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with love, one can live even without happiness - dostoyevsky
December Born, Cold Month, Yet Always Warm. Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is ...
Poems
David Jul 2015
Almost famous
David
Jul 2015
John:
Is this your first Job since finished education?
These words are spoken in a monotone, tired, almost-bitter manner by a balding man whose age is somewhere vaguely over 45. The man is wearing glasses and is at least 50 pounds over his BMI. On the mans plain, forgettable white shirt, next to his plain black tie, hangs a name-tag, written with the words: "JOHN - CLEANING STAFF MANAGER". Behind JOHN is a wooden door which has a plaque attached to it, which reads: "CLEANING STAFF ROOM."
Ross:
Actually...
The man answering John's question is the complete polar opposite to John. He looks almost like a retired rockstar, or a retired wannabe rockstar, or a wannabe retired rockstar; he has long hair, a perfectly trimmed beard, and folded sunglasses in his jacket pocket. His age is somewhere over 30, and he seems to be unaware of that fact -or perhaps would rather be unaware.- On the table that he sits at, facing John and the wooden door, lies a piece of paper which reads: "Ross Lewis - Application form" only about a third of the paper has been typed on.
Ross:
Actually,I never finished High school.
John looks up from the question sheet he's holding and glances at Ross blankly, judgingly.
These two men have nothing whatsoever in common, except that circumstance has led them both into the same room. They look like they belong on two different branches of the evolutionary tree.
John: So, what have you been doing for the last...
John pauses to look at a piece of paper behind his question sheet, then looks back up Ross.
John: ...10 years?
What have I been doing? Ross thinks to himself. what the ******* have you been doing for the past 10 years, John?" Is what he wanted to ask.
John had no idea what kind of things Ross had been up to. While John was getting up and going to his boring job every morning, and coming home to his boring wife who probably wouldnt even put out, and then trying to be a father to his kids who hate him; Ross was living the life. A life of adventure, excitement: a life that John would be scared of. John didn't know about the gigs, the afterparties, the tour in ireland, or the one groupie Ross had that turned out to be a guy but Ross was still thrilled about it.
No, John didn't know.
Ross begins to answer, refraining from the outburst that he feels like having.
Ross:
Well, have you ever heard of The Rolling Cans?
Johns reply is a blank stare.
Ross:
Well,we won a local battle of the bands competition in 2000, then went onto record our first album. For a few years we opened for some pretty big bands.
Ross stops himself for a moment, recalling one of the 'big' bands.
Ross:
Did you ever hear about The lampshade death squad?
John shrugs, clearly not knowing who Ross is referring to; which isn't too much of a surprise, Ross thinks, John probably lives under a rock, and will die under it.
Ross:
Anyway, we opened for them. Then we just toured around, really; promoting the album, and all that. Just band stuff, and, well...
Ross stops again for a moment, this time it's because he's realised how uninterested and almost annoyed John seems at hearing this.John doesn't even try to fake interest.
Ross:
Well, John, we decided to break up after that, but if we had just kept going..."
Ross struggles to finish the sentence. He is forgetting where he is now after memories of his time in the band, and all his hopes and dreams that were crushed, flood back to him. He really feels like he was supposed to make it.
Ross:
Everyone thought we were really good, you know? And if we had just..
There is a short silence as Ross stares through John, through the door, into nothing; as if talking to himself. John faux-empathetically nods and thus brings Ross back to the room.
John:
We usually get back to applicants within 2 weeks.
Ross nods and smiles, with a sense of embarrassment and guilt, like he's just been told his time is up by a therapist.
end
Ross's slumped head rests in his hands as he sits in the darkness of his lounge. The TV has lost signal and is showing a static picture. There is a bottle of some prescription drugs and a bottle of whiskey lying on the coffee table in front of him. He raises his head and looks at the tv blankly before closing his eyes. He forces himself to get up and walk out the room, but on his way he is stops in the hallway, paralysed. hes staring at a door which leads to another room. A room he is almost surprised to know exists. He inches closer to the door, almost cautiously, before opening it, entering, then turning on the light to reveal a room full musical equipment and band posters. he looks around the room, sorrowfully. This room reminds him of hs failure. He turns to a les paul guitar which hangs on the wall, moving closer to it, he looks at it, admiring its slick contours. His eyes look down the neck until he reaches the pickups, he stops there, seeing his own distraught eyes in the reflection of the pickup. Whilst Ross continues to stair into his own eyes, a knock on the door is heard. The door is shown with a plaque of a 'star' pinned to it. Ross is shown again, just turning his head away from the door to see his himself in the reflection of a dressing room mirror. Ross is all made up and no longer in his pajamas. The door swings ajar and Steve the drummer skips in with his drum sticks in hand.
