in my possession.

I'll just keep them tucked alongside their siblings, Tiny Handmade Rose Doilies and Solo Cufflinks Too Pretty to Throw Away.

VSS Serial (Updated Daily)

 

So I’m doing a thing.

I accidentally started writing a very short story serial, using daily writing prompt words. It has been more fun than I anticipated, and I’ve chosen to continue — until I decide it’s done!

I’ll add my new piece, each day, going forward. You will notice some grammatical errors, odd punctuation, weird formatting, and a POV switch. I’m only allowed a certain amount of characters, so this awkward stuff is necessary. I’ve chosen not to edit my work, at this time. You’re reading it as it was originally written.

LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!

August 27
PROMPT: “Tangled”

My civ car is a 2-seater & there’re 3 of us; maybe the last people alive on the planet. So who do I take: Hot Deputy Carl or Heroin Harry, waiting in the drunk tank? I go with addict. He’s tangled with K-9, hidden in tiny spaces & walked miles for a fix. He’s a survivor.

August 28
PROMPT: “Fragile”

“Corvette! Sweet old car,”Whistles Heroin Harry,“for a cop.” “My Dad & I restored it.Get in!” “What’s your name,Madame Driver?” “Abby & I’m not your damn driver.” She saw how fragile he looked: sweaty, shaky.
“Abby, we gotta make a stop.I’m toast if I don’t get some H.”

August 29
PROMPT: “Million”

Tenderloin district. “I can think of a million reasons to leave your a$$ here, Harry: be quick.” “In ‘n’ out. Got it. Name’s not actually Heroin Harry, you know?” He ran into his dealer’s empty apartment, returning with a giant ziplock of white powder. “Name’s Arthur.”

August 30
PROMPT: “Somewhere “

“Artie?!End of the f@cken world&my addict’s cartoon-named.” “Heroin Harry’s better?Where we goin’?” “Somewhere.” All Abby knew was modern cars(all technology,actually)had turned brick;Invaders came, humankind disappeared&she had a guy with a baggie of drugs riding shotgun.

August 31
PROMPT: “Forever”

“That’s no fly.” A drone sat on the windshield. “Sh$t.” “Golden Gate Park.Gotta ditch the car: Not forever, don’t panic.” “The park?” “Gonna go where I don’t usually invite cops.We lay low & I can get my hit.” She grimaced.
"Hey,YOU picked ME.Besides,I’m earning my keep.”

September 1
PROMPT: “Gloaming”

“We need water.” Arthur & Abby found a food stand full of bottles. “I saw 1, you know.” she cried, “It was blue, w/no face! “Breathe, Abby. I know a place. We gotta get to Marin.” “Cross The Golden Gate Bridge? Are you nuts?” “Certifiably.” They stepped into the gloaming.

September 2
PROMPT: “Love”

“Park at The Presidio.We’ll hoof it.” It took 4 hours, covered in night, to cross the vehicle-blanketed bridge to Marin. The house had a full garden. “Love this place.We’re safe for now.” Abby was too tired to thank him. He paused. “Problem: I left the heroin in the car.”

September 3
PROMPT: “Mystery”

“There’s a Methadone clinic close. You stay,”said Art. “I’m not usually bossed by crooks.”Abby sighed. “I don’t usually boss cops.” He didn’t tell her he was a NASA scientist. Injury lead to Oxy,which lead to heroin&voilà:Heroin Harry. His past stayed a mystery.For now.

September 4
PROMPT: “Horizon”

Abby found canned goods,a schedule & cards w/The Serenity Prayer: a recovery home, of sorts.Out the window,across the horizon,Art’s speeding shadow beat a hasty return.His face was dotted with blood. “Drones got me-I lost ‘em.” “Find the Methadone?” He nodded. “All good.”

September 5
PROMPT: “Crystallize”

Abby pummeled Art w/questions. “Did you see blue men?Any other humans?How many drones?How’d-“ “No aliens,no people,drones freakin’ everywhere.I’m quick so I ditched ‘em,but I think we’re stuck here. “Unless DoorDash crystallizes,it looks like canned food.” “My favorite.”

September 6
PROMPT: “Daybreak”

“What do they want?” “Aliens invade,all humans disappear:why didn’t they want the cop&addict?THAT’S the question,”snorted Art. Abby crowed,”We’re the end-of-world rejects!” They agreed to sleep at daybreak & go out only at night.Being rejects didn’t mean they were safe.

September 7
PROMPT: "Serendipity"

"Need to talk,Art.""Me too-you1st."
"We need guns."
"Very 'Murica' of you,Abby."
She glared.
"Kidding."
"The Marin PD isn't far.You?"
"I got skills&I'm not my best on Methadone.Detox time."
"Jesus."
"Serendipity,really:not much else to do around here." 

