—NOTHING TO SEE HERE

 

 

Thread

 

The little girl tosses a coin in the fountain, eyes pinched shut, her concentration similar to his daughter’s all those years ago, how she’d hold her breath making wishes, birthday or not, her faith unshakeable, like a prayer of absolute certainty, the very one he mimics each night, clutching his daughter’s Pooh Bear, trying not to squeeze too hard, trying not to lose the stuffing or let the loose eye fall from its thread. 

—DON’T BOTHER KNOCKING

 

 

Chickadee

 

 

We lived like outlaws 

instead of lovers 

in grime and gun smoke 

fool’s gold plucked 

from all our teeth 

Outside a cage of stars 

did their beautiful lying

the stove fire inside 

weak like everything else 

hope as getable as gristle 

tarot cards burnt to ash

Wild stallions tramped 

through our dreams nightly

the buffalo wise and unamused 

stoic in a prairie fit for fiends 

So you cooked the spoon 

while I strapped in 

as the needle sang 

its sweetest yodel again 

Here I am, Chickadee

Here I am

 

—HEY, TONY, WHAT’S SO GOOD ABOUT DYING?

 

…“Medicine, law, business, engineering—these are noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance and love—these are what we stay alive for.” Robin Williams, Dead Poet’s Society

 

…I wish I was better at fixing things, but I don’t see that happening.

 

…Thanks for indulging me this week, if you did. The best way for me to deal with my disgruntled thoughts and feelings is to drink, or write about them. And, well, I don’t drink anymore.

 

…Those are all my books. I realized I needed a pic of them, something to look at when I wonder why.

 

…Hey, did you happen to see? We passed three and a half million pageviews at some point this week. It’s a little hard for me to believe. Thank you for being here, through thick and a lot of thin. I’m so grateful.

 

…What a treat to revisit a forgotten album and realize all over how great it still is.

 

…Who knew skin tags would be a thing?

 

…“I was a romantic and sentimental creature, with a tendency towards solitude.” Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits

 

…At least if you’re feeling full, you’re feeling something. 

 

…I know those peculiar lumps all over my arm were merely misplaced saline, but they just as easily could have been pockets of trapped fury.

 

…Apparently angels clock out at the end of the day. too.

 

…Listening more, better—what a good idea!

 

…You can’t love the snow if it’s only on your terms.

 

…“You appeared in 54 searches.”

 

…I can’t be the only one who weighs themselves every day, can I?

 

…COVID was an extremely horrible period, but this is its own kind of horror.

 

--“How do you deal with mentally ill people who won’t help themselves?”

--“Date them for two years.”

 

…What a sight, to watch the eagle flying through the falling snow.

 

…You know things are wonky when you can’t even keep the promises you make to yourself.

 

…Sometimes it’s hard to know how to be a good friend.

 

…Until last year, I never knew how many things I didn’t know.

 

…Bathing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

 

…You have to have a lot of confidence to call yourself “Baby” in third person, but if you can pull it off, it’s kind of cute.

 

--“How’s it going?”

--“Up and not crying.” 

 

…I saw someone wearing a t-shirt that said: INNER PEACE BEGINS WITH FOUR WORDS—not my fucking problem.

But what if it is my problem?

 

…What kind of kid hates snow days? I did. What a weirdo.

 

…There’s an ad I get on my phone occasionally that shows this frisky dog hopping and pouncing around trying to capture a jiggly rubber ball. Talk about cute. I could watch that thing for hours.

 

…When John came back to the east coast as president of the company and visited my store, the first thing he wanted to do was go to the receiving dock and meet the people working there. Not knowing who he was, a new guy I didn’t know got friendly with John right away, and John being John was as kind to him as could be. This guy danced around about his car breaking down and asked could John loan him a little something. After John had handed over $50 and we were walking away I said, “You know that guy was only scamming you, right?” And John said, “Len, you know it was only fifty dollars, right?” and we walked up to the main level.

 

…“Suffering feels religious if you do it right.”  Chelsea Hodson

 

…I’ve heard of a burst blood vessel, but a burst vein? Hurts like fucking hell.

 

…Can’t make it up, even if you tried.

