Bird

The other day I watched a blue jay struggle to fly against the wind. It struggled with the flow but never stopped going. It was the answer I've been seeking for months to share with a friend and it was so simple.

Life changes and we struggle to face the currents holding us back but we must adapt to keep going. Things may not happen when and how you may want them to but you find a way keep going. 

People stop doing things & behave badly intentionally. While it's hurtful, realize there's no excuse for bad behavior. Why? A person who wants to do things continues no matter the struggle in their life, including reflect kindness. It's simple. It's a choice to maintain loving kindness to all and reap the karmic rewards.

All religions, even in Buddhism we attract what we reflect. People really aren't the problem. Struggle doesn't hinder you. It's part of the journey. The obstacle is the path. Yes it's hard, but after hardship comes so much opportunity. Believe that you deserve so many wonderful things. We all do. And ultimately realize that you're the only thing weighing you down in life. You have the power to set yourself free anytime you want without having to escape. 

Here's a story from the D men about struggle and letting go of things. It was written for a friend years ago. Do you continue when life is hard? 

Enjoy! 

Kisses, 

m.

Deadweight

(2-28-2011)

Gryphon Teller is sinking. Sinking like a stone to the very depths of the sea and in this moment he’s taking me along with him. Gryphon once told me he loved me and I believe that to be true. I believe very much that he loved me. But whether or not his love for me remains is yet to be seen.

And his grip locks tighter as the watery bottom nears closer.

Gryphon Teller isn’t a complicated man. At least he didn’t used to be. Unlike other men, he was satisfied by the little things in life. In fact he was quite the type of man that enjoys retelling the same story over and over without thinking a thing about it. And most often he still does.

Today he wears the same brand of jeans that my Dad and his Dad wear while talking about the price of gasoline in a story about the lawnmower. It’s a story from last week that doesn’t quite fit the mood or feel of the day but he tells anyway. Just like he told it last week over breakfast. Between his story and another cup of coffee, he tells me about testing his diving equipment. A test that requires a short dive and a couple hours on the boat. Before he resumes the same story, Gryphon tells me to “Come along for the ride. You’ll enjoy it.” And like so many times before I couldn’t see the harm in it.

Soon after we first met each other, I believed that Gryphon was the most interesting person I’d ever come across in my life. I’m not sure what it was that made him interesting. It might’ve been for his sense of fashion or how he talked about music or science. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those things, but I knew that there was something about him.

Simply put, Gryphon Teller is the kind of person you meet on the street once and never seem to forget. His charm never lacked for energy. Often people mistake that energy for something else when it isn’t that at all.  And just like so many others, I mistook that energy for something else.

Sometimes I’ll wake up at night. Snap right up out of a dead sleep that feels like falling. I can’t ever remember the dreams. The dreams aren’t what’s important. What’s important is that I know where I’m at. And how that feels.

It’s the same with Gryphon. Sometimes, I’ll find myself snapping. Sitting up and coming to attention. But instead of falling it’s sinking. And seeing how he really is before slipping back under the guise of unknown.

My life with Gryphon has become a bit like quicksand. Everyday we sink a little bit deeper. I used to like the feeling of sinking with him.

I can’t breathe anymore.

As I’m suiting up Gryphon tells me about the human brain. He tells me that the brain can survive without oxygen for a short time before telling me the tank only holds an hour’s worth of air. With a smile he puts the tank on my back and turns to his own equipment. It seems like an eternity that I’m staring at his back before swinging my legs over the edge of the small boat.

When he first told me about diving I was completely captivated. Listening to his stories about dives made accepting his invitation easy. Dive after dive sounded so amazing in his eyes. The world through Gryphon’s eyes was something so incredibly beautiful that I couldn’t help but contemplate seeing it. And then I finally conceded to.

When I first agreed to go with Gryphon he told me it would be a simple dive. They were always simple. And even this final one was supposed to be no different. But that first time when he said there would be “nothing to it” he was so very right. Gryphon’s words couldn’t be truer because there was nothing to it.

It was always nothing. And the only thing that changed this morning was my participation. His plan has always been the same. From that first time, I knew what diving alongside Gryphon entailed. It meant my trust.

