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[This is a flow of my thoughts, unedited, without removing anything some may not want to read.]

i have been crucified. this has lasted too long.
action, action!

as a child, i yurned to write horror stories.
my fear that it was the devil wanting to use me for evil thoughts scared me into passing the opportunity to practice. the constant fear that god may not approve.
education faked it's importance.
get by is fine.
the age of cable television, internet, flash advertisements - tv shows last 5 minutes at a time, then 3 minutes telling me to buy something. see it and see it again, then again. well goddamn. i just want to see my stories.
ADD, ADHD, you have given a name to our kids for something assholes wanting more money have caused. it's better if people can't sit and read a book for hours at a time. they may learn to think.
want the grades to get the classes next year. this continues for 20 years then unemployment.

what will you do? what's next? what are your plans?
i don't know, but it's going to be amazing and people are going to want to be part of it.
three years later, what have you to show?
indecision. travel stories. uncertainty. lack of confidence that increases by indecisiveness and is fed by watching peers who know what they want. oh, and i have learned that i learned nothing in 20 years of schooling.

fear of success is not a fear of the money or compliments. rather, an uncertainty how i will react to it.
you do nothing. you've nothing to fear.

a different fear. how will others react to your success?
c'est ca. afraid of how others see me, i become timid.
my desire to be polite, i become a push-over.
walking on eggshells.
step on the cracks, break mother's back.
sorry maria, i can no longer watch my steps. i have to do something without tip-toeing around what that is.

well what is it?!

lethargy comes from indecisiveness. or does indecisiveness come from lethargy?

i don't tell you because i don't want you to know. i don't want you to have what i cherish for myself, yet i demonstrate nothing of what this is that i want.
where are the clues?
look here. and there. you will see something.

empty empty promises empty goals empty attempts empty
suddenly, suddenly it does not look right seeing it over and over again.
stagnant sitting, stagnant motion because the mind does not turn these over in itself, the heart does not burn but instead wheezes, the lungs have been wrapped in papier-mâché and crinkle as they heave.

if you have no goals you can't fail.

nor can you succeed.

i need to write a horror story.


Aunt Diane drives five cousins in an old white station wagon and the boys are rough-housing in the car. She doesn't mind their fun. The boys range in age from the youngest who is four, his older brother, 8, their cousin who is also 8, his brother, 13, and the oldest cousin, who sits in the front seat, 14.
The station wagon pulls out of the neighborhood to a slope that rolls up and over the bank of train tracks. The sky is not particularly bright, but there are no clouds and the spring temperatures are just right.
"Aunt Diane!" the middle cousin begins. "Can we walk home from here?"
Three other cousins agree by clapping and "Yeah!" The youngest sits squashed against the door, not exactly wanting to get out. He senses something. But as the four agree and the aunt allows, the youngest opens the door and steps out. The others as well.
Three doors close and the aunt drives away. She pulls over the slope, bends left, and turns right out of sight of the boys, who stand there together smiling, ready to walk, except for the youngest.
Without warning, fog rolls in over the train tracks, the tinge of heat from spring changes to outright cold. Walking between the two rails, toward the boys, is a man in dark jeans and a dark jacket, hands in his pockets. He moves slowly, yet with purpose.
The five cousins understand the uncertainty of the situation. They understand, without meeting him, or even seeing him close, that he is trouble, and they begin to run.
The youngest boy, only four, cannot run as fast and is left behind.