Love, Jim

Indulge me by reading on past the pic. Admittedly, I’m absolutely terrible at writing in the style of sexy, mushy, dirty or even the classic “love note.”

I dated a woman who loved the “dirty” cell phone text chats. From time to time I’d receive a random text beckoning:

“Tell me something dirty.”

Jim: Hmmm…something dirty?

Girl: YES…something dirty!

Jim: I want to f**k you.

Girl: Uh, you’re a WRITER…I meant write something sexy and suggestively dirty, using your writing skills silly.

Jim: The driving rain casts a hypnotic tympani on the roof as I lay in this bed tonight.  Nature’s spectacular show is punctuated by  brief streaks of lightening tracing the  midnight sky, illuminating your beautiful face in a soft electric blue glow. Thunder fills the air with a commanding, yet mysterious, percussive rattle on the window panes…reminding me that I really want to f**k you...right now.

Girl: Uh...Never mind. I’ll be over in a few minutes.

Jim: Can we have sex???

 I don't know the first thing about writing a love note but a few years ago I decided to give it a pencil stab for someone special after a small disagreement.  Translation: I likely said something dumb.

This is a writing exercise that my editor, my mother, my friends and any number of my college professors would have referred to as a "recipe for disaster.

 My dearest sweetheart,

I'm fully aware that I would, of course, NEVER speak that way in real life but I figured it to be inappropriate to begin a love note with ""Whassup?"

The primary reason that I opted to craft a personal love note revolves around my refusal to purchase a $4-dollar card just because I said something dumb.  I'd go broke in that eventuality.

Actually, I usually throw cards away after I read them anyway...or when a woman breaks up with me, whichever comes first.

I deeply hope that you might find it possible to forgive as I'm quite thrilled that you like to watch football and do not force me to cuddle after sex.  I also love that thing you do when you bend your upper torso downward from the side of the bed.

Actually I love numerous things about you, including the fact that you're not afraid to take a long road trip with me even though (according to a magazine article that I recently read) I fit the primary demographic and socioeconomic profile as that of a serial killer.

By the way, I would never chop you up and bury you under a heap of lyme and sod in a vacant field located miles from a state highway near a rural town in Arkansas.

What I truly want to tell you can't be fully conveyed on paper because there are, in fact, so many things that I love about our time together which would be better conveyed via 2 for 1 margaritas at Loco Libre on State street.

always,

Jim

Since I've officially given up on Hallmark, I'm gonna send some writing samples to that candy company that sells those little hearts which have the consistency of blackboard chalk, with a slight minty taste.  Here's my first draft:

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2015

The Old Man And The C Student

Today marks 26 years since my dad passed. Settle down...it's a celebration, in that he provided a solid foundation on which I hold  positive outlook for life to come.  For instance:

I relish the day when various gastrointestinal ailments, coupled with a neurological disease, renders me a wandering nomad, unable to properly wipe my ass without the assistance of an apathetic teenage son who’s impregnated two girls and dropped out of school after the 10th grade in order to form a band named:

“Doo Doo Jones & the Transcendental Fuck Sticks.”

Only he will not be able to correctly spell transcendental due to his lack of education.

Dad did, however, lay the bricks and mortar so that I might better understand the world around me.  What seemed nonsense 26 years ago makes perfect sense to me today.

1. Crazy people seem to possess amazing talents in that they are incredibly creative…most importantly, they are usually also extremely good in bed.

Of course, one must accept the bad with the good in that you might eventually find yourself waking to find this person standing over the bed, threatening to beat you to death with a tea kettle unless you can explain why American Idol won't force a re-match between Jordan Sparks and Blake Lewis.

2. No one can tell me what the name “Todd” is short for…not even my friend TODD! I kinda understand Jim from James and, barely, Bill from William. But HOW do you get DICK out of Richard? This, likely, didn't come out as I intended thus angering the anti same sex crowd in Kentucky.

3. As dad advised, I learned to expand my bilingual horizons. I now know how to say a dirty word in French.

4. I’ve encountered self-proclaimed, spontaneous people who follow an itinerary.  A style the old man refused.

5. It IS possible to be friends with an EX…until they find out that you’re dating someone else. (This lesson caused a considerable amount of personal property damage for a friend)

6. Walking away from an argument is indeed a good and healthy policy…so long as you destroy both cell phones, eliminating text message abilities for either party.

7. I’m still not a role model for children.

8. Under certain circumstances, giving up might just be an accomplishment.

9. It takes 5 drunken guys to change a flat tire.  Dad didn't warn me of the pitfalls of alcohol. I learned that one on my own.

10. Dad and The Surgeon General seem to be correct in their assessment that there is NO safe cigarette.

My friend, Pete, was mugged outside of a convenience store after purchasing a pack of Ultra Lights.

11. “There’s NOTHING good going on at 4am!” This was a regular assertion offered by my father when I was 17-years old. With the assistance of my lady friend, Ashleigh, we blew that theory right out of the water a few months later.

12. NEVER skirt civic duty.  A counterfeit excuse letter from the Pope will NOT get you out of criminal court jury duty…and might result in a contempt of court charge.

13. NEVER trust ANYONE who begins a sentence with “I’m not gonna lie.”

14.  It is, decidedly, not one world. Craig's List is truly a one stop shopping mecca.  In addition to finding a job, one may also find a slightly used weed eater, books, a cat, an automobile and, as evidenced in the following post, unique experiences:

"I'm alone on the couch at 253 South Scott Street.  There's a ski mask by the door on the front porch.  Put it on, come in and SHIT on me then leave...no questions asked."

What sort of questions would one ask after going to the bathroom on top of another person?  Although I have MANY questions for the person who posted this ad, I have an equal number of questions for the person who carried out the request.  However, I'm not about to visit Scott Street to ask either of them.

And, finally, one to grow (up) on...

Dad taught me that times get tough.  Your job is to be tougher or gentler. Figuring out when to be which takes common sense.

Miss you lots pops. as the French say, Merde!

hehheh.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2015