Trust like love is something that you simply give. And when Gryphon gave me his I returned mine without question. Some people might tell you that love is full of twists and turns before you know what that means, and I couldn’t begin to disagree with them more.

Disagreeing at the depths of the sea is the last place you want to find yourself. Yet it’s where our argument finds its temperature to be perfect. The last minutes of air in the tank are counting backward on the dial as I move myself towards the surface. Gryphon hasn’t behaved like this before.

It had only been fourteen minutes since we left the boat when I couldn’t reach the valve on the spare tank. Three extra tanks he dragged down 50 ft with us. Beneath the blanket of dark I can still see his eyes in the thick mask. They’re letting me know that I’m not doing something right.

And I was wrong when he followed me back to the surface. Within minutes his legs coiled around mine as my hands pulled at the line alongside the boat. The thin cords attached to the extra tanks find themselves firmly wrapped around his legs. I can see the new look in his eyes when he can’t grab onto the boat. With a pull that releases the tanks. There’s panic.

Panic is as panic does.

Once Gryphon told me he wanted me to leave him. Because he couldn’t leave me. He needed someone to be there for me, he said. To reaffirm what he wanted he told me that I shouldn’t question it ever again. I knew this wasn’t what he wanted but he said it to me anyway. It hurt when he said it and I couldn’t imagine ever having to. Deep down, I would never leave him because he didn’t want me to.

“Let go.” I mouth the words as Gryphon’s panicked hands pull at my suit and hang tightly onto the cords weighted by the tanks that drag us down.

We’re sinking and he can stop us. The weight of the extra tanks pulls tightly against my waist. I want him to calm down enough to realize he can stop this. There’s not enough air to last another trip up to the surface for two of us. Foot by foot rushes past us in the darkness.

I can’t breathe and this moment feels more like the same dream.

Over and over again there’s a chance for release. In any situation there’s a chance for escape. Even in quicksand, there is a chance you can get out. You have to reach for it though.

Closer.

Closer to the bottom my love drags me. It’s when I start to think he doesn’t care that his actions change. Gryphon finds a moment in my eyes and stops. His tight grip loosens from my waist and pushes. There’s no more sinking as his hands untangle from the cords. We’re not going to die.

In a moment of effortless calm, Gryphon Teller looked into my eyes, realized that he was only sinking because he chose to and simply let go of the unnecessary weight.

So addictive...

Being a junkie is the life of an artist. And I don't mean drug or alcohol addiction. You are addicted to create. I don't share this often but I'm an addict and writing is my drug of choice. I choose not to be consumed by it and set boundaries. I used to write everyday by force. At minimum 1000 words at maximum 5000 words or until I couldn't stay awake. So I try to exercise self control these days. Recently I've decided I need to stop again. After becoming sleep deprived, experiencing heartbreak, grieving and obsessing to finish while working on a piece in the last few weeks or so, I'm beginning to ponder whether I may need to start smoking & drinking more to go a little deeper in character because I can't quite capture how it feels to breathe out this woman's emptiness. Changing my external self is my signal I need to ease back. With all things you have a ying & yang. You find a balance. 

Recently my balance was changing my hair because my character was newly blonde. It's frightening how life imitates art... So understand I have great concern for others well being & mental state when they pick up my characters quirks & idolize them. My characters are typically unhinged & damaged. It's best &  recommended you do not become them. But I won't stop anyone... It's funny to watch.  

So how do you find yourself again? 

What works for me is to focus on myself instead of what I perceive. I refrain from trying to manipulate people or control them. I encourage them to do as they wish and I step back. The less control you have over circumstances & people... The more control you will have over yourself. You see buddhism encourages altruism and giving to others pulls me out of the internal monologue of my character. Otherwise when in character I think too much & miss the point of life to a self destructive degree. The point of it all is simple. Enjoy life. Love yourself. Be happy.

Here's an older one from the D Men. The Men were written because I cared a great deal for someone and I needed to get out of my head when it ended. 

What pulls you out of your head?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Deal

(3-12-11)

Just another night with another song on the old piano for another tear in a warm glass of bourbon for good ol Kansas and he was just about certain it would be his last. And with a little luck he might be right.

