cold love.

“Shut the fuck up!” she squealed with a smile.

He had just told her that her bangs reminded him of Cleopatra.

The self proclaimed reincarnation of Isis, the Egyptian goddess.

“Except,” he began, “yours are scattered and choppy. So you’re Miz ‘Patra, but only if she were a hot goddamn mess.”

She squinted her eyes and shot him a look.

He began to laugh and sip from his beer when she socked him in the shoulder. Spilling some of his beverage on his long, black, wool jacket.

“Hey.. what the…” he said, squinting his eyes back at hers.

“You always have to ruin it,” she cried.

“Ruin what?”

“You could say the sweetest thing, but then insult me in the same breath.”

“Oh baby,” he put his arm around her and looked into her big green eyes,” I fuckin’ love you.”
“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it… dick.”

“Hey…” he squinted once more.

“Sorry.”

“Let’s you and I finish these beers and leave. Because I know neither of us have money to pay for them. Then let's see if we can dig up some change, huh?”

-

As she walked in front of him her long grey coat danced with the wind and the falling snow.

Her long hair flew around her head in a wild fashion creating tangles and small flurries of black web surrounding her beautiful face.

It was the cold winter nights like this that reminded him of the moment he fell in love with her.

-

“Are you sure we should do this?” she asked nervously, sitting next to him in his old Econoline.

“Baby we gotta eat… and I really want to snag some scratch cards,” he answered her with a nervous smirk of his own.

She sighed heavily.

“And besides, I want us to have a merry little Christmas.”

She smiled.

“It’ll be just like we planned, okay?” he assured her.

“Okay, darling.”

“Hey, do you trust me?”

“I trust you.” Trust was hard for her.

They stepped out of the old van and made their way towards the entrance of the convenience store putting on the ski masks they had shoplifted from a Wal-Mart earlier in the day, two towns away.

Upon walking into the small corner shop, they came upon the clerk who sat behind the counter, and a young couple browsing the beer cooler in the back.

“You grab them,” he told her. “I’ve got the register.”

She slunk to the back to take care of the couple.

He approached the cashier counter, gun raised, clerk unaware.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said with a friendly tone.

The lethargic clerk still had no idea of the young man in front of him, wielding a Colt .45.

She already had the couple face down on the floor, fearing the shiny steel of her Smith and Wesson 38 Special, they weren’t going to make a sound.

The clerk left his face buried in his dirty magazine.

“I said, excuse me sir!” he bellowed this time, finally rousing a response from the clerk.

“The fuck do you want, dude?” the clerk said, before his gaze was locked with the barrel of a pistol, leaving his mouth agape. “Holy shit man, I don’t want no trouble now…”

“Just keep your damn mouth shut and do what you know I want you to do or I’m gonna plaster your fucking face to all those packs of Marbs behind you there.” He said, motioning his handgun to the display behind the clerk.

“Alright, alright alright…” the clerk answered as he began fumbling with his register.

“Baby, how you doing back there with those two!?” he shouted to her.

“Just fine, my dear, just fine.” She called back to him.

He caught her gaze from across the mini mart; those goddamn eyes of her could put a spell on just about anyone.

With his attention across the shop the clerk realized this might be his only chance to get the upperhand on these two thieves. He began reaching for the short barreled shotgun he kept under the counter, slowly as not to distract lover boy from his lover girl. The clerk’s fingers found it’s way to the shotgun and he took a deep breath.

The clerk quickly raised the shotgun, but before he had time to even draw a bead, she sent his face through the back of his skull, all over the Marlboros that were behind him, with her pretty little .38. 

At first he had no clue what had happened. He had been locking eyes with her when all the sudden she capped the clerk behind the counter and a fine pink mist sprayed him in the face.

“Jesus Christ baby! WHAT THE FUCK!?” he yelled. She said nothing. She kept staring at where the clerk had stood, her gun still raised.

He grabbed the sack of cash the clerk had left on the counter and ran over to her and the couple that had been browsing the beer cooler.

