"Being Average!"

“Being Average!”


I was a young man who dreamed about simply being an average person, while alone walking up that old dirt road to school in back of my house. In those days, I could feel the Lord walking with me, a garden angel at times. And now after 61-years old that boy has not yet left me, not completely, and I was never unlucky, thank goodness, in that I ever felt alone, I always knew the Lord, Jesus Christ was by my side, always, He once told me because I didn’t have a father, “Don’t worry, I be your father.”
I was thin, and gaunt with deep emotions, and when I got in my first fight, four boys beat me up, I ran home to tell my mother about it, and she said, “You better get some muscles, and learn how to fight, or run.” And I did, I weight lifted, ran in track, and learned karate. I was as white as a ghost, got some summer tans and learned how to flex my muscles so a few girls would be interested in me, and kept the bullies away, or at a distance.
I wasn’t a quick learner, and that left some mental scars in me. Although I was creative, I could draw just about anything, learned how to play the guitar at ten-years old, and started writing my poetry at twelve-years old. And none of these scars would stop me in life, matter-of-fact, they were my catalyst. Now they are old scars, erosion on them, fleshless. Everything about me was different than those around me. So I felt.
My eyes were the same color of the sea, my hair the color of autumn leaves, my physical build at fifteen was like Bruce Lee at twenty-one. At nineteen, I learned Karate in St. Paul, and then headed onto San Francisco at twenty, to learn from the Masters.
“Chick Evens,” Gosei said, the Karate Master, 6th degree, said to me as I had used up all my money to travel to the city by the bay across two-thousand miles, and couldn’t find a job, “Here’s some money, it will tie you over until you find a job,” Gosei said in a most humble voice. And he taught me the fine art of Goju Kai Karate, within that interesting year I spent in the city.
“No,” the Master said. “You are young, do not keep drinking, and do not hurt anyone with your skills.”
I remembered that all my life.
“I got to go,” I told him. I was drafted into the Army. “I know,” he said, “you are not leaving because you want to.”
I was still a boy mentally in a man’s body, and I followed my longing, whatever that was, it seemed to change every mile of my life, and traveling was part of it. Actually at this point of my life I had lived in Seattle, and Omaha, and of course those are interesting stories in themselves, but we must move on.
Gosei had a lot of faith in me back then. Actually it appeared to me, he made it look normal. So I was normal. But all I ever wanted to be was average. Like everyone else, because I felt different than everyone else.
My curse was the drink, and I drank like obsessed fishermen, fish. Like women comb their hair, constantly; like children chasing a dog, unwaveringly. Between drinking and sleeping, I did more drinking.

In the Army, in Basic Training, they did not show me much in the art of body building and karate, it made me feel superior, which made me feel for a while, average to everyone else. But because they could do what I could do, I demand respect; they did now show it politely. I learned successful people, lose friends. I would have to learn how to deal with this.

In the old neighborhood, the guys would ask me to play baseball. I really tried to avoid it, or football. I never liked hanging out with my male relatives, as my brother did, I often said, when they invited me, and they did not invite me much, “I would like to go,” where I never know, while visiting their houses, my aunts and uncles, but I’d end up going for a walk by myself. I knew they didn’t care for me to be their in the first place, nor did I care even going over there; it was a demand from my mother.
I suppose they thought I was a strange young man (boy), my uncles and aunts, and cousins and so forth; but I am a strange old man now, I think so, and they still think so, and so I must have been. My brother’s kids feel the same way, and my kids feel that way, they like putting everyone in boxes, as if they are bait, their bait, subdue them with a club, and get the big fish.

