Robin Willaims, Dead & Swinging, The Rest of Us, Dying For a Reason To Keep Laughing.

Robin Williams killed himself yesterday.

I'm still trying to find a job.

Got hired on at a magazine 

but it ain't much. 

Only a few cents per word.

So I've kept 

looking

searching

and still haven't come up

with anything promising.

Just the same call center

bullshit. 

It's difficult.

Trying to break out of old habits

and create a new way of thinking and living. 

So I'm looking at writing positions

with magazines, newspapers, and websites.

I don't have a degree

I have no journalistic field experience 

I don't know anyone that could get me in somewhere

so I'm gonna keep on trying.

My girlfriend encourages me

to not just settle for the call centers

or the nursing homes.

She says, I'm better than that now

that I've evolved

that new opportunities await.

This gift, this talent I've got

the one that's been sharpened to a fine point

over the last four years

it's ready

I'm ready

it's time. 

To show everyone just what I can do

to tell the world

the things I've seen and heard

out there in the streets

stories from the underbelly of this town.

I know this to be true

because anyone that reads what I write

it sticks with them.

Just like it stuck with me.

More than that

they read one story and

they've gotta have another.

That same glorious feeling I get

reading Bukowski.

It's just like he said it would be.

I've managed to hang on

to that one little spark within myself.

Now it's growing into a fire.

A fire that has the power to change & awaken

hearts & minds

to remind them all

that they are worth more than just their hourly wage

that they still have a chance

that they are somebody.

These words I type

have power

have meaning

and even when 

the funniest man on the planet

is found hanging dead

by his own hand

there's still a reason to laugh & smile.

You just have to find it.

Find it.

And never let it go.

Great White Hope On The Sand

The moment we got into town

it felt just like a dream.

Dick Dale's 'King of The Surf Guitar' playing from the car stereo

as we passed surf shops, art galleries, scuba supplies,

Mexican seafood places, art schools, exotic fish shops,

places we didn't have back in Arizona.

"Yeah, this is a big art town. Painters, sculptors, and writers too. Artists really have a lot of freedom here."

Elaine said, rubbing my hand resting on her thigh.

We passed a place that had little bungalows

for 'artists only'

like a little retreat or something.

I thought about being in that town

with nothing but time

to hit these keys

and do what I do.

Ah, what a dream that'd be.

We drove down the main drag

to our right

there she was.

That never ending blue horizon

stretching from the sandy beach

all the way to oblivion

where the Great White monsters lay in wait.

We parked the car and got some food at Johnny Rockets.

Elaine ordered Clam Chowder, but they brought her

a chocolate shake instead.

She was just gonna drink it, but I said,

"Nah, fuck that baby. That's not what you wanted, so we'll just send it back."

Ten minutes later and she was eating a BLT.

We had two hours left on the parking meter

so we changed into our swimsuits

and strolled over to the beach

hand in hand

stealing glances

exchanging kisses & 'I love you's

smiling like I hadn't smiled in years.

This gal, let me tell ya, she's a real head-turner.

Long legs, perfect D-cup breasts, a good plump ass,

with the face of a sultry 1940's starlet.

Men's heads turned and teenage boys smiled

as we walked on by

there I was

the lucky sumbitch

with his hand on her ass

as we both strolled down the beach

finger intertwined

the surf coming in and covering our feet.

We ran out into the water

the waves crashing into our chests.

Elaine turning her back to the wave

so it didn't knock her top off

the two of us laughing like

kids that had too much candy.

"Ewww!" We both yelled

as a big patch of sea weed

entangled both of our legs and squished between our toes.

She lifted a big mess of sea weed out of the water

and threw it as far as she could.

It didn't matter though

more was coming in

inside the next wave.

We moved down a bit away from it

and waited for a big wave again.

When it came crashing in

we both dove forward, riding it back to the shallows

leaning back on our elbows

laughing and smiling

until our faces hurt.

I pulled her to me, arms around her waist

kissed her hard

as another wave crashed down on us.

When we got back to our pile of stuff in the sand

Elaine had a voice mail

telling us that our room

at The Casa Laguna Inn

was ready.

Our time in the shade

was finally here.

Like Sweet Summer Wine

I had been sleeping at her place
two or three nights a week
was even keeping a toothbrush there
so in my mind we were already exclusive
but we still hadn't talked about it yet.
Her and I got breakfast burritos
at this place on Horne & Main
and she was driving me to work
"So are we...official now? I mean, you're not seeing any other girls or-"
"No, darlin'. There's just you. Only you."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. I'm just crazy bout' ya." I said,
lifting up our intertwined hands and kissing hers.
"Well alright then. I just wanted to be sure."
The next morning we were laying in bed
when I went and blurted out
I love you.
She said it back
the two of us just as happy as a couple of kids
on Christmas.
I went to work that day
at the ghetto call center
and the guys were talkin' about
some trick they were messin' with
and how they hoped their girlfriend wouldn't find out.
I just smiled to myself
opening my Hank Williams bag
and peeking inside
at the Polaroid picture
of Jean's naked body lying on the bed
and another one
of her ass with a big, red, hand print.
I could never pull the shit like the guys in the call center
this woman was all I wanted
all I needed.
She lives in this 1920's house
in the historic district of downtown Mesa.
There's a big record player cabinet
in her dark wood floored living room
and we spin records
Billie Holiday
Black Angels
The Doors
The Blasters
Patsy Cline
all the gems.
Smoking bowl after bowl
of good reefer
high as goddamn kites
a seemingly endless flow of conversations
laughing & kissing.
Sometimes we kiss for a little too long
get ourselves all worked up into a frenzy
and I'll have no other choice
but to take her right there
on the railing of the porch
or up against the wall, on the side of the house.
We trip shrooms together
both our eyes lookin' like Morrison
our words stumbling
our bellies shaking with laughter
lighting sticks of incense and drawing in the air with them
watching 'Silence of the Lambs' for the come down
while eating pizza in bed.
Playing hooky from that call center job
driving to the river
smoking two joints on the way
Sabbath & Creedence providing the soundtrack.
Getting lost and found again
walking down to the river's edge
a pack of wild horses
with young & skinny colts
trying to keep up
they all came running past us.
"Wow!" Jean exclaimed.
She loves horses.
They drank thirstily
loudly gulping the green & brown water
into their big pink mouths.
But we got too close
scared em off
all fourteen of em', sloshing & trudging upstream
even the little colts.
"Wanna get in?" Jean asked, an ear-to-ear grin on her face.
We opened two hard ciders and took big swigs
standing in the middle of the river
floating with the current
swimming against it
diving under
wiping it on our chests
trying to stay cool.
We played in the Salt River for hours that day.
And I remember just before we got out
she was sitting in front of me, my arms around her
her bikini top floating
an American flag wrapped around her shoulders.
We both stared ahead, the river shimmering, the mountains orange & towering,
the sky, bright blue with snow white clouds, slowly floating above us.
"So beautiful." Jean, cooed.
I looked back down to her tits
under the water
lit up in the sun.
"Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
But it wasn't just her tits,
it was everything.
Everything is beautiful.
And summer is here.