A Geometrical Shape of Love

I am in love with a girl. This girl brightens my day, when I see her picture, when I think of her, when I hang out with her. My heart sinks, when I think that she probably doesn't like me the way I like her. She makes me think silly things like boy, if I had a billion bucks, I'd buy us a trip to the moon, and then maybe she'd fall in love me. Probably, it would take far less (and at the same time, far more) than that for her to fall in love with me again. I probably just need to be the kind of guy that she loves and is impressed by and is mysterious to her; also, a guy that the guys she looks up to look up to. I know she likes my style, because she's told me this before, and because she used to love me. She also loves boys that are good Christian boys, and I just don't come across as that kind of guy, even though I AM a "good Christian boy," despite all my f-words, s-words, p-words, any-letter-in-Spanish-English-words, and vulgarity a la Louis C.K.

She is in love with some guy. And this guy doesn't love her. And she can't get this guy out of her beautiful, little head with amazing hair. She probably loves him—especially—because he just doesn't seem to have the time for her! And girls just love what they can't have, don't they? Actually, humans especially want what they can't have, ya? And I think to myself this guy just hasn't noticed her or gotten to know her well enough, for if he had, he'd be in love with her as much as I am! She also probably loves him because he is tall and handsome. Tallness is an attractive feature, no? And handsomeness is an attractive feature too, no? He has great hair too. He also happens to be an outstanding Christian boy (to the extent that anyone can really be that, and as far as anyone can see; maybe he really isn't all that good of a guy), and my girl adores good Christian boys. Who knows, maybe the guy just isn't attracted to her, right? Maybe his type of girl is ugly and not beautiful; it must be. Or maybe he's gay.

Well, this guy is in love with a girl, so he's not gay. This girl that he's in love with is not as good looking as my girl, and she's older than him, but only slightly. Her father runs a big business, and they are well off. She drives a better car than he does, she has no need for money, she is very well put together ALL THE TIME (like flawless, I promise), her father is cooler than him, and although he is finishing seminary school soon, he also wants to work for her father's company; not just work at a church. This girl has an excellent family, and she's a good Christian girl too, and this guy just wants to be part of her family (maybe because his family life wasn't that great?). She has the opposite color hair as my girl, and that bugs my girl to no end, and she thinks that maybe that's why this guy doesn't love her, but that's a silly idea. This girl and my girl both wear high heels, as though they'd die if they didn't wear them; I'm not complaining, even though it makes them taller than me (it seems almost everyone is taller than me, even without high heels); they both look great in high heels. Well this guy thinks—to this day, even—that I can get any girl, but as we can see, that doesn't seem to be the case, and he looks up to me like I'm some sort of "pimp" cool guy. I promise, I am not.

This Christian girl does not love this tall, handsome, perfect haired Christian boy, though! She loves a bad boy that is not a Christian. She grew up in a perfect world, and perhaps she's looking for a retreat from all of that. I might be wrong. This "bad-boy" (I'm badder than him, I promise) is even more well off than she is. He's not as tall as the guy that's in love with her, but he combs his hair in a cooler fashion. So what is it about this guy? Why does that girl love him and not good Christian boy? It can't be that it's just because he's not a Christian, it can't be that it's because he has different color hair, it can't be that he's always dressed in black and wears cool boots, it can't be that he combs his hair super cool all the time... can it? On top of all this, this 'bad boy' pays her attention all the time, and she still loves him. So he's not ignoring her, and she still likes him. He treats her really cool though, and he isn't impressed by her dad, and he's cooler than her dad, and her dad really likes this guy, because he's really funny and natural. He's always making her laugh, and talking to her, and interested in what she has to say, and he remembers her birthday, and his smile is beaming, and his teeth are perfect, and he touches her hand, and shoulder, and arm, and face a lot; and it drives her nuts in a good way. There is something about him, though…it's almost as though his mind is occupied with something else, and it seems like that prevents him from loving her. Could it be his brother that is in Afghanistan? Is it that he's not a Christian and she is? That can't be it, because he's in love with another girl that is a Christian. He feels at ease with this girl, but he doesn't love her; he's so natural around her; it all seems a bit too easy. Maybe he feels a little bit forced to become like her and her family and her Christianity, and maybe that keeps him at bay.

Well, like I said, this "bad boy" is in love with a sweet little Christian girl that happens to be a daughter of a preacher pastor. Her attitude towards him makes him feel like he doesn't have to be anything but himself; he's fine just as he is. This girl melts this fool all easy. She's not nearly as funny as he is, but he finds the smallest things that she does hilarious, and she is slightly awkward, and he can't get enough of that. She has the same color hair as the girl that's in love with him, but this girl makes him laugh and feel giddy and she makes him want to be a Christian (despite his philosophical reservations about Christianity); he has read all of C.S. Lewis' works, he is well read in contemporary debates between theist and atheist; and although he doesn't see a fundamental contradiction with the belief that a grand, creator god may exist, something pulls him toward disbelief. Indeed, he is an atheist, but he is open-minded and continues to work out the debates in his mind, pledging to believe in whatever side is more plausible. He has an inkling that his unbelief is grounded in psychological reasons, not philosophical ones. Well this poor girl just don't love him. He has made his advances to no avail. Her heart is absolutely taken by someone else. She makes him laugh, but she doesn't laugh as much as he does. She wishes him all the best, but she never takes him up on his offers to extravagant dates in his nice cars, even though she'd look just lovely next to his handsome presence; they'd make a lovely couple. All of these people are so very good looking, me the least of all of them of course (but I promise I am funnier than all of them combined!). Why doesn't she love him? Why doesn't she choose this fellow over the one that has her heart firmly? Yes, it is partly because he is not Christian, but if he became a Christian, she knows she wouldn't love him. Something happened before she ever met this fellow, and ever since then, this 'bad boy' had no chance; maybe he never had a chance; maybe he's just not her type? He won't give up though, and I can sympathize with that. What happened to her, so that this guy doesn't have a chance in hell with her? She fell in love with me.

She has cried about me. I've brought her deep sorrow and deep happiness. I used to think that this girl's hair color was my type, but hers is the opposite of the girl's that I am madly in love with. I would think that 'bad boy' is cooler than me, and therefore that this girl should just fall in love with him and wait until the Holy Spirit moves him to become a Christian, but apparently coolness isn't enough—'bad boy' thinking I'm cooler than him anyway, because his girl is in love with me. Why does she love me though? I make her laugh. She loves my family. I feel extremely natural around her (as I do around the girl I am in love with), and maybe that makes her feel safe and good with me. She severely wants me to love her, for me to accept her, and she asks me, "Why don't you love me?" And I ask her, "Why don't you love 'bad boy?'" But I don't love her. She wants to become one with me for eternity. I've seen her face when we are having a good time together, and I can tell she is in heaven, but I can also tell that she dreads the eventual end of our hanging out, and so she clings. Why don't I love her? It can't be because I love another, for one can love more than one, no? I don't know. This girl is beautiful in her way. She is intelligent. She is caring. It's not because she is a little clingy; that doesn't bother me.  I know why she loves me. I remind her of someone else, someone I do not know; someone from another life perhaps; someone that she doesn't know perhaps; and perhaps she loved this person that I remind her of, and now here I am the reincarnation of her lost love (maybe a person or character from her youth that I remind her of unconsciously). I'm as cool as it gets for her. As for me though…I ask myself again why don't I love her? The answer is that I love another, and my heart has been asking for my girl for a long time, and my heart says, "If we don't get our girl, then it is better to be single and die single." I love my girl and not this girl because I like my girl better. I like her everything better than I like this girl's everything. I don't know why. It's not because my girl doesn't like/love me, because at one point she did love me. It's just that my girl is my girl and no other girl is, and no other girl ever will be. She'll love me again.

