The Right Oblique

I had a drill instructor in the Marines ask me once, "Why do you answer everything in a right oblique?" (Marching term, meaning you are marching in a 45 degree angle from the direction you are facing.)

I answered: "Only direct questions deserve direct answers, sir."

The Historia of Frost, the Great and Powerful

Here's the blog entry a friend of mine would say is in the Realm of Verbal Masturbation. What the "About Me" blurb should really say...

I was born at the height of the Witching Hour, during the fiercest storm of the year, within a stone's throw of the nation's capital.

21 months after I was born, my brother was born.

By age 5, my vocabulary out-sized my parents.

Just in time for 1st grade, they decided to mainstream me into public school, so I wouldn't be a freak, even though I had been attending a private school up to this point, and now knew everything that they were going to try to teach me in the next two years.

By the end of 1st grade, I came to the conclusion that I was NOT like the other kids in public school, and thus, was a freak among the natives. For the record, they felt likewise, though I will admit that the French foreign student we had in the class became a steady girlfriend. Oh, memories of those bushes by the playground...

A Goosebumps Story That Will Give You Goosebumps

So, the other day, my daughter, Autumn, who is 8 years old, and the inspiration for the Autumn Exchange Haiku I posted, asked me about goosebumps. Why? What for?

Now, in all her years, I've always given her a correct answer to the best of my knowledge, rather than some brush off quickie answer. As I go through the various details... pilomotor reflex caused by sympathetic nervous system reaction, in this case, exposure to cold, etc, etc. Then, I point out that one of Daddy's most disturbing experiences had to do with goosebumps.

"What was that?" she asked. Once I tell the story, she insists that I should share it on the blog. And so, here we are.

Crabs in a Bucket

I was once shared a lovely piece of wisdom. The speaker (damned if I can remember his name--- but I most certainly won't forget what he said) brought up an interesting little factoid, one that I know from experience to be true.

He said, when you go crab fishing, you don't need any sort of special container to hold the crabs in, just a regular old pail will do. The reason...? Because crabs will always grab crabs climbing up the side of the pail and pull them back into the pail, trying to climb out themselves. What ends up happening is that none of the crabs ever reach the top.

Then the speaker went on to point out that HUMANS are just like crabs. Any time someone is actually doing something, achieving something, the other humans around them will do whatever they can to put that person down, and pull them back from success and happiness. In fact, a lot of people are only happy if you are more miserable than they are... and thus, they seem like it is their calling in life to make everyone else miserable.

So, my friends... next time someone tries to pop your balloon, rain on your parade, stab you in the back, hurt your feelings...? Just remember one thing, and once you remind yourself, they lose all their power on you. All that person is--- is just another senseless crab trapped in a bucket that they can't figure out how to get out of.

Why Is It So Important For A Father To Be In His Daughter's Life?

THIS QUESTION WAS ASKED OF ME BY A YOUNG WOMAN:
Why is it so important for a father to be in his daughter's life?

After standing there for a few minutes with my jaw hanging down, I finally answered:

This question just blows me away. Seriously. You don't know?

