I was only six, but confident I could mix
The perfect chocolate cake,
Ingredients for fudge, we beat like a grudge,
Cooked and poured onto what we baked.
There was chicken, and the kitchen
Smelled like pure happiness.
I was heroic, stalwart, stoic,
Helping to clean the mess,
Biked to the lake, after the cake,
Swimming like a fish under the waves,
Home to read a book; libraries: I’m hooked,
Is that how a six year old behaves?

Response to prompt provided by:

Mixed Nut

Mixed Nut, 9/30/2015, Deon Mumple

I am a mixed nut, in an emotional stir, tears, rage, and laughter,
Am I being toasted, fried, or am I being burned?  Unsure,
Heated stress expresses aromatic oils, peppery, searing anger
Most frequently, simply to be left alone is the easiest dream,
Because, forced to interact, all I want to do is scream,
But quietly I’ll lie when asked, masked, “Yes, I’m just fine!”
I dream the deep green softness of her eyes, chilled welcoming wine,
Still in utter disbelief that I am hers and she is mine.
Liars and would-be friends with agendas try to crack my shell,
And quietly I’ll lie, pretending,  sending the message “all is well,”
I am a mixed nut, tossed in with the other nuts and fruits.
We are a beautiful bunch, indulging in flavorful pursuits.

Wishing Well

Wishing Well, 09/28/2015, Deon Mumple

I’ve tried not to be too covetous,
Admiring who you’ve become,
The ease of your attractiveness,
Hypnotic like a pendulum.
But I dared a prayer and wished for more

My dashed daydreams, my wasted smiles,
Hoping a “we” could become,
Waiting and working through worthless trials,
Wishing now to feel nothing, numb.
If only there were a way to ignore…

Instead I can feel every emptiness,
Slow, worms devour my soul.
I aimed too high, you: a goddess,
Why was your heart my goal?
Why did I choose you, to adore?

Through all, I’ve tried to be supportive
Of all you are and do,
Loving and hating, poorly reflective,
I want to be beautiful, too.
I wish I had never wished before.

Not Elijah

Not Elijah, 09/25/2015, Deon Mumple

I’ve lost my place. Can I be found?
Discovered, fetched, retrieved?
I once was found, a heeling hound,
I saw, but now I can’t see.

And when I pray I try to say things the right way,
As if saying it right might get an answer
I’m not Elijah but I’ll try to pray again today,
And just maybe the answer will fall like fire.

Where is the grace I used to know,
I trusted, innocent,
I used to know, but maybe I don’t,
It’s not what I thought it meant.

And when I pray I try to say things the right way,
As if saying it right might get an answer
I’m not Elijah but I’ll try to pray again today.
Blind as the people I’m supposed to inspire.

It used to be simplicity,
The childlike faith I held,
But that was not reality,
And evil’s not dispelled.

All that’s left is pained patience and blind hope,
While the flames of hell laugh, licking at my soul,
I rise so slow to fall so fast, to rise so slow.

And when I pray I try to say things the right way,
As if saying it right might get an answer
I’m not Elijah but I’ll try to pray again today.
I’m still waiting in hope, but getting tired.

“Variety Is the Spice of Life”

Not everybody likes spice.  Some people like it bland.

I opened my sweet and salty mix, and I usually can handle the mixture of textures, but today i methodically sorted out the nuts and sunflower seeds, ate the sunflower seeds first, then the peanuts, then the raisins, and then the chocolate candy (like M&Ms but not branded).

I’ve been told this is unusual behavior.  Like sorting the package of Starburst candy or Skittles. Like getting a plate of food, starting at the 8:00 position and eating in a counter-clockwise direction. Like NEVER EVER dunking a cookie in milk.  Ever.  And I do all of this.  I have no idea what it’s called, but I’m sure someone thinks I’m a fucking psycho bent on some nefarious scheme (hehe, I used the word “nefarious” again).  But no, not so.  I just like to eat things that way.  Like at Thanksgiving I don’t like the foods interacting with other foods.

People can do that kind of interacting all they want.  Stir it up, that’s fine.  Since I hate all different kinds of people myself, unless and until you win my heart, and you have to earn it by not being an ass, I don’t care what you do.  Unless you are an ass, by which I mean, including but not limited to, a criminal (whether convicted or merely guilty, doesn’t matter which), a bully, or selfish jerk, then, I want you to be separated from the rest of us unless you can get along in a reasonably civilized fashion and demonstrate some basic manners.  But otherwise, I think you should be free to say and do whatever you want within basic frames of common decency.  As in, keep it at home and don’t parade it in the street.  I’ll do the same for you, and only gross out my kids.