Steve:
Rozza. Do you want to keep L.A. waiting, man? Wouldn't be the best start to our American tour.
Steve pauses and looks at Ross, with Ross looking at him through the reflection of the mirror.
Steve:
You alright man?
Ross now turns to face Steve. Looking relieved, like he has just woken from a bad dream in the comfort of his bed. He nods at Steve.
Ross:
Yeah, I'm alright.It's just that, I was just thinking, you know, like: What the hell would my life be i wasnt doing this?
Steve looks a little quizzical but smiles nonetheless.
Steve:
Well, believe it man. We did it.
Steve looks up and gestures to the sound of the audience cheering from the ceiling.
Steve:
And we're on.
Ross grins stupidly, jolts towards his Les Paul guitar, grabs it, then follows Steve out the door, they jump up the stairs as the dressing room doors shuts. A moment later, the sounds of the cheering grow much louder, indicating the band is now on stage.
END
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
movie could end here but alternatively...
The amp is shown being switched on, and ross thrown the guitar strap over himself and standing there with the guitar. he takes a deep breath and attempts to play a chord, but the guitar is horribly out of tune. He then switcches the amp off and puts the guitar dowwn and the movie goes off at the click of the lightswitch.
Is this your first Job since finished education?
These words are spoken in a monotone, tired, almost-bitter manner by a balding man whose age is somewhere vaguely over 45. The man is wearing glasses and is at least 50 pounds over his BMI. On the mans plain, forgettable white shirt, next to his plain black tie, hangs a name-tag, written with the words: "JOHN - CLEANING STAFF MANAGER". Behind JOHN is a wooden door which has a plaque attached to it, which reads: "CLEANING STAFF ROOM."
Ross:
Actually...
The man answering John's question is the complete polar opposite to John. He looks almost like a retired rockstar, or a retired wannabe rockstar, or a wannabe retired rockstar; he has long hair, a perfectly trimmed beard, and folded sunglasses in his jacket pocket. His age is somewhere over 30, and he seems to be unaware of that fact -or perhaps would rather be unaware.- On the table that he sits at, facing John and the wooden door, lies a piece of paper which reads: "Ross Lewis - Application form" only about a third of the paper has been typed on.
Ross:
Actually,I never finished High school.
John looks up from the question sheet he's holding and glances at Ross blankly, judgingly.
These two men have nothing whatsoever in common, except that circumstance has led them both into the same room. They look like they belong on two different branches of the evolutionary tree.
John: So, what have you been doing for the last...
John pauses to look at a piece of paper behind his question sheet, then looks back up Ross.
John: ...10 years?
What have I been doing? Ross thinks to himself. what the ******* have you been doing for the past 10 years, John?" Is what he wanted to ask.
John had no idea what kind of things Ross had been up to. While John was getting up and going to his boring job every morning, and coming home to his boring wife who probably wouldnt even put out, and then trying to be a father to his kids who hate him; Ross was living the life. A life of adventure, excitement: a life that John would be scared of. John didn't know about the gigs, the afterparties, the tour in ireland, or the one groupie Ross had that turned out to be a guy but Ross was still thrilled about it.
No, John didn't know.
Ross begins to answer, refraining from the outburst that he feels like having.
Ross:
Well, have you ever heard of The Rolling Cans?
Johns reply is a blank stare.
Ross:
Well,we won a local battle of the bands competition in 2000, then went onto record our first album. For a few years we opened for some pretty big bands.
Ross stops himself for a moment, recalling one of the 'big' bands.
Ross:
Did you ever hear about The lampshade death squad?
John shrugs, clearly not knowing who Ross is referring to; which isn't too much of a surprise, Ross thinks, John probably lives under a rock, and will die under it.
Ross:
Anyway, we opened for them. Then we just toured around, really; promoting the album, and all that. Just band stuff, and, well...
Ross stops again for a moment, this time it's because he's realised how uninterested and almost annoyed John seems at hearing this.John doesn't even try to fake interest.
Ross:
Well, John, we decided to break up after that, but if we had just kept going..."
