The Scent of a Woman

In a combat zone I lost one of my five senses and I spent fourteen years alone. I lost my sense of smell and I hadn’t been in the presence of a female for 14 long years. 

It was a cold night, bitterness filled my drafty room as the furnace kicked on. Looking through my second floor window I noticed my neighbors arguing, soon after I heard my doorbell ring. It was her.

“Why are you here?” I said, noticing something strange happening to my nose.

I could smell her but nothing else.

“I’ve been watching you do your yard,” she said.

At this moment I’d become speechless as she began to take her clothes off.

This was my neighbor and I knew something was wrong so I did the right thing and I backed away.

“I want to feel good,” she said, rubbing up against me. At this moment I couldn’t help but notice her husband out of the corner of my eye. 

As he grabbed her they continued arguing on my property so I kindly told them to go and closed the door.

Standing on the other side of the door I felt my heart beating fast. It was like being put next to a magnet, the attraction was there but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow myself to be forced upon by another man’s wife. My thoughts were racing. My body wanted what she had to offer but morally it would have destroyed me. Tempted, I came to understand the laws of attraction, I used the built up energy to finish building my shed only to be haunted by the scent of a woman. I survived one battle, but how many more were coming before I fell deep into temptation.

The Scent of a Woman

The 5 Year Loan

 I’d just reached retirement. It was January 28th 2014 and I sat in a room and looked at the same fly on the wall for three days trying to figure out what to do with all of my time. I had to have read just about every book in the apartment. I went to the YMCA for an entire year non stop. Every relationship ended the same way. “Hello, why do you keep calling me? Get a life!” I got call after call from people needing to borrow something, then that’s when it happened. I got an offer in the mail telling me that my approval odds were great. It was time to take out a 5 year loan. The process was smooth, I applied, got approved and the money went straight into my bank account. I found something new to get into. I had every loan sharking company on speed dial so I decided this was how I would spend my retirement. I’d become a high interest loan magnet destined to become a financial expert just by filing for bankruptcy, taking financial classes and surrounding myself with people who loved to talk about the markets. I’d racked up a total of 15 credit cards and I’d maxed them all out. I learned about gold and silver, then at year 14 of retirement that’s when it hit me. The system was rigged. You owned nothing and even if you did someone was in line to take it. If you lost your home, someone would end up buying it for much cheaper at an auction than what you paid for it and if you tried to do things your way that’s when the law and regulations came in. So to conclude, it’s been twelve years and I’m still paying on a five year loan. The truth is that once word gets out that you have a deposit coming into your bank the offers are endless and they won’t stop until they have all of your assets as collateral. You may think you have a choice but the truth is, you don’t. The more you try to control your own decisions the more you go under. The money was not made to hoard it’s printed out to spend.

Good luck.

Headed into Halloween, I’ve come to believe that the smell of money creates blood thirsty vampires looking to suck it up until you’re broke.

The End.

Goodbye Youngstown Black Monday

Tuneup bombs.

Mob rule and violence.

Steel Mills gone.

Corrupt public officials.

What’s left is a city of people filled with segments of the past to hard to overcome.

The Valley surviving on a river of Mahoning water that flows to this day.

Invisible heroes and money under the table.

Many residents plagued by poverty with those born and raised fleeing to the suburbs.

Not too much left to kill as everyone joins hands for nonviolence week with old timers who still have visions of what Youngstown used to be.

Today you see people coming together in a still divided and tribal way. 

Some generations have returned to pick up the pieces left for those brave enough to fight for a place to call home.

In a new town riddled with unusual decisions and many residents still in poverty a sense of hope is what’s keeping those in the ice castle together.

Today, with many ethnicities and cultures, the clouds of steel smoke have lifted but is still in the blood of those who survived generations after Black Monday.

There is hope because the old will never forget Black Monday. The fight now is left for the “young” in Youngstown to win.

Writing overdose

 Hmmm.. what can I make up today? I could write about politics or sports, maybe angels, gods or demons. I could write about conspiracies, drug addicts or rapist. I could write about criminals, doctors, dancers or teachers. I can write about good and bad, sex or Nuns. I could even write about problems or maybe victories and defeats. The topic about life or death seems cool. Today I had a thought about falling in love with a female who lost her legs. What an amazing love story. I loved her for her and she loved me for me. What a story to write about. I’ll even add a turtle searching for his shell in the story.

Writing overdose.

The Artist

 Today I finished my masterpiece. It was a picture of me hanging from a tree if you held the picture one way and carrying the tree if you held the picture the other way.

I rather enjoyed this piece. I painted it in a hotel room alone getting ready to be stoned to death for being a good person. The world will go on without me. I was the first artist at least on record to fit his paintings on a ticket stub. I’ve enjoyed my run here on planet earth. I’ve enjoyed being left for dead alone to paint and draw for myself, but most of all, I enjoyed the paintings that I’ve left behind. I leave them as a gift for you all. Sadly, the first painting of me being crucified was burned, but they’ve finally caught me again and this time I’m being sentenced to death. All I’ve ever wanted to do was save souls. They got everything they could out of my little mind now they’re ready to stone me to death for doing what I love to do. Goodbye chair, where I wrote my first piece. Goodbye museums, where I spent time showing exhibitions with my mother and sister. Goodbye world, I’ll see you at resurrection lane. 