And so I don't love the daughter of a pastor. I love my girl. And she used to love me, but I ruined that a long time ago, but I think I can get her to love me again. These geometrical shapes of love suck, don't they? Yes they do. I wish they could all be resolved, but that would create a paradox, because that would mean that the girl that loves me would get me, and I would get my girl, and my girl would get the handsome seminary student, and the handsome seminary student would get the rich girl with the cool dad, and she would get the 'bad boy,' and the 'bad boy' would get the girl that is severely in love with me, and I would get my girl, and so on, and so on, and so on forever—a paradox.

I'll get my girl yet. You'll see. And to hell with this geometrical shape of love and paradox.

Jennifer Connelly VS Brooke Shields

Young Jennifer Connelly versus young Brooke Shields. We all know Connelly beats Brooke these days, so no need to mention that.

The Color of the Sky: of Angels and Bums

My hands gripped the lip of one of those big green trash cans–––the kind in alleyways or wherever.

My head hung down low between my arms, as slaver slowly dribbled down my lips and out my mouth; my mouth was slightly ajar; my eyes were slightly ajar; my soul was…

I wondered what my hair looked like. I was in an ever familiar alleyway, and at the mouth of this alleyway was the threshold to the rest of the world–––the world that operated by normative behaviors. I tried to look beyond the trashcan, but the light at the mouth blinded me a little; I let my eyes slide down to where they belonged–––looking down.

Oh ya. I had a full bottle of good gin in my pocket–––too bad it was only like a pint. I drank half of it fast, so I could get dizzy faster. Real quick the liquid made itself at home in my gut, and I felt great.

I hid my bottle somewhere on my body and looked into the dumpster (that's what they're called!).

"Hey you! Wake up!" Some girl was sleeping straight up in the dumpster. I felt silly and good. I wondered what my hair looked like.

"Wake up you girl! WEIRD!"

I walked to the mouth of the alleyway. I straightened my clothes and pushed my hair back; I was too bearded I think.

Man, I walked with some swag. I walked hard. I walked upright and straight (in my head that's how I looked). Some magical sparkles settled on my baby blues (my eyes had magically turned blue); they let me see everything at the same time, and everything was beautiful.

Fuck. I gotta go look good. I looked up at the sky and saw millions and billions and trillions of white angels flying around, making the sky white with specks of screaming blues…happy blues…not sad blues, as are common.

Luckily, nobody knew me in this town.

The angels began to sing a One Republic song, so I started dancing down the streets; oh there were many people everywhere; I mean it musta been New Yok or sumthin.

I was happy dancing the streets, when one twirling, falling angel caught my eye. The angel floated and twirled down the sky like a falling feather, but a little faster and more gracefully.

Drunkenly, I stared transfixed and soaked in happiness. I could feel my face having a sagging, drunken, happy disposition. I musta looked like a drunk Disney cartoon. I stumbled back and almost fell before leaning against a damn wall. My drunk eyes followed the angel. It flowed toward me. Its eyes were black.

BAMO. The motherfucker landed right in front of my drunk ass. The people that flowed like a river of flesh avoided us on the sidewalk and thus walked around us.

Me: "Your…your…your eyes are…they're pretty…black huh?" I pointed right into the angel's face.

The Angel: "They are black diamonds. Dance your ass right back to that trashcan. Do you even remember where you were or what you did before you were at that trashcan?"

Me: "Why…yes I do…no I don't…yes, that's right…I don't remember at all. I was just gripping the…the…the…the…the…the trashcan, and I think I was almost gonna puke, but I feel real good right now."

The Angel: "Well, you're almost about to forget everything again. Go back to the trashcan. Finish your bottle and lie down inside the trashcan with the woman. Keep her warm. Didn't you see what she was wearing?"

Me: "Barely anything at all, actually…I think…if I remember, no?"

Angel: "Yes."

Me: "You're beautiful Angel. I can easily dance my way back there."

Angel: "Thank you. You're beautiful too. Now don't fucking ruin this. Hurry up, and get in that damn trashcan before the cops find you. I'm telling you the right thing to do."

Me: "Okay, bye pretty angel with black diamond eyes."

Angel: "Bye Danny. Take care you fool."

Me: "Yes…yes…yes…yes."

I danced fluidly back to the trashcan as the angel made its way back to the amazing ocean of angels that covered our sky. The color of sky was angels. I got to the trashcan and looked in, "Hi weird girl." Oh shit I was feeling pretty drunk. I took the bottle out of my jacket and drank the 75% that was still left in it. I threw the bottle into the dumpster. Getting dizzy (in a good way) I took off my jacket and threw it over the young woman. I found I had another jacket on underneath the one I had just taken off.

I clambered into the trashcan I stood up on the soft trash bags and cardboard; it was all relatively clean; good I thought, very good. I reached over and brought the lids down over us. Just then I heard sirens pass down the street, and then just then after that I heard rain begin to fall, but we were safe. I hugged the woman and fell asleep or passed out or blacked out.

"Wake up, man."

"Huh? Oh hi. Are you okay?"

"Did we…?"

"No," I grabbed my head, "No we didn't do anything. An angel told me to come lie down with you in here."

"You don't remember me?"

"Nope. Are you okay?" I felt better already. Maybe I was still drunk.

She cuddled up, "You'll remember me and everything later. Let's sleep some more."

"Yup," I closed mine eyes, and I was gone into a deep good sleep and she smelled good. Maybe the angel made this a good smelling dumpster or maybe her smell took it all away or maybe it just didn't smell in here.

"Hey," I whispered into her ear.

"Yes?"

"I want to like everything you like."

"I want to like everything you like too."

"Okay. And I want to love you."

"You already love me. You'll remember everything later."

"Do you love me too?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. We'll be safe. Thank you for not leaving me in here."

"Well, I just listened to the angel."

"Thank you for listening to the angel."

"Did you know angels make up the color of the sky?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I Saved a Mouse

This happened last night: June 4, 2013.

I was watching Knight and Day because it was on TV, and come to find out that there is a mouse in one of the toilets in the house. In general, if I see a mouse around the house I'll fucking freak out. It has something to do with the open space that we're all in.

The mouse can go anywhere, when it's in open space! It can run up my leg or hide under the sofa, and then it'll be there until it wants to get out or until you move the sofa, but if you move the sofa, it'll run wherever the hell it wants to!

And then you might even lose sight of it and not know where it is! How can you sleep like that?!

Well, anyway, this mouse was in a toilet, so I wasn't freaked out. The poor damned thing was stuck in a single spot; I had the upper hand.

I opened the lid.

"Well how did you get in there, you crazy bugger?"

The mouse didn't respond, but I noticed that it was actually drowning. It would try to hold on to the ceramic just above the toilet water, but it kept slipping back under water, so it was only getting a little bit of breath every once in a while.

