Heart Ache

Heart Ache is how I start the year off. I write this down on my little ugly troll of a blog for no good reason other than to remind me what I have given up in the longing for a dream.

I have given up the love of a good woman.

Kissing Sally

Her name isn't Sally but it is easier for me to talk to her through this blog than by email, phone or in person.

"I'm going to kiss you."

Sally closed her eyes to receive my kiss.

I was nervous and my damaged nerves betrayed me. After the trauma of bending a steering wheel to the column in a car wreak with my face, my face would contort when I was under stress.

I hadn't kissed a woman in years and I was under stress. I closed my eyes and kissed her with my twisted face.

Years later Sally told me she had opened her eyes when we had our first kiss and saw a grim twisted face as I kissed her. I told her why my face was the way it was but I don't know if she believed me.

Later I told Sally I loved her and when she said it back I wasn't sure she meant it.

A car wreak, a first kiss and two "I love you" all twisted metal in my life or is that twisted mental?

Beyond a Billion Dreams

Beyond a billion dreams I seek a soul mate fair.

With hearts entwined we would face our fears.

Nothing could stop the magic mirror of love defined.

Not even these never ending silly rhymes.

I find I miss the dance of romance. Time to put my heart and soul into my writing.

The Roses

We no longer spoke with our minds. The magic was gone. There was no half speak in our conversations and long moments of silents filled the time we spent together.

She had grown so much in the short time I knew her but she was still in that moment of death.
I had long ago left that echo of forever behind me and was content to be in the finite of this life.

I was a few months younger than her in the flesh but my spirit was truly ancient and my imagination was boundless in the ways of people.

The Roses I gave her sat on a table and her brother surprised us has he walked through the front door. I stood up and he gave me a cold stare. She introduced her brother to me and he took my hand in a firm grip. As I looked in his threatening eyes with compassion he became nervous and released his grip as he looked away.

He saw the roses on the table and I saw a flash of anger on his face. I meet that quick look at me with the slightest of smiles.

How long had he been spying on his sister and I? With that silent thought I sat back down.
After some confusing talk between a brother and sister he left.

I talked to Patty tonight. I must have sounded like a fool. I've been having backwards days.
I don't know if our relationship has any future and my mind hops from one memory to another when I think about her. She is a miracle of courage and faith.

I think of the roses I gave her and the look of anger when her brother saw the roses. Later she tells me about the meeting her father and brothers had with her about me and other things.
She tells me how protective they were when she was a teenager. Her father was part of Air Force Intelligent. One of her brother's was a policeman. All the boys her age were afraid to date her.

In the meeting about me, a younger brother tells her, he spied on us when we were roasting marshmallows over a small fire pit in her backyard. I laugh as all this makes me fell like a teenager at 50 years old. Her family decides I'm not a bad person as Rosemary (my grand daughter's Great Grandmother) has vouched for me.

No matter how old you get, dating never gets any easier.

I wonder how hard it is for Patty? Being two years in a coma, learning to talk and walk again.
She had to learn how to live alone again. How did she get the courage to date again?

Roses

I decided to do something romantic. I left roses on Patty's front porch. I didn't leave a note for her father or brothers to read. I just left roses for her to find.

Doorknobs and Romance

I have been in love three times this year with three different women. How silly is that?

The first woman liked to yell at me. I don't like to be yelled at.

The second woman wanted to talk all the time and tell me what to do. I like to talk too but sometimes its good to be quiet. I don't want to tell anyone what to do.

The woman I'm dating now. I just fell in love. I didn't know how lonely I was. I didn't know I would meet someone who was tore from paradise as I was. I never had anyone to talk about all the weird things that happened to me after the car wreck. I just kept most of it inside and people would get mad at me when I couldn't remember things and call me stupid or retarded. She understands all this. When I saw visions of the future and tried to warn people they wouldn't listen or just say I was crazy.

She has been in that place between life and death as I was. I was there two hours and she was there two years. I love her as a friend and that is enough for now.

