I Can Change The World

The World is dark then the light rushes in, only to become dark again. A blurry ceiling followed by a cold, dark floor can mean only one thing. I am drunk again. Eyes closed now when a feeling of being at sea on a stormy night comes over me. Sick seems like the wrong word for this feeling, I think it should be more descriptive, but what does an old man really know? In this condition is the only way I could tell you the story I heard when I was in a condition like this. A story told by a young man, a story on how I can Change the World...
Tear down the walls put inside your mind by the media, the educators, and society. Realize that your whole life you have been standing inside of a box, learn to Think and Act outside of it. Question everything in an attempt to Learn. Stand up and Fight, but do not conspire and then fail to Act. Go to War in an attempt to Enlighten. Your mind is a tank and your words, ammunition. Wake up the masses from their slumber. Step away from religion which was designed as a method of control. Abandon faith and just Trust. Realize that value is imaginary and only leads to greed and corruption. Share Ideas. Listen, Learn, Teach, but truly Understand. The technology we have created is destroying us. In attempts to be entertained we are being manipulated and controlled for large periods of time. Read, Write, Be Creative. Use your mind to Entertain yourself. Do not allow past decisions to decide the future. REVOLT. The cause is Humanity and the result will be a Prosperous Future for Our World. Tick Tock, Tick Tock, with each movement of the second hand on the clock a relative time is leading us all to an inevitable degradation. Act now and see results. Find ways to make the weak, the powerless, the rich, the impoverished, and the common man all understand. We are in this together and YOU Can Change The World.

The Absence Of Abstinence

Time and time again, I check my watch twice before taking a shot. Out of habit there is always a countdown going on in my head. Closing time seems to be fast approaching. At a time like this is when I overheard a story like that, like that of which I am going to try my best to recreate for YOU here . That is right, YOU, a person sitting down or standing up. Eyes moving from left to right, top to bottom, line to line. You of whom would touch a metal pole on a city street in the chill of winter and feel the cold on your flesh. It is from someone like YOU that I heard a story like this.....
Music is full of melody, rhythm, and harmony of course, but in order for the music to be considered good music, all aspects have to be perceived as such by a listener. In no way-shape or shape-form was The Musician in question an artist of good music, the opposite was the general consensus. Being the son of two talented musicians The Musician should have had a fighting chance, but being the youngest of a family with fourteen siblings, all chances dissipated. The talent was soaked up prior to his birth and The Musician only had one real talent. The Musician could tie his shoes faster than anybody in the county. This talent did not take him very far but his popular parents placed The Musician in good standing with local bands and he was accepted into a band. Playing the banjo, terribly, is how The Musician got his start. Years, years, and some days went by and the band's fan base never exceeded twenty-five, to include The Musicians entire family. One day, out of the color blue, The Musician stopped coming to band practice and to gigs. The other band members continued to play and eventually changed their name. The music now seemed so perfect, and their fans increased by the handful at first then by truck-full, house-full, club-full, and eventually by the stadium-full. Perfect melody, rhythm and harmony now reached the ears of listeners and the band became famous. The music not only inspired those who heard it, but it changed the world and everybody in it. Eventually, more sooner than later, the group retired from music on top and never came back down. Once asked what happen to their former band member, the band stated that they never forgot him, they even named themselves after him and his memory, they are now and as long as ever is will be, The Absence Of Abstinence....

The Life Of A Prodigy

Words can never begin to describe a truly confusing feeling, only living the feeling can describe it, and that only becomes a memory if one is lucky. Drunk with a bottle of rum in my grasp is how I sit to tell the tragic story of a child I once had the opportunity to meet. It seems like a lifetime ago, but it was only seconds, no minutes, no hours ago. Yes, hours ago is when I knew him and he knew me, but we did not know each other. He had a lot to say and I had a lot of time, that is all I really have. So with a sorrowful heart and a warm feeling in my gut I tell you about The Life Of A Prodigy....
Kicking and screaming with fists pumped and flailing is how most come into this world, the Prodigy was quite different. Quiet and with open hands was how the Prodigy became a citizen of the planet Earth. From that moment until his last, the Prodigy never wanted for anything, he did not even know what the word want meant. Always given everything before he knew what anything was, he quickly learned the fine art of manipulation. At an early age, an age when parents still describe their children's age in months, the Prodigy knew how to read, write and play the piano like no other. A trip around the sun later and he had graduated high school with all honors imaginable. Needless to say, but said anyway, the Prodigy was very bright indeed. Taking trips around the planet and jotting down what the people needed was how the Prodigy spent his toddler years. Inventing the items to fill their needs is how he spent the summer of his Fifth year. On his Sixth birthday he convinced the needy to purchase his inventions, it only took one day, and it turned out many pockets. The Prodigy had nobody to tell his accomplishment to so he wandered into a bar, a bar where an old drunk man was sitting with time on his hands. The Prodigy told of his life, and made a friend for the rest of it. Outside the bar want waited, and when the Prodigy left the bar, want got what it needed. Overhearing the commotion, the old drunk man ran outside to see the Prodigy lying on the cold, cracked concrete, bleeding to death. Not screaming or crying the Prodigy just layed motionless and emotionless. The old drunk man asked the Prodigy if he wanted to live, the Prodigy simply shrugged and died. After the ambulance came, the old drunk man walked back into the bar to tell the story of The Life Of A Prodigy....

