Here’s To Another Trip Around the Big Star…

So here we all sit. Collectively, we have all taken another complete trip around the sun. We are almost at the very same place that we were one year ago. It’s that time where we all agree to make changes that will make us thinner, in better shape, better people…more productive…during the next trip around the sun.

11082690_10206502463659639_1844647736_n

All except for me. I don’t buy into the New Year BS.

Why?

Simple…It’s all just a lie.

Gimmee a minute, and then you can go celebrate your new year.

Wait a minute…there goes another one…

There’s another one…

Every nano-second bring the start of another trip around our sun. I don’t need a calendar to help me realize that I need to make some changes. It happens every day…every hour…every minute…every second.

A new year…

New beginnings.

A few weeks ago I realized that I needed to make a few changes in order to be more productive…so I started making them the very next day. I’ve set some very lofty goals for the next twelve months. My primary goal is so steep that it scares me to think about it.

But, think about it I do.

I’ll probably lose a friend, or someone will get butt-hurt that I’m being selfish, as I work on my new goal.

I really don’t care…

I really don’t.

What used to be a very long trip, seems to grow shorter with each jaunt. I…you…everyone is cursed with a finite number of “trips”. It would be a shame to waste one, worrying what someone thinks of my self-defined points to accomplish.

11072373_10206516303885636_1153990341_n

What are my “resolutions”?

I’ll tell you if I make it.

If I don’t, I’ll just have to take another trip until I get it right.

See you at the same spot in the galaxy sometime soon.

Advertisements

The End…

I guess that the end is nigh. I see it looming over my very short term horizon. As I’ve grown fond of saying, “It’s coming like a jail on wheels.”

I’m not frightened…I’ve never been frightened.

My vacation is coming to an end.

After the glow and joy of finishing a full length novel, a trip to Philadelphia, the grind of the trip and falling back into my routine, I haven’t written too much.

I gave my brain a well-deserved two week vacation.

I never sit down and decide that I’m going to take a break away from the inhabitants that live up in my attic. If I tell them that I’m going away, then they’re going to want to travel with me. It’s kinda difficult to enjoy a good break away from the desk when room service keeps delivering neatly wrapped body parts to my hotel room. Between Chip & Mrs. Beasley, I’d never get any R&R. One of them is out killing and burying bodies , while the other is inviting total strangers up to the room for her special iced tea and bible study.

The same way that I don’t plan to take a mental reprieve from my “idea machine”, I know when it is time for me to climb those cold, lonely steps up into the attic.

I may write a little tonight…but my mind is clear for tomorrow morning.

I’ll clean out a fresh coffee mug, brew some of the strongest stuff that I can make, sit my ass in my rickety office chair, turn the music up to eleven…and wait for the shapes to slink out of the shadows.

We’ll chat…laugh…sing…and drink my java.

I’ll transcribe their tales…and in a few months, I’ll share what they tell me…

…with you.

Maybe they take a vacation from me. They need a break for the lies that I urge and conjure from their mouths.

Yes, maybe it is them that need a break from me.

I sit in the living room watching the game and imagining a horror story unfolding…when who should walk in…

Chip, carrying a few heavy, blood smeared suitcases, followed by Mrs. Beasley. She wore her traditional paisley knee length dress along with the smile of a well rested woman.

“A.L.? We’ll be ready tomorrow. All of us. Don’t you be late.” She wagged a slim finger toward me before heading up to her personal folder, up in my Attic.


The image of a crazed, gun-wielding maniac running amok at a football game seemed so distant…so banal.

I wondered what was in Chip’s suitcase?…

Why didn’t Mrs. Beasley ever let me drink her sweet tea?…

Maybe tomorrow, when I wipe the sleep from my eyes, they will tell me the tales from their vacation…

…and I’ll transcribe…

…and then tell you.