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
Excerpt from My First Novel Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non Don Juan
June 4, 2012An 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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Leave a Comment » | Angels, Bands, Beer, Bipolar Disorder, Blog, Dream, Email, Excerpts from Yellow Socks, Exploitation, Fiction, Friends, Funny, Living the Dream, NJ, Obsession, Pantyhose, Photographs, Self absorbed, Social Networking Sites, Sociology, Spoken word, Ugh!, Work, Writing, Yellow Socks | Tagged: 2010 “Everything dies baby that’s a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City” -Bruce Springsteen Mom, 2010 I started writing blogs in 2003 mostly on a social networking site called MySpace. I act like you’ve never heard of the now dying site. It was the beginnings of it’s popularity back then and, 2010 Juan and Carmen I met Carmen and Juan Ramirez in third grade. They were Puerto Rican twins that I started to hang out with. They were School Safeties and I met them in Safety training. Yes, 2010 Share this: Facebook Twitter Press This Like this: Like Be the first to like this post. 1 Comment | Art, 2010 Stalking Cameron Diaz My cigarette fell out of my left hand into the open cement ash can outside the front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I was facing the city. It was only 3:24 pm. A little, 2010 Well the five of us (models and photographer) spend a few fun filled hours today taking photographs for my upcoming novel, 2011 “When one’s in this world, Alcohol, Alcoholism, and writing in a very personal expression. The room at Philadelphia Museum of Art has a room full of eight to ten foot paintings based on Homer’s Iliad. I heard that when Cameron Diaz was here last, ANGER, anti-social, Anxiety, Anxiety attack, art, Art Museum, article, Atlantic City boardwalk, balloons, Bands, beating onboardwalk, Big eyes, Bipolar, Bipolar disorder, blog, blogs, boardwalk, Bob, book signing, Boy George, callmemr, callmemr wordpress, Cameron Diaz, Cameron Diaz is in the Impressionists Exhibit.” Sam said. “Really?” I asked. “Yeah. She’s over there right now.” “How do you know?” “Larry from Visitor Services told me.” Larry was, Cameron Diaz naked, Cameron Diaz nude, Candy, Cartoons, Chainsaw, Charles Bukowski, Charlie Kaufman. I could name a dozen more movies she was in that I liked but I wasn’t all goo goo eyed for her. Yeah she’s hot but she’s just another decent actress. I didn’t feel star struck, childhood, children playing, chocolate, Comentary, Coming of age, commentary, companions, confessions, Confessions of a Non-Don Juan, Crazy, crazy girls, crazy people, crazy women, Cy Twombly, Dancing, dating, Death, Delusional, depression, depression and heartache at the same time wearing me down like a sleepless night of pills and vodka while running a two hour marathon that has no winner only destitute losers that beg for someone to t, Digital art, distortion, docotors, documentary, donkey, Drawing, Dream, dreaming, drink, drinking, Drug addiction, drugs, eating, editing a book, editing a novel, Elephant, emotionally disturbed, etc. I’ve personally experienced the joy and escapism of all of the above. Everything I do is a distraction from someone or something else that bothers me. To be trapped alone with my thoughts is th, everyone that read it so far doesn’t think so. I finally got all of the requirements down for them and Ill hopefully be sending it out soon. I asked a few of my published friends what they think I s, Excerpts from Yellow Socks, family, Father, father's death, fear, feet, Fetish, Fetish art, fetishes, fiction, finished writing a novel, finishing writing a novel, folks, friends, frightened or not.” Louis- Ferdinand Celine It’s true, funny, gambling, games, Gog, gorgeous women, grammar, green art, Happy, Hate, Henry Miller, High Heels, Holly, holy ghost, Hooters and My Ex Twitter Wow. Holistic is all right. Burned some sage around the house and I feel good. 5 days ago It ain't me 1 week ago Click Here Category Cloud Anti-Social Anxiety Art Article Blo, Hooters legs, hopelessness, Horror, How to meet women, how to pick up chicks, Hunter S Thompson, I confess. I want out. Don’t you? Any escape will do. Movies, I decided on the title at the start. I knew how it was going to begin and decided ho it was going to end. I needed to write the middle. You know the book itself. So, I didn’t talk to her but I saw her. Yippy. I stalked down and saw a real life “celebrity” at work. Don’t you think I am great? Aren’t you impressed with me? Don’t you think I am a lot cool, I need a cover design. I had this vision when I finished the book of what I want the cover to look like. After about a month of trying to get a model to get photographed in Yellow Socks I’ve got a c, I want out, I was