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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Another Excerpt from my Novel Yellow Socks- Juan and Carmen

September 21, 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, folks, 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 street that I was told where the really poor and bad people live. What that meant was blacks and Puerto Ricans lived there. Remember that my Grandfather was a racist. I didn’t care back then. They were fun. They knew things that I didn’t. They did things that I didn’t. They smoked cigarettes and had a lot of girlfriends. They were the first to tell me about sex. What it was and how good it felt.

The first time I was invited over their house I was excited. Their parents weren’t home. The decor was different than anything I’d ever seen. Zebra print furniture. The one wall was a giant mirror. There it was on the wall behind the couch. The first velvet painting that I have ever seen. It was a tiger resting with a black background. I liked it even though it was much different than my Grandparent’s framed needlepoint pictures and standard couch and chairs. I sat on the couch in front of their large twenty two inch television. I rested my feet on the glass coffee table resting on the black shag rug. Juan pulled out this four-foot square box from upstairs. Carmen grabbed it from him and opened it up. There was a stack of magazines and on top was a big wad of folded aluminum foil. Carmen unrolled it. Inside was what looked like dried grass inside. It was dried grass. Marijuana. Mary Jane. Pot. Reefer. Weed. I had no idea what I was about to try. They took some more foil out of the box and made a make shift bowl to smoke it in. I didn’t know that’s what they were doing and I had no idea we were going to smoke it while they were getting it ready. Juan put the weed in the foil bowel and Carmen held it to his lips. Juan lit a match and Carmen inhaled the smoke. He then passed it to Juan. Juan imitated Carmen perfectly. The fact that they were twins added to the effect. Then it was my turn. I took the foil thing and lit it up. I tried to inhale and did the first time smokers initiation cough and gag. Once I got passed the first time it went down easier the next few times. I felt pretty good.

After a while we started blowing smoke in each other’s hair just to watch it rise out of our hair when we shook our heads. It was funny. This was true.

After the buzz took effect Juan pulled out some of the magazines in the box. They told me it was their father’s porno collection. Porno. What’s that? I thought. Ahh. Naked women. I knew what they were. Photos of woman. Photos of men putting their penises in the woman’s vagina. It was another new experience to add to my thoughts. New goals. I felt really good in my penis as I looked at these photos. Page after page. Naked woman after naked woman. I wanted one. A woman that is.

Juan and Carmen told me about the girls in the neighborhood that they had sex with. I wanted to try this sex thing but I still wasn’t real sure what it was exactly or how to go about getting it. I was hoping that they would show me. I mean with another girl or something but I had no real sex drive yet so these interests passed. I didn’t smoke pot again until I was thirteen. I didn’t see porno again until I was twelve.

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Justina – Purest Evil

July 16, 2010

I wrote this in 2005 about a girl who participated in a murder in 2003 that I wrote a song about for my old band the World Famous Crawlspace Brothers. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to upload the mp3 to WordPress and I haven’t made a video of it yet. Yet.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Justina

I was exiting Starbucks in Olde City ( the one that took away the business of the smaller coffee shops) and I looked at the Newspaper box on the corner. I never look at the newspaper or the box but yesterday I did. I saw this pretty teenage face of a girl on the cover. The headline read “Purest Evil”. Hmmm. I was curious. It went on: The Chilling Testimony From Teen Temptress In Fishtown Murder Case. Interesting, I thought. How Much? Sixty cents. Yup. I bought it. I couldn’t wait to read it. I ran to my car and lit a cigarette, took a sip of my Venti Coffee with two shots of espresso and started reading. A few years ago this girl, Justina Morley, used the promise of sex to lure Jason Sweeney into a trap where three of Sweeney’s best friends beat him to death in order to gain the $500 Sweeney had, which after being split gave each of them $125 to use to get high.

Now she’s in court on trial. It went on to say that she was on a date with kid pretending to be his girlfriend and she watched as the three boys beat him to death with a hatchet, a hammer and a brick. When they were finished they had a group hug and went off to buy Xanax, weed and heroin. After reading this I was intrigued and disgusted but part of me was kind of turned on to this sick little girl. Pure Evil, I thought. The past day and half I’ve been reading more and more about her looking for something to satisfy my desire. I can’t figure out why this sick twisted event and this evil manipulative teenage junkie is exciting me. Maybe she reminds me of my mother or my ex wife but I hate them. Hmmm.

So, I wrote a song about her. My partner in my band, The Julian, and I have been talking about making a new World Famous Crawlspace Brothers’ cd anyway and this song is perfect for it. Amazingly once I wrote it, I was no longer obsessed. I stopped staring at her picture hanging on my wall. I took it down and moved on to my next project.

So, here’s the lyrics. It’s a country song.

I saw your picture in the paper today

You looked so sad and blue

The headline said you’re the “Purest Evil”

And I just stared at you

You lured that boy with the promise of sex into the nearby isolated woods

‘Bet your face looked purty with the moon shinin’ down

As your three friends bludgeoned him real good

Justina, won’t you do something bad to me?

Justina, do me wrong.

Justina, won’t you set me free?

Justina, hear my song

First kid hit him with a hatchet to the head.

You smiled as he hit the ground.

Second kid hammered him with all of his might.

Third kid used a brick he found

You left a bloody mess where his face once was.

All for $125 each

Hope you got real high on the Xanax and weed.

Hope the heroin gave you what you need.

Justina, won’t you do something bad to me?

Justina, do me wrong.

Justina, won’t you set me free?

Justina, hear my song.

I hung your picture on my wall today.

I’ll dream of you at night.

Justina, won’t you do something bad to me?

And everything will be all right.


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