September 8 
PROMPT: "Comet"

Guns arrived w/Abby.2 service pistols a rifle&any ammo she could gather from the deserted station. 
Art wasn't looking great.
"OK?Staying hydrated?" 
"This ain't my first rodeo.Fine now, but in a few hours I'll probably be up to snorting Comet." 
"I hope you're joking." 

September 9 
PROMPT: "Soul"

At night, Abby combed houses for food & weapons. She was never very good at being a nursemaid, but she did what she could for Art. Withdrawals were a monster she prayed she'd never again meet. Art offered his soul to the devil, in exchange for his pain. Or some heroin.

September 10
PROMPT: "Uproot"

A tub loaded with food&guns sat by the door.
Art finally looked human.“Sorry to uproot ya from this idyllic existence,” Art quipped,“ready for a scenic drive?” “Not sure what we’ll see at night.” She’d found a red FerrariF12,so she was ready for the trip to NASA,anyway.

September 11
PROMPT: "Smoke"

Travel down 101S was slow, Abby snaking the borrowed Ferrari between unintentionally abandoned cars. “I could use a cigarette,” she said. “Didn’t know you smoke.” “Dunno, Art, I’ve been under a little stress, lately.” He chuckled. “I’ll find you one when we get to NASA.”

September 12
PROMPT: "Floodwater"

The NASA building was flanked by a drought-ridden airfield;dry,in spite of spring’s floodwaters. “We need to find a way in.”Art lamented. Abby aimed her handgun,rendering the lobby door a weak spiderweb of glass. “Or we can just do that!”He yelped,rubbing his ears.

September 13
PROMPT: "Lunar"

A lunar chart covered the wall.Abby studied the equipment, awed.
"Different than your office, eh?"Art asked.
"The computers as the police station are dinosaurs compared to these."
"Technically these don't exist."
"What exactly do you do,Art?
"Study."
"What?"

"Space,Baby."

September 14
PROMPT: "Somersault"

“Heroin Harry’s a scientist?” “Bingo.” Art handed Abby a folder.Inside were images of the blue,faceless aliens.Her stomach somersaulted. ”You knew about this!” “Bits&Pieces.Apparently things ramped up during my relapse.” “What do we do?” “We gotta go back&get the deputy.”

September 15
PROMPT: "Amber"

Amber light settled thru the blinds.Night was over. “Carl?”Abby asked,”Why?” “It’s weird that we’re the only 3 we’ve seen,right?”Art waited for an answer. “He’s cute,but not so smart.” “He’s here for a reason.” Abby sighed. “Let’s get some sleep.We’ll head out tonight.”

September 16
PROMPT: "Euphoria"

Abby reluctantly left the Ferrari at NASA. Maneuvering the giant parking lot that was now 101North was easy on motorcycles, and it took less than an hour to zip back to San Francisco. “Whew!” Art whistled, “Not quite the Euphoria you’d get from heroin, but not terrible.”

September 17
PROMPT: "Carnivore"

“Carl’s not here.” “Did you expect the good deputy to stick around?” “Maybe the aliens got him.”Abby worried,“Think they’re carnivorous?” “Nah.There’d be blood everywhere,” Art assured her. A mini drone buzzed through a hole in the window.Abby took it out with her gun.

September 18
PROMPT: "Infatuate"

”I think we should try Carl’s place,”Abby said. “Aliens attacked our planet&you think he’ll be doin’ the old Netflix&chill?” “He paid 1.2million:he won’t abandon it,he’s infatuated with it.” 2 drones tapped against the glass. Art waved at them.Abby aimed&fired.

September 19
PROMPT: "Cavernous"

Carl's brand-new townhouse had been replaced w/a cavernous hole to the middle of the earth. "Welp,"quipped Art,"looks like Deputy Dog and his new place broke up." Abby peered into the depths. "Think he might be in there?"she asked. "Go in&check." Abby rolled her eyes.

September 20
PROMPT: Devoured

Abby’s apartment. Art devoured everything non-perishable he could find. “Who still buys Corn Nuts?”he crushed some w/his teeth. “UCSF’s theater dept has what you need?”Abby asked. “The aliens aren’t what they seem.W/the right lights we can see underneath the blue skin.”

September 21
PROMPT: Marrow

“Trying to suck marrow outta that thing?”Art asked. “You promised me a smoke,but you didn’t deliver.I deserve this.”She flicked the butt into a UCSF Theater Dept planter. An hour later,Art had assembled a lighting tool he hoped would give them an upper hand w/the aliens.

September 22
PROMPT: Garden

Art stood in the SFPD lot,shouting at the sky.He’d insisted on returning to the scene of the crime. “What I gotta do to get a g’damn close encounter?!” Abby winced.“Maybe we should just-“ “Just what?Garden?Start an artisanal cheese factory?No:I’m ready for these mofo’s!”