“Baby…” he said calmly. “What. The. Fuck.”

She still stare at the counter, arm up holding the pistol.

He gently placed his hand on her wrist and brought the weapon down to her side.

He then carefully grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger and broke her attention from the front of the store.

Through the holes of the ski mask he could see her big, green, beautiful eyes begin to well up with large tears like watery, emerald diamonds. She had never killed anyone before.

“I… he was going to…” she started. “He was going to… to… to shoot you, baby.”

He hadn’t known the clerk was going to shoot him, he was too busy staring at her. And at that moment we felt a great, warm feeling well up in his chest.

“I love you…” he told her.

“What?” she couldn’t believe he was saying it.

“I fuckin’ love you.” He said again.

“I… I love you too.” It felt good to say it back.

He kissed her hard on the mouth through the holes in their masks.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

No one was supposed to get shot.

But he couldn’t believe how happy he was that someone had.

He took her by the hand and said, “we need to leave now.”

He looked down at the couple, whom had been face down on the floor for all through all of this.

“Holy shit, hell of a Christmas Eve, huh?”

“Yeah…” the guy was able to squeak out.

He reached into the bag of money and pulled out three hundred dollar bills and stuffed them into the back pocket of the guy’s jeans.

“Merry Christmas.” They told the couple on the ground.

“Merry Christmas.” They said back in unison, still with their faces to the ground.

They took off out the door of the small store, hand in hand, towards his old Econoline.

Peeling the masks from their heads, her hair was swept up by the wind, and her long hair flew around her head in a wild fashion creating tangles and small flurries of black web surrounding her beautiful face.

Freshly rich.

Freshly adrenalized.

Freshly in love.

-

Now they lay in the back of their old Econoline. Sharing a joint and a cigarette.

She sat near a side window, drawing pictures in the steam caused by their love making, while he checked the spoils from their latest liquor store visit.

“We should have enough for the next week or so,” he said to her with a smile.

“Whatever it takes to be with you, babe.” She replied.

He looked into her big, green, sparkling eyes and said,

“I love you.”

And she answered,

“I love you, too.” 

stoner.

Funny to think, I remember when I had the thought to write this little bit.

I wanted to do so blazed out of my mind, but perhaps it’s better I get this out while my sobriety still has somewhat of a chance.

I remember when we first met. I mean when we really met.

I had fooled around with her cousin, Spice. (I was a dumb fucking 21 year old, okay? I thought at the time I was going to grow up and become a police officer. Now I see what that shit has done and still continues to do to people. Poison.)

I called my friend and asked him if he could get us together, and I could hear his smile all the way on my side of the phone.

Him: “What do you want? 20?”

Me: “Fuck dude, I don’t know, I guess!”

Him: “Alright, see you in 30?”

I remember being nervous.

A thin layer of perspiration on my hands even.

The call came and I met up with my friend.

He handed me a small ball of tin foil and said, “have fun.”

I made my way to another friend’s house, one who hadn't smoked for a while and had agreed to participate with me during my first time. 

We sat in his room while, with somewhat shaky hands, I opened the small package of tin foil. The little green bud which sat in the palm of my hand was a dark, forest green. It had dark little hairs that came off all sides of it and looked as though it had been sitting out in a frost overnight.

I couldn’t believe the odor coming off the little piece of plant.

It was kinda like a skunk fart, but in a good way. (and now this smell makes my mouth water.)

My Friend: “That looks like some pretty decent stuff! Stinky too!”

But I had no clue.

(Since then, I’ve realized that all these little characteristics can somewhat help you judge quality.)

Neither of us were smokers (yet), which meant we didn’t have a piece or pipe to smoke from, so if I’m remembering right I’m pretty sure we used an old pepsi can.

We passed the can back and forth as we stood in the garage at my friend’s home, taking our turn, lighting the herb and inhaling its smokes.

I had been high before (a la the sinister bitch, spice) but it hadn’t been like this.

Clean.

Whole.

Pure.