I've decided to tell the truth about the first date and the huge mistake I made. I don't have a sense of smell. I lost most of my sense of smell in my car wreak and the rest in the operation to repair my nose. I smell with the back of my throat. I hadn't been on a date all summer and I truly wanted to make a good impression on this first date.

I was told she liked everything about me except one thing. I smelled bad. I have apologized but the thing I hate most about this is I've been lying to people for years about being able to smell with my nose. When people ask me to smell something I pretend to sniff with my nose and slightly open my mouth and suck the air to the back of my throat. I then guess what the smell is.

Well that's half the equation of my Pepe LaPue date. I can't regulate my body temperature. I don't know if its hot or could most of the time. When I do sweat it all comes out my feet and it stinks in a way like no other.

The date began with us looking at her doorknob collection and we went to a museum with a huge doorknob collection. I use to collect doorknobs and we seemed to both have a quirky fun time.

I've decided to save some of the funny quirky details for a novel.

The Walk

I meet my Muse in the public library. Her name is Cynthia and she loves books as much as I.
We started a business to save the world one imagination at a time. I showed her the drawings that would help save the world. She showed me how to draw like a child. I erased my carefully crafted sketched realities without ego or fear and she drew over the faded graphite playground.
We took turns drawing on the same playground. I have never known so much joy in drawing as this sharing of two different styles of art. It was the dance of romance of pencil and eraser on a floor of paper.

We both left the library happy. I walked with her across the Country Club Plaza, a shopping district in the city of my birth. Kansas City Missouri was the domain of the Paper King but tonight he didn't own the city. Tonight it belonged to Cynthia and I. The coolness of the evening didn't matter as my heart was warm by the company of the woman of my dreams. Could she, would she feel the same way about me?

We walked into a deli and I ordered what she ordered because I couldn't think of anything but her beautiful smile. The yellow glow danced around her in imaginary fireworks. No! That can't be real! I must stay in this reality with her and not fall into the broken mirror reality of the car wreak. If I did die in that car wreak in 1975 and somehow found my way back to this life then I must stay in this life. I found my Muse and no reality broken by heaven or hell would keep the two halves of our dreams from becoming one.

We sat in the deli and talked. I hung on her every word. I laughed when she said moving her book collection was worst than getting a divorce. I told her I was in love with her or did I?
I told her I wrote a story about falling in love with her at first sight. I told her we were perfect for each other but I never said;

"I love you Cynthia."

I am the Fool that fought the Paper King, the bully billionaire of the city of my birth but I am a greater fool in matters of the heart.

We walked back to our cars to say goodnight to each other and I gave her the smallest of hugs.
I reached around her waist with one arm and gave her a small squeeze and she reached around my waist and gave me a small squeeze back. She said she wanted to show me a beautiful view near the library and we walked a few steps with our arms around each others waist. We let go of each other to make walking easier. I should have took her hand.

I stood with her in the cool night air on the top step of a beautiful mosaic stairway under the pillars of a ten story building. In the distance was a creek with the city lights shining off the water. I looked at the mosaic and it was a series of bars intersecting circles. All the mosaics I created for this blog made sense.
Then like a damn bursting a thousand visions flooded into my mind.
Vision after vision slamming into my mind.
I looked up at Cynthia not knowing how long I had been transfixed by the mosaic.

I walked her back to her car said goodbye and began my long drive home. She had created the perfect moment for our first kiss and the broken mirror reality made me feel worthless. I just want a normal life. Why did I have to have that car wreak? As I drove into the night I thought to myself;

"I'm 49 not 14, I should have kissed her!"

The Muse

I was sitting behind the T-Shirt table at the Project InSECT room at the Mid-Winter's Art Fair.
I should have been happy. My favorite artist alive or dead was very much alive and painting a beautiful beetle before the public. My favorite performer was goofing with the kids and painting arm tattoos. I had made a new friend in Dave Gould. I was surrounded by prints and original paintings of some of my favorite artwork.

