The Last Exit

The last sunset on good times

2011-12-09T20:30:00.000-08:00

All things that come to an end are not sad

well maybe a little

well sometimes a lot

but that isn't the moral of my point

but it is somewhere in between

like most things though the good out weights

the bad, and I'm thankful for the times shared

so I count my blessings, consider myself lucky

and reflect with happiness

even though melancholy is knocking at the door

Good Enough

2011-05-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

So it’s just me and John Prine this evening

sharing company with Arnold Palmer and vodka

Yet if it rains anymore I think I’ll build a canoe

and paddle away from this place

Hibernation is good for the soul

but when you wake you’re starved near death

taking any little thing you can get

greedy hands and hungry eyes

Invest in what makes you happy

you’d be surprised to see most of it is free

or relatively cheap if your perspectives are in tune

I think I’ve come to peace that I may never get it right

but close is good enough now a days

my pedestal is not quite as tall

but there is no shame in that

I still have things I hold in high regards

things I still feel are pedestal worthy

it’s just easier to reach this way

easier to focus, less room for error

a finish line that is constantly in sight

Corktown Races 2011

2011-03-17T22:09:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure what it was that appealed to me. Maybe I was looking for a sense of commodurty, or perhaps I thought I was cut out for physical activity, but nevertheless, I participated in my first 5K run in Corktown, Detroit this past Sunday. The race preceded the annual Saint Patrick's day parade, and all the runners gathered behind the starting gate in front of Detroit's old abandoned train station. At the front of the starting gate were the die hard runners, the lean seasoned athletes who were going to give it their all. They were all dressed in high tech breathable clothing and were downing protein shakes and energy drinks. Behind them were the rest of us, the casual joggers and Saint Patrick's Day themed dressed participants. There were dogs too, at least a dozen I counted that were dyed green. Each was leashed and ready to participated with the rest of us. As we all lined up at the starting line it was announced that the 2011 race was the largest turnout ever with over 6000 runners. I was somewhere in the middle of the sea of green that had managed to show up despite losing an hour of sleep the night before due to daylights savings time. Next to me was a tall Asian man who towered above the majority. He was dressed as a leprechaun, sporting a green jacket and top hat, and he wore a red beard that had more of a Texas style ZZ Top look that any Irishman I've ever saw. In front of me were a group of girls all wearing green fluffy tutus and green and white striped knee sock. It took me about two minutes to even reach the starting gate once the race started. As I made my way onto Michigan Avenue, I swung my arms, pumping the air, while my heart began burning in my "i'm not really prepared for this" chest. I remember the smell of BBQ as I passed Slows restaurant. I did my best to try and keep pace with the majority during the first half mile, but it wasn't long before my pace was reduced to speed walking. You can prepare in a gym all you want, but there is an extreme difference between running on a tread mill and running down the concrete streets of Detroit.

When I reached the first mile marker, I was happy to see the volunteers handing out cups of water on the side of the road. I carefully grabbed a cup as I passed and downed it in one gulp. On the curb I seen a runner limping back towards the starting line, his face wincing every time he placed weight on his injured foot. As I was coming up to Nemo's, the crowds on each side of the street suddenly started laughing and pointing. When I seen a green dog hunched over and doing his business in the middle of the street I laughed too. Holding the leash was a woman who's red face stuck out all the more among the passing flashes of green runners who skillfully avoided the dog, and the call of nature he left in the road. As we entered the city I managed to keep a decent pace, and was getting use to the feel of the terrain. As we came up to the recently renovated Westin Hotel I noticed a small group of people gathered outside the lobby, watching the long train of runners while waiting for the valet to pull up their cars. I wondered where they were from, and what they thought of the crazy Irish freak parade thats was holding up the quick return of their vehicles. A large inflatable marker was placed at the halfway point neat the heart of Campus Martious. I rounded the marker and noticed another runner hunched over on the curb, trying to walk off a charlie horse.

Just before the two mile marker, a crazy woman, maybe homeless, was screaming at the runners near a small stretch of porta potties. I couldn't make out what she was saying as she barked at the wave of green that rolled past her corner, but she had the look of someone who had been woken up against their will, which may have been the case. I slammed another water and laughed at the guy at the end of the volunteers who was holding out shots of Jameson. If it wasn't being offered in a shot glass that had seen god only knows how many lips that day, I would have accepted his generosity and ran as fast as I could afterwards just for the humorous spectacle it would have made for the crowds that were already several drinks into their celebrating. As I passed Nemo's for my second time I kept an eye out for any surprises that may have been left in the road by green canines. I paced myself before reaching Trumbull, and ran past the fenced vacant lot where Tiger Stadium once stood. The crowds were heavy near the Gaelic League and Corktown Tavern, and music could be heard from the tents that had been raised to accommodate the day's celebrations. I gave whatever I had left during the last stretch of the race. I managed to cross the finish line without hurting myself, or anyone else for that matter. My time: an impressive 40:46. There wasn't exactly a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but the self pride that provoked these Irish eyes to smiling afterwards was good enough for me.

