Not all of my stories get introductions, but this one is certainly in need. This story spawned from a list of questions sent to me by my GCA writing friend Cinta. The questions were a part of her “Meet The Author” page on her blog here: http://cintascorner.weebly.com/8/post/2012/08/deel-daniel-leicht.html - I was thrilled to have such an oppurtunity to do so and of course agreed to answer the questions about myself, but, in my own way. I truly appreciate all your support Cinta, and I’d thank you if you weren’t so tired of hearing me say that! Posted below is my short story that answers all the questions – and I’ve included the questions below if anyone is interested to see the list I was following. Please Enjoy.
According to the List
What am I? Who am I? Where did I put the remote? I sit staring, paper lying before me on the table, my mind wondering what truths my mind will contort to its placement. Describe myself it says…only words it wants for the image I represent. Filling out this paper, and mailing it off somewhere, someone to read it over, learn what I have become. I begin to write:
I pour a glass of orange juice and begin to sip as I continue on:
Alright, enough of that. I wish it was Friday, I wish there was another day off between Friday and Saturday called “Thisday”, I would go hiking every Thisday at my favorite time, just when the Sun is beginning to rise. A sandwich and morning coffee before I took off on the road, arriving just as the sky christened itself the beautiful orange color I so love. I would reach the hills, run like the cheetah I craved becoming in my youth, run until I reached the top. Then I would sit, sit and read “Pulp” by Bukowski. I’ve read it over and over and still bask within its words. Alone, atop a grand view, there is no place I’d rather be when alone, which is where I am often found. There was once a time when such a question was asked “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?” and I responded “Wherever you are.” Though she is a past I can no longer remember.
I put on my headphones to bask within words sung before my age. Words written by the poetic in the 70’s and 80’s, some call it “classic rock”, but I just call it “the way rock should be”. I begin to scroll through my queue wondering if there is something I’ve been meaning to watch, some movie, some absent mind I can grasp onto. So many indie movies, raw acting, no special effects, just written glory. Movies about people chasing after their dreams, the writers, the rockstars, the people. I turn the flickering screen off; rip the cord away from my face.
I close my eyes, re-open them in some dream, I look around to see them sitting before me, Bukowski, Thompson, Faulkner, Morrison, and that chick from “The Notebook”. So many questions I have to ask before my phone rings, but I don’t have the chance. I answer it:
“You’re bored? I don’t have time for this right now.”
“Why, what is it you are doing? You just posted online that you were writing.”
“Yea, that means I am busy.”
“Alright, fine…big meany.”
“Brat. What can I do to make this phone call end without you being mad?”
“Entertain me. If you could have any three wishes, what would they be?”
“You, bacon, this phone call to end.”
She hangs up. I drag my vision to the flickering screen as I sit back down after having to get up to turn it on. Where is the remote? The travel channel, beaches, people having fun; what if they were stranded? What would they do then? What would I do? I’d be wishing I had more wishes, but at least I’d have her, bacon, and no phone to complain about, no life to climb through, no people to reject me, just my wishes and a coconut tree. I’d wake up each day and write in the sand, let the waves clean my slate, and simply write another poem for her to love.
I turn it off. Bask within the silent air. Bask within the world that is within my own. There has never been a moment where I have dreamed of being someone else. I wake up each day being me, knowing what I will become. This life isn’t in my realm of dreams quite yet, but it is still my own to shape. Though there are fragments in which I wish to break, contort. I can sit and write the world, yet am I truly living it? Am I grabbing every chance I am given? Soundless possibilities I cannot hear. Moments I wish I could grasp once more, I know the exact second – the concert, that moment of Worth, her words whispered of a world I desired, my shock, I reacted, but what if I reacted more? What if that moment could have exploded into my future? Though that moment a painful memory it provides me with much despair in which to dwell my mind for words. Sometimes our regrets can be a gift. No greater happiness or despair has ever existed in another second of my life as that one. The music on pause for a moment, a moment that has been repeating in my mind ever since. A true heaven would let me bask within that second forever, and so would a dwelling below the surface.
My mind numbing I stumble away and out the door. Lying on the ground I see a scratched ticket. A loser. Someone else’s luck run away. What if it was my ticket? A winner? Where would I go? I’ve thought of such a thing before, I would know the money was not earned from my dream. I want to write and have my words pave the way to more sentences stretching from the inked tip. If I won I would simply see myself as a loser, someone who fell upon luck and craved upon his life’s dreams without getting to such a place by passion’s footsteps. I want to spend every day as if my last, constantly wondering what will happen, and writing down every poetic thought that braces my tongue. Life doesn’t always appear beautiful, but I often find it to be.
I walk the streets and wonder as much as my characters written in words do. The stool has seen more than I have. I sit and order it neat. Here I am, still the kid, still someone looking to cause trouble, though such a place as this would be too easy, too unprofessional. Past and present align as I glance into the mirror. Will I see the same image years from now? Five years pass within my mind. I imagine myself sitting on the same stool, except with someone staring at me from the other end of the bar. They recognize me, they have read my words. Someone dreams what it is like to be me. People pick at my words and wonder what they all mean, while I just sit there sipping a Manhattan scribbling new worlds into a notebook. I throw my glass at the mirror and walk out. Not the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but it will do.
Another phone call. Wondering when they will pick me up. Another weekend spent with friends, relaxing, no worries, no anything, only bliss. I miss the call.
I have time to dwell. Embrace some pain for awhile, some anger. Loss of hope is truly life’s worst pain. Some people hand it out to you, dance it around before your eyes only to rip it away and have their fun, such provides my frustration, as I have never seen myself being able to do the same. Cruel are those that only see the world before them.
Inspiration consumes me as I sit and wait for the car to drive me away from this chaos. Inspiration from my perfect past of regrets and what-ifs, my future of unknowns and my present of loving every second that causes me to strive even further.
The list of questions sent to me by Cinta:
“MEET THE AUTHOR”
- Describe yourself.
- What is your favourite fruit flavour?
- What is your favourite day of the week?
- Which is your favourite time of the day?
- Are you a morning person or a night person?
- What is your favourite breakfast meal?
- What is your favourite colour and why?
- Which is your most favourite book ever?
- What kind of music do you like?
- Which is your favourite genre of films?
- Which is your most favourite place in this Earth?
- Which animal would you want to be and why?
- If you could have a luncheon with any 3 people (real or fictitious), who would you choose and why?
- If you were granted 3 wishes, what would you ask for?
- If you were stranded on a lonely beach, what are the 5 things that you would want to survive?
- If you could be anyone, who would you be?
- What is the one thing you wish you could change in yourself?
- What is the one thing you wish you could do if given the chance?
- What would you do if you won the lottery?
- If you knew that this was your last day on Earth, how would you spend it?
- Were you a naughty kid or a nice kid?
- What was the happiest moment in your life?
- Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?
- What is the weirdest/craziest thing you have ever done?
- What is your definition of an incredible weekend?
- Which is the best holidays you have ever had?
- Have you got a phobia you want to share?
- What makes you angry?
- What do you do when you feel sad?
- Who or what inspires you?
- Congratulations! Now you can freely rant about your book(s) and/or projects.
You can find Cinta’s blog and stories here: http://cintascorner.weebly.com/index.html
She is on twitter as @Austenite78, give her a follow!
and make sure to keep up to date on her Little Nani stories! Her Book Coming Soon! - http://cintascorner.weebly.com/little-nani.html
Stick around for more “Groovy Cool Adventures” by Cinta and I!