Size of Sorrow

My sister and I have noticed some changes in our father.
Whenever we talk to him about ‘old times’ (instead of just sitting there staring vacantly out the window) his eyes fill with tears. He’s not totally crying but something is definitely going on.
We wonder what’s really going through his mind?
It was this thought and some help from the band “Tears for Fears” that are responsible for the inspiration behind this post.
I didn’t plan on posting tonight but sometimes you just have to let some of your writing go.

the Size of Sorrow

Carbon-copy days
Stain my mimeographed life
Wondering if today is some strange and future tomorrow

Time meanders away
some perpetual 36-hour day
But what is the size of sorrow?

a Fool on the hill
a sad silhouette of your absence
what remains breaks the heart of the borrow

Tomorrow is near
like an invisible tear
I’m wondering what is the size of your sorrow?

~m

 

a Quickie

Any questions?
This is so far out of control.
You would think the government would have stepped in by now.
You think Cape Cod was a bit slow last year?
Just wait . . .

~m

 

Temporarily signed off . . . kinda

I’m going to be out of here for a little bit.
Lots of stuff going on folks.
A few opportunities that I can’t pass up will inevitably keep me far away from the comfort of Smoke and Mirrors.
I do promise to return.
Just not sure when . . .
(I left you with a nice pic though, didn’t I?)

~m

 

Walking Distance

When I was 9 years old I had a favorite paperback book called “Stories from the Twilight Zone”, a book of short stories based on the skin and bones for sketches produced on the TV program of the same name.
I had a favorite called “Walking Distance”, the story of a tired middle aged business man that leaves the big city one weekend and simply drives in an effort to get away from his job and the Rat Race in general.
His car breaks down and he gets towed to a local garage for repairs when he sees a road sign for the town he grew up in years ago.
He asks how far it is to the town and is told, “It’s walking distance.”
He enters the Twilight Zone and walks into his hometown of 40 years ago where his mother and father are still alive.

It’s funny that I was falling for these kinds of tender stories when I was ten.
Yeah, I was a weird kid, huh?
Much of my writing loosely falls into the same sentimental category. Go figure.
I started thinking about the last good day I had with my mother and father, sadly the memory has vanished deep into the recesses of my own scattered mind.
The ‘moment’ did happen though when I came to a realization that I could never get those moments back; accepting the idea was painfully difficult but I knew it had to be done.
It occurred to me that I began saying goodbye to the individual pieces of both of them, various facets of their personalities, phrases they often used and the stories they loved to tell.

I remember fruitlessly trying to pull my mother back into my world with my “remember when” queries that all too quickly lost their magical powers.
If I’ve learned anything at all from their tragic situation it’s that life is about seizing moments, grabbing them by whatever means possible and never ever letting them go.
I only wish I’d realized that fifteen years ago, wish I’d accepted their fates sooner, if that makes sense.
But I’m only human and I desperately wanted to believe otherwise.
If I could have several more hours with both of them it would be spent on the back deck of the ‘Goodbye House’.
It would be a warm but comfortable summer night with nothing but a cricket soundtrack and a deep, orange creamsicle sunset off to the West.
My father would be standing by the grill wearing his signature wrinkled Bermuda shorts (or were they seersucker? God forbid), sans shirt with his pot belly exposed to the world with a can of Busch beer in his hand as he flipped burgers and hot dogs.
My mother would be flitting around the kitchen like some culinary Tasmanian devil putting the finishing touches on one of her ‘signature’ desserts.
We wouldn’t be talking about anything in particular; it would just be like it once was.
But it would be different to me because I would mentally file away and lock every smile, every laugh, and every taste and smell living inside that one bittersweet summer evening.
And I would remember all of it again, if I had one more chance.
Maybe the truth of the matter is that those memories are never very far away; in fact they’re easily accessible because wherever I am, ‘home’ is always close by.
Actually, it’s walking distance . . .

~m

 

Clinker

Most of the time I’m able to let the daily bullshit and banter sift through the cranial grates inside my cue ball noggin but on occasion I get a difficult clinker that won’t pass through.
I have to take it out and look at it and figure out why I can’t mentally digest it.
Case in point: the other night I was surfing the net for the latest in the way of books on Alzheimer’s disease; a simple and innocent task, right?
Imagine my surprise (and horror) to find a book titled “Alzheimer’s for Dummies”.
Needless to say, my searching was over for the night.
I’d found a seriously incongruous clinker that fueled my rage against the literary machine.
I was livid.
This was a subject much too close to home for me and to see it reduced to a ‘manual for dummies’ format personally devastated me.

