Thursday, June 28, 2018

You Only Live Once

I get paid a lot of money to dig graves. The job is set up by person who I never see or hear, but only know through texts.  Someone delivers the body and cash in my garage. I don’t look out; I keep painting.

Tonight, a woman screamed and cried from the  coffin. I don’t get them in coffins, just bags or linens.  I crank up loud music and dig her hole. When I come back, there is silence. Good.

I have a good thing going. Why wreck it for morality? You only live once, some people better than others.

***
Hey all, I love drabbles, I am trying to write a new one every night. Sometimes it easier than other days. I have this great idea that I am starting to work. I want to create a bunch of apocalypse drabbles and poems and make a book.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Tryptophantasia and Other Poems by JM Scott Free Through June 25, 2018

Hey all, Tryptophantasia and Other Poems is FREE in all Kindle markets through June 25, 2018. I am proud of this collection. If you read any of my other poetry books, you will be able to see the maturation of the poet n this collection. I'm not saying I'm awesome, but I am better then I was a couple of years ago.

Now, if I could get a magazine to think I am okay enough to print...

Anyway,  enjoy this free sample from the book.


Monday, June 18, 2018

Brain Sweats

summer heat, cut grass
they’ve been at it all day
miniature ants collecting
miniature chunks of the french
fry that appeared
out of nowhere in on the
old tile kitchen floor

fireflies lack strength to flicker
lightening crawls to the north
letting this hamlet
in the mountains swell

I read a quote from Maya Angelou
and said the more creativity you use
the more you have.

I also read prize winning short stories
I  have no idea why
they were prize winning

why does  my brain sweat
and my fingerprints ooze
on the sticky keyboard?

And it’s here where
I share some share
award winning insight,
some greater truth to bear
the summer days without
air conditioning but
this is where you
come in with all your deconstruction
and see invisible
words in the white space.

***
Hey all,  It is hotter than a bitch. The thermostat says 83 and it's almost 11 at night. It's nights like this I wish I had AC. Anyway... still waiting for thunderstorms....


Tuesday, June 12, 2018

20 Years Out

Today I took my daughter, who will be a freshman this coming school year, to the high school. I've only been to this high school one other time when she had artwork in the student art show.  The school sits beyond a nice neighborhood where we often go trick or treating because there are street lights and sidewalks, and that is a commodity in my town. And it sort of hit me because sometime this week, 20 years ago, I graduated high school

Twenty years, wow where did time go. It actually seems like long ago, more like another life. And maybe it was. Because maybe I realize that this year I turn 38 and soon I will be 40. My life in these last twenty years feel blurry, I guess I try not remembering the past or keeping the past alive.

Probably for most people, high school was not the best time for me. But then it wasn't the worst either. For three years, I went to Merrimack in New Hampshire. I graduated from Quakertown and went there for my senior year.

No, I don't get invited to reunions. Why would I go anyway? Except for a few people, no one would remember me anyhow. Sometime at the end of my senior year, the girl who ran around taking pictures for year book and also put together the senior slide show, tracked me down saying she needed to take a picture for the senior slide show. I said it wasn't a big deal. And she begged saying that it's tradition. Fine, so she took some doofy snapshot in the auditorium on the stage steps. I barely remember the senior slide show. I did have a poem published in the year book. And I'm sure they were like who is that? Did I have a class with her?  Senior skip day? I skipped school to go to work.

There were more then 300 people graduating that year. Because of rain, they had it indoors. I had to rush around looking for extra tickets. I had to be nice to the neighbor and invite him to my party because he gave me a ticket.  Since my last name starts with an "S" I graduated exactly before 57 people. It was hot and humid and the pantyhose I wore to make my grandmother happy were falling down and my cap was askew. And then my name was called and there was this feeling of completeness- accomplishment. I looked across the over filled gym and just a saw a blank slate. I guess I should've known then what I know now, when everyone sees their future all mapped out with an action plan, mine was blank.  That night things did change- a month later I turned 18.  It doesn't matter if your friends say nothing will change, it will. And you will change. And I know that moment, it felt like I would start learning who I was.

High school graduation is a big deal.  So here I am twenty years out and it was another lifetime. The bridge between childhood and adulthood. High school eventually fades. Memories are fading fast only to be brought on by a song, but even the details begin to hide and they become shadows blurs.

Saturday, June 9, 2018

Sanctioned Shadows by JM Scott Free in all Kindle Markets Through June 11, 2018.

Hey all, Sanctioned Shadows is FREE in all Kindle markets. This book contains 15 dark short stories that explore humanity's darkness such as obsession, addiction, and violence.

Here is an excerpt from "Birthday Girl" a story in Sanctioned Shadows.

At 6:00 a.m. Solara rolled into the convenience store for a pack of smokes.  The store was empty; the clerk  made coffee while chewing  on a coffee straw. She paid for her smokes and stuffed the money back into her wallet and dashed outside. 