A Lifetime Of Inspirations

I had several teachers that were inspirations-- Mrs. Morris and Mrs. Miner, my 1st and 2nd grade teachers-- both for recognizing my artistic talents and creativity, and more importantly, encouraging them. Mrs. Hill, my 7th grade science teacher. Imagine having a teacher who, visually, looks like Edna Mode from The Incredibles, but had the snap and wit of a stand up comedian. She made science FUN. Clue: She made the class meal-worm cupcakes, and we had crayfish gladiators. She loved that Jeff and I named our crayfish "Nixon"-- after all, he kept throwing his claws up and open like Nixon did with his "V" signs. Mrs. Rowley, who was my 6th and 7th grade English teacher. She got us doing creative writing journals, and when I began to write a novel, she insisted that I keep visiting her for her to keep reading it. This lasted until about halfway through high school-- I would walk over from the high school after school and drop in to the junior high and visit her and let her read the next chapter. You could say she was my first writer fan and groupie. ;) Mr. Leferriere, my 10th grade biology teacher, and the track coach. Two reasons for him... first, I was definitely biased towards animals when it came to biology. I mean, horribly biased. Plants were boring pretenders, compared to animal physiology. His nickname was "Plant-Man". No, seriously, it was. He awoke me, with his near monocular vision of biology (his specialty was being a botanist, after all), of just how amazing the plant kingdom really is. Secondly, I joined the track team my senior year. He knew why-- I was going to the Marines after I graduated, ergo-- I was giving myself over to him for my physical training before going to boot camp. What was so impressive about him for this, however... is that he had a horrible accident years before. Both his ankles were destroyed. The doctors did all they could, then informed him he would never walk again. The man, when I knew him, ran 5 miles a day, on artificial ankles that supposedly wouldn't allow him to even walk. I had no excuses for giving anything less. Mr. Coon-- the High School Drama Teacher (although he preferred the term: Theatre Coach). Strangely enough, not only did we share a passion for theatre, but also comic books. It helped that he also had a strong sense of humor, and to be honest, spoke to everyone as if they were PEOPLE, instead of the tiered teacher-student roles. Don't get me wrong-- if you disrespected him, he'd go ahead and pull rank as was his right-- but he never rubbed your face in it like most teachers. The last one I will mention wasn't even a teacher of mine. Mr. Ash. He didn't even teach at the same school district. However, he was my best friend's dad, and like a second father to me. Because of him, I have a love of NPR and classical music, as well as fond memories of having a dad-figure who supported my emotional needs better than my own dad. When he died, a part of me died as well. There were more teachers who touched me, whether in a positive or negative way (sometimes, that was motivation, as well-- being MORE passionate about their field of expertise than they appeared to be), but these few listed...? Definitely made the grade in my book.

The Monster

Something I like to tell people... when they decide that they don't like me, or approve of me, or decide I'm a horrible person. "I AM a monster... I'm just not the monster YOU THINK I AM." In a nutshell...? People always assume things about other people. People always project themselves on other people as well-- the cheater trusts no one, the liar takes no one's word for anything, the thief never leaves anything out in the open. Thus, in most cases, I am not "the monster" they are assuming or projecting on me to be, but rather something surprisingly (for them) different. Besides-- it freaks people out when you agree with them when they are trying to be insulting. Ultimately, I am a firm believer that people will believe whatever they want, regardless of what evidence is presented. Folks have a bad habit of being lazy when it comes to paying attention to the details... and only hearing what they want to hear. In the end, the monster I am is the worst sort of monster-- the god on the pedestal with the feet of clay... aka... a typical human being, one that might not be able to live up to expectations.

My Personal Private Fear And Nightmare

That one day, I roll by my ex-wife's house to pick up my kids for my half of the week, and the house is empty and dark-- that she pulls a parental kidnapping and disappears to some far off state, and I never find my kids. That scares the FUCK out of me.

A Christmas Story (2009)

The house was empty and quiet. Because of this, I volunteered to work today, in an effort to keep my self busy and occupied– figuring that if I did so, I would be able to distract myself from the reality of my children not being here with me today. In my line of work, we transport folks who are wheelchair bound, or medically challenged and cannot transport themselves. Today was no different, except that instead of the medical insurance footing the bill, it was private pay billing. I only had two runs, transporting a wheelchair bound elderly woman who appeared to me to have suffered a stroke and couldn’t talk anymore or barely even move, to Stephentown, NY, to spend a few hours with her family for the holiday, and then back again.

Alone

Alone

I sit in the dark
Watching shadows slink across the floor

Smoothly
        Gracefully
                  Seeking
                         The world in black

Solitude

My imagination
My only companion

Creating
         Filling
                 Explaining
                        Voids before my eyes

Quiet

All is still
And then it was done.

Not with
         a bang,
                but a
                    reluctant whimper.

Autumn Exchange: A Haiku

I do find it slightly disturbing that when my daughter and I exchanged those words, that my brain went: "5,7... hey, this can be a haiku!"

---

"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, bug-a-boo."
 Unconditional.

McDonalds: Evil Corporate Empire?

