Friday, July 20, 2018

2 Minutes. Go!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

The moment the door closed and the doctor was out of the room, the old man took a cigarette from a pack well hidden in his backpack. The sterility of the room was driving him crazy. The cigarette would make it a drive to crazy with a tiny distraction.

“Jesus Dad! Are you fucking kidding?”

“What son? I’m dying! It don’t matter anymore. The ship has sailed. We have crossed the Rubicon. We didn’t pull out in time. Calm your righteous indignation.”

“Even if it doesn’t make a difference for you, this is a fucking hospital. You can’t even smoke next to the building outside, let alone in the goddamn examining room!”

“So, what? They’ll call the cops? Give me detention? Refuse to do the surgery? I’ll just look innocent and start calling the doctor by your name. I’m sorry, Billy. I just get so confused sometimes. I’m so scared. I don’t mean to be a burden on you and Ma. They ain’t gonna do shit. One of the benefits of being old.”

Billy dragged his hands down his face. He wanted to start smashing the beeping machines around his old man, but he didn’t.

“Dad …”

“Son, Jesus Christ. I never tried to push any of that ‘be a man’ stuff on you ‘cause it’s bullshit, but have some balls. Believe me, worse things have happened in this room than an old man smoking.”

“Are you trying to make a point or something?”

“I think the lung cancer made the point, son. I’m just letting it know that I got the point and don’t give a fuck.”

“Why? Why don’t you give a fuck?”

“Because it’s too late. It was too late before I had a chance to stop it. You think I’m a coward? An idiot? You think I wouldn’t drop this cigarette forever if it meant one more minute with your beautiful kids? Goddamn, son. You’ve known me a long time.”

Billy tried to smile, but the smile got stuck on condescending. He could feel it and he hated himself for it.

“OK, Dad. You never told me how to live my life. I’m not telling you how to live yours. But I disapprove. For the record.”

“Let it be shown that the firstborn has registered his moral quagmire – let the record show that Billy Winthrop is incensed!”

Billy couldn’t help laughing. It was his father’s most powerful weapon. Ever since he was a kid. It’s hard to be mad at a man who never gets mad at you. It’s hard to place judgment on a man who never placed judgement on you.

“Henry was really sorry he couldn’t make it. He’ll be here with the kids next time.”

“Good. Henry isn’t as uptight as you are. You balance each other out. I feel like I’m talking to your Mom. Come to think of it, Henry probably would have done your mother a world of good. About the only thing I feel proud of when I think about being a dad and husband is that I knew you were gay before you did and it didn’t change one damn thing. If anything, it made me respect you more.”

“Respect me? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means some people come out of the closet slowly. Some come out with a look of shame on their faces. Some inch their way out so they can dive back in if necessary. Not everyone kicks the goddamn door to splinters and then sets the closet on fire.”

“Aw, come on …”

“Hey don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You told me with a straight back and a straight face and you meant it. You wore a white t-shirt with “I am gay” written on it to fucking SCHOOL. There’s no one I respect as much as you.”

“Dad …”

“Hey, listen. You take the nice things I say and believe them. And remember them. How much longer you think I got? Not long. You’re going to hear everything about yourself, your wonderful husband, and your beautiful children until you stop denying it. You’re a good man. A better Dad than I was.”

Billy froze, mouth open.

“Dad! You were the greatest dad a kid ever had. You ever wonder why every kid in the neighborhood spent their weekends at our house? They had assholes for dads. Or guys that didn’t care. Weren’t invested. Some of my gay friends lost their fucking Dad the day they told the truth.”

“Alright, alright. I didn’t say I was a bad dad. I just think you’re better at it.”

“Then I owe it to you.”

“The fuck you do. You don’t owe no one nothing. You never did. You came into this world the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Your mother and I loved you so hard it made us love each other more. You were a gift. I owe you everything. You made me a better man.”

Billy was not trying not to cry now.

“Dad …”

And then the door opened. The doctor looked first at Billy weeping and then at his father puffing lovingly on a Marlboro.

“Sir! There is no smoking in my hospital.”

