The Four Persons: A Different Take

Hello all, This place does still exist. Lost in the bowels of hell, I mean the internet. Anywho, I am posting another paper I wrote for my English class. I think that is what I will do from now on.

Years ago I wrote of a reoccurring dream I had. I used that dream (and the great help of writing it down here) to write a fictional, first-person, first-person, third-person POV.  Please feel free to leave any feed back. Here it is:

Please be aware that I wrote the original on 10.01.10. I wrote this on 10.06.15. Damn how time flies. 

Four Persons

The scene: It is an over cast winter day in some unknown northern college town. Lawson and Nora are sitting in the middle of Lawson’s dorm room floor. The windows are fogged up due to the heat the room emits and the white coldness that is present outside. Nora is being held in Lawson’s arms with Lawson’s eyes being closed. Lawson opens his eyes with a startle as he realizes there are four people in his room; four people with no faces.

Lawson’s first-person account:

As I sit here holding Nora, I still cannot believe how happy I finally am; I am finally in love with the girl of my dreams. Three weeks ago at the over-priced coffee shop I work at, I accidently spilt her pumpkin spice latte on her new designer coat at the counter. I asked for her number in a promise to pay for the cleaning. Ever since then I haven’t been able to keep her out of my mind. Her beautiful, auburn colored hair, her flawless skin, her cute little crooked nose, she is the most perfect specimen there ever was.

That day after I finished my shift, I texted her and asked how much it was going to cost. At first her responses were a bit quick and only consisted of the facts, but then slowly I lightened her up a bit and she started to act more comfortably in our textual conversation. That night we texted back and forth for three hours. The next day I asked her to coffee. She was pretty apprehensive about it at first but then she succumbed to my “adorable” pestering.

At our first date, one thing lead to another after that first cup of coffee. Coffee started turning into cheap well whiskeys and vodkas which then turned into pot and talk of doing other drugs I had. I was living the life I always wanted; I was living the life of the boy who had found a girl who enjoyed the same things he did. Then one day sitting in my dorm room on a very cold wintery day holding her in my arms in the midst of my hardwood floor, four persons without faces appeared.

The first thing I noticed was Nora was completely still. That is what alerted me in the first place. Her body was slightly cold and neither a tremor nor breath came from her. I asked her, “Are you ok?” She did not respond. She just looked off with glazed eyes in the direction of the four persons. That is when I noticed them. Four very different yet identical persons with no faces. They all wore a blackish garment that hung loosely around them as if floating by a breeze that couldn’t be felt.

Immediately I knew this was where things in the world would end. These persons radiated something that felt like death, tasted like death, and smelt like death. In that split second of realizing the fate that was to come, I came up with only solution I could fathom. That solution consisted of two things: one, the knowing that death was eminent and two, Nora and I had to be together in the afterlife.

I had a Bulgarian Makarov pistol hiding under the drawers that were about two feet from me. I looked right into her eyes and whispered from the confines of my heart, “I love you, Nora. You know what is going to happen. Do what I do and we can be together no matter where we go.”

I reached for the gun but it was not there. It was already sitting next to me on the ground. The four persons felt as if they were looking upon me in excitement and wonderment. I can do this I said to myself. I grabbed the pistol and put it to my temple.

Nora’s first-person account:

I was getting my first pumpkin spice latte of the season when all of a sudden the barista spills it all over my new designer coat I just bought. I was furious! The boy, who later that day I found out was named Lawson, offered to pay for the cleaning. In doing so, I made what could be the worst decision I have made in my short life, I gave him my phone number.

At first he was just trying to find out how much it would cost. I mean, it was brand new and extremely expensive. I saw his tip jar, I knew he didn’t make much money, but for some reason I gave him my number. After the initial questions about how much, when, and where it would get cleaned passed, he wouldn’t quit texting me. For three hours he kept bugging me about getting coffee. Eventually I said yes just so we could get on with how he was going to reimburse me the cost of the cleaning. So the next day we had coffee.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would have been. We talked about random things and I could tell he wasn’t used to talking to an attractive girl like I am. I thought it was cute. When we were done with coffee we decided to get drinks. This is when we are started talking about drugs we have tried. I am pretty unknowledgeable when it comes to drugs, but I figure hey, I am in college I might as well try something other than pot. The next few weeks went by in a blur. I think I had a lot of fun but couldn’t exactly say what from.

One day I go to Lawson’s dorm, it was very cold outside and after smoking a joint we did some tabs of acid. This is where I started to lose my mind. Lawson was crying and telling me how much he loved me and that no one could ever have me. How he was all I needed. He was rambling on about these Four Persons. I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. I started to imagine four persons standing there, looking at us, then I would shake my head and they would disappear! Was he telling me a story and I was making my mind think these things? The boy was so damn weird! He was lanky and had hair that looked like it hadn’t been comb since he first grew it as a baby so he already looked a little bit odd. He would then tell me these off the wall stories. The stories were always centered around suicide, love, or faceless figures he saw. It had to be the faceless figures he talked about I was seeing.  Was I seeing them now, the faceless figures? Jesus, this boy was stealing my sanity.