Slowly I cut that net over my head, and went to college, quite drinking, got degrees more than I ever thought, they called me Doctor now. Wrote books, traveled the world, and made a million. I asked myself, “Who can do that? Do you think you can find someone at my age who is a poet laureate? Can I order one?” Well, I was feeling average now, but it took a long time. It wasn’t easy. We start out as kids, and we work on our baggage all our lives until we get it tidy.
I never leaned on any ones shoulders, they were all strange to me, I thanked God, the Lord, Jesus Christ, I leaned on him, his were the only ones, oh I suppose I could say my mother’s a few times, I think so. And I always felt I should give Him something more than a belly full of complaints, so I didn’t complain much in life, I did drink a lot of bottles of booze though. Smoked a lot of cigarettes, three packs a day and I leaned on His shoulders one day, twenty-five years ago, and said, “You’re God, you stop this mess, I mean you take the edge away please, and I’ll stop the motion for grabbing it.” So I put three packs of cigarettes by my bed stand, and never had the desire to smoke again, same story, say ending with booze.
I’m really now just an old man, with no dirty habits, all washed up you might say, for the killing, to put me into the stew.
I have much more than I deserve, a few houses, money in the bank, lots of Ginger Ale, and so forth. I know it was a great mistake to start drinking and smoking, but after I stopped I felt more normal, more average, it all makes a difference. I have learned by sticking it out, pushing ahead, not stopping because someone says, ‘you can’t’ is a bunch of bull…! Misery wants company.
They’ve stopped, that’s the problem, and they don’t want you to pass them up. The best revenge is success. I’ve been married four times, I never get revenge, just more successful, and they say, “How come he’s…?” And so forth and on; I’ve also learned to take charge of my life, when you let someone else do it, that is exactly what they do, and it is never, never ever for the better (unless it is your mother), because self-interest dominates.
So through all my trials and tribulations, I became average, and to be quite honest, you can’t do much better than that, and if you can, your blessed, double blessed, and thank God, or the devil, because the devil believe it or not, tries to duplicate God’s works, but he’ll never work against himself, so I know who has helped me.

3-30-2009

The Agliarept Code (Can a Demon Read your Mind?)

The Agaliarept Code
(Can a Demon Read your Mind?)


Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell, one of two of Satan’s most treasured demons, also the grand general of Hell and commander of the second legion; he seems to spend most of his time, according to scripture and legend in Europe and Asia Minor, and has to a certain degree, the ability to control the past and future. That is to say, he possesses the power to discover secrets inside of man’s brain, and with this, he has become quite infamous for stirring up enmity and distrust among the human race. But how does he do this? For even demons are subject to God’s laws. You are about to read, “The Agaliarept Code,” and find out his secret.

Agaliarept, he searches the hippocampus of the human brain, which is near the center, lower back part, here he searches into the living files, images to be printed, or in the process of printing, or those already printed at that moment, in secret memory, some remain dormant in storage, not verbalized he recalls them through a process which is under the code name: SDRC.
He is one of the few demon who has the skill, and ability to recognize several reality environments in the brain at one time, and discernible functions to sort out the patterns in the brain; an example might be, darker to brighter; an area with less or more activity than others. Thus, once discerned, he can signal in his findings to his legion, where, when and how certain things will come about.
His thoughts can ride on top of our neurons, like a man in a saddle on a horse, this allows him to monitor our activity as we move about and consequently read our mind.
That is where his prediction, or his predictability that is, comes from, and where his process adheres to, he now is into our reality environment, and can direct his demonic forces accordingly to the encoded memories, and proceed to structure the down fall of a person.
He has allowed his system for thousands of years to continue to be trained in this area.
On the other hand, he does not have omnipotent powers, making him all-powerful; those who are aware of this and who fight against it (through prayer and a close relationship with Christ or God), seem to block the decoding process, breaking down the functional structure before it’s completely in place.

3-12-2009

Dreadful Marches to Delighful Measures (a short story on a gay movie)

It was near lunch time and the actors now had stopped their scenes, and they were sitting in the lunchroom, in chairs that were alongside two rows of tables, two tables to a row, ten people to two tables, twenty actors total. They were waiting, doing nothing but waiting to see what was going to happen with their movie project, their production of: “The Summer of Content.”
“Will you have coffee, wine, soda or perhaps a gimlet,” asked Orve Nelson, a middle aged male waiter to Wolfsan Howe, the main movie star (actor) and the supporting actor, Elmer Oxford.
“I’ll have some red wine,” Wolfsan Howe told the waiter.
“And I’ll have the same, I hope it helps,” said Elmer Oxford, with a sneer.
“And for you Mr. Allen Lee Hawley, what will you have?”
“I guess it is the thing to do as we wait, so how about a dark cup of coffee, with no cream or sugar please, ok?”
“Yes, ok sir, Mr. Hawley,” Orve Nelson replied.

The other waiters, three, were walking around the two rows of tables and taking orders while the cook nearby was cooking soup and making ham and cheese sandwiches for the un-expectant brunch.
The windows were open to allow the breeze to circulate throughout the cafeteria, it was on the second floor of a building in the Castro District of San Francisco, and it was a very warm day, in the summer of 1968.
“It’s been half an hour, I wish they’d make up their minds what to do,” said Wolfsan.
“A new start would be plenty I mean, redoing the scenes Allen did, since he can’t perform them lousy two, I mean just two scenes in the whole movie and it has stopped a multi million dollar production, unbelievable, and not to mention, but I will, a first of its kind!” said Elmer Oxford.
“Well, Mary April Steinberg come all the way up from Hollywood just to oversee this meeting, she’s the new assistant to the president of the studios,” said Wolfsan.
“How are you feeling Allen?” asked Elmer, in a sneer.
“Absolutely fine, thanks for asking Elmer.”

