Archive for the Creative Writing Category

Dystopia Issue # 2

Posted in Creative Writing, Friends and Family, Reflections with tags on May 31, 2016 by Verge

Back in the early 90’s, the Internet wasn’t really a “thing” so much.  It still sucked.  Not as bad as the Prodigy days, or the simple BBS days, when there weren’t any GUIs, but just a bunch of people tinkering around and even flirting.  But, you know, no youtube, no facebook, no wordpress.

Back then, I started something called a fanzine.  I mentioned this to Chelsea the other day at work, who is 25, and she had no idea what the hell I was talking about.  But Mike, who IS my age, spun around in his seat and was like, “that’s cool, I remember those, what was your’s called?”  My answer…”Dystopia”.”

So for all the people that are older or younger than me by 15 years or so, a fanzine is basically an analog blog.  It’s not made out of technology.  It’s made out of paper.  It can be about anything, but most of them were about bands.  Maybe an entire genre.  Or maybe a sub culture, like skating, or art, or writing, or punk, or goth, or raves.

In High School, I was in a after school club that focused on creative writing.  And, we did publish that stuff a few times a year, but it was kind of limited.  My writing and English teachers at school were wonderful people.  They were the reasons that every elective I could take for three years,  I took extra English courses.  And then I gave up my study hall to take even more English courses.  I took so many extra electives that I could have graduated in 3 years except that the state wouldn’t allow it.

The writing club was cool, but I wanted to be in charge, so I started my own fanzine.  I asked all the people I was friends with who were artists, or poets, or writers, to share what they had been working on and promised to put it all in my fanzine.  At one point, I had a rival fanzine in the school that was called “Bite Mari,” which was published by these two younger girls, Elysa and Jenn, and even though we were my competition, their’s was pretty bad ass and hilarious.  So I went on to date Elysa, the publisher, for 6 years or so.

My parents have just retired, and are selling their house in New Jersey and moving to Florida.  We’ve been helping clear out the house because it’s already been sold and everything either needs to go to Florida or the kids or in the trash.  I’m not sure exactly how my mother hid so much shit in that house, because it always looked amazing clean and organized, but they hoarded a ton of stuff.  It kind of scares me that that gene is in me somewhere.

So, they’ve been going through the piles of memories, and sorting them into boxes for each of us kids.  Mine contained a copy of Issue number #2 of “Dystopia.”  So, for what it’s worth (which is apparently $1), I give you the now, newly improved, totally digital, Blog version of Dystopia.  Thanks to all the people that helped me and had fun with me back in High School.  We always made it interesting somehow, and there was only so much cough medicine us kids could drink together to amuse ourselves.  Cheers!

covercover insidepage 1page 2page 3page 4page 5page 6page 7page 8page 9page 10page 11page 12page 13page 14page 15back cover

If and when I find the other issues of my fanzine, I’ll post them here as well.  I know I have them all, buried in my attic somewhere, to discover when I start to sort through my old memories.

Shopping at the V Store

Posted in Creative Writing on September 5, 2015 by Verge

Guy:  Good Morning Sir, how are you today?

Me:  Thanks!  I’m well.  It’s my day off, got a little bit of a buzz going on.  How bout yourself?

Guy:  Well, I’m here.  I guess it’s not too bad.  I hold open doors for people I generally hate, but hey, it pays the bills.  And they make me hold this silly tablet and pretend we’re in the future.  But all in all, I guess it’s pretty dope.  Beats being a greeter over at Ruby Tuesdays.  They’re miserable inside, and their workplace smells like shit.

Me:  Okay, well that’s enough small talk.  I think I was pleasant enough to you, but now I want to talk to Hot Chick.  She helped me last weekend and was really, really good at pretending to be just a bit into me.  She’s got a great smile, and she actually knows what the fuck she’s talking about, which is arguably much hotter than her ass.

Guy:  Dude, I feel ya, bro.  No problem.  Let me see if she’s busy.  

Ah, shit.  She’s a little held up with this bitch who keeps coming in.  Man, I don’t know how Hot Chick keeps her smile on.  This rich cunt gives her hell every few days because she’s too fucking dumb to use a smart phone.  But, it looks like she might be almost finished…give it a few, Bro.

Me:  Got it.  I’ll walk over here for a few minutes and act mildly interested in devices that are far inferior to the one I bought last weekend from Hot Chick.

Guy:  Cool, man.  I’ll just stand here and act like it’s not awkward that I’m the only black person on the staff, and the job they chose for me today is to open the door for rich, white housewives and people who generally make way more money than me.