Kansas Beauregard Watson was a blues man and he played the blues night or day as far back as he could remember. For you see, dear old Kansas had a reason to play them blues. Everything that could have happened to a man happened to Kansas.

Dear old Kansas Beauregard wasn’t a bad fellow but he couldn’t help that his luck was always running out. It certainly ran out when he lost his job. Working in a Coal Mine was hardly a job that he enjoyed but it had kept food on the table. Then the luck ran out when his old lady left him for another man. Without any money it was inevitable that she’d leave. And sure as the sun rises she left him with a son that wasn’t his. What a beautiful boy his son Alabama was. It was a damn shame that boy wasn’t his cause he could play the blues just as grand as Kansas.

Some families pass down businesses. Others pass down money. Kansas passed down both the best thing and worst thing he knew to that boy. The blues and his bad luck. Blood or not that boy got every ounce of soul from his daddy Kansas and there wasn’t anything that could be changed by that. You see what is a man without a legacy? And Kansas sure as hell had a legacy in his music albeit came on account of his luck running so deeply bad.

From the time he was a small boy Kansas could tickle those ivories like he had a thousand stories to tell and that didn’t sit right with his old man. You see, his daddy was a preacher man and those blues didn’t much agree with him when his son played them. The Preacher Watson cursed the small boy the same as his mother. Like her son, the Lady Beauregard had the touch of a siren song that told a thousand tales of sorrow. The good ol preacher man had the lord on his side to remind them both it was the work of the devil that fueled their souls with song. Well it wasn’t the good lord wishing them luck when the Preacher Watson threw them out of his house. Along the way wasn’t easy for Lady Beauregard and her boy Kansas. And there wasn’t a day that went by that his mama didn’t apologize to Kansas for their life.

Leaving the burden of misfortune upon another soul was unbearable for Kansas Beauregard. And he sought out any way that he could to lift that curse from his boy Alabama. High and low he’d ask anyone for the answers to the problem that stood unsolved. Until that solution came to him one night right as he was closing out one more song of woe.

One could hardly blame Kansas for wanting to turn around his luck when that stranger walked in with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

The man came in when the rest of the usual suspects were calling it in for the night. He wasn’t dressed like the other characters. The cut of his suit matched his smile. Smooth and neat. His hair wasn’t too much notice with a bit of a curl. And when he spoke to the bartender his voice boomed across the entire place. The man took his seat, which from where Kansas sat tickling the ivories wasn’t too much distance away.

With a nod and a sip of his drink he encouraged the piano man to keep going.

Just as soon as he’d finished the song the man approached him. Silver tongue and smooth he dropped his offer before Kansas. A strange request it was but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be obliged. Fortune and fame would be bestowed upon him. His son Alabama would enjoy a life of ease and comfort and someday follow in his footsteps with a legacy of good luck. And all of it for only the price of a song.

According to the stranger he couldn’t seem to live without the sound of the blues. One more he told Kansas. Play them for me one more time tonight and this gift is yours. Kansas couldn’t see the harm in it, so he obliged the man with his song.

Some will tell you that the devil ain’t a smooth talking good looking character. Others will tell you that he’s nothing like the lord. Well from what Kansas could tell all those folks were wrong about what they said about that fellow. From the moment that fellows deal rolled off the tongue, Kansas knew in his mind there was only one character he was dealing with, the devil himself. And that didn’t matter the slightest bit to him.

And he played.

The Lady Beauregard often told Kansas to watch out for that silver-tongued man. She told him just like a warning not to take any heed in his words. But good old Kansas had lived a long enough life filled with misfortune trailing after him. A blues man has the blues, and Kansas lived and breathed his fair share of them. At the time that man rolled in with his offer, Kansas only had one thing that mattered to him most, his son. Blood or not, Alabama deserved a better life than what he could give. Bad luck and blues wasn’t what he wanted for the boy, so Kansas did what he thought was right. He played that man another song.

Now some might say that Kansas ran out of luck that night when he made that deal with the devil. Others will remember Kansas Beauregard Watson as a great blues man that caught a bit of luck that night when he left a legacy of sound in one song that would carry on. For on that night, with one more song and one more drink of bourbon, Kansas Beauregard Watson gave that silver-tongued man a bit of his blues for the last time.