Wolfsan was trying hard not to take any position in the first hour of the shutdown, of the production, he was paying more attention to what kind of soup the cook was cooking. Most of the other actors were not demonstrating their position of the shutdown, do to Allen, they were getting paid one way or the other, and whatever they were thinking they were not voicing their opinion, it would seem they were having reservations on both sides of the coin. Allen Lee was unmoved by his stubborn position in holding up what he called a level of integrity and a value system he had learned long ago, in schools, that he had said earlier: no longer taught the ten-commandments, or pledge allegiance to the flag, he believed society had lost its will to uphold the values it once had, and in the process came a declined to a degenerate position in America as well as around the world; that they expected him to bend his religious values for a movie, and profit, which would make him a hypocrite to his long known associates, and the fellowship he had at his church, therefore he could not alter his life for them, nor would for a movie that would show him contrary to his beliefs, and forever brand him.
This was Allen’s first film, he was sixty-one years old, who had previously worked as Probation and Parole Officer for the State of California. In between, he had written three books in this area, along with three books in poetry, and three books in short stories, nine books sum total, of which were not doing too well in the sales department.
For the most part he was retired. His wife had passed on a few years earlier, and his two sons were in the Armed Forces, one in the Marines, the other an Army Ranger. He was embarking on a new career, Gilmore Gleason, his lawyer, also the lawyers for Wolfsan, and Elmer, as well as the Director, Sean Winslow, and Mary April Steinberg, the Assistant to the President of the Studio, he had used his influence to get Allen started in the movies, and under his contract, Allen did not have to do any acts or scenes that violated his religious beliefs, or values, and he was an active Baptist, in good standing, and so his reputation proceeded him, and no one could have proven any different.
“You got your point across to April I see Mr. Hawley,” said Elmer Oxford, “and It appears by the lengthy meeting they’re having in the other room, a damned fine one.”
Allen Lee looked at Elmer quickly. He was an extreme handsome and well kept man, and of a social position which commanded thousands of dollars as a price for his endorsements. Just his autograph alone was worth close to $500-dollars, whereas, Wolfsan’s perchance, in the three-hundred dollar area.
Elmer Oxford, had never been married, and his sexual preference had been in question, among the public, on the other hand, Wolfsan Howe, was married, but was a playboy and everyone knew this, and some questioned if he was bisexual, especially now that he was making this gay movie, with such big time stars as himself, and Elmer, and with an international audience waiting, and a big Studio backing the project up, to be released out of Hollywood.
Allen looked at both these men as if they were strangers to him.
“Wolfsan,” asked Allen, “handing him a napkin, “how about your autograph?” Wolfsan took it reluctantly and signed it. He was about middle height, with extreme icy cool green eyes, dark charcoal black hair, a little mustache, timed thin, and a pink fleshly face, also a handsome man, like Elmer. On the other hand, Allen had pale white skin, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a square jaw, strong looking, but aging, as he was, and when he smiled, those wrinkles became deeper. His shoulders had started to slope, his chest sunk, although he looked several years younger, a nice looking man, and perhaps quite handsome in his younger day, by the looks of his features.
“Well, here’s the signature,” said Wolfsan, with a half smile, handing it over the table to Allen.

Elmer was very tall, well built, a light reddish full crop of hair, combed back like in the days of the Roaring Twenties, with lots of grease on it, combed back, his cloths were loose fitting and safari style.
The parts Allen had walked away from were, first: where he was expected to kiss Wolfsan, and Elmer would come in through a door, find them embracing and this would create a hornet’s nest between the three. The second part of the plot, and ongoing theme, and scene was for him to take a shower naked with Wolfsan, this also he refused. And consequently, started the whole shebang; and as we now can see, Elmer is unhappy, if not trying to make Allen feel guilty for tying up the production, but Allen doesn’t feel guilty, or at least he is not indicating so at this time, and that also irritates Elmer perhaps even more.
“Here’s to you Allen,” said his antagonist, Elmer Oxford, “I’ll have to have a talk with Jimmie Henry.” (Who was a friend of Allen’s and personal lawyer.)
“He should be in his office about now,” replied Allen, in rebut.