Ross struggles to finish the sentence. He is forgetting where he is now after memories of his time in the band, and all his hopes and dreams that were crushed, flood back to him. He really feels like he was supposed to make it.
Ross:
Everyone thought we were really good, you know? And if we had just..
There is a short silence as Ross stares through John, through the door, into nothing; as if talking to himself. John faux-empathetically nods and thus brings Ross back to the room.
John:
We usually get back to applicants within 2 weeks.
Ross nods and smiles, with a sense of embarrassment and guilt, like he's just been told his time is up by a therapist.
end
Ross's slumped head rests in his hands as he sits in the darkness of his lounge. The TV has lost signal and is showing a static picture. There is a bottle of some prescription drugs and a bottle of whiskey lying on the coffee table in front of him. He raises his head and looks at the tv blankly before closing his eyes. He forces himself to get up and walk out the room, but on his way he is stops in the hallway, paralysed. hes staring at a door which leads to another room. A room he is almost surprised to know exists. He inches closer to the door, almost cautiously, before opening it, entering, then turning on the light to reveal a room full musical equipment and band posters. he looks around the room, sorrowfully. This room reminds him of hs failure. He turns to a les paul guitar which hangs on the wall, moving closer to it, he looks at it, admiring its slick contours. His eyes look down the neck until he reaches the pickups, he stops there, seeing his own distraught eyes in the reflection of the pickup. Whilst Ross continues to stair into his own eyes, a knock on the door is heard. The door is shown with a plaque of a 'star' pinned to it. Ross is shown again, just turning his head away from the door to see his himself in the reflection of a dressing room mirror. Ross is all made up and no longer in his pajamas. The door swings ajar and Steve the drummer skips in with his drum sticks in hand.
Steve:
Rozza. Do you want to keep L.A. waiting, man? Wouldn't be the best start to our American tour.
Steve pauses and looks at Ross, with Ross looking at him through the reflection of the mirror.
Steve:
You alright man?
Ross now turns to face Steve. Looking relieved, like he has just woken from a bad dream in the comfort of his bed. He nods at Steve.
Ross:
Yeah, I'm alright.It's just that, I was just thinking, you know, like: What the hell would my life be i wasnt doing this?
Steve looks a little quizzical but smiles nonetheless.
Steve:
Well, believe it man. We did it.
Steve looks up and gestures to the sound of the audience cheering from the ceiling.
Steve:
And we're on.
Ross grins stupidly, jolts towards his Les Paul guitar, grabs it, then follows Steve out the door, they jump up the stairs as the dressing room doors shuts. A moment later, the sounds of the cheering grow much louder, indicating the band is now on stage.
END
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
movie could end here but alternatively...
The amp is shown being switched on, and ross thrown the guitar strap over himself and standing there with the guitar. he takes a deep breath and attempts to play a chord, but the guitar is horribly out of tune. He then switcches the amp off and puts the guitar dowwn and the movie goes off at the click of the lightswitch.
all throughout the story ross avoids his actul room, only sleeping in the small front room. At the end he is shown entering the roo, which is full of band posters, musical instruments, pictures of the band, etc, and john stairs at a guitar hanging on the wall, then tries to play a chord but its badly out of tune, he puts it back on the wall before walking out.
Keith W Fletcher
Jan 2016
When you live in the suburbs like I do and like I always have,
the same house even, there is an intimacy that develops- real or imagined -with your neighbors. It's like those dreams we sometimes have about people and places that really do exist, but it just ain't quite what it's supposed to be , but we accept it anyway, because it's a dream and in that ethereal realm of dreams -that's what you do ...you accept the normally unacceptable.
For instance, who could ever have imagined that the Rosses ,who live at 1423 ,would turn out to be secret swingers ? Mr. Ross is 62 years old, probably five foot nine with a horseshoe ring of white on white cotton- fluff hair, perched on his round pink scalp, over his round pink face , accentuated by round -wire rim- glasses perched on his nose and a little white mustache that hangs under his nose - like an afterthought.
Mrs Ross is a slightly rounded little woman that always wears flowery dresses, and those god awful tortoiseshell glasses secured to a string around the neck like secretaries and librarians often wear. Her hair would also be white , if not for her habit of having it dyed blue , as is a habit of many suburban housewives of her age .