 

…It’s hard to imagine how the ducks can tolerate the frigid lake, let alone them diving under repeatedly.

 

...“To be honest, the way I feel about my friendships does border on the romantic. I want to sing love songs for them. Ones about long evenings together, waking up together, cooking for them, long phone calls, expressiveness.” Sophie Mackintosh

 

…Even the diamonds look like rocks to the untrained eye.

 

…“We want to keep your heart rate as low as possible, so don’t use your inhaler beforehand unless you have to. We understand that breathing is important.”

 

…“When you have depression it's like it snows every day. Some days it's only a couple of inches.” Anthony Bourdain

 

…I wonder how many letters never get sent.

 

…Whenever getting needle stuck, never offer up your dominant hand, even if the veins look better there.

 

…When you grow up poor, you’re always poor in your mind, even if you have it all.

 

…Things from the “What did they say?” category this week that caught my eye:

    --“This is one of the worst people ever born.” Van Jones on Darren Beattie, former white nationalist appointed to undersecretary of state for public diplomacy.

    --“Cocaine is no worse than whisky. It should be sold just like wine. It’s only illegal because it comes from Latin America.” Colombian President Gustavo Petro  

    --“It is what it is. Let’s ride, Warden.” Steven Nelson’s last words after being executed for killing a pastor in his own church, days after being released from a court-ordered anger management program.

    --“Are you trying to remove that, because it doesn’t come off.” Adrien Brody to a makeup artist mistaking his nose for a prosthetic

 

…When it’s this cold out, it’s really hard to get out of the shower.

 

…Isn’t it supposed to be give-and-take? Because I think it is.

 

…“i am running into a new year

and the old years blow back

like a wind

that i catch in my hair

like strong fingers like

all my old promises and

it will be hard to let go

of what i said to myself

about myself”

          --Lucille Clifton

 

…Hey, have a great Super Bowl weekend. I hope your team wins.

—IF IT WAS FUNNY, WOULDN’T WE ALL BE LAUGHING?  

 

 

‘Round Here 

  

We are all on 

the same spectrum 

locked in a dungeon 

where rats peek through 

the jagged creases of cinderblock 

holding listening devices and

assault weapons

each of us held for treason or 

reasons as thin as hope

One of us cocks a finger 

at his brow while another 

brave soul sings a corny tune

This land is your land

This land is my land

before having his 

tongue ripped out 

numbered and tagged

 

—ANYTHING BUT THAT

 

 

the fourth reich

  

     there’s someone walking around on the roof   did you notice   someone duct-taping the vents   and binding the blinds   someone manning the kilns   someone shredding books   someone stationed at the door with artillery   someone raising a flag   someone lifting a hot palm   someone else marking the windows with an ancient insignia that looks new and familiar again

 

—CRAZY, SCARY, SPOOKY, HILARIOUS  

 

 

…Monday’s post was the piece no one in the workshop understood. How about you? 

I think I need a new title.

 

…Wednesday’s post was the first real story I’ve written in some time. It’s a similar setting as some from the past, because I spent a lot of time in that tree fort, plus Gordy shows up in a lot pieces. He’s based on the only real friend I had when I was younger. And then he moved away.

 

…I guess I really am a creature of habit. That’s something I’m working on.

 

…That’s what new friends and booze will do to you.

 

…No matter how openminded you are, it’s hard not to let AI scare you a bit.

 

…Who knew willpower would be so important? 

 

…I read a bit about Pandora’s Box and how when she couldn’t resist herself and opened it, all kinds of evil fly out and just before closing it, hope stayed put.

 

…Even the little things can feel really good if you haven’t had a win for a while. 

 

…Do you believe in the power of self-talk? I’ve been asking myself that question.

 

…“At least my house didn’t burn down,” can sound kind of glib, but it can also be genuine.

 

…I genuinely wonder if people who voted for the current administration feel about me similar to how I think of them. 

 

…Random fact: Owning a car is considered a luxury by the majority of the world. 86 percent of Americans own a car. In China, car ownership is 22 percent, and it’s just 3 percent in India.

 

…You know it’s really bad when you won’t even let yourself look.

 

…“Why not?” is something I need to say a lot more.