Throw

I know how a woman throws herself at a man, yet I don't know how to throw myself at a man. I won't claim to know how to even go about it without looking silly. If you want dating advice that's of the sex & the city variety... I don't have it. How I ended up with the guys I used to date or be involved with... It happened because I let it. Or maybe they knew how to take the lead? 

Flirty!? Moi? I really wouldn't say I am but I suppose I can be friendly. :) Although it is an effort to mingle with people. If you are seeing me out and about, I'm trying hard to be human. But once I warm up to you... It may seem as though I'm a different person entirely.

What about the writing? It's funny how much you can take & twist from personal experiences & relationships without truly revealing anything at all about yourself. :)

Here's a story about a gal who threw herself at men and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Do you pressure people into doing things they don't want to? Do you throw yourself at people? Or are you a flirt or just friendly?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

PS: The new book is coming. I promised myself it wouldn't conflict with a very dear un-friend's epic release. So I'm thinking maybe late May or early June.

Didn’t

(4-6-2011)

Some girls will take no for answer.

Not this one.

Not this time.

“I didn’t have a choice,” is what he thought as he steadied the razor sharp shards of glass in his hand. The length of the puddle ran the length of his restless arm as it moved. Her head lay split wide open to reveal the slow thickness of blood spilling outward onto the Italian marble floor. The red on white tile was a startling contrast to his eyes. Trying to convince himself that there was no other way Victor pulled another shard from her lifeless body. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Over and over he kept thinking that there was something else he could have done. But there was no other way to do it because Carmen never gave anyone a choice.

When she wanted something she went after it full throttle.

Carmen Sandoval was the kind of girl you wanted to hang out with. She was pretty, tall, slender, big breasted and all the guys wanted to fuck her. And most of them probably did. Asking Carmen out meant one thing to everyone in the neighborhood and Victor knew it. That’s what made it hard to believe when he did it. Victor wasn’t the type of guy that followed when all the others did. But today Victor Vargas was the guy that got to hang out with her.

Victor Vargas was hardly a man with gumption. If Carmen hadn’t asked him for help with her flat tire in the middle of the parking lot at the grocer’s they might have never met. And if they had never met Victor was quite certain they never would have spent more than five minutes in the same room, let alone in the same company.

At least that’s what he thinks. In the back of his mind Victor wanders through the moments trying to piece together the puzzle of what happened before this moment where he’s standing over the bloody mess.  Like the missing parts of a dream he can barely recall the details of her before it happened.

The bare parts of her body look saintly in stillness. A purity that remains absent from the fragments of his memory that fall back together in his mind. With his eyes following the bloody line between her upper torso and lower hip bone Victor realizes that he warned her from the start. She didn’t heed his warning. Even though he was hardly to blame for what happened, somewhere in his mind he remembered giving a warning.

“I’m not a courageous man,” he told her when she invited him out. And he wasn’t. But Carmen didn’t listen to him when he said it. This was because women never listened to Victor. It was something he’d grown accustomed to over the years. Now Victor couldn’t say he didn’t mind because he did. He simply wanted to know about her when he accepted the invitation. And as she rambled on about sex and drugs he wanted her to know what he was about.

“Don’t expect me to do something that I’m not going to.” He interrupted her talking and talking with plans about what’s going to happen next. While walking to the house Carmen had it all worked out and Victor couldn't be in more disagreement when they reached the door.

“I didn’t mean to turn you on.”

 “Didn’t. So many things that you didn’t mean to do. Well it’s a shame now that it has to be this way. You’re staying for a drink.” She says.

“I’m going to go. It was fun. Maybe another…”

“Victor. I’m sorry. You don’t have to. Don’t. Stay.” she pleads.

But the words may as well be silent because he knew that nothing could change. Especially not with her.

He’d gone along with the evening despite knowing what Carmen was like. Victor kept hoping for a chance to know her. To see a change in her that showed a different side that never came. He knew what she was like when he took her home and in fact it was the one time when Victor was certain that NO meant no as she plead with him further. Good night was all he had in mind, but that was anything but what she wanted when she asked him to stay for a drink.