We seem to have moved into a culture of being easily offended.  I can’t open my mouth for fear of pissing some random person off, imagine if I were a celebrity or some other randomly famous person!  Not me.  You have to do something big to offend me.  Like breaking one of the rules we learned in grade school  Be nice to each other.  Take turns, not cuts.  Don’t push.  If you can’t say anything nice don’t…  oh fuck that rule.  If you don’t respect me, then you’re not worthy of my respect, and I have no reason to listen to anyshit you say.  Those basic grade-school rules are big things to me, even though they’re simple.  But being human isn’t anything big.  If you don’t have any impact on me, or my family, do whatever you want within the law, as long as you don’t try to drag the rest of us into hell to keep you company.  There’s a lot of things people do that I don’t care about.  I saw an old film clip that showed Jimmy Stewart saying, “are they on our land?”  The answer was “no,” so he said “Then it doesn’t concern us.” (Shenandoah)  Look that movie up, there’s some wisdom in that old father character.  And maybe some less than wisdom, but by and large he’s right about a lot of things.

There are people who are, proverbially speaking, shitting all over my land.  There are law-breakers, and law writers, who I’d say are doing it.  My country is tolerant, so I’ll tolerate it, until they mess with my family, and then I’ll be “concerned.”  I like variety, but I prefer people who stay basically within a reasonable grasp of fairness, respect, reverence, and legality.  Those are basic things I value, that I believe everyone should be granted.  People who don’t grant these basics to each other should be separated from the rest of us.

Speaking of shitting all over my land, there are dog owners whose dog I’d leave alone, and whose owners should be shot at (not killed or injured, I just want to scare ’em, and tell ’em to get the hell off my yard when their dog does its’ thing).  I don’t want the dogs or their owners injured, or I’d have done something already about that.  Even if I owned a gun, I couldn’t shoot at them or threaten them or I’d be breaking the law.  So I do nothing and I end up with the plastic bag full of shit and nobody’s doorstep to leave it on because I don’t know which dog it is, when it happens when I’m away at work or the store or the church (yeah, believe it or not, I do still go to church).

I like a certain kind of variety.  I like a predictable variety.  Occasionally, even surprises are all right.  I even like spice.  My favorite is “Scary.”  My wife likes the show America’s Got Talent, so I am subjected to episodes.  It’s a variety show, so that’s sometimes good.  On the show, Mel B. works alongside a genuine supermodel, Heidi Klum, who is genuinely beautiful in her own way.  But to me, Mel B. wins the beauty pageant among the America’s Got Talent judge pool, by far.  There, Mel B.  I said something nice.  And now I’ll shut up because I don’t have anything else nice to say.

Is My Cup Half Full?

September 3:  I have to laugh, however bitterly, just a little:  (make font small smaller tinytiny) :  ha.

I confess I’m feeling a little bit better, but then it’s September, isn’t it?  This may mean I’m right about the period of my wave.  I should have known this at my age already, but being your basic brilliantfucking idiot, I never tracked it.  I only knew approximately.  After four months of feeling fucking useless, I’m getting those glimmers.  I’m not out to y>zero just yet, but not as bad.

I prayed for a few friends today.  That made me feel better.  And that’s a good sign, because when I am getting low I give up on praying for myself because that’s useless, and when I am completely low, I stop praying for anyone because fuck them, if God isn’t answering for me, why should I ask for anyone else?

I’m treading very unsteadily, because I don’t know if this is an actual trend, or just another good day that’ll shatter all around me and leave me treading the glass barefoot.  During what I think was very low but about to break out, I had a good day here and there.  My birthday was all right.  My anniversary was ok, and then she says some shit that breaks me.  I chose to let her be this close to me.  I chose to let her feelings affect my feelings.  And I suppose the reverse must be true.

September 18:  I decided to post this anyway because it was part of my trend line.  But my computer, or its’ operator, did something stupid and lost half the post.  I don’t even remember what she said.  FSM, I wonder what the fuck I said or did or didn’t do to deserve her saying whatever it was.  Why the fuck am I so fragile, when I can talk so tough?

I remember that it sucks not having cash sufficient to do what I want, like go all out for our anniversary or her birthday.  I remember that when I’m depressed, not only does my mood stink, my words stink, I stink.  I love her, that’s settled.  Still up for debate are a few things.
1) will I love her like I know she needs to be loved, speaking it in ways she hears clearly, whether words are used or not, and
2) will she love me like I need to be loved?

I’ve scheduled a few stressful days ahead, and after they’re over and done with I can schedule some rest days and just figure out time to just be being, instead of all the doing.  I’ll be away from her, which weirdly adds to my stress cocktail.  Speaking of which, I’d love a drink, just to break from the stress even if just for a short time.  But alas, I’ll be deferring that until Monday evening at least.  I could handle it better if the waves had a shorter amplitude and a diminished frequency.

Q:  Does everyfuckingthing in my life come in waves?  WTH?
All I want to do is hold her gently,  look into those eyes, and see what happens.

A: No. Interruptions and distractions don’t come in waves, they are continual but appear to occasionally decrease at random or when one or two of us are exhausted.  The odds of actually getting to do what I want, see above under (Q), with willing mutual participation, are inversely proportional to stress level x the number of interruptions.  Which means, the answer is no.
See you on the other side of the stress-storm.