I got the lid of a shoebox and pulled it out and into a trashcan. I can't stand the idea of just killing a little animal like that; it probably has an animal soul or something, no?

Anyway, I dumped it outside, thinking that it was gonna run free, but it just stumbled out of the trashcan and stopped. I poked it. It just stayed there all wet and barely breathing. Oh well, fuck it, I thought, and I went inside.

I couldn't sleep, so hours later (at 5am), I went to check on the mouse. There were millions of ants all over it! I thought it was dead, but as I looked closer, I could see it still breathing. I scooped the little fucker up in the shoebox lid and hosed it down with the hose. I got all the idiot ants off of it, but the mouse just laid there barely breathing. I put him back in the trashcan and took it into my bathroom.

I dried the little dude off with napkins, and then I threw a bunch of grains and a piece of fruit into the trashcan (I googled what mice eat), and then I covered it with a sock that had the other pair missing. It slowly tried to munch on the fruit. I went to sleep.

When I woke up I went into the bathroom and the little guy was jumping around everywhere and alive! I took him outside and dumped him out of the trashcan.

He ran away—fast as hell. He didn't even look back. He didn't even thank me. I got a little sad. I had saved that guy like three times: from drowning, from starving, from hypothermia, from being eaten by ants.

I saved a mouse.

Aztec Princess Part Two: Near and Far

I was chewing on a…what is it…a long stalk of wheat? I didn't know if it was really wheat or if it was just one of those damned plant, weed, yellow things that grow with those damned things that stick in your socks and poke you and hurt you.

I was chewing on a long, yellow stalk with feathery blossomings at the end, like they did in the old days.

I was wearing rolled up jeans, a beat up cool white shirt with a picture of Christian Bale on it (some would say it was a picture of Batman…not me), a red cool trucker hat that was pushed way back on my fuckin' head. Well I was barefoot of course, and my feet were dirty. I was a regular ole American joe working the fields these days, and life was good except my mind kept reminding me of a certain someone, and my mind reminding me kept hurting my heart about that certain someone.

I was lying back in the soft golden land of the rancher I worked for: he was a real nice ole fuck ya know? There I lay looking up at the perfect blue sky. The plane that watered the fields was due any minute. It was a hot day, so I was looking forward to this little field shower. I thought about getting naked, but the rancher had damned kids. I heard the plane a-roarin' and a-tumblin' down the line; down that ole atmosphere; down that beautiful sky; fighting all that gravity; and my mind wandered away and away into the deep blue sky—maybe even to outer space. I used to think it was spelled "outterspace." Otter.

It had been a long time since I had been deported from Mexico and back into the ole U.S. of A. as they call it. I missed my Aztec princess Lizette. Feisty Lizette. I missed her beautiful face and her long legs and her torso and her breasts and her…her fuckin' hair man. Her SMELL man! I missed her sex, the way she could really fuck me. And I missed the way she would lick words into my fuckin' ear.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! I was jolted from my mental masturbations. I sat up scared as all hell.

"HOLY SHIT!" I yelled, "Mista Smith! Yo plane be coming down! It ain't got no wings no mo!" The plane's wings had been blown off somehow, and off the plane went over a hill or mountain to crash, as I saw the pilot jump out without a parachute. He landed on his feet.

Next thing I heard…

"Hey you fucking beaner! Hey you fucking beaner! What you doing on ole man Smith's land? Scoot! Get the fuck off his fucking land you fucking beaner!" From like five angry KKK dudes. They were really a rot to this beautiful Tennessee land.

"Why you ignant mo'fuckin' white trash, shit breath, incest lovin' piece-o-shit alkies! You call me beaner one mo' time and I fuck all y'all up!" I stood up and started making my way to the white pack, but they parted and surrounded me. Shit. I put my dukes up.

They drew it out nice and long, "B-E-A-N-E-R…beaner beaner pants on fire! Beaner beaner pants on fire! Beaner beaner pants on fire!" I don't even know what that meant, but they just kept on yelling. So I ran at the stupidest looking one, but before I could clock him a good one on his missing rotten teeth I blacked out.

I woke up in Mexico.

"Holy hell," I had a pounding motherfucking headache.

In Spanish, "Oye mang, you ok? You look bad ese. You got a big fucking ball on the back of your head," some old handsome fellow. I don't know if he was Mexican.

"Where am I?" I asked in English anyway.

"Mexico. You were deported. Five guys in Tennessee beat the shit out of you, and then they called La Migra on your ass and told them you were a shit head illegal alien beaner. The La Migra believed it too because they stole your I.D. and also because the shithead La Migra was KKK too, so they brought you here."

"Holy shit. How do you know everything that happened? Were you there or something?" I rubbed my fucking skull off it hurt so bad. I was still wearing my cool clothes at least.

"Because I'm the same old man from that one book The Alchemist. I know everything. Have you read it?"

"Shit. Yes I have! I fucking love that book! You're really him? This is amazing."

"Yes. That's me. It's pretty great to see me and meet me huh? Yup that's me."

"Wow," I shook his hand vigorously, and then I hugged him, and then I held him. I had been so lonely for a long time. I just held him and he held me. I was tired and I hurt. My headache went away. I started crying, "Man, I've been so lonely for so long old man. It's really good to see you." He just held me and soothed my soul.

We let each other go, and it wasn't awkward at all. I let out a big ole sigh and looked around, "Yup this is Mexico alright. I guess I'll have to find Diego or someone and try to sneak back over and go home. Ugh what a bummer. I don't blame those KKK fags. They just don't know any better. May God forgive them, because I sure do. Fuck it." I just looked around at the dusty place for a while, and then I got scared the old man would disappear so I looked back at him.

"Nah, you don't have to go home," the old man breathed.

"Ya I guess I don't huh? Or…what do you mean?" I asked. The old man was wearing a great big, beaming, bright smile on his face.

"Here. Take this magical, white horse, and go wherever you want. Go somewhere," he breathed, and all of a sudden a saw the sparkling white horse behind him. I wondered if it had been there this whole time! It fucking sparkled like it was a Twilight™ horse or something––––but not a vampire horse––a good horse.

"Go somewhere? Where? Wow. What a cool horse," I said stupidly.

"Ha ha you are funny son. This is where I leave. Go somewhere," he waited for me to say something.

I looked at the horse, and all of a sudden I could only think of one place to go, "OAXACA!" THE MEXICAN TOWN OF MY BELLE!!!

The old man smiled, "Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye friend! Thanks for the horse!"

The old man snapped his fingers three times, and poof he was gone.

"Wow cool!" I yelled.

"I know!" The horse said.

"Wow! You talk!" I said stupidly.

"Wow! You talk!" He said.

"Horse, can you take me to Oaxaca? Is it too far from here?"

"You can call me Guillermo. Sure I can take you anywhere. It's far as hell, but I ride fast like the wind and don't have to stop for breaks. Hop on."

"OK!"

So off we went, and boy was he right. We must have been going around 160 miles an hour or faster? Sometimes it seemed like we were flying. "Take a nap," Guillermo said, and I said OK and fell asleep.

"Wake up buddy. Wake up buddy," ––Guillermo.

"Huh?"

"We're here. I have to go, but I'll be back at the right time, if I ever need to."