Guy:  Hey, Hot Chick.  This creeper over here found an excuse to come back to the store and specifically talk to you, and only you.  You down with that, or should I just tell him it’s your lunch break now, and he’ll have to deal with Ugly & Fat Girl?

Hot Chick:  Nah, it’s cool.  He’s not too weird.  And he’s kind of funny.  I’ll roll with it.  

Hot Chick:  Heeeeyyy!  What’s up.  Welcome Back!   So, I see you’re not with your wife today.  That’s cool.  Please don’t hit on me.  That happens all the time, and I really will find it unpleasant, and my shift just started, so don’t make it shitty already.

Me:  Hey, no worries.  I’m going to flirt with you a little, but I do that with all women.  Even the ugly ones.  I actually have some business to take care of, also.

Hot Chick:  Great.  But just so we’re on the same page, I’m not going to fuck you.

Me:  Yes, I know that.  Plus, you’re not THAT hot, but do me a favor and pretend like it MIGHT happen.  It’ll make this whole thing much easier for the both of us.  I’ll smile more.  And, for the record since we’re being up front, I again have a slight buzz on, so forgive me if I miss a few things.

Hot Chick:  Oh, I know.  I can smell the booze on you, and it’s only 2 in the afternoon.  Actually, I’m a little jealous.

Me:  Okay, so I’ve got a few things going on.  First, the easy stuff.  Here’s some things you sold me last weekend that I didn’t need, but did actually want, and only bought because you suggested them to me and you’re hot.  Honestly, I used to be a sales manager, and you’re technique was flawless.

Hot chick:  Yeah (laughs), that was pretty good.  I sized that shit up in a second.  When someone buys a $750 phone because theirs is broken, and they’re obviously buzzed, you can practically throw any shit at them and they’ll buy it!  And with your wife there telling you to go ahead and “treat yo’self,”… it really was a no-brainer.  I almost tried to throw in a fucking tablet!

Me:  Yeah, but you knew I wouldn’t go for that.  I’ mean, shit.  The phone I bought was better than any tablet in here anyway.  So, yeah, let me just return the wireless charger and we can be done with it.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, we can do that.  Let’s get started.  Now, I’m going to need to look at my tablet for this return.  While I’m doing that, we’re going to lose eye contact, and I know you’re going to look at my tits.  I get it.  They are great.  Trust me, I’ve been told.  But try not to be super obvious about it, okay?  We’ve got this social agreement down, right?

Me:  Sorry, did you say something?  I was looking at your tits.

Hot Chick:  Whatever.  Just go ahead and do it.  

So…I’ve got to enter in some kind of a reason that you need to return this.  And no, “Hot Chick flirted with me until I bought whatever she suggested” is not on my list of acceptable answers.

Me:  Okay.  Well, to be quite honest, if you really need to list something, you can say that I hate the huge V logo on it. I mean, shit, the phone is big enough.  Now the fucking wireless dock that sits on my desk doubles as a god damned corporate billboard?  What the fuck!  And shit, what’s more is that I only shop here because I get a discount because V is a sponsor of my company!

Hot Chick:  Dude, calm down.  I get it.  Shit, I know what you mean.  These fucks have actually been asking us to wear YOUR company’s flair around here lately.  It’s quite demeaning.  But hey, we’re all in this together.  Just keep swimming, right?

Company policy is to push the ones with the V logo.  We make more money and it’s free advertising.  You understand, you’re smart.  So, we have these other, less-of-a-rip-off wireless chargers that are generic.    You want one of those?

Me:  Nice move, Hot Chick.  Called me smart!  I like your style.  Relentless and slick.  Hey, compliments WILL get you into my pants!

Hot Chick:  Dude, c’mon.  The only thing in your pants that I want is your wallet.  YOU KNOW THIS!!!

Me:  Sorry, I got excited there for a second.  Ummm, No.  I don’t want one of the other wireless chargers.  They’re all overpriced.  You know damn well, even YOU don’t buy accessories from your own store, even with your discount.  I’ll scoop that shit up from Amazon Prime for like, a third of the price, and it’s the same damn thing.  

Hot Chick:  Got it.  Can’t argue there and you know it.  And now I see the depth of your wallet much more clearly.  A lot of the rich people that roll in here would rather throw that charger in the trash before actually coming back to the store to return it.  Unless you’re a creepy old dude and the person you bought it from is me.  That’s the down side of being Hot Chick.

Me:  Okay, enough about the perils of being young and beautiful. I’m sure it’s terribly difficult for you.  I would also like you to explain to me why we’re not in bed right now.