I can’t remember what we did that night (how many movies we watched, or video games we played, or snacks we ate) but goddammit, it sure was fucking fun.

I’ve been smoking ever since; day, night, morning and evening.

I don’t regret it either.

Marijuana has made me a thinker. A dreamer. And at times, a doer.

Your what-ifs become expanded in the haze and your mind is able to see situations from all angles.

Inspirations fly from your mind, and if you’re lucky enough to catch some they’re gold.

Marijuana has made me a more tolerant person.

Smoking makes you more open to others and their ideas and ideals.

This has carried over into my everyday life.

I’ve realized that despite how fucking incredibly different we all are, we all have thoughts, emotions, ideas, etc running the tracks of our synapses and that in the end we are all playing the same game.

Marijuana has made me more confident.

Ever heard of stoner charm?

It’s a real thing and it gets me free little goodies every once and awhile.

I honestly don't care what you think about me or what I’m wearing.

(Even when I’m not stoned!)

I realize I look like some sort of gothic spy wannabe, but who really gives a fuck when it comes down to it? Imma do me, so please please please do you boo boo.

Sure there are the occasion hang-ups for newbie smokers.

- The “too-high” moments.

- The “convinced that I am never ever coming down from this and that this will be the state of my mind for the rest of my life” moments.

- The “I think the couch is looking at me funny and the toilet is talking shit” moments.

I think a lot of people get turned off of pot because of these incidents.

But people must also consider dosage, as they do with liquor.

If you’re a newbie drinker you don’t slam a 40oz (unless is pledge week, in which case you slam the 40 and then sit on the bottle), you take it easy.

Slow and steady wins the race.

The same goes for marijuana, take a few puffs and give it 30 minutes and then if you’re up for it, go ahead and have some more man!

But there are also SNAFUs as a seasoned smoker.

Once everyone knows, they know. And they’ll let you know that they know by saying something lame to let you know that they think you’re always too high and that you must be losing your mind and that you couldn’t put one foot in front of another if you had to even if you were sober.

Motherfucker can you rip through traffic and pedestrians at 25-30mph in on a fixed gear in the middle of Friday rush night after toking down a fat bowl or two and come home without a scratch? There are many that can, but many, many, many more that would end up as a greasy fucking spot on the pavement.

So when it comes to functionality and marijuana, I say “bitch, be quiet” to those that think stoners are all drooling idiots, incapable of normal speech and etiquette.

I guess I wrote this to share a side of myself that I don’t normally put out there.

It’s not that I’m embarrassed to smoke pot, I just feel like it’s not necessary to make it a major part of who I am. Some people like to come home, kick off their shoes and pour up a nice glass of whiskey on cubes, whereas I like to come home, load up a bowl and make music/write/read/what have you.

We’re all allowed our little vices and I would like to think that smoking pot is mine (in addition to the many other vices I have that don’t count while I’m writing this).

With all that being said, let’s smoke sometime?

Happy Halloween / Dispatcher 143

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays.

I've been busy not writing... and doing... stuff.

Below is a story I wrote last year. It's going to get recycled, along with a few other stories on here, for a zine I'm hoping to put out at some point. But I sure do a lot of hoping sometimes.

Anyway!
I really like this story.
I was watching Taxi Driver a lot and a not really liking my living situations and spending a lot of time in my room. This is what came of that.

Theodore didn’t do this job because he liked it. Working long, countless hours shuttling all these assholes from point A to B as quickly as he could had lost its appeal. Chasing all these bells and flags left him feeling drained and taught him to despise people.

“Cab 26 pick up, please.” Dispatcher 143 said.

A smile crept onto Theodore’s face.

At least 143 was nice to talk to.

He picked up his mic, cleared his throat and answered,

“this is Cab 26. How are you 143?”

“I’m doing fine,” she giggled back.
“Good, good. That’s great.”
“Could you do me a favor, babe?” 143 asked.

“For you 143, I might.”

“Could you take a fare to the airport? I know it’s out of the way, but everyone else is taken at the moment. It would just tinkle me pink if you could make it over there?”
Theodore sat up in his yellow cab, put it into

drive and asked, “where to?”