"Wow. Thanks Guillermo. Be safe. Goodbye friend."

"Goodbye," and then this time he really flew away. It looked like he went west, and I imagined him going to some awesome island in the Pacific.

I looked around. Ah! Good ole green, beautiful Oaxaca! I love this place!

And now to get clean and dressed up for my Aztec princess, I thought, but then I looked at myself. I was perfectly clean and had new clothes on. I carefully touched my hair, and I could tell it was fucking perfect and awesome. Well, I'll be damned. Guillermo took me for a shower and bought me clothes.

I heard a rumble. Immediately, I was surrounded, but this time by a bunch of beaners instead of KKK shit heads! Damn it!!!

"Hey yankee asshole. Who said you could come here?"

Motherfuck. I couldn't win. Either I was a beaner in Tennessee or a yankee in Oaxaca. I replied, "Hey motherfuckers, it's Gringo to you."

"WE ARE GOING TO KILL YOU THIS TIME PUTO! YOU WON'T ESCAPE THIS TIME!" They all yelled in unison.

My heart sank. There was exactly 100 of them, and I knew they were serious, and I knew there was nothing that could save me. I was terrified. My breathing quickened. I looked around at all of them, as they laughed–––ugly wolves; they could see I was scared like a little bitch. I thought maybe Guillermo would return, but I doubted. I started to think about accepting my death. I felt really sick, man. I was so close to my princess, and I had met the old man and Guillermo. Fuck man, I felt sick. I thought I was going to puke. How could it end like this, ya know? I clenched my fists. The best I could do was to try and fight my way through some of them and then run. I ALMOST pissed myself, but I sure as hell didn't! They were going to RUIN my perfect hair.

I heard another rumble. This one was far greater than the first one that came with these beaners. It shook the whole fucking earth. I balanced myself, as I almost fell. It can't be! I thought. Could it?

100 of my princess Lizette's women cousins came to the rescue!

There was TOTAL war! 100 beaners verses 100 of Lizette's cousins. There was really no match. The cousins…Las Primas…were too vicious. It was an awesome sight to see. I stood there in the middle of this crazy bloody war! There was blood and death everywhere! And finally it was over.

"Welcome Daniel. You know you are in big trouble? Our cousin the princess has been waiting for you for a long fucking time. Lizette is pretty fuckin' pissed off eh," they all said in a chorus.

"Ehem…uhmm…ehem," they were a rowdy bunch.

"Don't worry! We won't hurt you! If we ever hurt a single hair on your fucking perfect head of hair Karina would kill us!" They all laughed.

"Karina?"

"Shit, you don't even know her real name? Lizette is her princess name."

"Ehem…" they were still pretty damned intimidating after beating the shit out of 100 beaners.

They picked me up, and threw me on top of them, as if I was riding a moshpit. It was great. I was floating on a bunch of Karina's cousins.

"Wooo!!!" I yelled in exuberance.

"Míralo muy feliz!" They all said. Look at him so happy.

I arrived at the famous Aztec palace, a lonely, sad, American bum. They tossed me off, and away they went. I made my way up the golden steps. Could she really be up there waiting for me? I thought. I kept going up, step by step. She's too beautiful damn it. A girl like that couldn't possibly be waiting for me. Ah fuck it. If she don't want me, she don't have to have me, I thought. Up and up I went.

I reached the top and before I could do or say anything Karina had pounced on me, her and her loose Mexican clothing: a white top with no bra, her midriff geez, and a crazy awesome loose skirt that tried to reach her knees but failed. She was barefoot of course. I looked awesome.

Oh Karina how I have missed you! My mind raced like a race horse of course…or a race dog or whatever. Karina! She kissed me, man, and I tried to kiss her back, but I failed, because she was kissing me faster than I could try and kiss her! Her hair everywhere engulfing me in her smell, I died over and over. Her breasts coming out of her loose shirt, here and there, I was aroused one hundred percent, seeing those perfect breasts. She kissed me everywhere. She was a flurry and fury of kisses on an undeserving American bum. I could hardly breath, as I tried to take in her smell as much as I could. And lips everywhere made me explode in orgasm after orgasm of happiness and ecstasy. I just let my tongue hang out so it could lick any part of her that ran across it. At one point I got a hold of her perfect bare ass, as she shoved her tongue down my mouth. What an ass! I mean, just imagine. The person you love the most is kissing your face like she means it! A poor American bum, being ravished by the most beautiful Mexican. This couldn't be real. The old man whispered in my ear slightly (even though he wasn't there), "Yes this IS happening." She dragged me to her chambers.

It took everything I had in me to pin her down and look her in the eyes, but what I saw wasn't what I had wanted to see. What I had WANTED to see was pure joy and ecstasy. I saw pain. She looked away. I turned her head. She closed her eyes. I kissed her lips. Her eyes widened with the same pain, and she looked away.

"You were gone for so long, you estupid idiot," with the most heart breaking sadness, as she held me, as if I could disappear.

"I…I…I…" me stupidly, "I was deported from Mexico back to the U.S. and then I got lost in Tennessee. To be honest, I didn't know you'd miss me."

"What's Tennasí?" She kissed me hard, "I don't want Tennasí to take you away from me ever again you estupid idiot," she kissed me so damn hard, I'm telling you.

Her body was perfect. I took off all her clothing. She took all of mine off, and then we just goddam held each other in a giant luxurious bed made out of ivory, gold, feathers, and all this other fancy shit. We made love real quick, because we both needed it, and then we held each other. We took a shower, and had more sex. And then we held each other, in that one bed. She fucked me like only she knew how. We did it every which way and for a couple days and it was amazing. Finally, she buried her face in my awesome chest and cried herself happily to sleep.

I lay there looking out the goddam window, wondering to myself. Really? I mean, really? You like someone; hell you love someone, and they love you back? This doesn't happen. Imagine wanting one person the most, and that one person wants you the most. That's impossible. It had just happened. It was happening.

Hmmmm. As a religious ole fuck, it made me think of Jesus, as I held the sleeping body of a fucking naked, beautiful, perfect Aztec princess with an ass of a goddess and the most generous and giving breasts. It was like Jesus just came down here, and all he wanted was for us to want him back…not to believe that he existed, necessarily…but to love him, and when we did, Jesus was like in fucking ecstasy.

I had just had ecstasy with this fucking Mexican creature and the erotic explosion could have killed us both, if our love hadn't protected us. I wondered. And then I prayed a shitty prayer: "God protect my shitty self, from my shitty self. Please protect this wild, Aztec princess Karina that loves me for some reason. I love her back. I know I'm shitty. And I know she's probably shitty too, but please forgive us our sins. We'll forgive whoever fucks with us too. Lord, I don't know how to pray, but I figure I'm just talking to you, so, I love you and thanks for all this crazy shit. I love you more than I love this fucking Mexican tigress. Let me know what to do whenever you want to Lord. I'll fucking do it, not because of what I have, but because you love me, and I love you. You know how when two people love each other and they do stuff for each other? Ya you know. Anyway. You saved us. I'll do anything. I promise. I love you a lot God. I'm ashamed. I'm always ashamed, but I'll try not to be because Jesus died like hell on that horrible cross for all my shit. I'll try to be grateful. Help me however you can and however is fair. Please protect my loved ones. I love you. I just want to say I love you. I love you. Amen. Bye."