“Dummies” manuals cover a range of topics: Chess, Poker, MSWord, Windows Vista and Grammar, to name but a few.
But Alzheimer’s disease?
Personally, it was unthinkable.

Why not “Breast Cancer for Dummies”?
How would that go over?
Believe me, I know.
I’ve lost too many friends to the disease and I would be outraged at the total lack of compassion and sensitivity used in publishing such a book.

Never mind.
What the hell is going on here?
I must be losing my mind.

I’ve checked out the contents of the AFD book and I’ve no doubt the author’s intentions were good.
But . . .
So this is what’s it’s come to?
Christ in a sidecar, I’m almost speechless here.
File this one under “roll up that manual and insert forcefully into your keester, sideways“.
But maybe there’s a “Dummies” guide for that as well.
Hey, if ICHC can get a book deal, why the hell not these buttmonkeys?
IMHO, those suffering from this disease deserve an apology from these inconsiderate ‘Dummie’ assholes.
Do I know what I’m talking about here?
Yes, I think I do.
All too well . . .

~m

 

Zero for Zooz

Late night, Duke Street
the wet cobblestones shine and sparkle, bubble and squeak; and the dense fog rolls in
the clock tower chimes twelve
And it’s Zero for Zooz
Westminster.

Late night, Duke Street
the gauzy moon bleeds and drips, gaslights burn
and gossamer sheets of a hazy white sift through
the inimical clouds of night
the clock tower chimes three
And it’s Zero for Zooz
Westminster . . .

Sunrise, Duke Street
a languid sun cracks itself open and splashes some invisible and distant horizon with
salmon pinks, royal purples and bright orange crush
the clouds of night rest just beneath the hush of dawn
and the clock tower chimes in crystal silence
And it’s Zero for Zooz
and Westminster waits . . .

~m

 

I Remember

I remember, Mom.
(3.30.28 – 3.30.08)
Missing you, as always . . .

~m

 

When God Winks

I am currently reading two books: “Book of Shadows” by James Reese and “Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage” by Alice Munro.
I always have several in the backpack.
The count was three as of earlier this evening before I finished
“When God Winks” by SQuire Rushnell, a belated birthday gift from my sister
(actually, wicked belated ).
WGW is a book that explores the deeper meaning of coincidence in our lives.

God Wink ; a personal signal or message, directly from a higher power, usually, but not always, in the form of a coincidence

My sister bought it for me simply because she and I are intensely familiar with God Winks.
There’s this.
Or this.
Or this.

The book goes on to explain that these instances of coincidence (or serendipity, if you like that better) are signposts from the heavens that we’re on the right track; cosmic signals that we are not alone.
I’ve had many “winks” in my lifetime.

A few years after I began writing, I entered a contest at Writer’s Digest.
Ten people could win $100 in WD writing books and a year’s subscription to Writer’s Market, a WD site that helps find a home for that oh, so lonely priceless manuscript.

Months passed and I forgot all about the contest BUT I was still writing.
I remember sitting at the computer one day and staring at the damned blinking cursor thinking, “What the hell am I doing? I can’t write. This is stupid.”
Feeling disgusted and totally unoriginal, I closed Word and checked my email.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Word of the Day.
Spam.
Writer’s Digest.
Writer’s Digest?
Hmmm.
I opened the email and started yelling.
I won.
Ask my wife. I NEVER WIN ANYTHING. Truth.
A wink to be sure.
And hey, I’m still writing, right?
Now I pass the pen to you guys. I love coincidence and I love winks.
Tell me about one.
Come on, now. You have at least one if you really think about it.
I know for a fact that Kelly and Maureen have had a few.
Hell, Annie, too.
How about it guys?
One wink for the gipper? (I’m trying to say that with an Aussie accent)
~m

Ps. Sis, the book was bloody brilliant. I could have written it myself . . .