In the end I was tripping pretty hard when I told him I didn’t like him the way he liked me. This is when he got this very weird cold hard look in his eyes. He went completely silent. After about a minute he slowly started to reach for something under his chest of drawers. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at me.

A third-person account:

This is always how it happens. Either the boy or the girl, always the awkward one, does something that embarrasses them in front of the opposite sex they find themselves attracted to. Eventually they lose all ability to control themselves. They become fixated on them. Lawson was an intelligent kid. He was top of his class in junior high and high school. However, he wasn’t a cool, popular kid. He would volunteer for events just so he could attend. He never had friends. It was all books, studying, and contemplating his life’s existence. He was an odd boy. An odd boy who was given the correct ingredients growing up to give himself a delusional view of himself.

Nora was the girl everyone wanted to be friends with. She wasn’t beautiful like her friends but she wasn’t ugly by no means either. Her father was a man of money. Her grandfather owned banks back in the 50’s and her father inherited those riches. Her mother did nothing but inflate the ego she carried. However, she knew she could be shallow. That shallowness is the reason she gave Lawson a chance.

So after their chance encounter, an unforeseeable event was to occur. Lawson, in an obsessive mind state, intensified by more acid than he has ever attempted, confessed his love to Nora not knowingly at the time he had a potential for violent schizophrenic tendencies. When Lawson kept confessing his love for Nora, she finally responded back that she did not like him that way. Lawson, delusional and upset, grab the pistol he had bought as a kid growing in the southwest area of the United States and shot Nora. However, he did not remember any of this.

Instead, what he remembers is creating beautiful images of holding Nora. That is when he sees the Four Persons. He has seen the Four Persons in his dreams since he was thirteen years old, always staring at their unknown faces. He knew what the dreams held, death. But the acid made him forget it was just images from a dream, a dream he had told Nora about numerously. So he says to Nora, “I love you, you know what is going to happen. Do what I do and we can be together no matter where we go.”

Nora’s cold dead eyes stare off at the wall where Lawson saw the Four Persons. Lawson puts the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. He then finally releases Nora’s dead, cold body and they both tumble to the floor just as the door is being busted down by his neighbor.

Note: I was progressively getting drunker and drunker towards the end. Firesteed makes a great pinot noir. I was also listening to Lord Huron’s “Strange Trails” album. 

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I Will Be Back One Day

Ummm… Hi. It’s me, Moobs. I haven’t written anything in such a long time and this “narrative essay” was thrusted upon me for school. So I decided to share it with you guys. Enjoy!

Growing up I was not partially found of academics. Whether it is English, math, or science, the only thing I found interesting was music and using my hands. Playing drums as a teenager felt like the only thing in the world except when I was building and wielding stuff. These were the things I excelled in and would help me later in life. It wasn’t until I was sitting at the JFK Airport in New York did I even get back into reading books after having been on hiatus for a half decade.

While sitting bored in the airport, I decided to see if I could find a magazine to read as we waited for the plane to finally arrive. Upon entering the store, a title of a book popped out at me, “Killing Yourself to Live” by Chuck Klosterman. Little did I know that this book would change my life for the next five years.   

The book was a work of non-fiction. The book’s author, Chuck Klosterman, was put on an assignment, by GQ Magazine, to cross America and see first-hand the places where the sadder side of rock’s history took place. This meant traveling to the Chelsea Hotel to see where Sex Pistols bassist, Sid Vicious, was found to have been stabbed to death to driving across the continent to Seattle to visit, even though it was not his death place, the childhood home of Kurt Cobain and everywhere between. At the time, with boredom pounding me over the head like a hammer, I found this to truly spark an interest inside me, an interest I did not know I ever had. I ended up reading half the book while flying back to Houston and the next day I finished it when I finally returned home to Austin.

Once I finally read the book a few months passed with one thing mainly on my mind, “I want to do this too!” Even though I had always wanted to write a book, (it sounded cool even though I was not into writing at all until this point) I knew I would not have the patience to dedicate my life to something so time consuming. So I started a blog. It was a simple blog. When I felt like writing I would get a bottle of liquor, wine, or beer, get wasty-faced, and write things I thought were the funniest things in the world or just to tell a tale. There was no writing structure to it, no deadlines, it was just me writing when I wanted and that was all. I was content and that is all I ever needed to be.

About two months after starting this personal blog, I found out that one of my friends, Steven, also enjoyed writing. We eventually decided to team up and with the help of some of his best friends we started our own blog; one built with teamwork and immaturity. We would write things we assumed were thought provoking and about our drunken shenanigans. The title of this blog after a few weeks became known as TDI, The Drunken Intellects.