So it would be impossible to ever imagine this pair of- short , jolly - suburbanites as secret swingers , but it's true. . I know! Because I've seen them at it . About 2 years ago- while Billy Joe Randall , Macy and me were( oh yeah my name is Rance Reed short for Clarence -but don't call me that ) anyway; where was I -oh yeah -we were down at the little pocket park on Grove Street- sitting behind a hydrangea bush-smoking a fatty- and telling each other lies that no one believes anyway, when we saw the Rosses walking toward the park, holding hands as they were often doing.
Mr Ross looked into the park- suspiciously - as if he were afraid a hit- man were hiding somewhere . There for a moment I thought he could possibly smell our smoke.,but seemingly satisfied with his inspection, the two of them strolled -hand in hand - across the grass to the playground area where the spring horses , the merry-go-round and swings were. Mrs Ross perched herself on the rubber - sling like - seat of a swing as Mr Ross pushed to get her started and then he climbed aboard the one to her left . Using that see-saw motion one uses to get himself going and then the two of them sat there -swinging and laughing together -for almost an hour. Sometimes we could hear Mr. Ross go varoooom varoooom and Mrs. Ross would go wheeeeee. It was the funniest thing that I've ever seen and the three of us sat there making jokes and laughing at them. Three 23 year old wasted wastrels thinking that laughing at this spectacle was the right thing to do . Then a little while later , as a melancholy wave washed over us like a sea tide , we all stopped laughing. All three of us -I believe - realized that jealousy is a hard pill to swallow while you're laughing . Looking back at that now I'm a little ashamed of myself. So yeah, the Rosses were secret swingers , but you would never know it by looking at them--- (Oh! You thought I meant the other kind of swingers. didn't you ? ) -anyway ; where was I ?- Oh yeah .- I believe they were sort of embarrassed about the whole thing so I've never said a word to anyone about what I saw -until now.
Then there is old man George (call me GL ) Angleton and his wife Sarah. Theirs was the big grey, split -level rock and cedar house that dominates the very end of the cul-de-sac we live on called Grayson circle . An enormous porch dominates the front and that is the first thing anyone - turning onto Grayson Circle- sees after making the turn. The Angeltons house was always the most decorated house on the block , no matter the holiday, especially at Christmas- when a raucous mix a snowmen, reindeer and especially Santa's, gathered under the thousands of twinkling lights each year. There were so many Santas on the lawn, on the roof ,along the porch , one climbing the chimney that- I always thought - it looked like the gathering together of Santa's for a Santa gang fight.
Halloween was another special time with the Angeltons when they gave out more -kinds and just plain more -candy to all the kids than anyone else for blocks around or even miles around. One year Mr. Angleton gave a comic books along with the candy to every kid that came to the door.
So who could have ever imagined that just 6 months ago , 2 days before Christmas , Mr Angleton , who was always of sweet disposition and always quick to give you a warm smile or a compassionate pat on the shoulder would shoot and **** his wife Sarah and then turn the gun on himself ? NOBODY!!!
Certainly not me.
No, you cannot just see the outside of a house, with the flocks of flowers , the nice neat lawn and charming old rocking chairs on the porch and really know anything about the heights of happiness or the depths of despair that live or die behind the front doors .
When I was growing up , you sure couldn't have done any of that at my house. Looking back now I realize that G.L .didn't put out any decorations last Christmas .
I should have noticed that. Yeah , I really should have noticed that!
the same house even, there is an intimacy that develops- real or imagined -with your neighbors. It's like those dreams we sometimes have about people and places that really do exist, but it just ain't quite what it's supposed to be , but we accept it anyway, because it's a dream and in that ethereal realm of dreams -that's what you do ...you accept the normally unacceptable.
For instance, who could ever have imagined that the Rosses ,who live at 1423 ,would turn out to be secret swingers ? Mr. Ross is 62 years old, probably five foot nine with a horseshoe ring of white on white cotton- fluff hair, perched on his round pink scalp, over his round pink face , accentuated by round -wire rim- glasses perched on his nose and a little white mustache that hangs under his nose - like an afterthought.
Mrs Ross is a slightly rounded little woman that always wears flowery dresses, and those god awful tortoiseshell glasses secured to a string around the neck like secretaries and librarians often wear. Her hair would also be white , if not for her habit of having it dyed blue , as is a habit of many suburban housewives of her age .