What she wanted happened in the kitchen next to the stove next to a drawer full of knives. It could have been the knives but it wasn’t and it happened faster than Victor had time to take it all in. Carmen opened a beer and reached for his hand. At least he thought it was his hand she wanted when the bottle dropped and  she quickly made her move for his pants. Victor didn’t have to do it but he did. He moved. A slight step to the right and she wasn’t paying attention when the base of her heel went out from under her in the liquid.

Back, back, back she fell into the golden pool of foamy wetness to meet her end.

As the color of red washed over her beautiful face, Victor wondered if there was more to Carmen than her oversexed libido. He suddenly wanted to know about her. And it was too late for all that when she stopped breathing. “I didn’t have a choice because you didn’t give me a chance.”  And with that Victor Vargas lay the sharp glass down gently with his sharp words before saying goodnight.  

Will

Where there's a will there's a way... 

Alright I don't do this much lately and I'm going to put the Buddhist & Energy stuff in a drawer to be as emotionally real as possible with you. 

It's been a while because frankly this year hasn't been easy for me but as always I continue to take care of myself and I love a great, big, difficult challenge in life. Easy is boring. ;)

So love stuff... Personally I've had to forcibly take a break for a couple months now to get my affairs in order. If you can't care for yourself, then how are you gonna care for anyone else? 

In that time through talking with friends & strangers, something I discovered is that people don't know what love is or how to love, but damn it... They want it NOW! 

Here's a hint: Infatuation, feeling enamored and obsessing over when he or she will call & text you next or can't wait to see & kiss each other -- that isn't really love. Real love is so much more deeper & precious than that. It's an unconditional regard for someone's well-being and their happiness (and for the sake of the relationship). Sometimes you care for them so much... You let go. 

There will be another person if it doesn't work. Some people won't call back or return your texts. I don't know why guys or girls do this. They are clearly not interested in you or care about your feelings but this does make it easier to not waste time pursuing or proving your worth to them. 

Look, a person who wants to make you a part of their life makes you a priority and you will never need to win their approval or fight or beg or wait for their time. Now understand that you may never know why a guy isn't interested but you do need to know that you are so valuable and will find someone who sees how valuable you are. 

So my advice... I personally know it's hard, but leave the guy alone if he's not interested in you. Work on living & loving yourself instead of simply wanting someone to love you. If you love yourself, someone else will and things will fall into place... Don't worry about it all so much! Just have fun living! Kisses! 

Here's a short piece about wasting time on a man... 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Dick

(3-28-2011)

“Dick!”

An open-handed slap accompanies the sharp tongue attached to an irritated woman who has already stormed away as people look on in the otherwise quiet restaurant. It’s a face and name I haven’t seen or heard in a while, but that doesn’t make this moment any less satisfying to watch.

Most women never forget about Dick once they met him. I know cause I never could.

After his date left the table Richard Blackwood sat very still with a smug smile on his face and motioned for the waiter to bring over another bottle of wine. Richard Blackwood was used to hearing his name spoken in this manner. In fact he often took great pleasure in hearing it roll off the tongue of women. He most definitely enjoyed being the thing that rolled out of their mouths. And by ‘this manner’ I am of course referring to the condescending tone. However, to Richard when hearing his name the tone mattered very little at all. Not nearly as much as hearing them say it like that…

Dick.

Whether it was breathy, brash or baritone Richard Blackwood couldn’t seem to get enough when a woman said his name. And in the end they all said it.

Just like that.

Richard Blackwood was an arrogant man with a knack for making everything unpleasant.  He insisted that everyone he met call him Dick. Some women often found this request a bit hard to swallow and were instantly offended. Dick took this opportunity to make their embarrassment as humiliating as possible. Often chastising those women by remarking, “Now a little Dick never hurts now and again, unless you want it to.”

To say he wasn’t a nice man would be a rash understatement. There wasn’t a single person that could stand Dick for more than five minutes. Something was awful in everything he said, especially about others. With his nasty attitude Dick could hardly be mistaken for a human being let alone find himself filled with any type of compassion.

And that was the proverbial icing on the cake.

For you see, Dick Blackwood had the ability to encourage others to see things as miserably as possible and relished in it. Dick could find the unhappiest person in a room and make them feel worse. If ever you doubted your position while standing on the window ledge twenty stories up, Dick would have no problem helping you find your motivation… to jump.