September 23
PROMPT: Equinox

No birds. No cars. No alien drones, either. Only Art and his tantrum. “WHERE ARE THEY DAMMIT!?” “Art-“ “We spend days hiding from stupid aliens & now that I need one-nothing!” “Maybe it’s because of the equinox.” “Really,Abby?Think ET’s out celebrating?Drinking maybe?” 

September 24
PROMPT: Fire

An engine's roar signaled company. "It's Carl!"gasped Abby. "Yeah, & he looks pretty fired up."said Art. Carl was in the front seat of an old Willys, sunglasses & cigar in place. "You a$$holes!You left me here!"he growled. "We came back for you!"Abby cried. "Too late."


September 25
PROMPT: Sinew

Alien drones circled the jeep,aiming at Abby&Art. “She comes with me,”Carl spat,”or Heroin Harry’ll be nothin’ but shredded sinew.” “Arthur,”the 2 corrected. "Whatever.In the vehicle,Officer.” Carl threw a bag of heroin at Art’s feet,“that oughta keep U busy.

September 26
PROMPT: Consume

The Presidio Officers’ Club. If society hadn’t gone poof,Alcatraz would be visible.All was dark. Carl’d Obviously been consuming loads of tortilla chips from the adjacent Mexican joint. “Taco Tuesday, Carl?” “You better respect me. You’re not my boss anymore: They are.” 

September 27
PROMPT: Universe

“You work for the aliens?”Abby asked. “You&that junkie left me to die,but the visitors let me live.We’re connected,now.”Carl smiled. “Out of everyone in the universe they chose you?” Abby was incredulous. She sensed movement in the shadows. “No, Abby:They chose you.” 

September 28
PROMPT: Cthonic

5 tall blue figures, devoid of facial features, emerged from the shadows; like chthonic creatures from the deep. “They’re so happy to see you,”said Carl. “You mean you read their minds?”Abby whispered. The aliens leaned in. “They say all of this has been for you,Abby.”

September 29
PROMPT: Dance

An odd dance commenced.The aliens slid toward Abby&she stepped back. “They won’t hurt you,”Carl hissed, “They want U to go w/them.” “I’m good,thanks.” A motorcycle echoed thru the hall,screeching to a stop between dance partners. “Sorry I’m late to the party,”said Art.

September 30
PROMPT: Inevitable

”U can’t stop the inevitable!”cried Carl. “I’ve unfinished business,”said Art,then:“Abby,watch closely!” In a graceful motion Art swung the motorcycle out of the way&turned on a flashlight covered in a sheet of blue gel, shining it on the aliens. “Holy sh*t,”gasped Abby.

October 1
PROMPT: Night

The flashlight made the aliens’ blue skin invisible.Their bodies rendered the 3 humans speechless.10 eyes blinked,in a circle on their chests, and on their foreheads pulsed a large heart. “This is our night,Abby,”shouted Art,”aim for the hearts!” He tossed her a pistol.

October 2
PROMPT: Murder

“Don’t murder them!” cried Carl. “This is f*cking self-defense!” Abby called, as she took out 3 of the aliens. Art managed to drop the final 2. A deep hum shook the building&the trio heard something land heavily on the roof. “Now you’ve done it, Abby. Now we’re all dead.” 

October 3

PROMPT: Blood

A crack opened above, a hydraulic ladder appearing.

"SHED OUR BLOOD&YOU'LL NOT HEAR THE TRUTH!erupted in Art's head.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes!"screeched Abby&Carl.

A blue, faceless alien lowered to them.

"ABBY,YOU ARE 1 OF US."

"I think Daddy would've mentioned that."

October 4
PROMPT: Organ

Art thought about aiming his gun at the heart-like organ he knew was beating on the face behind the alien’s mask.He didn’t do it. “YOUR MOTHER DIED BECAUSE HER BODY COULDN'T SUPPORT BIRTHING A HUMAN, ABBY,”the voice boomed in their heads,“YOUR FATHER NEVER KNEW HER.”

October 5
PROMPT: Away

“I was sent away to a church w/Dad’s#in my pocket.I was 2.”Abby said. “WE WAITED UNTIL YOU RESEMBLED HIM SO HE’D BELIEVE.” The voice explained she was Queen&chose earth as their new planet.Abby was to teach them about it. “Newsflash,”said Art,”this one’s already taken.”


October  6
PROMPT: Demon

Art hit the queen’s heart in1clean shot.Her body lifted up thru the cracks. “NASAtraining:dead queen=dead species.” People materialized. “Rthey dead?”asked Abby. “Just sleeping.” “U DEMON!”spat Carl. “Chill:he just saved earth!”then2Art: “You’re my hero, Heroin Harry.”