“Let the record show that I accept my reprimand and that it is no fault of my boy’s. He thinks I’m an asshole too.”

The doctor looked shocked. Even moreso when they both burst out laughing. Tears rolling down their faces. Billy kissed his Dad on the forehead.”

“I love you, you stubborn old man.”

“I know you do. And I love you, you stubborn young buck.”

The doctor cleared his throat. Billy smiled.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be in the waiting room. Be strong old man.”

Billy did not know that part of him would be waiting in the waiting room forever. Because his dad came out covered in a sheet. He never had a chance to say goodbye to Henry or the kids.

The kids took it hard. Achingly so. But they knew their Granpa loved them. And they knew they were as lucky as their own dad had been.

They had been given a gift.

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...

Friday, July 13, 2018

2 Minutes. Go!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

I’m thinking about what I’m trying to say. I’m wondering about the sullied ideas that like to come and play. They don’t ask permission. They tramp through my flower beds and shit on my porch. They have no remorse.

I am not a psychopath, but there is a haze of darkness sometimes. I feel old, polluted, force-smiling … I feel like Anaheim. I fucking hate Anaheim.

Your face comes to me uninvited and it makes me happy and horrible. Sad and seditious. I want to be different, topped with whipped-cream. Delicious. I want to melt inside your mouth. Or on a hot sidewalk. It doesn’t matter so much where. I just want to melt.

I think I would look good as a hardened puddle of human.

You know I love you, and I know you love me. I know I’m not incarcerated, but I never feel free. I second guess myself constantly. And wonder what is wrong with me.

I can paint a pretty picture, but I can’t seem to frame it. I have some weird neurosis, but I don’t feel the need to name it. I live with it. I came with it. Or it was installed at the factory of my childhood. Shit.

Now, I’m not sure. Not one damn bit.

One dam bit the water clean in half. Progress, they said. With a river full of fish that are half dead. With farmers facing growing season with ever growing dread. Fuck progress. We need to go to the future and work backward instead. 


#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...

Friday, July 6, 2018

2 Minutes. Go!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.


The spigot is old and rusted - bound to break if you force it. Wrap it in an oily rag. Spray some WD-40 on it. Pray on it. Tell God you'd appreciate it if he'd help you out. With the rusted spigot and all. The rest of the stuff - well, you're probably on your own. No one is ever going to clean up your messes. 

Least of all you.

I got this feeling, and I know it ain't right. Not one bit. I try not to think about it, but it sneaks into my brain and nests up in there. It collects twigs and twine and shiny things. 

Quit fucking talking about me. I'll hide in this stench, horrid, wondering where did Mommy go? Where did Mommy go? Mommy, you were right there and then black and then white and then doctors and then police. 

Did Jimmy go to the police, yet? They're bound to know he did it. Because of the rope. 

Thanks, tip your writer.

You hit your face on reality. That shit stings. I get it. We all do it. Smash the fucking computer with a hammer. You'll be delighted by the sound. 

Tell everybody.

The old man with the anxious hands sits at the back of the BART train and closes his eyes. And folks wonder what he thinks about. Moist, humid things. Fetid. They don't know that he is dreaming rivers, blue and deep. So deep you can sink into the cool waters forever, become water. 

I want to be a firefly inside your youthful jar. I want to be that spark of excitement. That magic bit of something. Nature. That gift that we are given on warm nights when the world smells like honeysuckle and looks like a light show. 

Even if just for a minute.

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...

Friday, June 29, 2018

2 Minutes. Go!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

It brings life, and it can bring death. I have craved it. I have searched for it. Sometimes, it is an easy quest. Sometimes, nothing is easy.

The world has changed, and the old rules don’t apply anymore. You gotta wrap your brain around that or nothing else I say is going to make a damn bit of sense. You can’t try to understand this using the things you’ve been taught.

That was the first step. They untaught us.

It happened so fast, we barely realized that it was happening at all. And by the time we caught on, it was too late. We had lost too much while trapped in passive entertainment. It had passed us by. Freedom, joy, love, hope. All of it was gone.

And it all started with the water.

You think gold is valuable? Then, you’ve never been truly thirsty.

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...