A Decision, In A House Without Cats

In a chance meeting a lot can be learned if given the right circumstance. At the same time, nothing could be learned if there is no desire. A chance meeting in a bar called Lucky's is where I met a person who defied chance. This is where I met an all-knowing, all-seeing psychic. It was not always this way, as she explained to me. A mixture of time and practice is how she learned. A mixture of booze and madness is how she probably did it. Though all of the stories from the Psychic were interesting on their own, the story of her first and only deep reading caught my attention and plagues my mind to this day. In a dark alley, near a crowded street, in a busy city, on a rainy day, is where the Psychic learned the story of A Decision, In A House Without Cats...
A house on a hill is where the Crazy Cat Lady lived. The house had only two windows and they were on the second floor of the house, facing the front. There was not another soul in sight. The Crazy Cat Lady was not always the Crazy Cat Lady; she was once a crazy child and always lived in the house by herself. Since always and what she could remember, she had heard voices and the voices were questions, and the questions were decisions. When she was a lot younger she would ignore these questions and decisions and go about her day. Then something special happened: the crazy child became the Crazy Cat Lady. It happened on a warm day when a warm Cat roamed into her house. She named it Hope and fed him frequently. Over time she began to answer the questions and decisions out loud, without hesitation, as frequently as blinking. As time passed another Cat found its way to the Crazy Cat Lady's doorstep. The Crazy Cat Lady named her Dream. She was welcomed with open arms. Over years and years Hope and Dream had many kittens and they filled the house with warmth and happiness. The Cats were oblivious to the voices and the questions and the decisions the Crazy Cat Lady was making and they continued to stay in the house. Years went by, several to be exact, and the Cats began dying or vanishing. Only one Cat remained, on a morning when the clouds were low and covered up everything that could be seen through the windows. Later that day, the last Cat was gone. There was only one question answered that day, one decision made by the Crazy Cat Lady. The voices were heard all around her. She said, "Pills..." and slowly disappeared.

A Horse Meat Conflict

To budge in one's convictions is the same as having no convictions at all. A tough man will not sway in a belief but will nail his feet to the tracks rather than move for the train. I once met such a tough man, he talked a tough talk and he walked a tough walk. With my head on a bar table, drunk to exhaustion, I listened as the tough man told a tough tale about his tough dog. The next morning I read in the local newspaper a story entitled, A Horse Meat Conflict.....
Hunger is a strong feeling that drives every life form on the planet Earth. It is this hungry feeling that can force reactive actions to come into play. The tough man was a hungry man who would feed his hunger with greed. The tough man was a gambler, a cheater, and a winner. He had a big, tough, hungry dog, which he would feed with horse meat. On one gambling adventure the tough man won the shirt off an opponent as well as a Tiny Dog. As soon as the Tiny Dog entered the tough mans humble abode the Tiny Dog made his presence known and established himself as a good, faithful guard dog. The tough dog had a problem taking a back seat to its new companion as the role of dog-of-the-house. The Tiny Dog would bark at people approaching the door or when somebody would walk by a window, the things a good dog does. The tough man looked at his new dog as a burden and an annoying one at that. While the tough dog was eating horse meat the Tiny Dog would eat table scraps, if he was lucky. Even with the mistreatment by his owner and resentment and anger by his fellow canine, the Tiny Dog continued to be an alert guard dog. One night, late, very late, the Tiny Dog was alerted by a suspicious noise and began barking loud and concerned. Annoyed, the tough dog walked up to the Tiny Dog and tried to swallow him whole. In the morning the tough man was found dead and shirtless. The tough dog was found with the Tiny Dog in his mouth, both dead, lying next to a full bowl of horse meat.