 

…I’ve used this quote before, but it helps explain myself: 

"Possibly, then, writing has to do with darkness, and a desire or perhaps a compulsion to enter it, and, with luck, to illuminate it, and to bring something back out to the light.“  Margaret Atwood

 

…More and more I realize that what matters most is just showing up.

 

…If you think about it, it’s pretty hard to trust someone completely.

 

…How are you really doing?

 

…I’m trying to spend less time trying to figure out other’s actions and just accept them. Not necessarily agree with them, but say to myself—We all have a choice, and that’s theirs.

 

…I’m not sure if I know how to meet strangers anymore.

 

…I wonder, is white noise the same as silence?

 

…I only have one deal-breaker. Care to guess?

 

…I don’t know about you, but I’ll be rooting for the birds.

 

…Aside from this one, have you ever read someone’s diary? Did they know you read it? How did it make you feel? 

 

…If you ask for something, then you can’t slay the giver when you get it.

 

…I’m getting pretty good at remembering to push save.

 

…I’m just looking for answers, same as you, I guess.

 

…I was reading an article about a celebrity where, in the middle of the interview, he matter-of-factly shared his therapist’s advice, no different than if he was talking about his mother. The nonchalance, and acceptance of it seemed kind of cool to me. It’s a far cry from when Senator Eagleton had to decline his nomination as Vice-President because he had once seen a psychologist.  

 

…You have to be careful what you give your energy to.

 

…“It’s just stuff,” is easy to say until it’s yours.

 

…I got a very kind note from a woman in England about my blog. I’ve never met her and don’t know how she ended up here, but that was nice.  Thank you, Lynne.

 

…I guess you can just write an executive order for anything or anyone you don’t like.

 

…Meaningless fact, but kind of “wow” numbers—Costco sold 229 million hotdogs last year, 518,000 carats of diamonds and 9 million pairs of glasses.

 

…If these trees could talk there’d be plenty of trouble to go around.

 

…Maybe I’m the problem.

 

…I wonder why I delete myself sometimes.

 

…You probably have to be incredibly good at compartmentalizing to be a therapist.

 

…I wonder why I like True Crime so much and why I feel guilty about it.

 

…"You go out there and do the best you can, and you do things that are interesting to you. Hopefully it will be interesting to other people. I don't want to be adequate. I'd rather fail gloriously making something strange, awesome but ultimately a failure." Anthony Bourdain

 

…When things seem really grim, and then you find out they’re not, but that they’re actually five times worse than the original prognosis, well, that’s when grim just becomes a spectrum you have no control over, and what you once thought of as terrible now looks pretty good in hindsight. 

 

…It’s too easy to do nothing.

 

…“Len Kuntz was so inspiring. Huge compliment to him, he somehow helped push me to be better. Forever grateful!!” That was nice to see. I really needed it yesterday.

 

…I wish I didn’t have to say, “I used to,” so much.

 

…To argue your point calmly is a gift.

 

…It’s pretty hard not to ever be envious.

 

…I could have really used a drink last week.

 

…It’s interesting how settling it is when someone says, “I’m sorry,” even though they have no reason or responsibility to.

 

…Sometimes giving yourself grace is just making an excuse for poor behavior or habits.

 

…Someone should open up a Happiness Hotline where for a nominal fee you can ring them and somebody will be on the other end to cheer you up.

 

…Today’s word would be insanity. Yesterday’s was stupefied.

 

…As long as you have your health…

 

—THERE, NOT THERE

  

 

Candy Apple Red

 

We never talked about his brother, though everyone else did. Small town speculation is all some folks have, especially if it’s dark and familiar.

Gordy’s favorite place to hang out was an old tree fort that lurked behind our two trailer parks. Those who’d come before had carved names, slander and pornography into the warped sideboards, but we ignored all that. We’d become good at disregarding most things, and now that we were both fourteen, future days held all of our promise and intrigue.  

A few people believed us twins, not because we looked alike, but because we were inseparable. The things we had in common were too numerous to label, like the ways in which both our home lives rattled on askew.

Gordy arrived up the ladder with four canned beers stuffed in a gunny and two exploded like pissed off cats when he opened them, foam slipping down the glistening tin.