***

At 6:00 a.m., Evan finished filling all his gas cans, pulled his car from the gas pump and parked his car by the front of the store. He came into the store just as the only other customer paid for her smokes. At the register, he paid for a coffee, asked for several books of matches and a pack of smokes.

“Oh no, she left her cigarettes,” the store girl said.

The customer didn’t leave yet. She sat in her car, lighting a smoke. He grabbed the unopened  pack and ran outside.

“Hey, you forgot your smokes,” he handed her the pack through the window.

She smiled at him. She had long blonde hair and a wide, broad face. She wasn’t ugly; she had her own prettiness, sweet and wholesome. She had a trusting and pleasant smile and sometimes a smile like that made everything all right. “Thanks so much,” she replied.

She shoved the gear shift into reverse and drove off. His car reeked of gasoline but today was all worth it. This is what he planned for, his  moment of glory, his moment of revenge.

***

Solara parked her car in the parking lot at Mr. Fizzy’s Bottling  Company and walked into the building.

“Happy birthday, Solara,” an older woman said.

“Hey thanks.”

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Old fart,” the coworker replied.

“Look who’s calling who old. You were probably in high school during the Revolutionary war,” she joked.

“Ha ha very funny.”

Solara dressed in her white coat and hairnet and walked through the plant to her line. The fluorescent lights glared and the machinery hummed, whirled and chugged. She was a label checker and made sure every bottle had a label and was affixed correctly.  Solara relieved the person already sitting on the chair from the shift before her.

“Solara, happy birthday.”

“Thanks Pete.”

“Have a nice day see you later.”

“Yup, you too.”

***
Evan pulled into Mr. Fizzy’s Bottling Company at 7:10 a.m.. He had to make sure the day shift already started and the night shift left for the day.  The fog hung in the horizon and the sun neglected to rise for the day. Not that the sun would be needed because his plan would be bright enough.  Before coming to the soda plant, he stopped  at the rest stop and emptied all his gas cans into Fizzicola bottles. He  added a simple timer to each one and packed the bottles into his book bag.

Evan pulled a smoke out of the pack and stood in the parking lot smoking away. He thought about last night when the first part of his plan came together when he nabbed his best friend’s id badge.

He tossed his smoke into the parking lot and grabbed Brian’s badge from the center consul.  Brian could still  get into the plant by calling a special number on the phone and punching in his social security number. Elise was going to get what was coming to her. She was the one who spread the sexual harassment rumors (even though they were dating at the time and cheating on each other at the same time) which got him fired and made it even harder for him to find a new job.

“Sorry buddy, but you’ll understand. I know you will.”  Grabbing his heavy backpack, he went into the factory.  He dressed quickly and checked his watch. Half hour to show time. He knew this place like he knew his grandmother’s home. He only needed fifteen  minutes to set the bottles exactly where he wanted them and then he can get Brian and his other friends out as he sees them. Evan opened the door to the plant and went to the first line he saw.

***

“Hey Solara, what’s up?” Brian asked.

“Nothing. You know who I didn’t see- Elise,” Solara said and smiled.

“I heard that guy she’s been messing around with isn’t in either. They are probably together.”

“What time are you going on break?” he asked her.

“Supposed to be at nine, at least that is what I was told. You know this place, one person whines and if they are good little cocksuckers they get what they want.”

“I’ll see you at nine then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Monday, June 4, 2018

If I Lose My Mind

It's been almost two weeks since I posted anything, and I know I say I'm sorry- I probably am. But then I just can't seem to break from the fog that holds me hostage.

It's amazing that I can even get my school work done and make dinner. Sometimes, I don't even know where the time goes. I work and work and get nowhere. Maybe it's like quicksand, I would have no idea because I've never been in quicksand. I think I know what to do, but I know me, I would flake the fuck out if I was drowning in quick sand.

Years ago, I wrote all the time. Dedicated to it. And now it feels like I've lost the dedicated feeling. Except for April, I have no problem writing a new poem every day and posting. But I guess, there's not much more to say about that. 

I sit around thinking of great things to write, these thought provoking phrases come and go and by the time I sit down to write, it all vanishes. And I want to maybe post at least a 100 words. That is nothing. But for some reason 100 words is quite difficult. These thoughts combine with the thoughts about my creative work and it all gets flushed down the toilet.

I find myself daydreaming about the improbable- dreaming about fame I want but don't at the same time. The house on the beach or maybe in the Poconos. Or maybe both. Even my daydreams become blurred with the fiction I always seem to find myself in.

I told the doctor about this fog. I should've told her that if I lose my mind then I am nothing. But sometimes I wonder if I already lost my mind, and I just don't know it. I want to find those pieces of myself that went missing over the years. 

Once I think I found my writer's voice and now it seems missing again.

Well that's enough for today... who knows what tomorrow will bring. For now, I'm going out to mow the grass while there is a strong wind from the west and the sun peek a boo through the clouds. And maybe the wish fuzz will float in the breeze sparkling in sunshine.

Till next time...