The Lion and the Lamborghini

Human history is quite an interesting story, looking back that is. The one's of old, my ancestors, started out as hungry scavengers and cautious gatherers, then became skilled hunters and creative inventors, now all I see around me are frugal shoppers and innocent bystanders. Drunk on a train to a small zoo, in a big city, in a small state, in a big country, I met an old man from the future. The future he talked about was not minutes or days ahead of the present, it was decades away and, as he said many a time, we would not live to see it. One ranted story caught my attention more than the rest, it is a story of dexterity and peace, it is the story of The Lion and the Lamborghini......
Want and need are words tossed around here and there without too much of a thought to their actual meaning. A Lion needs to hunt and kill to eat and survive and a human needs a Lamborghini to attract a suitable mate to procreate. That is how it was in the past, things are different tens of thousands of days in the future. When all of man, minus one, left the planet Earth because the needs here were too small and the food for the need was in the cosmos, life was simple. At this time in evolution, many animals had evolved thought and reason. The animals who came out ahead in this evolution were, unsurprisingly, the hunters. Of the many hunters on planet Earth, the Lions developed the biggest wit and intellect. Using their evolved smarts, the Lions became more picky with which foods they were eating and required a drink with their meal. Then eventually the Lions began raising their own food on farms and stores were opened up with the shelves full of delicious meat. On the day Lions began wearing clothing there were ten tornados, a hurricane or two, and an earthquake on every continent. It was a day to be celebrated. Years wasted away and the one man left on planet Earth was getting older. There was peace between Lions and Lambs, because another meat was preferred by the Lions. All was well on planet Earth again. The one man left on planet Earth wanted to go back to a more simple time. Left on planet Earth after the abandonment was a very unusual machine. It was a machine that looked like a train car. There was one button in this machine, it was yellow and had the word "PAST" etched into it. Once at the machine, before pressing the yellow button, the man glanced outside to see a Lion, driving a Lamborghini.

A Pillow in The Coffin

Wickedness and righteousness are very dissimilar at first glance, but a keen eye can see, with clarity, past the distortion. I once knew a very educated and religious man. He was a thinker as well as a drinker, and our paths would cross frequently at multiple bars and libraries across this fine planet. His claims of righteousness still ring in my ears, for he was a Righteous man. Some of his stories I shall never forget, this one is my favorite....
A mile is a long way, thousands of miles is a journey. The Righteous man had completed many journeys in his long, righteous life. Early in his long, righteous life, the Righteous man had discovered religion. His grandfather had given him the best gift any boy could ever hope to receive, The Holy Bible. The Righteous man, then a boy, read every page, every scripture, front and back. He memorized every story and every detail of his Holy book. The Righteous man, as a boy, would walk around his town and preach the words of this Holy book, to anyone who would hear him. This preaching became the Righteous mans calling. Through his teenage years and then into adulthood, the Righteous man would travel from town to town, city to city, state to state, and eventually, country to country, preaching from his Holy book. One day while preaching in a far off land, the Righteous man was approached by a young native child. The child had listened to the fascinating stories told by the Righteous man and was very intrigued. Never owning a book before nor having read a single page in his lifetime, the Native Boy held out his hands to the Righteous man in hopes the Righteous man would place the Holy book between them. The Righteous man refused politely and kept preaching his Holy words. Confused, the Native Boy waited for the Righteous man to finish his sermon then held out his hands again, in hopes of holding the Holy book. This time the Righteous man ignored the Native Boy and walked away. Disappointed, the Native Boy took the mile long walk back to his village. Seeing the Native Boy walking away, a fellow traveler pursued the retreating Righteous man to question him as to why he did not allow the Native Boy to hold the Holy book. With a quick and simple response the Righteous man simply said in simple words, "Because, giving the child the book is like putting A Pillow in The Coffin."

The Ups and Downs of Trampolining

With a heavy heart and a milkshake, I write this story of tragedy and destiny. Being a patron of many bars in many places, I happen upon interesting stories as frequently as Sunday. My stumbles have taken me to many a place, but for this story, that will some day become legend, I was seated in an Irish Pub in the suburbs of Rhode Island. So with open ears and a belly full of rum I listened to a grieving mothers tale of The Ups and Downs of Trampolining....