I lied there. That damned Karina slept like a baby. She let go of her grip on me, and rested upon me, as if she now knew that I loved her just as much as she loved me and that I wasn't going to leave her––––as if something was now comforting her. I wondered in my soul.

I stared at her nipples. I looked over and checked out her ass. She was tan. I kissed her everywhere, while she slept, and I wondered if that was some kind of rape, even though she loved me. I put that thought away. Dumb liberals always trying to make me think something right is something wrong. I laughed. I looked out the window again. I wondered in my soul. I fell asleep.

I dreamt something awesome.

"Wake up Daniel. Wake up."

I sure as hell woke up, when those beautiful wind chimes sang, "Good morning, princess." I looked at her. She was on her knees naked at the foot of the bed. Her breasts hang perfectly, and I couldn't quite see her vagina, but it was there. Her dark hair hung so great around her sun dried shoulders. Her eyes were there gleaming golds, greens, browns, blues, and reds all over the goddam room. Her lips sang. Her ears heard the secret songs of angels. Her nose…her nose…her nose was mine, along with everything else.

"My prince. I'll be right back. I'm going to bring us some fucking fruit to suck on, ok?"

"Princess, before you go, I have two requests."

"Granted. Fucking granted! I'm so happy you're back. You can have anything you want. I don't give a shit what it is. I don't care that I don't even know what it is yet. I say yes. You can have it!" She smiled brighter than the old man himself. My heart beat, as if it were more alive, just to see her.

"Hell! I love you! I'm so happy to see YOU! I'm such a fool. My two requests, I want a kiss, and I want you to lick some words into my unworthy ears––––––any words." I looked at her, as if she might say no, or as if she might disappear. Damn it God! You can make some creatures! They're too lovely! What is happening on this weird planet!!!???

"Granted," she slithered over (and now I could see her vagina; it was still there), and gave me a perfect peck. She gave me another gift, before slithering words into my ears: she stared me square in the eyes. Oh her eyes! She just stared for years upon years and eons upon eons, and my heart was my whole being, and I didn't breathe forever. Her eyes were so beautiful. "OK," she said, "come here," and she licked the loveliest of rhymes, the loveliest of poems, the loveliest of flutters, the loveliest of words into one of my ears, and that was it. It was all complete.

She jumped off the bed, and made her way to the door, as I checked out her ass and back and legs. She paused at the door. She looked back and killed me with her beautiful face, "tell me you love me estupid."

"I love you," I smiled stupidly.

She smiled perfectly. She blew me a kiss, "Ahorita vengo," and she was out the goddam door.

"Wow!" I breathed aloud and fell back onto the bed. I was still naked, and my hair was still perfect.

"Danny."

"Holy shit!" I sat up, "You guys scared the shit out of me!" The old man and Guillermo were in the room. I didn't cover up my dick.

"We're back, and we're happy you're happy. Happiness is fleeting. Be content, and be thankful for any happiness. Sometimes sad times come, but happiness is good too. God loves you. We'll see you later. You won't ever separate from your new wife ever again, we promise."

"Well goddam, thanks guys. You guys are good. You guys are good friends."

"Only The Teacher is good. Be good dude. We'll see you when you get deported back to the U.S. again, and then you'll bring your princess. Things will happen."

"I love you guys. I'll miss you guys."

"As if we won't miss you Danny! We love you. See ya later dude."

"See ya guys!"

The old man snapped his fingers three times and nothing happened. Guillermo looked at me, and we both laughed, and then they both disappeared.

I lied back again, with my hands behind my neck. God was good. I knew I'd be poor again, somewhere sometime, and I hoped that I'd still think God was good. As for now, I was rich and a Mexican prince, with the most beautiful wife. I pondered. I wondered.

I got a little depressed thinking about everything in the world. I got sad. I got happy. I loved. I hated. I held my poor, beat heart. I wondered. I thanked Jesus. I wondered…

Everything is near and so far, I thought to myself, and I began to cry–––––––uncontrollably, but sweetly and deeply, and it felt so damn good, and I thought about Jesus and my family, and I cried some more.

And then that lovely ass walked back into the majestic room. I was in love. I had never thought I'd see her again.

Playing a Show, Playing a New Song: "I Want to be Like King Solomon"

Hello there! Long Live Logos is playing a show at Soda Bar in San Diego on April 28, 2013 (SODA BAR SHOW). It's been a little while since we've played a show. I can't wait. We'll mostly be playing brand new songs that we've never ever ever never played.

We're playing a brand new song entitled "I Want to be Like King Solomon." The song is about wanting to be like King Solomon of the Old Testament. He was King David's son, the second king of Israel. He was known for his extravagance and wisdom.

Here are the lyrics…yes, they might sound a little silly, but it's fun!

I Want to be Like King Solomon

I wanna make love with all the beautiful girls of the world
Like my hero King Solomon
I wanna be rich, super rich, yea you know what I mean
Like my hero King Solomon

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I wanna be like King Solomon

I wanna be the smartest guy in the fucking world
Like my hero King Solomon

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I wanna be like King Solomon

What you gonna do with all that ass?
What you gonna do with all that cash?
What you gonna do with all them brains?
I'll figure it out

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I wanna be like King Solomon

Like he said, nothing really matters
Like he said, only God really matters

The Place Beyond the Pines: Review

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) Review – 4/12/2013

(NO SPOILERS)

At this point, how can you not be excited to watch The Place Beyond the Pines—directed by Derek Clanfrance—when it stars Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper? I think they should have tried a little harder to get Jessica Alba instead of Eva Mendes, but that’s just me, and Rose Byrne made up for it anyway.

   It seemed like Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper were on the fast track to being C-List Hollywood hacks. Let me explain. The Notebook was one of the first movies that really made me cry, and I have been grateful ever since—I loved that movie! That was the first time I saw Gosling in a film, and he was just charming, and I am in love with Rachel McAdams. But still, it was “just” a tearjerker, chick flick, and it could have been easy for Gosling to keep playing the sweat heart.

   I first saw Cooper in Wedding Crashers, and I must say I often rewound (can you rewind DVDs?) his scenes. He’s just fucking hilarious in that movie. Cooper could have easily let himself be cast into that “bro”/”jock” role that he plays so well forever.

   Gosling was so great and strange in Drive, and Cooper was perfect in Silver Linings Playbook. Needless to say, both dudes have come a long way since their early days, and now they’re badasses, so I was expecting The Place Beyond the Pines to be pretty good. The movie delivered on the goods! Right from the beginning the movie gets exciting, and you obviously begin rooting for the “bad” guy (humans are so predictable). The movie follows Gosling as a carny motorcyclist that finds out he has a child in one of the small towns the carnival stops at. He seems like a guy that doesn’t have much direction in life. He finds some purpose in trying to provide for his family. He gets in trouble; that’s where police officer Cooper comes in. Both of the protagonists (it’s almost like two movies) are faced with moral dilemmas, and Clanfrance does a great job of eliciting a grand drama and emotion from the script.

   Something happens right in the middle of the movie that makes you wonder what the rest of the movie is going to be about, but Place isn’t amateurs at work. I think it was Roger Ebert that once said something like the following: a good movie can’t be too long, and a horrible movie can’t be too short. Some might think this movie could have been a little shorter, but it was a great, epic movie with some good twists and a satisfying ending.

