Random Thoughts- Do They Have Meaning?: July 2011

Two Souls

She is out there, my other half. Can't say what she is doing or who she is doing it with but I know that she is out there.
Her physical absence is palpable and impossible not to notice. Sometimes I turn and expect to see her standing there with that look I know so well. Sometimes I turn and wonder why those dark eyes aren't looking back at me.

I pick up the telephone and expect it to ring like it always did before. I dial the numbers and laugh because I know that she is going to say that she was about to call me. I hear the smile in her voice, except I don't do it. I don't dial.

Instead I hold the phone and close my eyes. I hold the phone, close my eyes and feel the hole and the emptiness. I hold the phone, close my eyes and wonder if that chasm is one sided and then I feel this twinge.

I feel this twinge and a silent bell rings inside my head and I know that she is thinking about me and us. I hear the bell and I know that somewhere she feels what I feel and that this is how and what it is for now.

Necessary. Lonely. Hard. Long. Rough. Required.

I close my eyes and try to center myself. I close my eyes and try to turn off the noise and focus on what is. And then just when I feel like I am truly alone I feel something touching me in a place that fingers can't reach and arms can't hold.

I close my eyes and I try to run from it. It is more intimate this touch and the feeling scares me a little. It is the place that only one has been and then I realize that the visitor is the same one who was there before.

Slowly I relax and realize that two souls have shed their bonds and found each other again. They always find each other. And for a brief moment I am completely relaxed and lost in a place that I cannot describe. Reality will intrude and I'll convince myself that I have seen/felt what I wanted to.

But later in the silence of the night I'll accept that two souls have done what the bodies and minds can't. And for a moment I'll let myself wonder if can't refers to now or forever.

She is out there and so am I.

‪Impressionist Does Shakespeare in Celebrity Voices‬‏ - YouTube

via youtube.com

Posted via email from thejackb's posterous

Harder Kimio

This is post for The Red Dress Club. This prompt is to write a piece of fiction or non fiction based upon the photo below.

Somewhere out there the song of my heart is dancing to the song that only we hear. Somewhere out there she lives her life and in the quiet of the night remembers moments when she would hold onto my arms, smile and say “Harder Kimio.”

Somewhere out there the song of my heart remembers that vacation we took together and how we stopped time. This is one of the stories that she won’t tell you because she refuses to admit to herself that together we touched the face of god. She won’t talk about the moment on the beach or stolen kisses in an elevator.

She won’t tell you about the moment on the balcony as the sun set over the sea or how we collapsed upon the couch our limbs tangled and our hair tousled.

And perhaps I shouldn’t either. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that we couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other began. She didn’t have to tell me to take her nor did I have to ask.

We connected and understood. She gave and I received or maybe I gave and she received. Doesn’t matter who did what with what or to whom because what we did, we did together.

The song of my heart is dancing to the song that only we hear. Somewhere out there she dances and her body remembers my touch. Somewhere out there she remembers my hands upon her hips and the rumble of my voice in her ear.

In the secret garden of promises made and promises kept she remembers how we dropped the camera into a sink filled with water. She remembers how we laughed until our sides ached and how we walked her fingers intertwined in mine into that crazy camera shop.

We were short on cash but somehow we scraped enough together to buy that “Kimio” in the picture above. An hour later as we got ready to go to dinner I snapped a picture of her standing in front of the sink in bra and panties.

When she asked me why I did it I told her that I had been possessed by the spirit of Kimio. She laughed, threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.

Sometimes during the quiet of the night when I am embraced by the darkness I return to the garden of promises made and promises kept and look for the song of my heart. Under the moonlit sky I wonder if she still glides when she walks and secretly hope that one day I will feel her hold my arms and whisper “Harder Kimio” again.

If you are interested in reading past submissions you can find a list of them below:

Let's Talk Turkey About The West Bank

Soft and Smooth

“What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline
Of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain
I wandered empty streets down
Past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways
As I walked on
And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand
And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl
Oh I love you”
For Emily Whenever I May Find Her- Simon and Garfunkel

The words that I wish to write haven’t been willing to work with me. I have called upon them and asked them to help to convey the sights and sounds of the secret garden we once walked through but they haven’t responded.

Perhaps it is because sometimes there are no words to express the synchronicity of souls. Two who breathed as one sounds cheesy and crass. The sort of sad line that some have sought to use for less than honorable reasons.

But that wasn’t the way. There was no conniving nor consternation caused by the creation of unspoken communication between us.

The union of two was unsought and unlooked for which perhaps explains why the results were so unexpected. Or maybe that is an unfair way to describe it.

Maybe it is more appropriate to use words like herky-jerky and start stop to detail that day and those that followed.

Sometimes when I think about it I hear music and I see you softly weaving in and out amongst the crowd. I remember long legs and dark hair culminating in dark eyes that seemed to see…everything.