Toys, trains and model airplanes are the wishes of most children during the Christmas holiday, but this was not the case for a very special child who always wanted something different and something new. This Difficult child would not settle for the ordinary, he would only settle for the extraordinary, which in this case was a very large trampoline. The parents of the Difficult child would explain to him the dangers of such an item, given the small stature of the boy, but all the Difficult child would do is complain and tell his parents that they did not love him. Frustration was a common emotion expressed by the parents, so on Christmas day, to quiet the boys babbling, there was a very large, very dangerous trampoline assembled in the back yard. Without even opening any of the other presents, which were neatly wrapped under the tree, the Difficult child made his way to the back yard to enjoy the present he fought so hard to receive. For several minutes the Difficult child jumped up and down on the trampoline, enjoying the feeling of falling and the feeling of flying. The Difficult child even had his hands in his pockets to make himself more aerodynamic. What went unnoticed in this event was the neighbors Obese Child observing the Difficult child. Wobbling out to join in the fun, the Obese Child climbed the small ladder and began jumping. When the two children landed on the trampoline surface at the same time, tragedy struck. The Difficult child flew in three directions, up and out and eventually down. With his hands still in his pockets the boy fell head first into the rocky terrain of back yard and died instantly. Oblivious to what just had happened the Obese Child decided that the trampoline was boring. He went back inside to play with his toys, trains and model airplanes.

The Old Elephant and The Hopscotch Tournament

Several years back, on my journey across the world as we know it, I stumbled across an old Sheik with many stories. He would tell of rags to riches and of moral dilemmas, of the personal sort. There is one story in particular that still sticks out in my memory from this peculiar man. This would be the story he told of The Old Elephant and The Hopscotch Tournament. I will try to retell this story in all of it's glory and circumstance....
So it goes, as it always has, that elephants are humongous, clumsy animals with a good memory and a tamable attitude. Well, the older the elephant the smarter he is, this was the case of the Old Elephant in this story. This Old Elephant was so intelligent that he had taught himself how to speak. After he mastered the local vocabulary he began to learn how to walk on two legs. When this magnificent feat had been accomplished he then taught himself how to run. Once all of his mobile skills had been acquired the Old Elephant took a liking to the children's activity we know as hopscotch. Through practice and dedication the Old Elephant became quite good at hopscotch, so good in fact that he challenged the very skilled local children to a tournament of the hopscotch variety. People came from near, far, here and there to witness such a spectacle. Thousands were in attendance as the tournament began. The Old Elephant tried so hard, he tried his best, but the children beat him quickly and decisively. As the crowds were subsiding and everyone was going back to their lives, the Old Elephant sat questioning why he had lost so easily when he had trained so hard. Nobody in the departing crowd had an answer to his question. When the locals were all that remained at the tournament site, a small child walked up to the Old Elephant with wisdom way beyond her years and said, "You're an Elephant." So it goes, as it always has.

Creation of Mirror Man...

I did not want to do this, but I am forced to so you can fully understand the creation and eventual destruction of Mirror Man. So against all good judgement I begin my story with a cliché opening.....
Once upon a time there lived an extremely lonely man. His house was filled with stuffed animals and dolls, which this man called his friends. Each toy had a name and a distinct personality. Through the years the man's friends began to dislike one another and rivalries arose. Even more time passed and eventually all of the friends hated each other, as well as the lonely man. The man sank into an even deeper depression than he was in before. He gathered up all of his old friends and burned them in the fireplace. As the fire burned and dozens of once friends became none, the lonely man sat with glazed eyes sipping his cranberry juice. When the straw began to struggle for more juice to reach his taste buds, he snapped out of the stupor. Realizing he was lonely once again the man came up with a plan. The plan was simple yet complicated. The simple part was the idea and the hard part was gathering up the materials for the idea to work. As far as ideas go, getting a girlfriend was one of the best thoughts to ever come out of the lonely man. The problem with the lonely man's idea was obtaining women's clothing so he could become his own girlfriend. What could the man do? Another tough situation with a simple solution. The lonely man created a dress for himself out of twigs, berries, and leaves. There could never have been a more perfectly fitting dress in the history of dresses. The lonely man did a good job. Years and years passed again with the man and his new girlfriend. Many years of happiness and companionship. But over time the constant agreement and understanding between the couple became a huge problem in the relationship and the man realized what had to happen. Into the fireplace went the perfect dress made of twigs, berries, and leaves. Watching another friend and companion turn to ashes really did a number to the man's state of mind. He was once again lonely. Now in a state of rage and panic, the lonely man began pacing back and forth, talking to himself. The once sane man could feel himself slipping into insanity. While pacing the man caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The object was perfect. The object was indiscriminate. The object was there all along. This is when lonely man met Mirror Man. No words were exchanged between lonely man and Mirror Man, only blinks and stares. Years did not pass, nor months, nor weeks, just hours and days. All the man could do was stare at Mirror Man. He could not eat or drink, the only thing on his mind was his new friend. As minutes became hours and hours became days the man took a long, hard look at Mirror Man and then before his very eyes the Mirror Man was destroyed and all that was left was a mirror in a cold, dark room.