 

Grimm’s Emergency Medical Kit

I’ve decided to turn the Smoke and Mirrors reins over to a recently discovered blogger named Grimm. I found Grimm’s blog at Blogexplosion and really liked what I saw, a Godwink to be sure.
Read this post and you’ll know what I mean.
He’s honest, funny and intelligent but not a Patriots fan.
Can’t win ‘em all, right?
I asked him to write a post for me months ago (he thought I was kidding).
When he realized I wasn’t he leaned into the strike zone and took one for the team.
Personally, I think he hit this one out of the park.
Without further ado, I hand it over to the ever imaginative and talented Grimm.
(aka, “The Doctor of Love”)
Thanks, buddy. Good stuff.

~m

The Emergency Medical Kit

The Emergency Medical Kit was a Christmas present for my wife years ago when our little girl was just a newborn. Money was very scarce and everything we had went to making our daughters first Christmas something memorable, so an expensive present was out of the question – but I still wanted her to have something special to know how much I cared.

While sitting around wondering what the hell I was going to do, I became fixated on my wife’s prenatal vitamins. From there I wondered what kind of vitamins I could give her that would be fun and interesting. Thankfully, the vitamins became candy, and the vitamin bottle became a set of children’s plastic cups with a straw opening on the lid.

I made the medicines out of discussions we have had over the course of our marriage about what we liked most about each other and things we would like to do together. The names were the fun part, as I was able to call on my Sniglets expertise to try and create something that my warped sense of humor thought was funny.

After making the cups of candy “official” by placing the label on each of them, I decorated a shoe box into a poor mans First Aid Kid and wrapped the whole thing up in wrapping paper. It took awhile for the wife to realize just what the gift was or meant, but needless to say, the woman started popping “pills” and I became a pretty busy man for the next week or two.

1. ARGUCESE 30mg

Take 1 tablet to end argument. Best used with a kiss and a hug.

This was a popular one with the wife for the simple reason that I could not have the last word. No matter how right I thought I was (which wasn’t very often), all she would have to do is whip out one of these to end the discussion. I used Starburst here as they are big enough to use up quickly if you have an argumentative other half.

2. FUZZITIN 75mg

Take 1 tablet to get that warm fuzzy feeling that comes from a big hug.

Simple yet effective, there just are not a lot of things in this world that can do so much like a big hug. These can be taken at any time and continuously to get the desired effect. If the hugger is good at this task, these could lead to further medication, such as BISCRUBIDOL. I used Gummy Bears for this and seemed to constantly have my arms around the wife. This is not a bad thing.

3. FULMONTISOL 2500mg

Take 1 tablet to receive a complete strip tease show performed by your man.

Taken directly from the movie “The Full Monty”, this may very well be the performance of your life. The only requirements for this medication are that she must provide the background music for your performance and there is to be no video equipment allowed. I personally tried to cram one of those giant Chewy Sweet Tarts into that little cup – I considered that my cyanide pill.

4. SWETLUVODIN 750mg

Take 1 tablet for an evening of passionate lovemaking with your mattress monkey.

A powerful drug, this bad boy usually is taken as a result of other medication like BISCRUBIDOL, RUBADINE, and if you really good, FUZZITIN. I loaded up on these, packing it full of the smallest “candy” I could find – in this case, Tic-Tacs. Hey, you didn’t think I got that nickname “mattress monkey” for my smell did you?

5. RUBADUBIUM 100mg

Take 1 tablet to receive a prepared candlelight bubble bath complete with manservant.

Want to earn some serious brownie points? Let her pop one of these puppies into her mouth and then show her your sensual side. Also works well with fluffy towels and a bottle of bubbly. A word of caution, DO NOT use those imitation electric candles around the bathtub or the both of you will need much more serious medication. To show my more animalistic side, I used Runts here to get her prepared for her bath.

 

Klaus Nomi (gotta love the bowtie)

I checked my “search stats” today and one caught my eye:

‘beer or smoke – which one is worse for you’

Hmmm . . .
I’d have to say neither.
What’s way worse is too much Klaus Nomi . . .
Too much Nomi will eventually fry your brain.
It’s Charlie Chaplin meets Gary Numan
And then some . . .
Yoiks. (or Yolks)
Happy Easter, folks.
No happy and snappy eggs for you. Sorry.
Hopefully, I’ll see you all back here next week.

peace, out . . .

~m