So it would be impossible to ever imagine this pair of- short , jolly - suburbanites as secret swingers , but it's true. . I know! Because I've seen them at it . About 2 years ago- while Billy Joe Randall , Macy and me were( oh yeah my name is Rance Reed short for Clarence -but don't call me that ) anyway; where was I -oh yeah -we were down at the little pocket park on Grove Street- sitting behind a hydrangea bush-smoking a fatty- and telling each other lies that no one believes anyway, when we saw the Rosses walking toward the park, holding hands as they were often doing.
Mr Ross looked into the park- suspiciously - as if he were afraid a hit- man were hiding somewhere . There for a moment I thought he could possibly smell our smoke.,but seemingly satisfied with his inspection, the two of them strolled -hand in hand - across the grass to the playground area where the spring horses , the merry-go-round and swings were. Mrs Ross perched herself on the rubber - sling like - seat of a swing as Mr Ross pushed to get her started and then he climbed aboard the one to her left . Using that see-saw motion one uses to get himself going and then the two of them sat there -swinging and laughing together -for almost an hour. Sometimes we could hear Mr. Ross go varoooom varoooom and Mrs. Ross would go wheeeeee. It was the funniest thing that I've ever seen and the three of us sat there making jokes and laughing at them. Three 23 year old wasted wastrels thinking that laughing at this spectacle was the right thing to do . Then a little while later , as a melancholy wave washed over us like a sea tide , we all stopped laughing. All three of us -I believe - realized that jealousy is a hard pill to swallow while you're laughing . Looking back at that now I'm a little ashamed of myself. So yeah, the Rosses were secret swingers , but you would never know it by looking at them--- (Oh! You thought I meant the other kind of swingers. didn't you ? ) -anyway ; where was I ?- Oh yeah .- I believe they were sort of embarrassed about the whole thing so I've never said a word to anyone about what I saw -until now.
Then there is old man George (call me GL ) Angleton and his wife Sarah. Theirs was the big grey, split -level rock and cedar house that dominates the very end of the cul-de-sac we live on called Grayson circle . An enormous porch dominates the front and that is the first thing anyone - turning onto Grayson Circle- sees after making the turn. The Angeltons house was always the most decorated house on the block , no matter the holiday, especially at Christmas- when a raucous mix a snowmen, reindeer and especially Santa's, gathered under the thousands of twinkling lights each year. There were so many Santas on the lawn, on the roof ,along the porch , one climbing the chimney that- I always thought - it looked like the gathering together of Santa's for a Santa gang fight.
Halloween was another special time with the Angeltons when they gave out more -kinds and just plain more -candy to all the kids than anyone else for blocks around or even miles around. One year Mr. Angleton gave a comic books along with the candy to every kid that came to the door.
So who could have ever imagined that just 6 months ago , 2 days before Christmas , Mr Angleton , who was always of sweet disposition and always quick to give you a warm smile or a compassionate pat on the shoulder would shoot and **** his wife Sarah and then turn the gun on himself ? NOBODY!!!
Certainly not me.
No, you cannot just see the outside of a house, with the flocks of flowers , the nice neat lawn and charming old rocking chairs on the porch and really know anything about the heights of happiness or the depths of despair that live or die behind the front doors .
When I was growing up , you sure couldn't have done any of that at my house. Looking back now I realize that G.L .didn't put out any decorations last Christmas .
I should have noticed that. Yeah , I really should have noticed that!
Meghan Marie Feb 2011
Ode to Bob Ross
Meghan Marie
Feb 2011
Sometimes I feel so gloomy,
Got a brand new bag of shroomies
And now my blues are through
There’s one last thing to do….
Trip out (trip out) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (trip out) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (trip out) I'm tripping out man!
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Sometimes I feel so bored,
I want to live like Harrison Ford
I procured some L.S.D.
I watch you paint those happy trees…
Trip out (Bob Ross) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (Bob Ross) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (Bob Ross) Trippin' out to Bob Ross
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Bob Ross….(We love you)
Got a brand new bag of shroomies
And now my blues are through
There’s one last thing to do….
Trip out (trip out) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (trip out) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (trip out) I'm tripping out man!
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Sometimes I feel so bored,
I want to live like Harrison Ford
I procured some L.S.D.
I watch you paint those happy trees…
Trip out (Bob Ross) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (Bob Ross) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (Bob Ross) Trippin' out to Bob Ross
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Bob Ross….(We love you)
Written with Kayla McCormick for our musical project; Peach Pommes.