Honestly who wouldn’t after talking to Dick? You might jump, if meant getting away.

Although Dick was far from superior he had something a woman might put up a fight for. Something about the way he wore his pants too tight helped to demonstrate the reason that outweighed his obnoxiousness.

Some men are simply attractive by the qualities they possess. Charm. Finesse. Attitude. Dick wasn’t one of those kinds of men. Attractive came with the package. Like a hotel perk it was a great room with a view that happened to be located in the acid-tripping smoking section. And like the poorly misplaced hotel room, the self -serving arrogant condescending qualities were just the tip of the iceberg. Below the shallow surface lay a man that could only be described in one way…

DICK!

Dick is the kind of man your mother ought to have warned you about, except that chances are she probably wasted her time on him as well. For despite his shortcomings, he definitely had a way with women. An unprecedented way of getting them to do exactly as he wished before making sure they never stuck around for too long. At least that’s what he liked to believe. As with a man like Dick you have to understand he believes he has an agenda. Unbeknownst to him, this way with women had nothing to do with him.

You see, all a woman really wanted from Dick was to come between him and his pants and sometimes that meant more than she bargained for.

Someone might tell you a silence is worth a thousand words. Well that person never met Dick. Dick almost never shut up. He might tell you that your hair is all wrong or that you look like your left leg is shorter than your right. This is before telling you that you’re almost as pretty as the old woman sitting next to you. All of this and more guaranteed to get you to talk to him when talking to him was the last thing you wanted to do.

Somewhere between introducing himself and chatting with a woman he would start in. Slowly but surely he would look for a tiny vulnerability that guaranteed he wouldn’t stop talking. If only to prove that he was completely right by making you completely miserable, but by that point it’s too late. Invested in the stock of flesh and unable to pull out. You’re already in too far to turn back now.

Dick Blackwood happened to be anything but charming when he crossed my path. I met him on the street with his tight pants and unpleasantness. Something on the inside may have told me to go the other way when he said hello but instead I smiled back. And once he started in I couldn’t get enough. I found myself agreeing to so much more than dinner and drinks before I could stop.

Dick used insult and unpleasantness to get what he wanted. Thinking it worked, as it had so many times before, he continued because Dick liked it when he got his way. More than anything else he was contented to recognize this. So it came to me as no surprise when his lack of regard and vanity extended well beyond his introduction.

Dinner with Dick was an exercise in restraint. Everything he had learned about me became fodder for insult. It was always how I was inadequate and when I wasn’t the rest of the restaurant was completely worthless. And when the rest of the world wasn’t worthless he was telling about all the things he wanted to do after he took me home if I didn’t ruin things. My ruining things wasn’t the problem I had worried about when he kept talking. But he continued.

After the first course I stayed when wanted to leave. Even after I thought I had enough of him I remained. When I remember how I wanted to walk away from the table I was wondering how anyone got into bed with this man. Then I realized if I had walked away at dinner instead of putting up with a little more I might never have understood why women took as much as they did from Dick…

Control.

It was the piece of the man that you had right from the start. 

When I think back to that night when I separated that man from his pants. I remember how I let Dick roll off my tongue more times than I can count. And I know what it was that I couldn’t forget. It was the power of knowing what sent that man spinning. Spinning because he thought he had the upper hand and knowing that in one word he couldn’t get enough. And remembering how I walked away from a man like that because it was my decision when I came and left from his life. Something smug continues to widen his grin across from me, when I realize what it is. As he’s pouring the wine his date is coming back. And I can’t blame her. I might have done the same thing.

Up On the Sight of Living Provacatively

What's always Up on your sight or rather line of vision is life... Lived Provacatively! Get on board with your life instead a wasting it on a single site/place to exist. Drink In the rain... Live a provacative life. Let go of things that don't work and clean up your dirty house wherever it is in the world! Don't waste your time on unecessary things. Take a risk on something new instead of what you already know. Buddhism says one micro action helps the whole world. Love yourself more!