Just Out Of Reach

2011-03-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

This is the first short story I've written in five years. It involves the transitional gap between generations, and Detroit Tigers baseball. Please leave comments or critiques.

Just Out Of Reach

currently rewriting.

Were you here for the show?

2011-03-07T22:27:00.000-08:00

It was a perfect fall evening in Detroit and I was headed down to see one of my favorite acts: The Raveonettes. As customary they were playing at the Magic Stick, and I left early to avoid the crowds and to get tickets before they sold out. I parked across from the Karmanos cancer center underneath a long row of sunflower yellow hard maples that were at the height of their autumn color. Understandable I was in a good mood. The Rave always put on a good show; A high intensity mix of modern rock with a 50's twist. Their name itself derived from a mash up of the Buddy Holly song "Rave On," and the girl group The Ronettes. As I was about to enter the Magic Stick a sign on the door caught my attention. "Tonights Raveonettes performance is cancelled." An immediate wave of disappointment washed my mood sour. I had been looking forward to the concert for weeks. I stood outside the door on the sidewalk for several minutes hoping to overhear an explanation. My attention turned when the door opened and a midget walked out with a distraught look on his face. He walked past me and I did a quick take of our proportions. His head only came up to my waist. I waited a few more minutes but when I turned to leave I found him a few feet behind me. "Were you here for the show," he asked. I told him I was. "Well isn't this just a kick in the balls," he spat out. For a second I had to compose myself. It isn't everyday I come across a midget spitting out vulgarities, but what really made me almost crack up was the imagery. A kick in the balls for me would be a kick in the face for him. I wished him a good night and walked back to my car. I waited till I was a good distance away before I allowed myself to laugh at the whole situation. A kick to my shins would have constituted a kick to his balls. I was still laughing when I finally got back to my car. Moral of the story. If you ever see a man walking across the sidewalks of Detroit and laughing to himself, there may be a very logical explanation.

Beyond the River

2010-11-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

The cold winds of November

embrace the return of winter

when nature's hibernation

bows to the silence of solitude

moon light caresses

white blankets with pale

blue glints in the darkness

where the only noise is the

whisper of lost echos

Along the river

ice clings to shallow banks

as the flow twists beneath

branches of frost kissed trees

and the frozen needles of pines

beyond the river

reflections mirror in the

cold of calm winter waters

quiet and white

Inevitable

2010-11-24T16:14:00.000-08:00

So the planets aligned, and the opportunities returned .

Which is nothing more than an impressive way of saying I'm pulling my head out of my ass.

Live a little, suffer a bit, experience life

Just remember others have lived larger, suffered greater, experienced more.

All you can do it share your perspectives

Which is sometimes a con, just a front put on to hide the fact that you don't have a clue

Isn't that the point, to always be able to learn, to share and compare.

to analyze, to never stop looking, listening - to realize, to absorb.

So the planets aligned, the moon raised the tides, and the voice that remains silent, is sometimes wise.

But we all have so much to learn.

Cheers

A memory from Halloween past

2008-10-25T17:16:00.000-07:00

Halloween is just around the corner. It reminds my of the time I pulled the ultimate adolescences prank on my sister. Back before there was satellite TV and hundreds of channels to choose from, metro Detroit consisted of channel 2, 4, 7, 20, 50, and good old 56. Channel 20 often showed spooky movies around Halloween. One movie in particular was “Halloween,” with mask wearing Michael Myers – AKA - the Boogieman. My sister was not fond of this movie when we were younger, and she hated John Carpenters eerie piano theme. I always liked to turn up the little black and white TV I had in my bedroom during the movie's opening credits when the camera slowly zooms inside of a glowing Jack-O-lantern. My sister was never amused. I often tried dragging her into my room while the song was playing, and she would fight me the whole time, kicking and trying to pull away. “He’s gonna get you, he’s gonna get you,” I’d taunt, “the boogieman’s gonna get you.” Those were the good old days. One year I got an awfully wonderful idea, and my lips curled like the Grinch as I mapped the plan in my head. It would be the ultimate prank. The gears were certainly turning as I was blessed with this stroke of genius – Use my tape recorder to record the closing credits of the movie, and then hide it in her room so it could go off in the dark when she went to bed. Brilliant!!!!!!