The Drunken Intellects, ironically named due to the fact that none of us were scholars or remotely intellectual, was a group of 6 twenty-somethings year olds (and later adding more) writing things that fascinated us while under an alias in case our professional counterparts happened to stumble upon our little world. With this came the power to write whatever we felt that pleased us without fear of some sort of retaliation. Some of the things we wrote about were conspiracies, music reviews, sports, and stories of how we ended up making asses of ourselves while inebriated in public. It was fun, but we always took it serious no matter how immature the blog posts were.

I had always had an urge to write a novel growing up. This just increased that urge. I would write one about a guy who was destined for great things and always got all the ladies. On this blog I made this fictional character a reality. I was that guy. Except my greatness came in the form of playing “gay chicken with a gay man” in a bar downtown so I could see the reverse effect of how girls feel when guys are hitting on them and also seeing the “hotential” in your everyday girl. Yes, I know, it was sexist. I was young.

With “greatness” also came the sad and lonely portion that will eventually come to you when writing. I used the blog as a medium to tell my dreams and have these dreams dissected. Who was the girl with no face? What significance did my elementary school hold in my life? Why were there always 3 blacked out figures chasing me when I was with the girl who had no face no matter how many times we killed ourselves together. It was nice to see how people look at the bad in your life and say, “Dude, you’re being lame.”

The blog was a community of people who accepted you regardless of race, religion, beliefs, or looks. We were there for one thing, to write. We all chimed in on each other’s post. We laughed mostly at each but we also mourned when it was deemed necessary. It made writing fun. We were all badasses in our minds and it made me the writer I am today; a guy who is horrible at grammar, who may cross a line but only by a toe, and takes pride in his work because it is just that, his work.

Written while drinking: The Dream Tree – Chardonnay

Listening to: Alt-J – An Awesome Wave & Lord Huron – Lonsome Dream  

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New Beginning

I have been wanting to write a post for some time, just wasn’t sure what to write about, honestly. I mean what is there to write about? The Drunken Intellects, it seems, have fallen somewhat apart. Not really to be unexpected, though. With our subscription running out and leader of the group having fallen off the wagon of posting, along with the rest, it seems like the best time to get one last word in.

I really wish this could be some great hilarious and witty post about my adventures here in Europe, but it’s just the opposite. Life changes, people change, decisions are made, and mistakes happen. People who I thought were my friends, are not. Things I thought I wanted, I do not. Decisions I thought I made for the best, might have been for the worst.

I feel like I’ve lost me. But did I really lose me, or the person that someone else had me made out to be? Regardless, I know that I’ve picked up a few pieces that are helping to put me together. It’s going to be a long while before I’m all together. I will not say again, though, because how many people in their mid 20’s are really “put together”? I don’t think I have ever been together.

Thank you Drunken Intellect readers, the few who have been dedicated to reading our blog. It’s been a strange year of sorts, but it wasn’t all bad. No matter how bad I think I have it, or my life has been, there are always others who are having it worse. I don’t know if this will be the last post, but it is the last one from me. With every ending, there is a new beginning. That statement rings loud and true, and I am ready for my new beginning.

Sister BB

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Let it be

There is one GRAND lie- that we are limited.

The ONLY limits we have are the limits we believe. Dr. Wayne Dyer

I’ve been listening to some wonderful advice (Abraham Hicks) on the LAW OF ATTRACTION.

I’ve listened to and understood this concept for a few years now. But I have seemed to let the contrast of life just take over. Instead of making that contrast allow abundance into my life. Me you the entire universe can have ANYTHING we desire. ANYTHING. That is limitless, money, a partner you have been searching for, the perfect job. It sounds like a Disney movie in the making, but I believe it is all possible.

I desire to tap in to this limitless power. To have anything I want. I want to to close this gap in my life. There is a void, and I fill it with nicotine, alcohol. Those substances numb me to the discord I feel. I don’t want discord anymore, I want happiness and to say I have it without anything that is chemically induced. I know I have that power within me to do so. How about YOU? Do you feel this longing to be something more. Do you feel those glimpses of infinite source that you sometimes tap into. Don’t you want to feel that more.

I know that all of us our infinite beings living in a wonderful time space reality. I hope if you are reading my post you test the LAW OF ATTRACTION. Hitting all green lights is MY favorite small step! It is SO exhilarating!

Love
Sharkin

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Do You See Failure or Success?

I seemed to have one of those days today, where every life memory seems to attack you all in one day.  For some unforeseen reason the memories of the girl in high school I couldn’t get over that saw fit to throw my heart into the blender on more than one occasion found its way into my head.  Then of course to follow were thoughts of my ex-wife.  I couldn’t help, but think of the question I’m proposing in the title of the post.

