While I don’t write professionally…there is a saying that goes along the lines of, ‘There is a book inside of everyone’, and thankful that I have a subscription base that I can share my own personal book with. This will now be a part of my daily/weekly updates and will always be lead into with an:
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So, if you’re not that much into reading my book…you know which emails to avoid.
;)
What you are about to read, you simply won’t want to believe…and even if you do, it’s probably not something you want to repeat.
Preface:
Infinity Begins
I’ve been in this type room before and now I am here again.
The only difference is, before I was here to face some of my own demons, whereas tonight, it was specifically for one reason.
3 Free Sandwiches from ‘SubTasTic - and listen to somebody else’s bullshit, a bribe to listen, seemed a worthwhile gamble.
And while STT is a stupid name for a sandwich shop, they did a pretty good job at assembling a sandwich and though listening to bullshit has never been one of my favorite past-times, this was a welcomed break from my staples of Ramon or Canned Vegetable Soup.
“You’re not exceptional”, was the first line of cohesive talk I listened too, while swallowing my third bite of a traditional cold cut combo.
“Cool, bro”, I thought to myself while sitting in a virtually empty amphitheater, others in the room seemingly washing their mouthfuls of sandwich through the same bio-friendly, recyclable black and non-plastic straw.
“What you can do, doesn’t make you exceptional”, triggered my first retort, “You’ve never seen me anchor a ‘Chicken Wing Contest”, and while uttered under my breath and through a mouth full of sandwich, this somehow garnered a reply?
"Eating Chicken Wings is not that exceptional” .
The Man Who Talks to Bugs.
When your options are, hanging out in an over-ripe, student budgeted apartment that exceeds outside ambient temperatures by 12 degrees or hanging out on a random park bench in the shade, I’d imagine that you were one of the hundreds of visitors strolling for your own piece of bench on this unusually warm August evening.
And if you were, and close enough to the main thoroughfare, closest any of three possible park entries along said thoroughfare, you’d have witnessed the most spectacular and horrifying event that hasn’t even been conceived for reproduction in CGI yet.
A man, jumping and curling up into a ball like fetal position, in the middle of the street, struck by a bus and puncturing the windshield. It was really as if he either wanted to die in a most horrible way or escape by the most inconceivable path and he may have actually made it if the bus driver were to step on the brake instead of the accelerator.
In hammering down on the throttle, hearing the bus engine scream in agony and watching this bus motion like a slinky walking steps, careening into a semi-trailer running perpendicular, crumpling…the driver and first 3 rows of the bus would be killed instantaneously, other passengers sent flying into their shredded remains.
It was pure carnage and if weren’t for my hand gripping down on the handle of this briefcase, would have had me either vomiting or running into the street to see what I could lend. Not to give too much away, but the former was the most likely, I am no hero and this wasn’t the day that I’d begin.
The Early Days
Mom and dad were the most unlikely of couples.
My mother resembling a classic minimalist beatnik where as my father was a pure businessman. While I never really knew what my father did, he was always dressed in a proper suit, crisp creases, firmly knotted tie and my mother was content in loose fitting and floral gowns.
Their preferences on almost everything were as different as their appearance and most of our neighbors attributed this to the “Opposites Attract”, appeal.
Both sets of grandparents were deceased and with no other siblings on either side, when came to the faithful day, I would be passed along through foster parents and group homes until old enough to attend university.
It was considered inheriting their estate, when their actual estate was consumed by over leveraged property and credit card debt…but left me enough to miserly live off of as long as I continued to live on the cheap.
No, this isn’t a story about a billionaires baby that turns out to be Batman…but I think what you will read in these pages will lend itself to something a lot more mentally stimulating.
I thank you for reading the opening and would like to hear your comments and corrections as we move on.
You can write well.. great gift.. keep it up..
Engaging. Looking forward to more.