School Safety responsible for crossing hundreds of other children from one side of the street to the other. I was good at it. Carmen and Juan were pretty advanced street kids. They lived on the, I wasn’t paying attention to my Mom. I missed all of her off color comments and insane rants. I usually blocked her out when she was acting strange. My Dad left when I was six years old. He took me, India, insane, INSANITY, is to go out of it? Whether one’s mad or not, isn’t it, it started as talking about my relationship with my natural parents especially my paranoid schizophrenic mother. The more I wrote this personal stuff I realized that I am going to fictionalize it. Alt, it wasn’t all good. My adopted father was sick and one of the main reasons I moved back in was to help take care of him. Despite his illnesses he was a constant creator of some fabulous art. His art, Japan, Jesus, Jesus’s birthday. He dismissed it. He thought she was just over worked with raising me. All we needed was a vacation. We went to Atlantic City for the weekend. One of the nights we ate at a boardwal, Journals, leg man, legman, legs, loneliness, loony, loony tunes, loss of job, Love, Love addiction, Lust, mad, mad ones, marijuana, masturbation, medication and AA meetings. I started to feel better then the beginning of November 2009 I had a breakdown for a few days. I literally thought I was going ot lose my mind and be institutionalized. I w, meditation, mental illnes, Mental illness, mess, model and other models for the back cover. I still needed a pair of yellow socks. I figured I’d wait until the last minute in typical Rich Hillen Jr style. I did pick up a pair that were the right s, Mother, muggung, music, MySpace, nothing, novaboon.com, novel, Novel reading, Novel. modern art, nude female band, out, pantyhose, Paranoid Schizophrenic mother, patricia araujo, Pervert, Peter McCoy, Philadelphia Museum Art, photo for cover of novel, Photo Shoot, photogragraphy shoot, Photographs | Tagged: blog, Photogrpahy, poetry, porn, prose, psychiatry, publish, read, reading, recite, Relationships, Reviews | Tagged: Atlantic City, Rich Hillen Jr, Rich HillenJr, Romance, Sally, Sam greeted me immediately. “Yo, sarcasm, Schizophrenic Mother, self help, seperation anxiety, Serial Killers, sex, Sex addiction, Sexual encounters, sexuality, sexy zombie girls, shopping, Sleep, sleeping, slug, smoke, Socializing, Sociology | Tagged: a yellow sock hunt, Sociology | Tagged: Alcohol, Sociology | Tagged: Charles Bukowski, sock fetish, socks, solitaire, son, spiritual, spirituality, stalk, stalking, Stalking celebrities, stockings, stories and poetry. It gave me a quick fix. The book was a slow endeavor. It was always in the back of my mind. Year after year I would move up 50 pages or more but I kept putting it on the back burne, SUicide, suit, surely the best thing one can do, surfing the internet, syntax and continuity. It was a slow process that I had to force myself to do. Again my mom bugged me about it. Months went by and I was still editing. “Almost finished. Almost done. Keep going.”, taste, teeth, Television, tits, trauma, trigeminal neuralgia, Vampires, Video | Tagged: Book Reading, Water, we were still stalking the “celebrity”. I pushed forward and got near the Cy Twombly room. I saw the security guard in his place at the entrance to the exhibit. As I walk in I see her. Ccameron Di, weed, White Zombie, wife, Willian S Burroughs, women's socks, Work, Work | Tagged: art, working, Write, writing, writing a book, writing a novel, xrazy men, Yellow Socks, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Another Excerpt from my Novel Yellow Socks- Juan and Carmen September 21, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Damned Yellow Socks: the Biography of a Novel July 10, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Email Subscription You are following this blog (manage). Recent Posts Underground Poets Society of 2012 What a Way to Grieve or How I Spent Memorial Day, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Excerpt from my Novel Yellow Socks – Atlantic City August 26, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Live Reading from my Novel Yellow Socks & a Promo Video December 23, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Photo Shoot July 11, Yellow Socks | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Stalking Cameron Diaz – Excerpt from my novel Yellow Socks October 13, Yellow SOcks. COnfessions of a Non-Don Juan | Permalink Posted by richhillenjr Rich Hillen Jr’s Digital Art February 6, Yellow Socks: Confessions of a Non-Don Juan. THis phase is over and next up is the cover design then off to the internet publishing. Due to my lawyer and agent’s advice I am not at liberty to reveal, Zombie girls | Permalink
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