Goodbye.

The first stone struck me straight in my third eye for an instant death on earth but a rebirth into another life.

Goodbye, and Hello new world.

Understanding Judas

 I, like many Americans am in debt, but here’s the catch. My entire life all I’ve ever known is public service and ministry. I own a business, but honestly being in a society that sees what they want to see I have to take a lot of heat. America is filled with numerous groups pushing agendas and many of these agendas have nothing to do with the greater good of the public. It’s basically a society where a number of people see themselves in huge houses they can ill afford away from those whom they are financially obligated to pay the debts that they owe to. The first question is would Judas charge interest? I ask this as a metaphor, but to be honest I’ve seen people die for the mighty dollar so I’ve been on both sides of the fence. Women and men selling themselves with no choice and in the end be worse off than they were before. Financial geniuses sitting in a packed room counting and handling IRA dollars in exchange for their kickbacks. Mega churches and educational institutions probing the brains of future scholars. Political icons trading stocks only to realize that being a political figure is the equivalent of a punching bag that in the end causes aneurisms and death threats because no one seems to see themselves in the mirror. Tomorrow I have the choice to get up and keep taking out high interest loans to serve the public or go do something else with my retirement income. Sadly, due to a flaw in society, I’ve rather enjoyed witnessing my fate with a low credit score. I’ve enjoyed talking  to customer service representatives stacking on late fees. The birthday cards are the best. They’ve shown me more love than my family and friends at times, and, “yes,” I am the victim. I’ve made friends with these institutions because as a victim I made the decision to invest in people by any means necessary. I mean the calls after you pass the grace periods are endless and the settlement offers on recorded lines really give you a sense of hope. Then there’s the bait and switch calls. They use a lot of AI to calculate your mega deal and they get a kick out of using a high loan dollar amount to draw you in. They actually add up all of your debt, convince you to jump off of a sinking ship and while on their life boat at a small fee they’ll settle your debts and kindly repair your ship. I can just imagine the conversations they have with their coworkers, but I’m not going to complain, but in a sense it seems like I literally have no choice but to take out high interest loans to finance my own ambitions because when I tried to do it the old fashioned way the banks looked at my failed marriage and bankruptcy and kindly sent me back to the pit of hell to fight my way back to financial freedom. Growing older, I’ve learned a lot from this experience. I’ve learned a lot about financial literacy and I’ve learned a lot about people and personal responsibility. I’ve also learned a lot about the mind of Judas. He may have saw no value in healing and investing in people. He also may have thought Christ himself got what he deserved for caring about the people whom Judas may have thought were poor investments. Maybe Judas didn’t believe in Christ dream or maybe he was jealous. Owning a business, I find myself at a crossroad with these two schools of thought every time I decide to open up my doors for service. I see the politician asking for my vote; I see the clergy asking for my soul; I see the customer looking for a deal and I see the banks asking for interest and I see myself out numbered trying to survive. Sadly, in the story, Christ dies a horrible death in a triumphant rise to the kingdom that he preached about; the kingdom of heaven, while Judas dies by suicide and all of Christ disciples watching, seemingly afraid to save a hero who spent his life saving others. In the end one lesson can be learned from Judas and his followers and that is that there is a long bloodline of treasures counting the change, but many of these individuals see no value in the principle as they raise the interest rates and as time passes by in the end a poor man only has one thing to look forward to and that is a meal ticket and the kingdom of heaven. Unlike Christ, Judas would probably tell him to get a job, charge him interest on everything as he rides around glistening in gold and as the poor soul dies a slow death the great Judas would probably charge him for the pills to heal him after spiking his drink at a late night get together with no money to pay for his funeral and no bail money if he goes to jail trying to save Christ on the cross. In the story we find a man who clearly understood and loved money, but eventually ends up having a conscience because he kills himself after selling out the dream. The dream of heaven on earth filled with peace and good will towards all. This story gives us two lessons to learn, one is the price of sacrifice and the other the actual value of material possessions. In the end we learn that with God, even with nothing, you’ve won because you can take nothing with you in the end.

Understanding Judas

The Good Man

As a doctor I found myself at a crossroad. 

Over my thirty year run I’d seen people come and go. I had my good days and bad days. I’d faced lawsuits and miracles but never before have I been so drained. Searching for some form of happiness I found myself in the heat of Africa trying to save a village from a lethal strain of Ebola. In all of my years of studying to find the right solution I felt my brain going numb. In the funk of night I heard a helicopter landing near my station. I thought they were bringing in medical supplies but it was for me. The other doctors noticed that I just wasn’t myself anymore. Drained in a room with patients begging for pain medicine I collapsed as they rushed me to the helicopter so I could return home. While in a deep sleep I could see my children playing outside. They were looking for me but I was out saving the world. Off in the distance I saw an image of myself alone. Always alone being called a good man, and a hero. As I awoke in a hospital gown I walked away from it all. I got me a cabin in the forest never to see another patient again.

It was the best decision of my life. Honestly, if I didn’t walk away I would have died trying to save the world.

The End

The Good Man