Archives for January 2010

David Blaine: How I held my breath for 17 min

Stories of Love and Relationships

Boy does that title sound hokey. Anyhoo, I noticed that my flock seems to be wandering so I decided to shepherd them back into the corral, or at least try to.

One of these days I really have to sit down and work on these and see about stringing them together into something more coherent.

Here are the pieces that I wrote for NaNoWriMo:

Who Broke Your Heart- Things You Might Not Know
The End of a Marriage
A 21st Century Break Up
“I Don’t Want To Kiss My Husband Ever Again”
Once Upon A Time
Hanging Out With Hairy
I Will Never Fall In Love Again
A Love Song That Needs To Be Written
A Love Song That Needs To Be Written Continued

Here are some others that I wrote afterwards:
Lightning Strikes Twice
More than Heaven Will Allow
These Pictures of You
I Don’t Love My Husband Anymore
Some Background
The Almost Warrior
All I Want Is You
It Burns
You Won’t Take My Call

And here is a link to a ton of other fiction I have written:

Pieces of My Heart & Mind- Collection of Fiction

Some Notes About Fragments of Fiction

More than a few of you have left comments or sent emails asking for me to provide more details about a series of posts that I call Fragments of Fiction. These posts are exactly what they seem, fragments of fiction intermixed with fragments of truth.

I write about experiences, places and people. I weave stories out of these moments in time and do my best to create something that you, the reader can relate to. I suppose that it is fair to say that I have a few themes that I fall back upon more frequently than others.

The story lines always involve some sort of relationship, but the story of that relationship is not always black and white. On their most basic level there is a beginning, a middle and an end. Part of the joy of writing these stories is that there are so many different things that can happen. Life is nothing but interesting.

Someone once asked me why these stories always seem to be sad. I suppose that is one way of looking at them. Certainly my mood affects my writing, but at the same time I don’t necessarily view these pieces in the same way as others. They are fragments, little snapshots of a moment in time. They aren’t necessarily representative of what is going to happen, just a history of what has.

When I write them I usually envision a brighter future for whomever I am writing about than it may seem.

A Musical Interlude

Working like a mad man on several projects and am taking a short break. Here is what has been playing on my iPod.

Tunnel of Love– Bruce Springsteen
The River– Bruce Springsteen
Jackson– Johnny Cash/June Carter Cash
City of Blinding Lights-U2
I Melt– Rascal Flatts
We’ve Got Tonight– Bob Seger
The Fire Inside– Bob Seger
Prodigal Blues-Billy Idol
I am The Walrus– The Beatles
Insanity– Oingo Boingo
Uprising– Muse
Bhangra Fever-MiDIval PunditZ

Lightning Strikes Twice

One more for Fragments of Fiction:

“No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide eyed fears
I’m here, nothing can harm you
My words will warm and calm you

Let me be your freedom
Let daylight dry your tears
I’m here, with you, beside you
To guard you and to guide you”
All I Ask of You- Phantom of the Opera

“You sheltered me from harm, kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me, set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew, were all the years I had with you
I would give anything I own, give up my life, my heart, my home
I would give everything I own, just to have you back again
You taught me how to laugh, what it solved, what it solved
You never said too much, but still you showed the way
And I knew from watching you
Nobody else could ever know, the part of me that can’t let go”
Everything I Own- Bread

The stormy weather matches my mood. It fluctuates between pensive and irritated. Flashes of light streak across the sky followed by deep booming noises. It reminds me of places past and present. Twenty-five years ago I walked down the streets of Jerusalem and watched a soldier react to the sound of dynamite exploding.

He threw my friend upon the ground and brought his weapon to his shoulder, eyes scanning the highway for signs of danger.

Seventeen years ago violent shaking woke me from a restless slumber. Women and children screamed, car alarms shrieked, glass broke and the earth issued this incredible rumble. For a moment I feared that I would be thrown from my bed and then the moment had passed.

You are out there somewhere. You were always out there. When I walked those streets of Jerusalem and made plans to leave America you were living your life elsewhere. And again you were there when the earth shook and I wondered if this was the moment when the ground would open up and swallow my home.

There has never been a time or moment that you weren’t there. Only moments of ignorance and lack of awareness. You weren’t on my radar or a gleam in my eyes. Perhaps you were a dream that I never wanted to believe in. A dream because I didn’t believe that someone like you was out there.

It is funny in an odd sort of way. I can hear you telling me that you’ll never forgive me for not finding you sooner. I can hear you calling my name, asking why I am silent. I tell you that I don’t share my thoughts easily. I live in a world of silence because I choose to be silent. I tell you that I am shy and you laugh.

You don’t believe me. You don’t understand how very different you are. You don’t know how many complained about my unwillingness to share. You don’t know how very silent I can be. You don’t know because I gave you that key. You don’t know because you have always seen what others couldn’t. You don’t know because I celebrated being able to be so free and so open with someone.

But it is a two way street. When my door opened wide so did yours. I don’t share your grace. I don’t walk, I lumber. And so I lumbered on in and made myself at home. Home, that is what we were for each other. A refuge and a sanctuary that provided incredible amounts of strength. An indefatigable team who was naturally able to heal each other.

Those echoes of the future still rumble through my head. That feeling is there, the one that tells me that you are out there. Sometimes I feel you fight it and hear you cry out for logic and reason. I see the lists that you make and I know why you do what you do.

There are moments in time when I shrug my shoulders and work on accepting what is and what cannot be. It is not as hard as you might think. That guy still lives inside me. The hard ass who preferred to keep people at arm’s length. He stays just beneath the surface and snickers at me. He snickers because he is convinced that in short order he’ll be given free reign again.

Yet…I am not so sure that he is right. When I close my eyes I see you staring back at me. Lightning crashes and I am convinced that it can strike twice. I have that knowing smile, that crazy curvy lip you remember. The promises of the past and the echoes of the future tell me that some things aren’t quite done. The whispers in the wind tell of a time coming that will give the truth of the matter.

Part of Yeah Write #67.