Welcome

Well if you clicked on that link then you're here. You're inside some of my head. Honestly, I don't write a ton here anymore. Heck this may be only my second entry this year. It's kind of sad how I've let it go.

I used to be a lot more prolific. Stories, poems, rants, musings, etc. Productivity went down as the novelty wore and from my return to journalism. But nonetheless there's a lot of stuff here that will shed some light into the darkness that is my mind.

No, I never told you about this place. It was my own little secret. And judging on my readership stats, I've done a good job of keeping it quiet. Ha ha. Actually in the early years I would get comments from friends who were aware of my secret identity, but I probably never cracked more than a dozen readers.

Now maybe you'll be 13.

And maybe I'll start writing more.

Noise

Trying to shut down the noise
That has served me so well all these years
The noise that keeps my thoughts at bay
The noise that keep my hell away

But that noise is killing me too
That noise is sucking me dry
That noise has taken my soul
That noise can't fill my hole

The noise keeps me down
The noise stops me from moving on
The noise I can't let go
The noise that doesn't know

That it's time to leave
Time to let me be
Time to get on the road
Time to stop carrying that load

Perry Street

Got those urges again

My skin is crawling

Better go out walking

Before I try to make it end

Can't sit still

Can't calm down

Heart beating fast

Sliding off the tracks

Don't want that needle

Don't need that bottle

Keep that pipe away

Drop to my knees and pray

Curled up in a corner on the dirty floor

Staring at the posters on the wall

Someone says they have the answer

If I can just hear the call

They file in and they file out

every hour or so

And I stay on this floor

Because I need more

More hope

More desperation

More shame

More redemption

More pain

More love

More hate

More noise

Someone screams from the third row

And someone in the fifth row says shut the fuck up

The inmates have taken over the asylum 

And no one wants to go

The girl talks about selling herself for her next hit

The cop on the take to feed his habit

The teacher who shot up between classes

And the woman who left her kid in the car

While she turned tricks outside the bar

They all tell their stories

And in between grab smokes in the rain

At 2 a.m. the doors will close

And they'll go home knowing

They got through another night with their pain

Those quiet streets carry those lost souls

As they make their way home

Knowing the beast has been held in check

And the city is closed.

Hired Gun

Again the night comes

And I've got a job to do

Doesn't matter who

Doesn't matter why

I get paid 

And someone dies

An envelope under my door

With a picture and address

A money order for ten grand

And I do the rest

Just a hired gun

Don't take it the wrong way

Just a hired gun

You can't get away

I don't ask questions

It's not my business

If they've come to me

then it's time for your soul to rest

Just a hired gun

Don't take it the wrong way

Just a hired gun

No point in trying to get away

I didn't choose this way

Wasn't what I dreamed about as a boy

Wanted to be movie star or astronaut

Instead I'm the guy who makes you pay

And I know how this all ends

Won't see it coming

Won't feel a thing

Someone else will pull the string

Just a hired gun

That's what got me

Just a hired gun

I can't take it personally

Up in the Air

For some reason the only time I really feel like writing in this thing these days is when I'm on a plane. Perhaps it is because I can't make the usual excuses I make to avoid posting here like there's something on TV or I've got important masturbating to do.

I'm flying back from Atlanta where I went for my niece's college graduation. Very quick trip but it was also quite nice. I will be wiped out by the time I get home and I have to get up extra early tomorrow for work. These are luxury problems. I'm 51 and I make a good living and have a nice home.

So where is Rambler at these days?

The job is good. There are challenges. I am well paid but at the same time it is getting tougher and tougher to get into the paper. This has nothing to do with my work and everything to do with a shrinking news hole and a large and talented staff. The editors are literally telling us to write less. This, in theory, is an opportunity for me to work on distinctive feature stories instead of focusing on cranking copy, which is what I usually do. But, as they say, it is tough to teach an old dog new tricks. And I am an old dog now.

The personal life is in transition but when isn't it. The woman I am involved with is finally exiting a marriage that has been dead for some time (before I ever entered the picture). She has a new apartment she is moving into with her two kids and soon hopefully we will be able to see each other a little more and eventually if all goes well I can be phased into the rest of her life. This is a long-term project and I'm in no rush. Just hoping it all works.

As for the writing, well as this blog indicates writing for myself doesn't come easy for me. I actually have an opportunity to pursue a book but it is a book about the TV industry and to be honest that kind of book has never really appealed to me. The way I see it, I'm doing all the grunt work for the other people who swoop in and write books about the business. And I'm not complaining. It's my strength. I'd be lying to say the idea of book isn't intimidating. But I'm not sure if it is fear that is keeping me from embracing this opportunity or a lack of interest.

So what am I interested in? I still have dreams of a noir book or heck maybe even something akin to Lawrence Block meets Chuck Palahniuk. A little noir, a little violence, a little erotica all mixed together.

So why don't I? Well there is where fear and excuses and laziness kick in. I need to get off my rear and take a shot for if for no one else. I've often said I don't care if I get something published, I just want to get something finished. Of course, to do that I actually have to start something too!

Yes, I've started stuff on this site and some of it may even play into a bigger project. I'm always torn between a series of short stories or a novel. However, just sitting here typing this makes me thing the short stories is the way to go. It can be a mix of fact and fiction or autobiographical. I know, look at the ego on this guy. But I don't mean an autobiography as in look at how fascinating my life has been. I mean ten or 12 short funny stories in my life. I'm pretty sure between my childhood and some of my amusing adventures as a drunk I can muster that up!

It's time to shut this down. No, I'm not landing. But I'm not ready to takeoff yet either.

Sucks, Don't It

Burnt out and overwhelmed
Uninspired and undesired
Life goes faster while I move slower
The days fade into weeks
The weeks into months
The months into years
The losses pile up
And the victories vanish in the night
But I get up every morning
To stay in the race
Keep the young punks at bay
Knowing they'll be where I'm at soon enough
And it will be there turn to be edged out
Of their place and their space
Sucks, don't it?

Why Feel When You Can Pay

Felt the most wonderful sadness today
Got taken there by David Grey
A song that made me remember
A lost heart and a cold December

Thought she'd stick around
Instead she beat it out of town
Left me hanging in the wind
Wanting to go back to sin

Easier that way they say
Why feel when you can pay
Run from the light
Stop putting up a fight

Go to the edge of the river
And let that cold water deliver
The solution you've avoided for so long
The one that will make those feelings gone

Sat on edge staring out for a while
Until the night reduced me to a scared child
Fell asleep under a dying oak tree
And decided better that tree than me