Here's a D Man who's a cleaned up by spending a little time the rain... But a Waterhose helps too! You can buy the whole series on Amazon or read it here!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Dirty

It’s only another seven days thought Patrick Mulland as he looked over at the mud that covered his bare skin. Shirtless and barefoot, coming to in the middle of a dark mud hole is the last place anyone wants to end up. But that’s exactly where he found himself.  This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this predicament. Hell it probably wouldn’t be the last. But as he lay completely wasted in the water logged dirt he realized that this couldn’t happen again. At least he didn’t want it to. Not again. He would need to start again and that meant time apart. 

Patrick Mulland couldn’t remember what life was like when he wasn’t dirty. As any committed man finds it hard to remember what it was like before they met their one and only. And Patrick was no different. When Patrick first met his black label princess he knew it was a love affair that he couldn’t walk away from. He hadn’t been without her since he wasn’t twenty-five. Eight years ago he’d meant his lady love for the first time and unlike his best mate she’d never let him down. She was a long and cool when the taste on his tongue was intoxicating before it slid down his throat. And one taste was never enough. That and that reason alone he was willing to stay dirty for his old lady. 

Dirty. 

Dark. 

What you have to understand is that Patrick Mulland wasn’t always a dirty man. He was a man with a plan. He had a goal in life. Everything had purpose before she came along. He didn’t see it coming and no one warned him about these situations. As most will tell you… once you’re in it’s damn hard to get out. And they wouldn’t be wrong in that thought. 

Patrick’s bare feet were blacker than he’d ever seen them. His head spinning as he carries his half empty princess back to the house. She’d dragged him to several dark alleys but never out into the middle of no where. Certainly not during a rainstorm. He couldn’t help but wonder why she’d begun to treat him so badly. He was a good man and always stood by her side even when his friends and family pleaded with him to give her up. Johnny had definitely drawn a line in the dirt this time and Patrick was absolute when he decided there was no going back. 

Halfway back from no where it started to rain again. The cold water beats against Patricks bare shoulders and he knows this is the last place he ever wants to be again. As the cold hard rain beats against his chest the dirt washes clean. In that moment he knows this has to change. He can’t live a life like this. Patrick used to be a man of integrity and know this person he had become… well he could hardly recognize himself. Good ol Johnny girl had led him astray for the last time. With every ounce of sobering strength he had Patrick Mulland broke his good ol girl against the hard wet surface of a grey oak tree. 

Johnny Walker Black hadn’t been a good mistress all these years.  In fact she’d been a poor companion with a tendency towards extremes. Sometimes she kept Patrick high as a kite and other times she had him low as the very mud he was traipsing through this cold dark wet rainy evening. Johnny was a fun time gal but the kind of fun she wanted was too much for Patrick Mulland. 

Patrick came to a decision between sign marker 12 and 14. It was a absolute that couldn’t be taken back. It was a moment when he was all alone in the world and Johnny wasn’t enough company. No matter how many times she would sing it, her song wouldn’t change his mind this time. And he knew what needed to be done. 

Goodbye. A word that no one ever wants to come. Bu this cool woman with her sting and taste had been enough for Patrick. This was something they had done time and time again. If he could change her or him it might be different. Somehow he knew it would never change and they would never be different. 

However tonight, was that moment of variation. Patrick Mulland had had enough. He’d reached a limit that others never see. He wanted out. A goodbye to the mistress that had kept him prisoner for so very long. Instead of rejoice it was a moment that felt like ice. It was a colder moment than he could ever imagine. But it was a moment that needed to happen. Seven days followed by six nights had sobered him up in the past and tonight with the dirt washed clean from his face he knew it would need to be enough again. 

Goodbye lover. 

Goodbye grace. 

Goodbye. 

Patrick Mulland knew this was the end. He had never quite pictured himself wrecking a car in the dark, dark night but that’s the way it happened. It was the only way he would be able to say goodbye to Johnny. Although it felt colder than he’d remembered he knew that it was something that needed to be done. Patrick had once found that life could offer him so much more than what he’d settled on. Johnny just happened to be one of those things that he’d settled on. 

And Patrick Mulland knew that if there were only a thousand things he could change it would be his relationship with Johnny. Tonight happened to be a night worth changing things. He was clean. Cleaner than he’d ever been. Somehow as the rain washed the mud from him on this cold and dark night, Patrick felt with certainty this was the night. The night he said goodbye for good