“McDonald's is bad for your kids.” Thus decrees Amitai Etzioni, Ph.D (born Werner Falk, 04 January 1929, in Cologne, Germany) in an essay published in the Miami Herald in 1986. If he had been talking about the quality of their food, perhaps he would have more valid points about the damage that McDonald's can wreck upon young lives. Instead, he choses to dismiss and malign what any fast food company can offer a teen new to the workplace.

I totally disagree with the writer's claim that working for McDonald's is not educational or conducive to a good work habits. I have worked for McDonald's and during that time, I picked up very good work ethics that have served me well over the years. From my observations, one's first job is really what molds you for any other job that follows. I can assure you that I wouldn't be as hardworking as I am today if not for the training and guidance, support and skills, provided to me during my time with them.

The Beginning of Autumn, 2004

As told to me, by my (now ex) wife...

"There are a lot of firsts in our lives. Some we will remember, others we will not. One of my firsts that I will never forget is the birth of my daughter. She was actually two firsts for me—my first child and my first and only girl.

"I don't remember specifically what time it was, but I know it was before noon when she arrived. I had already been there once or twice that week on false alarms. I remember feeling very anxious to see the baby. The nurses were probably tired of seeing my face and hearing my voice because I called a lot as well, and I bet that they were rolling their eyes as well as me going into labor and delivery.

The Man behind the Curtain…

I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t think like any other adults I know. I don’t think like kids, either. I dunno why I think the way I do, but I do know that my insight is typically has these features: Fact based, practical, and usually outside the box.

Simply find the Patterns in the Chaos.

Now, being Chaos, naturally, the potential to see ANY Pattern is possible, and most likely, probable.

However, the nice filter is the one that recognizes the value of the Pattern due to the size and strength of the Network of Patterns it connects to, and its ability to mesh together with others, and nicely at that.

So, I dunno. Anyone care to see the real man behind the curtain?

The Faces of Friendship

A recent event in my life makes me take a moment pause.

Passion.
Action.
Reaction.
Chain-Reaction.

The Universe escalates.

A loud cacophony of noise, with two choices...

Headlong into a crescendo of resolution and a chord of harmony
...or the slow guttural death-rattle of dissolution and entropy.

"Zeal, without knowledge, is the sister of folly." --Sir John Davies

The Otherverse

What is a dream? Is it your mind strolling through all the input of the day, and giving you a jumbled replay? Is it peering into an alternate reality? Is it simply your brain playing a “movie” for your entertainment?

I love when people share with me their dreams. I discover that each person’s dream style tends to uniquely match the person. There are those who have the normal everyday events in their dreams. There are those who tend to have more work related dreams. Those who tend to have more social oriented dreams.

My dreams tend to be unlike anyone else I know. I honestly don’t like to discuss them, because they are so…different.

My Writer's Manifesto

Whether its exploring experiences sexual or platonic, writing must be detail oriented and character driven. The secret to truly inspirational writing is immersion. The reader must be transported wholly into the work. Smell the odors, consume the tastes, feel the textures, hear the melody, and behold the vision.

In other words, successful writers know it's all in the head.

Perception alteration.
Intimate like.
To an unknown audience of unknown proportions.

As a writer, one is tasked into performing an enjoyable mental mind fuck.

Seduce the reader into the yarn that one is weaving and spinning, wrapping them in the trappings of the identifying relatable character, the bait and lure of any good tale.

The best writers could be accused of hypnotizing their readers. Taking control of their mind's eye, the truly gifted implant the reality of bearing personal first hand witness to the reader, making them unaware of their physical surroundings, immersed as a fellow unnamed character within their entertaining alternate reality consisting of properly placed runes.

As a Writer, I take my role of Rune Mage seriously. One can change the course of History if one is truly inspired and casts the Runes on the right people at the right time.

Allow me use my Art, my simple Craft, upon you.
Read my Runes, and then, please, cast your Own.

The Lonely King

Written 10-12SEPT96, the 5th "sequel" of Without Love.

---

The red candle flickered upon the windowsill
And besides that lone breeze, all else was still
The darkness gathered in the corners of the room
With deafening silence reminiscient of a tomb

Upon the large throne, and looking quite small
Sat the Old King alone in his hall
Soft lips moved silently, in desparate prayer
His eyes searched the Heavens for any answers there
Pleading with the Lord, who sits up Above
Atoning for the mere Sin of simple mortal Love

"I have done all You asked," he shouted out
On empty castle walls the pleas echoed about
"I've given my all, did everything right
And still I fall short within Your sight
What more can I do, what more can I say
To return my Queen to me upon this day?"