I dug up a blank cassette tape and fast forwarded through a little more than half the tape, which equaled somewhere around 20 minutes of silence. I was nearly a fit of giggles when Dr. Lumis unloads his revolver into Michael Myers at the end of the movie – the last shot sending him over the balcony railing. I hit record just before Laurie asks “Was that the Boogieman?” I don’t know how I kept from laughing as the music began playing and the credits started rolling up the screen. I sat hunched over the TV, holding the microphone right next to the speaker the entire time. While the music played I kept thinking how amazing my idea was. It was the perfect Halloween prank. After the movie finished, I rewound the tape and waited for my sister to go to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she finally went to bathroom to get ready for bed I tipped toed into her room to put my plan into action. I found a nice place to hide the tape recorder under her bed and an outlet to use. Just before she finished brushing her teeth I pressed play, and rushed back to my room and turned off my lights. The time that followed was one of the longest 20 minutes I’ve ever had to endure. I kept peeking down the hall, waiting to hear my sister scream. I was delighted when I seen she had turned off her lights and had gone to bed. I was practically rubbing my hands together like a sinister greedy villain. Then, it happened. My sister started screaming for our Mom. Success!!!! I was laughing quietly to myself in my room, trying to contain myself from just losing it and shouting out a few “He’s gonna get you, he’s gonna get you,” when my door swung open and my lights flicked on. “What the Hell is wrong with you,” my mother asked, “Do you think that’s funny, huh, do you?” The music had stopped playing and I could hear my sister crying from her room -Instant sobriety. Needless to say I didn’t get my tape recorder back anytime soon. I never taunted my sister with the Halloween theme ever again. I didn’t have to, there was no way I was ever going to top that. Happy Halloween everybody!!!! “He’s gonna get you, he’s gonna get you……..

Self Salvation

2006-07-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid I always wondered
if I died if I’d go to hell. All of my friends
went to church on Sunday mornings
I’d see them drive by, dressed up and
staring at me from the back seats of their
Parent’s cars. I’d wave and they’d wave
back, I was envied, I was admired,
my family didn’t go to church.

Yet I was always worried about my soul
and where I’d go if my life was unexpectedly
cut short. My fear only increased when I learned
that I was living in sin, that my salvation was
in jeopardy because I was never baptized. I imagined
sin as black spots on ones soul, and that the
holy water they used in baptisms would wash those
spots away, cleansing ones life.

Shortly after, I began baptizing myself every time
I took a bath. I’d ask God to bless the water
while it flowed from the faucet and I would think about
the black spots on my soul and pray that the water
would wash them away. I used several different methods
Each time hoping to feel a dramatic change.
The first time, I cupped my hands full of water
and raised them over my head and let the water
run down my face. I closed my eyes as the
water ran down my checks and over my lips. When
I opened them, I thought I would notice a change,
that the world would seem a little different, but everything
was the same, the sin was still filthy in my soul.

Sometimes I’d lean forward and dunk my head in the
tub and hold my breath for as long as I could
I’d pray underwater, listening to the drops
Leaking from the faucet. When I jerked up, inhaling
air as the water dripped from my hair and chin, I still
felt the same, the world stayed as it was. Several timed I
pinched my nose and leaned back, like I saw them do
in the movies; in rivers wearing robes of white. I’d lean
back and feel the water swish into my ears. I clinched
my fist and grit my teeth, prayed as hard as I could,
repeating over in over in my head, “wash my sins away,
wash my sins away.” As I rose from the water I’d take
a deep breath and exhale slowly, waiting for the effects
of salvation until the water got cold.

My self baptisms continued as I grew older. It just became
routine after a while. If I did something wrong, and I felt
remorse, I’d repent in the shower, in the bath, and even
an occasional pool when no one was looking.
After a while I envsioned my soul as black, haven been
taken over by the blemishes of sin.
Years later, when I finally was baptized, when my soul
was finally released from sin, when the doors of eternity
opened and I was saved, I wondered how many times I
tried to do the same. How many breaths did I hold, how
many prayers were said with fists clinched in concentration.

When they pulled my out of the water and wrapped a towel
around my neck I opened my eyes, hoping for the change
I longed to experience as a child, but it was all the same.
There was no profound Joy, no sudden urge to jump and
shout “Glory Hallelujah.” Just the water running down
My cheeks and dripping from my chin. I exhaled slowly
And gazed across the chapel. I was saved, and there was
nothing left to fear.

$ave Your $oul Today

2006-06-20T08:08:00.000-07:00

$$$$$$$

$

Repent your $ins
Give up your $oul
Eternity awaits
As long as you got the cash

Haven’t you heard
Heaven is in debt
$alvation awaits
For those who pay admission

Three hail Mary’s
Four our Fathers
Repent your $ins
And empty your wallet

God is broke
Jesus is bankrupt
The gates of heaven
Are in need of repair

For the right price
Drink the blood of Christ
The Prince of Peace
Comes with a price tag

The body of the Lord
Is up for auction
For the winning bidder
To avoid damnation

Confess your $ins
Pray for forgiveness
$wipe your Visa
To $ave your $oul

Eternity awaits
Make a payment today
Call the number
Customer $ervice is $tanding by

Christ will bring peace
Don’t delay
Follow the path to salvation
Transfer funds today
Eternity awaits

“The God I Believe In Isn’t Short Of Cash,” U2: Bullet In Blue Sky