Mary April Steinberg, came out of the meeting room, looked at Allen, Wolfsan, and Elmer, “Let’s not get angry about the situation,” she said in a calm even tone voice, the other eighteen actors all turned about looking at her, stopped drinking their drinks, and listened up as if she was the commander and chief, Elmer, put his chin in his hand, and a frown on his face.
“It’s been a very strange day,” she commented, “you folks ought to have some soup and sandwiches, its noon already.”
“Don’t put it off April,” said Elmer, “what gives?”
“You know Elmer, what gives! You have a very red face also, I hope your not drinking too much wine, we got a movie to produce today,” she responded with authority.
“Drunk,” said Elmer, “no, I’m not drunk,” he commented, “I’m angry, annoyed, irritated, all that and more!”
“Must be racial,” said Mary April, to Elmer looking dumbfounded at her.
“I say would you like to drop me as the supporting actor also?” he rebuked.
“Don’t get me started on it, unfortunately, if you don’t know by now you should, we’re all replaceable.” She said, adding, “The conversation in the meeting room was most difficult.”
“Don’t be funny,” said Elmer, “get to the point—please!”
“No problem Elmer, I just want to be politically correct here (Wolfsan looked at Mary, Allen and Elmer, he had seen it coming, and dreaded it).”
“I wish this had not happened, oh yes, I do wish it hadn’t, but it has and it looks as if by forcing, or trying to force Allen to do what his religious principles are against we could be involved with a breech of contract, and this can lead into much more. We could offer him more money, but I think that is fruitless, (Elmer’s shoulders start shaking, everyone else is tightly holding onto their table’s edge, listening), so we have a check for Allen, for $45,000 dollars, his total fee for all the scenes, it is better we make a clean break. And we have a younger actor on his way here this very minute, and we will redo 30% of the prior scenes, where Allen is in them, and that will be that.” Said Mary April.
“Nonsense,” said Elmer, “forget the whole thing and just let him go, he’s nothing to anyone of us, except more work, something he might try, and plus he’s a bad actor.”
Then Elmer grabbed the two signature cards Wolfsan had signed for Allen, and ripped them up to shreds, in front of him, and Mary. Elmer then looked at Wolfsan, and so did Allen, and Wolfsan, put his pen in his pocket.

They all sat there in the warm cafeteria, filling their glasses with coffee, wine, a few beers, avoiding one another’s eyes, while the cook brought the soup and the waiter the bowls to each and every person, and the ham and cheese sandwiches.
Mary April could tell Elmer’s comments had incited the others, but not to any high degree, but to a certain uncomfortable level, one that provoked animosity, and perhaps future gossip; Wolfsan turned away from looking at Allen, and even Elmer, he was sitting on the opposite side of the table in front of them, now to the side, he had a blank if not indifferent face.
“What were you going to say Allen,” asked Elmer, in a cocky tone.
“Nothing to you,” he told him with a smile, and good eye contact.
“Why’s that?” asked Elmer as if he wanted to show his comrades how witty he could be.
“It’s quite unnecessary Allen,” exclaimed Mary, “it doesn’t weren’t any explanation.
“I will say a word to you on the matter, he’ knows better, yet he protests; anyhow I was going to say…” started Allen.
“Yes,” she said, “were all taking a beating over this, aren’t we.”
Everyone looking at Mary, Allen and Elmer, with discontent faces, the drive (morale) now dropping considerably,
“Yes Allen, what were you going to say?” asked Mary.
“Are you married?” asked Allen
“Why yes,” said Mary with a smile.
“Do you have children, and do you love them?”
Her face was showing a little discontent with the second question, but she said, “Of course I love them, very much so, why do you ask such question? (there was a long pause) I have two children.”
“Would you die for them?” asked Allen, looking at all the curious faces around the tables.
She bolted like a rabbit to the question, looked at him coldly, she had not expected this kind of cross-examination, but because of the situation, and all the faces looking at her she answered “Without a doubt.” She replied, “Now can we get back to a normal way of conversing?”
“How beautiful that is,” said Allen, that brought a new smile to her face, the other actors seemed to be a little more at ease with the statement, but still in suspense where Allan was going with this kind of questioning.
“Are you now feeling better, Allen?” said Elmer.
“Oh much,” said Allen, “but let me finish please, don’t interrupt!”
“It would seem to me Mary, you could and do understand how much I love Jesus Christ, because like you, I’d die for him, and I’d not want to offend Him,” he looked about, “and I’ve asked no one here to love my God, or take on my values, they are mine, if I do as you say, you will have changed me, the very thing this movie is about, and as far as this experience today goes, it’s been like a dreadful march but it has brought delightful measures.”


Written 3-6-2009 (taken from a morning dream)