   I especially liked Sean Bobbitt’s DP work. He set up strange scenes where it almost felt like you were Gosling or at least a part of his entourage, and his epic landscape shots play well with the emotional landscapes of the characters. I must say the wardrobe people were pretty awesome (the way Gosling’s character dresses the whole time gives this movie a realistic, raw feel). The acting was good all around. Although the story was a familiar one, there were enough novelties so that it didn’t seem too familiar; plus the acting and, again, Rose Byrne made up for it. And I would just like to say that Ben Mendelsohn seems to be in everything these days (Girls [TV], The Dark Knight Rises, Killing Them Softly, Animal Kingdom, Killer Elite). Keep it up Ben!

   Go watch this movie.

ROSE BYRNE

Dark vs Dark

I had a sick feeling in my gut…
I HAD a sick feeling in my gut…
I had A sick feeling in my gut…
I had a SICK feeling in my gut…
I had a sick FEELING in my gut…
I had a sick feeling IN my gut…
I had a sick feeling in MY gut…
I had a sick feeling in my GUT.

I drove to the localest, closest liquor store and bought a 40 of something…anything.

I sat alone in my car and washed a Xanax down with a swig of beer. I'll drink this beer nice and slow.

I drove to Tijuana, Mexico. I found an English speaking, middling drug dealer and bought a couple roofies; I bought five roofies; I put them in an Altoids box. I bought a couple bottles of tequila and got myself a hotel room.

This seemed like the near end.

I drove back to California the next morning. I got home, and no one was home. I got on my computer and searched for  the most beautiful girl on my Facebook friends list. It had to be a girl I liked, as well as found attractive. She had to be nice; she had to be beautiful; she had to be nice; she had to be beautiful; it had to be…her.

So I found her. I drove to wherever she lived. We "ran into each other."

"Oh, well hey what are y'all doing tonight?" It was a weekend.

"Oh, well hey we're all hanging out…you know so-and-so, right?" She was the fly, and I was the spider.

"Yes. I know so-and-so. I'll call him up. I'll see you there."

"Oh, well hey see ya later."

"Oh, well hey see ya later."

I called, and it was all set. We'd meet at a bar. We'd party after. I'd giver her a roofie. I'd take her to a hotel, and she'd "willingly" have sex with me.

This all seemed like the near end for me.

Afterwards, I'd head over to that cliff and go for a dive, and then it would really be the end for me. And that would be it.

It all went well and right and the way I planned it, and everyone had fun, but something went "wrong" the morning after…

"Hey, you. Come back to bed."

I was about to leave the room. I was about to leave her and everyone else forever. I was about to be forever gone.

"Where are you going?"

"Uh…I don't really remember what happened last night," I lied.

"Oh, well hey, let me remind you," she beamed at me.

Years flashed by, as the cliff waited for me to jump off of it.

The end kept seeming further and further away.

We had gotten married and all that. We had had kids and all that. She had fallen in love with me and all that. I had already been in love with her (and a million other girls) and all that. We bought a car and all that. We bought another car and all that. And then we bought yet another car and all that. We bought a house and all that. We bought some dogs and cats and all that. We went to church and all that. We went on vacations and all that. She did what she did and all that, and I did what I did and all that.

She died one day. I never told her about roofie-ing her–––––––––––––she seemed to like me–––––––she seemed to love me for god's sake–––––––––––––––and I loved her too, and I didn't want to ruin anything for her.

I found my little Altoids box in a corner somewhere, and I opened it with my old, crusty, wrinkly, hurting fingers. I dumped the remaining four roofies in the toilet; I flushed them; I sat down.

I barely got up. I barely stood up. I walked over to a fine mirror we had in our room, and I asked myself aloud, "Why does it seem like it's always DARK vs DARK?" I cried for several centuries.

And then I just hoped a light would shine on me, over me, through me, out of me–––––forever.

Blood and Juice Boxes

The sirens were blasting my ears completely off, and they made my brain go completely haywire. It was as if my brain was made out of electrical activity, and it was being shorted out. Oh wait... anyway...

THE SIRENS: "WAH! WAH! WAH! MASH! MASH! MASH! WAR!!! BOGEY! BOGEY! BOGEY! WASH! WAH! WASH!"

I couldn't make out what it was trying to tell me.

I grabbed my scary head with both hands, clenched my eyeballs with my crazy eyelids, and threw myself against the Red Cross bus. I hunkered down. The goddam bus was still pumping out blood for the wounded. Other than my ears being blasted off and my head, brain, mind going crazy, I was in great condition! I could give some blood, to help.

I opened my crazy eyes to see fourteen North Koreans and seven Iranians about one hundred yards away—they trained their muskets in my direction––––sons of bitches. OK. I shouldn't talk that way about their mothers.

My legs hurried me over and behind the bus, as the bullets with their own minds began flying toward the poor blood bus and me.

BING, BANG, CLASH, BING, BING, BING, BANG, BANG, BANG!!!

I touched my body everywhere––no hits on me. I looked at myself with my eyes and perceived with my mind: I was dirty and bloodied (with other people's blood), but I was unwounded–––just really dirty and stinky.

I saw the bastards loading their shitty guns and made a run for it. I jumped inside the blood bus. Inside there were two dead people, one person giving blood, and the doc.

"I can give blood!" I shouted over the sound of the war outside; bombs were exploding, bullets were flying, bings and bangs cried out, and death cackled like a hyena; death was a murderous hyena!

I saw a shuffle behind the doc; someone was huddled up in a corner of the bus. I looked questioningly at the doc.

"It's the President of the United States! Hide him over there behind you!"

The president hobbled over to me, and I stuck him in a cubby, "Hello Mr. President!"

Just then, the doc finished with the person giving blood, and as the donor stood up––

A thunderous, deafening sound, and then…SMASH! EXPLODE! BASH! BOOM! The back of the bus was torn off like a piece of bread from the Olive Garden; jets ran away in the sky like cowards; the doc was gone. The donor was gone. The two dead people were even deader now. The president cowered and whimpered behind me. I stared in shock, but nothing would shock me as much as what I would see next.

A girl was running toward the bus! As I looked at her through one of the blood stained windows, everything was in slow motion. She was so clean. She was wearing a lovely hat and had long, shining mahogany locks. She was so clean. She had magical, green and gold eyes, and there was no war in them. She wore a brilliant, yellow frock that matched her eyes and flowed above her knees; her legs were so smooth and clean and bright and shining. Her sandals were faithful and clean, as she ran elegantly toward me. I bet her name is Sarah Price, I thought.

The idiots across the way were loading their guns again, but they were stunned by the sight of Sarah, so they didn't do much for a second.

She jumped into the bus, and we were face to face.

"HI!"

I just stared into her eyes. I tried to hide in her eyes. I had been in this war for too long, and I was tired.

She put her hand on my shoulder, "HI! Are you OK?!"

I looked at her hand in awe, and then I muttered, "Th…the…the pres…the president."

BING, BANG, TINK, BING, CLASH outside.

"Sorry! Hi! I'm Danny! I'm a little outta sorts, but I'm good enough, but I suppose it depends!"

"I'm Sarah! Sarah Price!"

"Wow! OK! You're so…clean!"