Hot Chick:  Oh!!  That’s right, you and you’re wife went tubing with some friends last weekend.  How is she?  How was it?

Me:  Oh! You actually really do remember and care about me.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.  OH MY GOD!  It was awesome. We had so much fun.  And we had some drinks on the river, and had so much fun, and got sunburned.  Look!!  See my arm?  It’s peeling.  It’s totally proof that we had fun, and you should definitely come next time, and then have sex with me and my wife.

Hot Chick:  Oh my god, you’re right, it does sound like you had an amazing time.  But, there’s no way I’m ever talking to you outside of what’s required of me at work.  I might go tubing one day, but it certainly won’t be with you, and it certainly won’t end up as a threesome.

Me:  Oh, right.  Yeah.  I know.  But, hey, that was a pretty neat trick you had there with your tablet reminding you of my wife’s name and our hobby!  Pretty clever.  I’m onto you, Hot Chick.

Hot Chick:  Actually, it wasn’t a trick.  I think you and your wife a pretty cool people.  Well, you seem pretty happy, and you’re both hilarious. So, I’ll take that back.  I won’t say “never.”  I’ll scale it back to “unlikely.”

Me:  I’LL TAKE IT!!


Guy:  Hey Hot Chick, I just made up a fake phone call for you in case you need a break from this fucking creeper.  You want me to take a fake message, or do you need an excuse to run a way for a minute?

Hot Chick:  Nah, that’s cool Guy.  He’s good.  I’d rather talk to him than you for the next two minutes.  

Guy:  Gotcha, well, just looking out girl.


Hot Chick:  Sorry about that.  He wants to be my wingman so he can fuck me.  There’s REALLY no chance of that, but it’s convenient because he’ll buy me anything from Pancheros at least twice a week.  So that’s nice.

Me:  Awww, good for you!  

Anyway, back to business.  Explain to me again why I’m paying 750 bucks for a phone that I could buy for like 250 up front. I know you told me last time, but I lost my receipt and my memory, you know, because I was buzzed, I was excited you were hot, and I was anxious to get a phone that actually turned on.

Hot Chick:  Haha, yeah, I know.  Okay, it’s really pretty simple.  We’re ripping you off slowly, over the course of two years, so it’s barely noticeable.  See, I’ll do some quick voodoo math here, and like magic, ta-dah…the phone is free!!

Me:  Wow, that’s amazing.  I just got a fucking free phone again!!  Fantastic!  

Okay, that’s fine, I believe you because you smile a lot, and you smell nice.  So, about that threesome…

Hot Chick:  Okay, what are you like 32, maybe 34?

Me:  Actually I’m 38, but thanks for the compliment.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, that’s worse.  I’m 25 Dude, I’m never going to fuck you.

Me:  What, you’re not into older men?

Hot Chick:  Would you be?

Me:  Touche’.  Well, I guess that about wraps it up.  I still think you’re cute, by the way.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, I know.  It’s cool.  And, you’re at least polite and your wife is nice, so I’ll downgrade you from “creeper” status, to “another guy who thinks I’m cute.”  Trust me, it’s a huge downgrade from “creeper.”.  

Me:  Well, thanks very much.  I’m pretty good with phones, and you think I’m “smart,”  so I’ll probably never see you again. Thanks for pretending you might, one day, go tubing with me and my friends, although it’s painfully obvious you have zero intentions to do so.  Shit, I mean, you’ve got business cards right there.  You didn’t even offer to friend me on Facebook so we could keep in touch.  I guess this is the end of the line for me and you, Hot Chick.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, it kinda is.  But you took it well.  And, you’ve got a really nice phone out of the relationship, right?  I mean, it’s sooo big and beautiful.  I wish I had that phone.  

Me:  okay, okay, stop laying it on so thick, darling.  I told you, you’re not THAT hot.  I’ll just shake your hand and be on my way now.  Nice knowing you for the brief slice of time we’ve crossed paths in life.

Hot Chick:  Okay, don’t get all deep and shit with me.

I’m supposed to do this corporate good bye thing, but I’ll just let you go.

Me:  I appreciate that.


Guy:  Thanks for shopping with V today, have a great day!

Me:  There’s that corporate bullshit I’ve missed so much.  Well, thanks man, I actually really hope you do have a good day, brother.

Guy:  Man, you know they make me say this shit.  But I’ve gotta do what a man’s gotta’ do.  I’ve got two kids.  I’m fucking 29, dude.  TWO KIDS.  You know what that’s like, dude?  I actually LIKE being here more than MY OWN DAMN HOME! And Hot Chick lets me buy her Pancheros a couple times a week.  It’s the only peace I have sitting next door with her over lunch.  My damn wife sometimes cooks fucking popcorn and baked beans for dinner.  FOR DINNER!!   Shit, man, just go.  Just go.  I’ll get the door for you.