“2^nd South and 3^rd East, Liberty Midtown Apartments.”

“One of these days I’m going to have to meet you, and find out who I’ve been doing all these favors for,” Theodore laughed.

“Oh Teddy, you’re the best...”

And as he sped his way towards the mark he said, with a smile on his face that 143 couldn’t see, he simply answered…

“Anything for you, 143.”

-

Theodore’s shift had ended a couple of hours ago. It was about 1:30am and he had parked at a Mexican restaurant at the south-east corner of North Temple and 8^th West. He sat slumped down in his cab peering towards the opposite corner of the intersection, at the pink-haired girl, wearing a long brown fur coat. She had been standing there for about 30 minutes, around the time her last job ended. She had taken the man who had approached her by his arm and escorted him up the street, away from lights and people so that they could do what he had come there to do. Theodore didn’t think any less of her because of her line of work. People need to eat. He drove a cab, she had sex for money. She stood there, moving her legs to and fro to keep warm. He put the cab into drive and made his way across the intersection and back around. He pulled up to where she stood and rolled down his passenger window.

“Hi, I’m Theodore.”

“I’m Janet.”

“Janet, it’s nice to meet you. Do you need a ride somewhere?” Theodore said with a smile.

“Oh no, I’m waiting for a friend, they should be here soon,” she answered.

“Well, I know I’m in a cab, but I was wondering if I could give you a ride somewhere? I was just headed home, that’s why I’m still in the yellow. ”

“Ohhhhh baby! Why didn’t you just say so?” Janet said as she approached the car.

As she got close, Theodore leaned over and opened the door for her.

“And a gentleman, too!"

As she sat down in the cab, she moved all the way across the bench seat and sat next to him.

“It’s okay if I sit in the middle, right?” she asked with a smile on her face.

As Theodore caught her gaze, he took in all her features. She was very attractive. She must have been around 35 years old, her skin was dark and smooth and her smile was very endearing. He wondered if 143 looked anything like Janet.

Her amber eyes met his, “What did you say you’re name was again?”

“Theodore.” He answered.

She put her hand on his thigh, squeezed and said, “alright Teddy, let’s go for a ride.”

“Okay,” Theodore said with a smile

-

It was about 11:30pm, Teddy waited for his next fare in the parking lot of the huge oval park that sat near the intersection of 700 East and 1300 South, playing with a lock of Janet’s soft, pink hair.

“Cab 26, are you there?”

Theodore cleared his throat and answered, “143, is that you?”

“No Teddy, it’s the other girl of your dreams,” 143 said sarcastically.

“Ohh 143, there’s nobody else but you in my mind.”

143 was laughing out loud now, “Oh Teddy darling stop, some people need rides.”

“People?! Oh no, not people! Can I just sit here and talk to you all night?” Theodore joked.

“Yes, people! And no you can’t. They’re waiting at 9^th and 9^th and I need you there 5 minutes ago.”

“I’m there in 4.”

“Thanks Teddy, you don’t know how much it means that you’re going to do this for me.”

Theodore slipped the bit of pink hair into his shirt pocket and started making his way towards the 9^th and 9^th district.

“Anything for you, 143.”

-

143 had sent Theodore to 2^nd and 2^nd around 9pm to pick up another random who needed to make their way home, this time it was some businessman catching a late ride home after getting his fill of expensive cocktails.

“Hey man, could you get me back to my condo on 7^th and 33^rd ?” slurred the suit in the backseat.

“You got it, should be 20 minutes or so with traffic.”

Theodore hated picking up these drunk, rich types, he kind of weekend warrior who only had his money and his wardrobe to talk about.

“Hey! You’re not my regular guy, but I guess that’s cool.”

“Yeah, he was a little slow to the draw, huh?”

“Did you see that chick I was with, man?” he asked. “She had some melons. If I could, I would pay to do terrible things to her.”

“That’s great, really.” Theodore answered.