She laughed, "Is there anyone we can give blood to, or is it too late? We can drive the rest of this bus out of here, if we need to, don't you think? What president?"

The bastards outside were slowly advancing on us. I stuck my fist out the window for a second and shot a couple rounds in their direction to slow them down.

"We have the President of the United States here!"

We rushed over to him. He was nodding off, and he damned well looked purple––for God's sake––even though he was black!

"He's dying! We need to save him!"

We carried his limp ass body to one of the beds that was still left; we could see he was bleeding out. We stopped the hemorrhaging. He wasn't bleeding any more, but he didn't have enough blood to live.

The damned sirens shook my soul again, and I thought I was a lost cause, but then Sarah shook me, "I need you!" I snapped out of it, "I'm here to give blood! I ran over here to give blood, to help! The president needs it!"

"Me too! OK! Sit down against the bed," I grabbed some empty blood bags, iodine, and needles, "Looks like the reserve blood bags were blown away!" I grabbed her arm, cleaned it (even though it was already super clean) with iodine, stuck her with the needle, and then I hooked it up to the bag, "Squeeze your fist a bunch of times! We don't have much time!" I shot a couple more rounds out the window, "Now you hook me up!"

Sarah cleaned my dirty arm, iodined me, stuck me, and then hooked up the blood bag. I looked down at the ground and started feeling depressed. Sarah put her amazing free hand on my cheek. I looked into her crazy eyes. She smiled at me, "Now squeeze your crazy hand."

We sat there, against the bed, squeezing our hands, while holding hands, filling up blood bags with blood. Finally, the bags were full––we were exceptional blood givers.

We pulled the damned needles out and stood up. We were both quite dizzy and almost fell over each other, but we held each other up somehow. We hooked up the president to our blood, one bag per arm.

We stumbled to the sitting area, hand in hand.

"Is there any hope?" One of us asked. We looked out the window and saw the advancing enemy. I bet they knew the president was with us.

"One way or another, I bet it's all going to be over soon," one of us said, as I shot my last rounds out the window, willy-nilly.

Dizzy, holding hands, and uncertain about the future, we looked out a window of this blood bus. The skies were gray, it was starting to rain. Torn and ravished buildings, surrounded by the lush green, greenery of magnificent trees and over-grown, beautiful grass, surrounded us––not to mention the enemy. We stared out that crazy window, watching the enemy advance. I looked into her eyes to escape the war, and then we kissed forever—two pale faces, two pale lips, two sets of closed dreaming eyes, two minds minding each other, and tears mingling.

She held one of my hands with both of hers, and she just stared at my hand, while she caressed it.

I looked out the window and saw a green rumble. I looked at the enemy, and the flashes of their weapons were directed at us, but the bus protected us. I looked at the president, and he was less purple. The green rumble was getting closer; it looked like a herd of green monsters, and then the enemies' flashes were directed toward the green rumble. One by one, the enemy began to fall, as fire came from the green rumble at them.

Sarah's head was on my shoulder, and we were both crying, uncertain of what the future held.

"We're gonna be OK, Sarah! The Marines are here!" She looked up, and we could see a swarm of Marines taking over the scene.

We were calm as we watched. I looked to my left and saw a box full of juice boxes. I grabbed one and stuck the straw into it. I nudged Sarah, "My lady? A juice box?"

She smiled through the tears, "Why thank you, sir––much obliged," and she rewarded me with a kiss on the cheek.

I grabbed a juice box for myself. We toasted to each other and drank heartily.

Sarah looked into my eyes, and she could see the war was ending.

"It was beautiful meeting you over blood and juice boxes," one of us said.

And then we kissed and held hands forever.

The Deaf Brothers from Belgium that Decided to Die Together

Two brothers were born deaf. They were twins. They were twin, deaf brothers. I don't know if they were identical or fraternal twins, but they lived in Western Europe—in Belgium.

Being deaf, and being brothers, and being twins, they relied on each other heavily.

Oh, the years passed by, and as the years passed by, they got older. And then they got even older still. As they got older, they grew inseparable—so much so that they no longer relied upon each other—they needed each other. They got older still.

I don't know if they got married to women or whatever, if that's what you're wondering.

People get old. These twin, deaf brothers got old together, and then something terrible began to happen...

They both began to go blind. And my heart broke when I heard this. But Western Europe is very accommodating. So Western Europe told them this:

"Twin, deaf brothers, as your eyesight begins to fade, we are willing to put you into institutions that will take care of both of you, and both of you will be able to continue living together into even older age. What do you two think of that?"

I'm sure they couldn't hear that, but it was communicated to them, one way or another. The twin, deaf brothers consulted with each other, barely being able to see.

They held hands, and finally agreed on something by themselves, as they began to cry.

No. They would not be put into institutions, deaf and blind, not being able to see or communicate with each other any more; they wouldn't have it! So they communicated to the state something to the effect of:

"Thank you for your generous offer State, but we must decline. Being deaf and blind, we brothers would not be able to communicate with each other any more, and we just can't accept that fate. We don't want to leave each other. I would never leave my brother alone, and I would never leave my brother alone either. We love each other too much and life would be unbearable without each other, State. We would be lost in darkness and silence, and without each other. We can't live with that option. We won't leave each other. We can't do that to each other. We don't want to do that to each other. We won't do that to each other, State... our decision is to be euthanized together, before our last glimpses of each other. Thank you."

The state fought them for three years on this, as the brothers grew blinder and blinder.

Finally, mercy shined its light on the brothers' fading eyes, and for a moment they saw each other clearly. They smiled at each other—they would get their wish.

They were taken to a hospital to be euthanized. They were put on gurneys. At this point the brothers were very old. They were ushered into a room. They held hands and looked at each other—they could barely see.

One brother nodded to the other. The other brother nodded back. They could still see each other. Liquids were pumped into their veins, and the brothers became very calm. Everything was very serene, and they became sedated. They felt well. They nodded to each other again, and as they held hands, they began to cry. One brother got up—never letting go of his brothers hand—and got into his brothers gurney. Their other brother and their parents began to cry. The nurses and doctors were crying as well. They held each other.

One brother finally breathed his last breath, as he mouthed to his brother, "I love you." His brother mouthed back, "I love you too." And one brother was peacefully gone. The other brother held his brother, as he became sleepier and sleepier; he could feel the passing away. He smiled, kissed his brother on the forehead, and breathed his last breath.

There the brothers lay holding each other and passed away—gone to SEE and HEAR the LORD, sing songs and dance, and be together forever in heaven.

This is a true story.

The Huffington Post - 1/14/2013 - http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/01/14/twin-brothers-die-by-euthanasia-after-blind-diagnosis_n_2470551.html

Two Angels and One Archangel

I had already died a long time ago. Time in heaven was weird. You see we're always waiting for another second, another minute, another hour, another day to go by—not so in heaven. Time is different in heaven. There's never another moment, neither one past, nor one coming up. Everything and all just is.

So, I had my hands in my pockets (and in heaven you don't even have hands or pockets), and I was walking around, just saying hello to folks.

The angels kind of keep to themselves, because they're a little bit different; we don't quite understand them, and they don't quite understand us. There is a lot in heaven that is not quite understood. I thought that once I got to heaven I would know everything. That wasn't the case.