Me:  Hey man.  I got it.  No worries.

Guy:  Sorry you struck out with Hot Chick.  But didn’t I see you in here with some shorty last weekend?  Blond?  Kinda saunters when she walks?

Me:  Yeah, that was my wife.  I love her.

Guy:  Bro, She’s a real piece of ass.  Don’t fuck with that.  

I don’t mean to be rude or nothing, but you’re lucky she married your ass.

Me:  Damn straight I am.  

I remember her waving goodbye

Posted in Creative Writing with tags on June 2, 2015 by Verge

I remember her waving goodbye the last time I saw her.

we had an awkward kiss and I promised that it would be better the next time

Her name was Ocean.

I’m certain I was the first to ever tell her that she was beautiful

she blushed in the most adorable way

pink rushing into her dimpled cheeks,

she covered her mouth and her eyes swelled with salty tears

as she looked away in embarrassment at the ground beneath her feet

the same way that, later that Summer, she said “shit” after cutting her toe

on a loose nail on the boardwalk while we held hands.

Her eyes were the cerulean color of the Keys

and her locks the color of sand.

I haven’t seen her face for years now.

I learned the other day

from a friend that she’s passed away.

waves of emotion swallowed me

and washed away my ability to hold myself together.

sometimes it takes news like this to remind me

that at the end, even a curse can mean the world.

Black Ice

Posted in Creative Writing, Reflections with tags on January 22, 2015 by Verge

It was supposed to be routine by the twentieth week

But I stayed late to help a friend who had to be up all night

and didn’t leave until the mist had frozen solid

on the asphalt and highways that pave my way home.

And as I nearly took a fall on the way to my car,

I realized it would be a tough ride on me tonight.

I tried my best to drive slowly, and made some bad moves;

In retrospect I had driven far too fast.

I was lucky to get the chances to recover

and tried to keep my eyes open and on the road.

Sometimes it takes much longer than you want

to get to the places you desire

but if you don’t pay attention to invisible ice

you may never arrive.

 

Ronnie Mund – Howard Stern’s Birthday Poem – “61 Years”

Posted in Creative Writing with tags on January 15, 2015 by Verge

Here we go again…this is the trasncription from the January 12th, 2015 broadcast of the Howard Stern Show, when Ronnie Mund delivers a stunning rendition of his newest poem.  This is the raw material that I will attempt to re-write into something that has a little class, and a lot less words that rhyme.  

It was January 12th in the 1950s
In a time when music and radio were kinda nifty
At this time a stork delivered a boy named Stern
Whose name would change radio and make it diffy.
As the years went by his words would be heard by many radio bosses
Who would think his manner was iffy
Along came the FCC and would turn his life into turmoil in a jiffy
Alas!  A satellite in the sky would make a venue
where Stern could say…“I got a stiffy!”
Today, 61 years later, the nifty, diffy, iffy, jiffy, stiffy  Stern
Can say to them all…”Fuck off, look what I’ve done,
look what I’ve earned!”
Happy Birthday, Du!

All Apologies (eh, it was late)

Posted in Creative Writing, Friends and Family, Reflections with tags on January 6, 2015 by Verge

what if the world were ending

in flames and fire and wrath,

could we ever come to forgive one another…

would we still be enemies in death?

they tell you there’s too much to live for

when you’re drowning under water

and then tell others there’s dignity in death

when a cause or war is what you’ve died for.

and families split, and friends are betrayed

in the worst of times that haunt us

and apologies are often not

enough to help to heal us.

but what if the world and all of us

were coming to the end,

would we find it in our souls

to just let old wounds mend?

perhaps later could have been sooner

Posted in Creative Writing, Reflections on December 31, 2014 by Verge

I arrived at the theater with my ticket in hand

already sold on the show

and with my flask in my jacket

and the movie cued up,

I reclined and sat back to relax.

I never expected I had mistakenly walked into

the wrong place and wrong time altogether,

and to avoid the embarrassment of admitting my mistake,

instead chose to sit there in silence.

It seemed that the usher had not read my ticket

and I had been awfully aloof,

but when I finally pretended  to be enjoying myself,

I found that I was completely lost.

So I slid out of the theater to ask at the booth

if I could please exchange or get a refund,

but they calmly explained that I was too late

and I’d have to settle with what I had bought.

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