“You ever done cocaine off a stripper’s ass before?” the guy kept going. “That’s the life, dude. That’s the life…”

This guy was a jerkoff and this was why Theodore hated picking up drunks. Just as he was reaching to turn up the radio to drown out the businessman’s banter, a call from dispatch came through.

“Teddy baby, pick up.”

“Yeah, 143? What’s up?”

“That guy is a real creep,” she answered.

“I know, he just keeps talking and talking and talking.”

“Aren’t people just the worst?” 143 asked.

“Yes, they are.”

“Hey man, who the fuck are you talking to up there?” the businessman asked from back.

“Would you do me a favor, baby?” asked the lovely voice on the other end of the radio.

“Anything for you, 143.”

-

It was about 8am when Theodore arrived at the shop. He rarely stopped by, if not only to get his cab’s bi-annual maintenance taken care of. He had only gone into the offices once of the cab company for his short interview with his boss, Dave Shumaker. Despite his few visits he had never had the chance to make it by the dispatch office and meet 143. Today, he thought, was the day he’d finally get to put a face to the voice. He parked his taxi outside and made his way in, passed Enrique who was on a creeper, working underneath another yellow taxi.

“That you, Ted?”

“Sure is! How are you, E?” Theodore stopped and stood beside the car as Enrique continued to work.

“I’m good, man. How’s the cab?” he asked as he continued to work under the vehicle.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

“You gonna be here for a bit? I can take a look at her if you want,” he offered.

“Oh no, I’m only going to be here for a bit but like I said, she’s doing fine.” Theodore answered.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around, bro.”

“Yeah, good to see you.”

Theodore left the shop and made his way inside to the small building that made up the offices of the taxicab company. He made his way towards where he believed the dispatch could be. Did he hear 143’s voice? He swore he could. He reached the door, where he thought she would find her and stopped. He could hear chatter and hissing and pops from radios. He took a deep breath and reached to turn the handle of the door.

“Ted? Is that you?” Theodore jumped when the voice came from behind him and as he turned around, he met the eyes of his boss, Dave.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you, my boy,” the old man said.

He stood there in his old faded blue jeans, and ruffled white shirt, a friendly old face accented by big wire framed glasses.

“You’re fine Mr. Shumaker, long night, my nerves are kind of shot.” Theodore replied.

“Well sleep will fix that, you know!”

“Yes sir, I seem to be having trouble with that lately.”

“You know, Ted, while I’ve got you here I wanted to talk to you about some things.”

Theodore wanted so badly to meet 143. He could hear the hisses and pops and the radio banter still coming from the room behind him and he could anxiety begin to well up inside him.

“What’s up?”

“Well some of the other drivers have been coming to me and telling me some peculiar things,” said Shumaker.

“Oh? Like what?” Theodore asked suspiciously.

“Well first, Johnson said that there were two or three days in a row where he saw you sitting in the same parking lot downtown, just slumped down in your cab, staring off into nothing.”

“Well I…” Theodore began.

“And Filmore said he saw you out and about in your cab, even taking fares when you weren’t even on duty… you know you can get in serious trouble for that, right?”

“Mr. Shumaker, I…”

“And then Rodriguez came in last night mad as hell, ranting and raving about how you poached a regular of his. Some hotshot, businessman who always needs a pick up from 2^nd and 2^nd real late.”

Theodore was at a loss of words. The color drained from his face and the palms of his hands grew damp.

“I want you to take the rest of the week off, Ted. Get some sleep, you might feel better.”

“Yeah, sure thing…” Theodore said blankly.

“What are you doing here this early, anyway?” the old man asked.

“Oh I was just stopping in to say hello, figured I’d swing by the dispatch office and see who I take all my orders from.”

Mr. Shumaker looked at him strangely.

“Dispatch office?” he asked.

“Yeah! I was just about to head in when you caught up with me.”

“Are you talking about this room?” Shumaker said as he pointed over Theodore’s shoulder to the door, behind which the lovely 143 sit.

“Yeah, I can hear talking and radios in there.”

