You can push and shove me, down to the floor. But this is an action those who perpetrate will learn to regret, nay, lament when I am done with them. For it is the broken people, those bearing internal and external scars who have the most to offer another openminded individual. We must celebrate our scars for they remind us of what once was and what is now, and what could be again if the high road is not taken. more to come
Life and Times
I was born James J Hayes Jr in Manhattan, NY. I came silently into this world at 6:35 am in Cornell medical center on 68th and York. I say silently because the ambilical cord was wrapped snugly around my neck, and the blue color of my skin signaled something was wrong. Birth and death happening simultaneously, though I came through relatively unscathed. A month in the hospital to start my life. I attribute my intense trouble of forming meaningful emotional bonds to this first month of solitude, and the many more which were to follow. Don’t misunderstand me, I relish my time alone. Someone once said ” I can be alone without being lonely”. That describes me quite well.
I pay my bills through a meaningless job which isn’t even worth mentioning. But my true passion lies in the written word. The problem is, you see, no one else seems interested or intrigued by my words. Six publishing houses and nothing but “this isn’t what were looking for right now… sorry” Yeah right, sorry. Sorry my ass, though you will be soon enough. But now I’m getting ahead of myself. A little foreshadowing perhaps…
The insomnia started when Carol left for the last time about 4 years ago. At first it was a nuisance, causing me to be tired at work or over sleep if I ever finally got some. I tried it all; sound machines, eye masks, ear plugs, not to mention a cornucopia of pills. All of which were prescribed to me by a doctor who I’m assuming got his medical degree at the University of Fuck-all, or some other equivalent non-confidence inspiring institution. I must describe insomnia to you. It is like a chill slowly creeping up your spine then settling in your brain, happy as can be.
This is the beginning of a short story, more to come…
Sunrise on the Curb
I awoke sitting on a curb, my head in my arms. I was dreaming of something pushing me, pushing me towards a precipice beyond which I do not know.. I lifted my head and slowly opened my eyes. The Firenze sun immediately assaulted my senses.