I wasn't happy because over the last two days I was breaking up with my girl friend in public before my artist friends. How long had I been black listed from work? Three or four years of living with my parents because I had to do the right thing. I can't regret it because at least one child was saved from death or a life long injury from my actions. How many times had they tried to arrest me on false charges, four or five times? Being a whistle blower was a fool's mission and I was starting to feel a black hole of political corruption was eating my life away.

I sat behind the T-Shirt table depressed wishing someone, anyone would get me. Why couldn't I find a woman who knew what I was all about?

Somewhere in heaven my wish must have been mis-filed as a prayer because no sooner than I finished the thought I saw her. I saw a yellow glow about her. After my car wreck I saw colors around the outlines of people. I had brain damage so I didn't really believe in my spirit vision but it had been ten years since I had seen this hallucination. My heart filled with love.

I had seen blue, green, red, orange and purple energy outlines around people in my hallucinations but never yellow. I loved her. Love at first sight?

"Stand up and smile you fool!"

My sub-conscious screamed at me from the back of my mind. I stood up and smiled as she walked towards me. How old is she? I had dated younger women after my divorce and later felt like a fool when I had to explain the 60s and 70s to them. I couldn't tell how old she was but she was beautiful and I loved her. It didn't mater if she was younger than me, I had to talk to her.

She said something to me and I mumbled back something about Project InSECT and James and Jessa.

"No you idiot! Talk about your own dreams!"

My sub-conscious demanded and so I talked about my dreams and she told me her dreams and our dreams were the same. She was the Muse I had looked for my whole life and I loved her even more and I had only known her a few minutes. There was a line waiting to buy T-Shirts and posters but I didn't care because I had found my Muse.

James, Jessa and Dave had to work the table because I couldn't take my eyes off the beautiful Muse of my dreams, no our dreams now. The rational part of my mind said she could be married or have a boyfriend. She couldn't be married because she was my Muse. I loved her wavy hair and her glasses but most of all I loved her smile. I gave her my telephone number and she promised to come back and give me her number. I never doubted for a moment she would be back because she was my Muse. She walked into the art fair and I turned to Dave and said;

"I think I'm in love!"

"I think the feeling is mutual."

She came back and gave me her number. I talk to her almost every night now about our dream.

With her I truly believe we can save the world one imagination at a time.

Heart Breaker

He was hanging out with his artist friends who traveled all over the United States and would only be in town that weekend.

She lived near the mall where the artists were the stars of the art fair. He had always told her how being with the artists and their masterpieces of imagination and paint made him happy.
She wanted to hang out with the artists too.

He was 49 years old, over weight and going bald. She was a bit older but her voice had the sweet sound of youth and his heart melted when he heard her speak.

She walked into the art space where his artists friends were and he was glad to see her.

He went with her to eat lunch with her but found he wasn't hungry. His stomach was twisted in knots. Something was wrong but he didn't know what it was.

"James asked me if I was your sweetheart."

"Yes, I am your sweetheart."

She said without hesitation as his stomach twisted in pain. Her voice was sweet as honey but something was wrong. He would talk about his grand daughter, she was the safest of all subjects.

He thought he told a funny story about his grand daughter's chubby legs and how she learned to stand because of her jealousy for her cousin who was getting a lot of attention on Christmas day.

She heard a negative emotion and a negative body image projected on a baby by her Grand Father.

They went back to the art space and she told him how terrible his words were.
The love he had for her as a woman drained away as they argued in front of his artist friends.
She left and he sat behind the table and tried to sell T-Shirts, posters, postcards and storybooks.

The next day she came back and said she was sorry.

"You must hate me."

"I don't hate anyone."

"That's not the same as saying you love me."

He wish he could lie. Lying came so easy for him just a few months ago and now he wanted to do nothing but tell the truth no matter how painful it was. He decided he would say nothing.

"I'll come back later."

She turned and walked into the art fair. He sat depressed wishing someone, anyone would get him. Why couldn't he find a woman who knew what he was all about?

At the end of night she came back and they broke up.

As she drove away he thought how wonderful she was in so many ways.

She was such a sweet woman and she had been hurt by so many men in her life. Her heart was broken so many times. He asked himself why he had to be another heart breaker?