The old man moved to the door and before opening it said,

“This isn’t a dispatch office, this is a broom

closet, my boy.”

And sure enough behind the door lay a janitors cart, on which sat a radio that someone had left on. The hisses and pops echoed miles inside Theodore’s head.

“We don’t even have a dispatch office, I share the space with the other two guys who run the bells.”

“Guys?” Theodore asked. “What about Dispatcher 143?”

“Who?”

“Dispatcher 143, the girl who does dispatch later at night. The one I take all my calls and do all the favors for?”

“Son, there is no woman dispatcher at this company,” the old man replied.

Theodore’s head started to pound, and his vision began to blur.

“Ted, are you alright?” Shumaker asked. “I think you should head home, I think you need some rest.”

“Yes… I’m sorry Mr. Shumaker… I’m… very tired… I…I’m going now.”

Theodore made his way out of the offices and back through the shop, headed towards his car. As he stepped out into the morning light, he saw Enrique examining the trunk.

“Hey,” Enrique called as Theodore approached. “What the hell did you hit, man?”

As Theodore joined him at the back of the car, he saw what Enrique was talking about. Blood from the bashed head of the businessman had somehow made its way onto the rear bumper of his taxicab. He must have missed it when he wiped down the car the night before.

“Oh… I… don’t know… rabbit? Yeah, a rabbit…” Theodore was flustered.

“Are you alright, bro?” Enrique asked.

“Yeah, fine. I have to go.”

As Theodore pulled away from the cab company, he checked his rearview mirror and saw both Mr. Shumaker and Enrique watching him as he drove off.

-

“Cab 26 pick up, please.” 143 said over the radio.

The pounding in his head seemed to ease.

Theodore reached for his mic, cleared his

throat and said,

“I missed you, 143.”

“I missed you too, Teddy. I’m sorry we didn’t get meet, but maybe one day.”

“Yeah, I really look forward to it...”

“Hey, Teddy…”

“Yes, 143?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, 143.”

checking in/change/doubt and some pics

Checking in.

Strange how looking back on all the things I’ve written in the two years I’ve been running The Reaches, that there are some things that I read and don’t believe that I have written them.

Change.

I remember a very distinct day in my childhood that I want to share with you.

I was obsessed with military action figures when I was growing up. Not GI Joe’s, but another off brand version called Ultimate Soldier.

I had Jeeps, helicopters, weapons, a whole goddamn cache of weapons that made the rest of my toys shiver in their lining/stuffing/molding/whathaveyou.

I was into this shit for sure.

Almost every damn day I played with those things.

Recon missions, raids, shootouts, extractions, top-secret missions.

The boys and I had countless adventures.

One day I pulled out the big plastic container that held my ultimate soldier collection and went to setting them up in a base camp so that we could hash out a plan for out next mission. But something wasn’t right. I wasn’t having fun.

I picked them up and began playing a through scenario. But it still just didn’t feel right.

I put them all away and didn’t ever really pick them up again.

And it wasn’t because I didn’t think they were awesome, there was just something about playing with them that wasn’t the same as it had been hundreds of times before.

When the time came to get rid of them, I remember being super bummed about the whole affair but not heartbroken. I was happy some other kid was going to get the chance to hang out with the guys like I had.

(I KNOW THIS IS ALL VERY TOY STORY-ESQUE….FUCK YOU)

I was thinking about this moment just the other day.

And it made me realize that despite all this change around me, it is something worth embracing.

Embracing change in the best way to grow.

Funny to think, a random moment from my childhood that stuck with me for some unknown reason for about the last 15 years, showed me something that has been in front of me for some time now.

Change is never easy. It leaves most of us feeling lost and scared.

Doubting the ideas we’ve had and the things we’ve done for the longest time.

Making us claw at our soul until it’s raw and dripping.

It never hurts to get lost in the trip of change, but you must remember to not get stuck.




I've been pretty absent this summer.
Here are a few scattered pics of what i've been up to.

fell in a dumpster trying to take this last one here.