You never knew how badly I wanted your attention or how you made my heart pound. You didn’t see what I saw or hear what I heard. Soft and smooth skin matched to a swift mind set off my desire.

I won’t say how or what it was that I wanted. Not just because the words remain unwilling but because some things remain safer in the security of silence.

Two people found something magical, mystical and mysterious. We got lost in the majesty of the moment and made more than had been before. Mountains were moved and seas were crossed and for ten thousand years time stood still.

Love was lost and love was found. And when the dust had cleared and we saw through the mist we learned that lost love is isn’t always lost…nor is it always found.

I told you that to remember that when you think of me I am thinking of you and slowly I slipped away softly whispering that I would see you on the other side.

This was a post for The Red Dress Club about rhythm. I am not very happy with it, but we do this to practice so that we can improve...right.

If you are interested in reading past submissions you can find a list of them below:

Words Worth Reading

If you are in need of reading material you should take some time to read one or more of these:

The Fire & The Fury

One Of The Grumpy Old Men Of The Blogosphere

A Whiter Shade Of Pale

Four Generations & A Wedding

The Write Words For June

A Few Words About My Death

A Crowded Dance Floor

Let Freedom Ring

A Crowded Dance Floor

I rarely write without musical accompaniment of some sort and tonight is no different than any other. My headphones are on and iTunes is on the DJ setting rolling through the 10,000 or so songs that are loaded on there.

It is a crazy stew of my music alongside the children so one moment I might hear Disney songs followed by Springsteen, Orbison and Dylan. Or there might be something faster like the song above and that is what is inspiring me now.

That song brings me back to a particular night and a particular house. Can't tell you whether it was a weekend or a weekday but the picture I am painting has bright splotches of color all around it. I can see myself walking into the fraternity house. I have a gray t-shirt on, 501s that are the definition of comfort and a pair of Timberland boots.

It is dark outside and the dance floor inside the main house is packed so I head over to the bar and park myself behind it. I like working the bar because it is the easiest way to meet girls. When you are back there you don't have to start conversation or work on a great opening line.

All you need to do is ask them what they want and give it to them. In between you say hi, offer your name and you are on your way. On this particular night I am more interested in hanging out with the guys. Graduation isn't all that far away and soon the real world will lay its claim upon us.

The backyard is quickly filling up and there are four or five people shouting drink orders at me. It feels a bit like organized chaos but that is ok because it has been my home and I am comfortable. The women come in small packs of three and four. In varying states of sobriety they ask for Kamikazes, beer, Long Island Iced Teas and the occasional request for Everclear.

In between pouring drinks I down a few of my own and enjoy the conversation and atmosphere. It is funny looking back to think about how old I felt that night. Most of the people are freshman and sophomores who are enjoying the freedom that university life provides.

After a while it feels like time has stood still or I have somehow stepped into a parallel universe. I look around and take it all in. I am not going to be one of those guys that keeps coming back after graduation. When I am done with this I will be done.

More time passes and a girl from Poli Sci 404 appears at the bar. She smiles and tells me that she didn't know I was part of Lamda Lamda Lamda and I smile. "I am indeed." She tells me that it is rude to drink alone so I poured one for me too and step out from behind the bar.

We make small talk and eventually head over to the door to go dance. I am not much of a dancer but at the house I don't care. When it is packed like it is now I don't have to worry about fancy moves. Mostly it is a lot of nodding your head in time and sort of moving with the pack.

The DJ puts on The Humpty Dance and follows up with O.P.P. It is really hot in there and I am sweating but I don't notice it. More time passes and that Mortal Combat song hits. Midway through it my eyes start burning from the sweat pouring down my head.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and we keep dancing. Somewhere in the midst of this we move in for the kiss. I can't say who initiated it, maybe it was me or maybe it was her. For all I know it could have been both of us.

What I know for certain is that she didn't appreciate the salt or maybe she just thought that I was a terrible kisser. I know this because she pulled away quite rapidly and wiped her mouth off. I sometimes wonder if that night led to her giving me a treasured spot on the list of the worst kisses she ever had.

Truth is that I think that is kind of funny. For all I know she told her friends that Jack was the sweatiest man she had ever danced with and the worst kisser to grace her lips.

Life is filled with all sorts of moments. If you can't laugh at yourself than who can you laugh at.

Let Freedom Ring

We are in the midst of another holiday weekend and I am doing my best to stay cool. The temperature is supposed to be somewhere around 185 in the shade and though I love heat I prefer it in the mid nineties.

This blog is still home, but it has become sort of a vacation spot where I do things differently. Anyway, I am jammed for time but wanted to make sure that people realize this place isn't abandoned. If you are interested in reading some of my recent work here are links you can use:

And The Rockets’ Red Glare
18 Reasons To Read This Blog
An Unfulfilled Promise
Paralysis- Indecision Is A Decision
More Proof That Great Headlines Don’t Matter
Help Me?

Random Thoughts- Do They Have Meaning?