Excerpt from My First Novel Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non Don Juan

June 4, 2012

An Excerpt from my 2010 novel Yellow Socks- Confessions of a Non Don Juan

 

Skeleton Woman or Things Like Me Don’t Happen To You

 

Christ it happened again. Another notch in my “girls that want to be my friend” belt. It made sense. We were perfect friends and she was real cute too. I kept thinking that I was ok with it. I’d be happy just being a friend again. I keep turning to God for strength to accept my fate as “Friend to all women” that I’m attracted to. My acceptance level seems to be ok. I go to my happy place. I go to my cave. I say the serenity prayer over and over I am sure that I will be ok with this. Yes I will. (no I won’t)

 

Cut to a scene from Fight Club

 

TYLER

Stop it! This is your pain — this is your burning hand. It’s right here! Look at it.

 

JACK

I’m going to my cave. I’m going to my cave to find my power animal!

 

TYLER

No, don’t deal with this the way those dead people do. Come on

!

JACK

I get the point, ok, please!

 

TYLER

No, what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment.

 

Ok. I get the idea. Feel the pain. Feel the hurt. Feel the rejection saturating my heart until I bleed more than just these words all over the place and finger my open sore of a brain as it wants to dwell on her over and over again. Screaming and roaring her name with anger and grief and sometimes a slight relief that it’s done and I know that she will not reject me again unless I go back for more and more or less or a little bite of her cheeseburger and a sip of her Pepsi to tide me over until the next one comes along with better food and spirits for my, for me for. Four scores of seven years itch as I scratch the weathered tired out mongrel of an ego that was left stray years ago in a pound for wayward hearts and letches that can only love and never be loved.

 

The pain of being a friend. A friend. I’ve heard that “Let’s just be friends” millions of times in my life as I gargle a new mouthwash and toothpaste hoping my breath will be the answer to my problem. My problem is as follows: me, myself and I. We altogether are the problem. We want to be loved so bad that we give off the vibe that scares the shit out of women so they just want to be friends. Friends. Friends. I think to myself that will be fine. Friends is ok. It’ll do. I can accept that. Bullshit! Feel the pain I tell myself. Embrace it. the pain is your friend. To hurt is to be alive. I’ve never been so alive. I’m alive. So alive.

 

“Did you ever hear about the skeleton woman?” Morton asked.

 

“Was that a Glam rock band from the seventies?” I ask.

 

“Ha. Ha. Nah. It’s an ancient Indian story. This guy was fishing in the middle of a lake. He was totally into it. He was relaxed. Not a care in the world except catching the next fish. All of a sudden he feels a tug on his line and he yanks it up. A skeleton appears on his line. He doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line and he gets scared. He starts paddling his boat away from it but it follows him. He still doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line. He gets out of his boat and runs into the village and he is carrying his fishing rod and the skeleton is still right behind him. He jumps into his Tee Pee and it follows him in. He lies down and tries to hide not looking at it for a while. When he finally turns to look at the skeleton it has changed into the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is his. The moral of the story is that he was minding his own business doing something he enjoyed and that’s when the right woman came along. In other words when you are not looking for love is when it will find you. ”

 

“I know that but it’s so fucking hard to stay focused on other things without thinking about how much I want to be loved. Fall in love. Ya know?” I responded.

 

“I know. I know.” Morton said.

 

“We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.” Tyler Durden

 

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I’m Over- A Poem & Experimental Video

May 11, 2011

I’m Over

Over

I’m Under

I’m Under the spell.

The scent, the feel, and the entire experience.

Under it.

Under them.

Her.

You.

I’m distracted with obsessive focus.

First I thrust through the clouds into something I would never dream about.

Then I relax and follow the compulsive winds.

I’m Under.

I arrive.

I’m there.

I’m here.

I’m In.

I’m in it. I’m in them.

Her.

You.

Release. Relax. Control.

I’m over. I’m over.

Over.


Delete Me: A Poem & Spoken Word Video

July 31, 2010

I wrote the following loosely based on my last entry. I also made a vido for it you can find on the bottom of the page.

Delete me. Go ahead delete me. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Carry your gun in the waist band of your stretch pants that won’t stretch any more if your tried and you tried. A gun that you use in the wrong places with the wrong people and the wrong intentions. It’s not even loaded. The gun. Not you. Loaded.

Delete me from your world from your cancer from your bloody sounded heart that you think is screaming but it only cries for more love. Love you can’t have.

Stick your pencil between your eyes and twist it as you open and close your eyelids slobbering my name while kissing a tree that will never understand you like me.

Delete me. Delete. Go ahead. It’s ok. Delete me.

Push the panic button and no one comes running anymore because they’re tired of your boy cry wolf mentality. Too many false alarms for anyone to understand. I understand. It’s ok. You can let go now.

Delete me from your heart and fill it with vengeance and hatred. Kill. Destroy.

Run for the hills little one while you still have a chance to get away from me. Or do you? Am I always there?

Distracting yourself with THINGS that keep you busy. THINGS that do nothing for anyone except distract you from me. Me. THINGS.

Delete me as you drive over the speed limit racing to anywhere that you don’t have to feel anything.

What kind of God allows you to feel this way? What are you doing? Why? Who do you think you are? Ok so maybe even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe you can self help yourself and forgive God for leaving you alone. Maybe your cancer isn’t so bad. Maybe the wounds will heal. Maybe your heart will soften over time. Time. Time to reveal yourself to the ancient ones in a language you don’t speak. Time to stop running. Let go. Let go!

Delete me. Delete me. Delete me.

Are you finished yet?

I am still here.


Don’t – a Spoken Word Poem Video

June 16, 2010


Chop Off My Head – A Spoken Word Video

June 11, 2010


Don’t(Stop)- A POEM & SPOKEN WORD Blog & Video

June 8, 2010

Give it up. Don’t stop. Give it up. Don’t stop. Carry on. Business as usual. Rotten tomatoes spoil my . . .my . . .My oh my what a wonderful day in the life of addiction fueled by everything I look at and touch. Evil. I touch evil and it touches me back so nicely so I kick back and relax and forget about the horrible world out there in here in my mind. I don’t mind it most times. Most times I embrace the evil and thrive on it. Most days when the helicopters fly and the dog shits on my lawn I smile and look the other way. I own my life and you can’t have it.

I have intense dreams where I am with her with you with them. Sexual menagerie. Love triangles and octagons and pyramids that go on forever in the desert of my life. The spit and the semen-covered floor I walk on, eat off of and sleep in rolls around and around and it never stops until I go back to my hiding spot.

I eat worms. I drive a car that doesn’t like to go anywhere. I have friends in high places. I have friends in low places. I have friends in no places. I have no friends and plenty of friends. I live in between reality and insanity. Wherever I am today is where I’m meant to be.

The cockpit is tight and claustrophobic. I whistle as best as I can and pray to a higher power that may or may not exist ofrlove me or hate me or want to fuck me. I fly in the spirit of those that never had it so good. I cry for those who have it better than me. I die for nothing and no one.

My maniacal, manic and cryptic scribblings are worthless to the real world but they are all I have so I go on pen in hand or finger on keyboard mouth to air and shout out everything I am until it’s gone for the moment, The next time I don’t know.

http://www.youtube.com/user/crawlspacebro

https://richhillenjr.wordpress.com/

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=115873368451892&v=wall

http://twitter.com/richhillenjr

http://www.myspace.com/richhillenjr


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