I slowed down by two angels that were having some kinda argument. Sometimes, if the angels noticed that you were listening to them, they'd fly off somewhere to the Angel's Lounge, so that you wouldn't listen to their strange conversations.

"Hey shhhh Billy. Let me grab a cigarette," one angel whispered to the other, as I walked by in my heaven outfit.

"Man motherfucker, I ain't got no cigarettes, and I ain't had no cigarettes for a long time now, and you know that," the other was annoyed.

I bent over and picked up a bug, so that it would seem like I wasn't listening to them.

"Well, I want a cig man. Do you think we outta stop smoking?"

"Shit dude, if I got a cig right now I'd smoke it, but it fucking sucks. Once I start smoking, I need one to go to sleep."

"Ya, me too. Fuck."

"Let's go ask Gabriel if he has smokes. He's in and knows whoever to get smokes all the time."

"Ha ha! Yous crazy. You wanna ask an archangel for a smoke? He gon beat our asses you dumb ass."

"Man, I'm tired and now that you bring it up, I want a smoke. Fuck it. Let's ask him and be respectful."

"I'm in."

"Hey human," the second angel was addressing me—fuck.

I picked up a Lady Bug and turned, acting as if I hadn't been listening, "What do you angels want? What do you want? Go mind your own business. I'm trying to admire the bugs here can't you see?" I had to act annoyed, because humans were a little higher on the totem pole in heaven.

"Hey we mean no disrespect. We're gonna go get smokes from Gabriel, and we were wondering if you'd come with us. Gabriel is nicer when we're with humans. Do us a solid?"

I had to keep acting annoyed, "Man, I don't even fucking smoke. Why y'all even smoke? And why y'all wanna go bother Gabriel? He's gonna fuck us all up. Just get some of Jesus' wine and shut the fuck up."

"Nah, homie, we just haven't smoked in a while. Don't make us beg," this was the second angel talking to me the whole time.

"OK. Fuck it. I'm up for some trouble. On one condition: what's y'alls' names?"

The angels looked at each other, and the second one spoke up, "Fuck it. I'm Billy, and this is Jeremy. You know we're not suppose to get to know each o' too good. Yous humans suppose to be mo' respected."

"Man, don't tell me how it is up here. We been up here fo' a long ass time fool," I countered.

"Let's go then?" — Billy.

"Ya man, let's role...how do you guys even know where Gabriel is? He's a fucking big shot," I wondered.

"He's always behind the Angel's Lounge in the alleyway," Jeremy the angel finally spoke up.

"OK. Let's get you guys some smokes, if Gabriel will hook you up."

We walked a ways, we flew a couple million miles, we went through different warp-holes, we passed a millennia of old-school vets, we loved a million women, we flew through space, we made friends, we prayed to Jesus, we were holy, and we finally arrived behind the Angel's Lounge.

"Alright human—"

"Dude, my name is Danny."

"Sorry...Danny, go behind the alleyway, and say hello to Gabriel, and then me and Jeremy will come up behind you, and you'll acknowledge us. That'll impress Gabriel."

"Whatever."

I straightened my suit out. I put my hands in my pocket, and I started whistling 'Wake Up Dead Man," by U2, and I walked briskly behind the Angel's Lounge.

WOW. I saw him. I hadn't seen Gabriel in a long time. It was always awesome in the best sense of the word. He was just a huge fucking spectacular warrior of an angel. He was an angel that could take out an army of angels. I had never spoken to him before. He was surrounded by about five angel women. There were no humans in sight. I knew I was going to be respected because Jesus had died for us, but I was still very intimidated.

Gabriel saw me and instantly turned around and addressed me, "Lord, what are you doing around these parts? Please let me know how I can help you."

WOW. He was totally talking to me, "Archangel Gabriel, no need to call me Lord. Thank you for everything you've done for the kingdom."

"No need to thank me for anything. Always thank the LORD. How can I help you?"

"Oh...," I didn't know what to say. I thought the dumbass normal angels would have showed up by now, "Tell me. What was it like fighting the devil and his demons?"

The women angels giggled, and I felt like a fool. Gabriel looked at them condescendingly and they shut the hell up.  He spoke to me, "It was no joke Danny. They only look for blood and would like nothing more than to see me dead and non-existent. At every moment, they dream for my death, for the death of you, for the death of Jesus, God, and the Holy Ghost. They only have one goal on their minds: death."

"I see," I was terrified all of a sudden.

"Yes. Michael and I must worry about their wellbeing, about protecting humans, and about protecting our army of angels, and making sure that they don't take any more angels or people to their side. So, they only have one goal, and Michael and I have many goals and rules to abide by. So—to answer your question—it's a bitch, but God gives us strength, and we believe in Love, sir."

"I'm impressed Michael...I mean Gabriel! Sorry!" I fucked up.

"It's OK. It happens once in a while. There's only two of us, after all—"

That's when Jeremy and Billy showed up.

"Lord Danny, good to see you again," they both recited at the same time, and I knew they had been practicing that stupid phrase.

I turned hard and glared at them, "No need to call me Lord. I was just on my way out. Please enjoy your Lounge."

And then Billy spoke up, "Oh hello Gabriel sir. We didn't mean to interrupt," and Jeremy gave me a hard look.

Ah poor angels, I thought. They just wanted their damn cigarettes. I turned around.

"Gabriel, fine soldier and worshiper of Jesus, would you happen to have a cigarette or two. I have been drinking Jesus's wine for a couple millennia now, and I am getting a craving for some nicotine. I hope I am not insulting you by asking you," I played it off just fine.

"Lord Danny—"

"Please archangel Gabriel, do not call me Lord."

"Danny, let me send you off with a couple crates of cigarettes for your journeys."

"I would appreciate that."

And so the archangel Gabriel brought out a couple crates of cigarettes for me to take on the road, and I responded to him, "archangel Gabriel, give my best to Michael if you see him. I actually have a date with Jesus and a wife I used to have on Earth; her name is Lise Louiselle Marie Martineau. We are going to have some wine. Do you mind if I use these useful angels to help me carry these crates of cigarettes? I have known Jeremy and Billy for some time now, but if you need to speak to them, I can call other angels to help me."

"Absolutely not, please take Billy and Jeremy. They are fine angels, and I will be calling upon them for promotions soon," and then Gabriel addressed the angels, "Jeremy, please take care and say hello to your mother; you have been a great angel, and I am promoting you soon. Billy, please stop causing trouble and I will not demote you. I have a mission for you soon, and if you undertake it successfully, I will not demote you, and I will even consider promoting you. Do not fail Lord Danny, and if you do he will tell me of his troubles. Take care, all of you. Goodbye."

The angels knew better than to respond, and they simply bowed to Gabriel. Me on the other hand, "Alright Gabriel. Take care, and don't give the ladies too much of a hard time!" He laughed and I laughed, and we waved at each other goodbye.

"Enjoy your smokes Billy...Jeremy," I handed the crates over to them.

"So are you really going to have dinner with Jesus?" Jeremy was cool.

"Yup, Jeremy. I'm pretty tight with him. Listen, both of you, look me up. Let's hang out whenever. You guys are fun guys. I'll talk to you soon, OK?"

"You got it Lord Danny!" They both accidentally jinxed themselves.

"Don't call me Lord Danny—Just Danny."