The Old King buried his head in his hands
The hourglass beside him softly dropping sands
If only his tears would come and be released
If only he'd let go of her and regain his peace
Moonlight dwindled as heavy clouds gave chase
Rising now, resolve played across the King's face

"I shall not go quietly into the Night
I shall not retreat without a fight
My Queen was the answer to my Kingdom's Dream
A gift from You, it had plainly seemed
But as You give, so now You take
Jarred from peaceful bliss, I doth awake
Stark reality mine eyes have now seen
No longer a part of what once had been
I cannot comprehend this cosmic joke
Everything around me is like intangible smoke
Shattered dreams are made so thus
When we became two...
Not one...
Not us...
Why may I not fulfill this impossible Quest
Why must I be the subject to this jest
In all things to You, Glory will be
I beseech Thee, Father, please answer me!"

The Lord replied, "Submit my son
Realise that what is done, is done
You cannot change that which is Past
Graven deep in stone, history is cast
Your Queen pledged not a Sacred Vow
And refused the Gift you offered, somehow
Tho' thou hast gave her all thine Heart
The choice was hers, she chose to depart
This hurtful wound you felt her rend
Is nothing that Time cannot mend
So, silly Child, why art thou sad
Elevate thine spirit and be thou glad
Now listen closely, for what I say is True
A greater Kingdom now lies before you
Bear thine Cross, I shall walk with thee
Unalone, in My Will, your destiny
Never feel that thou art without Love
For my Love descends from the Throne up above
Filling your Soul with Joy from on high
What is mere mortal Love when compared to I?"

The Old King bowed low, having heard
And gave joyful thanks to the Word
His Soul, now unfettered and free
Understood the message of
"Let it Be"

The Dream is now Done
But you have still Won

Without Love

This was written 06NOV91-13NOV91. My first attempt at "real" poetry.

---

Without Love
I have never felt more Alone
Than I do now
If you listen closely
I will explain how

I am a King seated upon my throne
Without a Queen, I'm on my own
Tho' I claim Dominion o'er all I see
This, in fact, means Nothing to me
For in all of our bloody histories
There have been no joyous victories
Without Love

The Moon will rise for Love of Night
For Love of Life, the Sun shines Bright
But Despair reigns in gray Twilight
Without Love

The Child cries out within the Man
"Can I be loved? Show me I can!"
Hearing no answer, the Child will wail
His Soul, bleak, barren, dark; consigned to Hell
Without Love

Should he accept this Fate
And await the Date
Of final drawn Breath
Or should he fight and scream
Love's Embrace his Dream
And deny all consuming Death
Without Love

Wracked with Hunger, Pain, and Strife
Is this the Reward for living Life?
Assaulting Anger, Jealousy, and Fear
Will these be Emotions you hold dear
Without Love

Bitter from all your Dreams you miss
Have you hoped all your life for This?
Hollow Void that now fills your Heart
Consuming your Humanity's good part
The death of a Soul is a cruel thing
Deny me my Crown; I don't want to be King
Without Love

Is this Life's promise, all it t'will hold?
Existence without Happiness leaves me quite cold
What is the point, if I might be so bold
Of meaningless meanderings while I grow old?
Biding my time, endless stream of days
Memories blurring into a mindless haze
Without Love

Friends become Foes in senseless fights
Intense Rivalry over fancied flights
Of imaginary sexual favoritism
The sacrifices we make for the stigmatism
Without Love

Isolation insulates against rejection
Separate ourselves from potential affection
Perpetuate the ironic lasting depression
Blaming those around us for the dejection
Without Love

Borne of this emotional fasting
We seek harder for Everlasting
Forever denied our Passion's fire
We're left only with the hunger Desire
Armed with this, again we dare
To find Another, one who'll care
Is it so crazy to want something real
To find a Companion to share what I feel
To sit by my side on the Throne up above
No longer Alone
Without Love?

I have never felt more Alone
Than I do now
Without Love