Tag archive for "feature"

reins, The Written Word

Taking a seat at the adult table

No Comments 02 November 2016

I took a seat at a highway 58 eastbound rest area to ponder the meaning of life. I wasnt sure if i had what it takes for this particular  struggle until I saw the writing on the wall:  ‘David was here ’07′, ‘David is a fag alwayz’, ‘that’s not cool’, ‘f u’, ‘Scraggy bangs ur mom’, and so on. What was i to do with all of new found  knowledge! With every passage of this learned doctrine i fell deeper into the wormhole. So much in fact that i would occasionally forget to push. The deeper i fell the more questions i had; mostly because I’ve never been in a position of determination, preparedness or coincidence to effectively scribe my own visionary message on powder coated bound sheet metal. That would all change on this day as i spent some time signing autographs in the parking lot for a large Asian family that didn’t speak English. I thought they were taking a picture of me but as more time elapsed in this menagerie of thoughts i began to think they could have been photographing anything.  Equipped with the same black Sharpie i penned the message, “To Whom It May Concern, I’m not really sure where to begin as I am a newbie with stall scripture.  The typically human has roughly 14 minutes of sitting time before their legs go completely numb. Don’t get so caught up in the reading that you forget to check for toilet paper before it’s too late. Better luck to you.”

National Obituary Review, The Written Word

DPD Emeritus: Prince – A Remembrance

No Comments 21 April 2016

Needless to say, sad day here at The Shade HQ. On the heels of Bowie and Toussaint I found myself asking ‘When is enough, enough?’. I paced around the house for hours chasing shadows. Not even Mingus could help me sort things out. I found myself in my rocking chair, cat on my lap, wrestling with the same questions about the passage of time we all do. What the fuck?

I can distinctly remember Prince at every transitional point in my formative years. Starting with Linda. I was 14 and had no job with parents that wanted me out of the house. The idea of a few bucks in my pocket seemed appealing. It was early Spring and my pal Steve had a job filing at some small potatoes appraisal company. By small potatoes I mean the business was run out of a slowly falling apart converted home with a pile of concrete in the back lot.

I had no idea what filing was really but Steve was starting baseball season and leaving the job. I could walk right in and take over. All mine. A few hours a couple of days after school and I’d get $40 a week. Big money. Believe it or not that was plenty back then.

I showed up, got the walk through from some dude that worked there:

  1. When you come in there’ll be a stack of files there
  2. You take them, sort them alphabetically, by name of client,
  3. Then put them in those cabinets over here.

Pretty easy. I was on my way. Then a curve ball. A file with no client name. Back then my problem solving skills weren’t what they are today.  I heard some conversation from the front room so I figured I’d check it out and ask my question

I come around the corner and see these women really hootin’ and hollerin’ with the stereo way up. I guess they didn’t hear me coming because as I approached I startled them. One of the women – Linda – caught my attention. While she was probably 50 she was all dolled up with tight jeans and dancing practically out of her seat. She had teased, dyed blond hair that would have been stark white otherwise and plenty of make-up. Lip liner, TONS of lip liner.

Without the slightest interest in answering my question she asked me if I was into Prince as she turned the volume up on the CD she was listening to. I wasn’t but I sure as hell wanted to be. At that time in my life I was into Kurt Cobain and the teen angst that came along with that. Back then, at no point did it occur to me that girls listen to music and get all hyped. At that point, and moving forward, it did – thanks to Prince. So I looked into him.

reins

Rein’s inbox

No Comments 16 October 2014

Email I received:

What the heck was the Balkan conflict?

My response:

At a wine and dine event to save nesting sea turtles on the banks of the Adriatic Sea David Edward Balkan had hot soup spilled on his new slacks by longtime Soviet antagonist Kirshov Valdergard. When Mr. Balkan demanded an apology, $24.85 for the cleaning, and a new bowl of soup Kirshov responded, “The slacks aren’t even worth the amount of spilt soup nevermind the $24.85 for the cleaning.”

Once the crowd in the area started laughing uncontrollably it started a classic case of bunched panties for David. After about 9 years and a few deaths the area is still in a bit of political unrest.*

*Mr. Balkan ended up paying for his slacks and new soup.

Response email I received:

You are nuts.

Shades of Gray

A New Dear Norman!

No Comments 13 February 2013

Dear Norman

What do you say to a widow whose late husband used to be your lover? I am at a total loss. I lived with the man for two years, then he married someone else (so did I, for that matter), and then he died….leaving me nothing by the way.

I know this widow, and don’t much care for her, not because she married my ex, but because she’s a total bitch – and still has the pearls that Randolph reneged on when ‘we’ went south.

But my former lover died pretty young (45), and we have a lot of friends in common, and I know we’re going to meet again sooner rather than later, and I don’t want to say something like, “I’m sure he would have lived to a ripe old age if only he hadn’t married your bitchy boney ass.” Although that’s probably a fair remark.

Brimming with resentment in Raleigh

_____________________________________________________________________

Dear Brimming,

Condolences.

A body in mourning requires a different set of rules compared to what applies day-to-day. Do you want to leave the vile taste of resentment in the ether? No. But the need to express righteousness to the wicked is incumbent – as you suggest.

Experience provides nothing if not to sharpen perspective through the blurry refraction of hindsight. If your widow personifies the ugliness you put forward then the results she so badly needs will come to her a thousand times over without your sacrificing grace.

So be compassionate. Empathize with the pain and suggest hope. And if you can get those pearls back be ruthless – I haven’t seen a good pearl since ‘51 in Havana.

Norm.


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