Now this is something I’m sure I’ve hit on in other posts, but I thought it was definitely something worth focusing on again.  Honestly I think most people that experience what they consider to be a failed relationship focus on just that thought… that it was a failure.  If you’re anything like me though, you think a little beyond the word failure.  You have to take the time to think how that experience helped you develop.  What is it that you can take away from that experience??

I’m the type of person that just can’t possibly see any relationship as a failure.  I believe that each relationship we experience in our lives was meant to happen to help all parties involved.  Some may carry more impact than others, but none the less still carry an impact.  Did it show me that I need to take more time to appreciate just how good that person was to me or for me?  Did it show me that I need to work on expressing my feelings towards someone to show them just how much they mean to me?  Do I need to realize that it just isn’t always about me and how I can go above and beyond to make that other person happy??

At some point in time you have to realize that what has happened in the past is the past.  If you can expand the way you view those experiences of the past you set yourself up for success.  You take what you’ve experienced and use it to your benefit to be a better person from this point on… no excuses.  Do or do not… there is not try!

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My Thunderlady

 

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Support

As the world around us increasingly gets crazier by the minute, my mind has been distraught with thoughts of right and wrong. Politics, religion, and ethics have been on the forefront of my brain for a couple of months now. I tend to speak my mind and throw out my thoughts without filter. This is by no surprise, a conflict to many people.

I am not writing this post to push my opinions on anyone or even get agreement. This post is to clarify, maybe only to myself what exactly I mean whenever I go into one of my infamous rants.

I talk to people a lot about the three subjects I mentioned previously. I don’t ever open up conversations on religion expecting people to agree with me, or listen to me for that matter. I like to start these conversations, just to see how many people are willing to listen to another’s point of view. And let me tell you, there aren’t many. I get asked what my beliefs are, and when they’re not the same as the individual I’m speaking to, things turn awry. Either that person gets angry with me, or they try to tell me I’m wrong with how I believe. That’s confusing to me because you see, they are MY beliefs.

I tend to get a bit more agreement on the politics side of my discussions. I’m not going to say I’m liberal and I’m not going to say I’m conservative. I believe in equal rights for all and that the two political parties have ruined our “great” nation.

But, this post isn’t about religion or two party politics. It’s about exactly what the title states, “Support”. Support of what? Support of Government and Military. I open my mouth and spout off what I think about our government as a whole and what I think about the war that’s going on right now, but all this comes off as a bit bleak to people that listen to me. I don’t have a positive outlook on the world around us, and haven’t for some time.

My opinions on the government are much the same as that of the late George Carlin. I believe he had a VERY realistic approach to what’s going on in the world, and he just might have been right. Realism is a scary thought. People want to walk along in their lives with blinders on to what’s really going on, and that’s just fine. Everyone in America is entitled to do so. That’s our right.

I do not support the war. Mainly, because I can’t come up with a valid reason for it. No one has ever really made sense of what’s going on. In a non over-analyzing way, I get “Operation Enduring Freedom”. I realize that we are trying to help these countries gain their own freedom and independence. But, in all honesty, I think it goes much deeper than that. Let’s get one thing straight before I continue; Just because I don’t support the war, doesn’t mean I don’t support our troops.

People who join the military give up their own rights so that the people of America can feel safe and say whatever it is they feel like saying. Freedom, right? I used to think so. I used to think, like most everyone else, our military is fighting for our freedom. But, then I got to thinking. We as a nation haven’t really fought for our freedom since WWII. I’m not trying to ruffle feathers, but when was the last time anyone heard Osama Bin Laden’s name on the news? I realize our country was attacked 9 1/2 years ago, but our freedom wasn’t jeopardized.

The soldiers, sailors, and airmen that make up our US Military are brave. They deserve all the support we can give them. Because they chose to be in the line of fire and to fight for what they believe in. That deserves respect at the least. My heart goes out for the Airmen that were shot last week in Frankfurt. One was on a mission to deploy in the Middle East, while the other was just driving a bus. He was the unlucky one that got picked that day to drive to the airport.

But, let me say this. Those two young men didn’t have to lose their lives. It could have been prevented. Just simple awareness. They were probably ordered to be in their uniforms, carrying  military luggage. And the young man driving that bus? He was just at work, another day on the job. Speaking of bus, it was blue and had Air Force written on it. If all these circumstances didn’t make them targets, I don’t know what did. If all of these things hadn’t been factored in, we might not have lost two brave men.

To some people, it may sound blasphemous for me to speak this way. I can understand points of view. But I can’t understand what’s going on with our world right now. Everything is so backwards and crazy. No one seems to notice. No one seems to care. If I have angered or offended anyone, that was not my intention, as stated before. I just want people to open up their minds and look around them. See what’s really happening. I can’t do this alone.

BB

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