Gordy’s dad was gone, his brother, too, of course, but one of his cheeks was bruised and his ear swollen candy apple red.

Gordy took a hardy gulp and I could tell he was trying not to wince from the bitter kick. “I was thinking,” he said as I felt my thoughts consider his latest bruise. Though my mother was no more lively or dangerous than a stepstool, Gordy’s could spark in all the wrong directions.

“So whatdda ya think?”

“About what?”

“Stupid ass. Us saving up for that used Mustang in Schwimmer’s lot. We could fix it ourselves, paint her candy apple red.”

Candy apple red. That happened with us sometimes, a twin thing, where it seemed like one of us had just read the other’s mind.

“If he’d sell it cheap enough,” I said.

“Yeah,” Gordy said, gulping the rest before struggling to belch the way we knew real men did.

The third can cracked open like a branch snapping off and for a moment I thought the fort was finally done in and collapsing.

“You drink that too fast and we’ll be dry before we know it.”

Gordy fished inside his coat pocket and produced two saviors. “Ta da!”

“You were holding out.”

“I wasn’t.”

But he was, not just the extras, but about his brother’s girlfriend who’d got that lawyer and jury to believe it was rape instead of plain old sex.   

The wind was up, hugging and jostling the fort as if we were inside an uncertain cloud.

When I finished my beer, Gordy took the empty and tucked it in his coat for recycle money later.  “I was thinking,” he said.

“Yeah, you were thinking?”

“About bagging high school.” He glanced over my head, knowing I’d be startled.

“You got plans, huh?” I asked, nervous for his answer.

When Gordy reached into his jacket, I expected a seventh beer and not the pistol.

“Holy fuck!”

“It’s heavy. Wanna hold it?”

“Hell no. Where’d you get it?”

“My brother. He left it.”

“Left it?”

“Well, I found it.”

“The fuck you say. What’re you going to do with it?” I realized how chickenshit I sounded, that my face burned.

“Don’t piss yourself. It’s not loaded.” But I knew he was lying. His lip twitch always gave Gordy away.

We both understood what I said next decided the gun’s fate, if it remained out in the open, or stuffed away with Gordy’s other conundrums.

“Maybe someday we could target practice,” I said. “If you got shells.”

Gordy’s smile was fake as the doctored report card he turned into his mother. “Yeah, that’s a start.”

I grabbed the stubby wooden table and centered it, sat down cross-legged and started shuffling cards I’d brought. I let my eyes skim off the card corners for a sly peek but couldn’t see the gun anymore.

“The thing I realized,” Gordy said, “is we have to make our own future.”

“Took you a while to figure that one out, did it?” I said, trying on a smirk.

“I mean, everything here is shit. It’ll always be shit.”

I dealt. “You shouldn’t think so much.”

“We got nothing and you know it.”

I thought we had each other, thought we always would, but Gordy was scaring me, gun or not. 

I wanted to ask how he thought he’d get away with stealing that beer from his old lady. How a pistol could change our circumstances for the better. I wondered if he really found it, like he said. If he believed his brother did that to his girlfriend or if she was just vengeful as his brother proclaimed. 

Instead I tossed two Oly caps on the table and tapped my cards while the wind kicked hard outside. “Ante in.”

Gordy added his two beer caps and corkscrewed his right eye like I’d seen him do right before a migraine ambushed him.

For a stretch, we played in silence, each of us taking turns losing without trying.

Finally, I nodded towards Gordy’s head. “Is it a bad one?”

“The thing is, it feels like we’re fucked if we do nothing.”

“A gun’ll change things, huh?”

“We could win the fucking lotto, buy brand new wheels and people’d still think we stole them.”

“I thought we were going to get that Mustang from Schwimmer?”

“It’s not about that. People like us, you know how it is. Good things could happen, no one’d believe it was genuine.” 

I wanted to mention our part in things, our fraudulent report cards, the filched playing cards, the beer Gordy stole.

“People can fucking say anything they want about us and that makes it true,” Gordy said, rubbing his forehead. “They can make up shit. Get us locked up.”

“It’s not always so.”

“Hell it ain’t,” Gordy said, the pistol to his head before I knew it, the tree fort breaking apart around us, one board falling, then the next, us losing our grip on the wind.