Wednesday, January 29, 2014
We're Born With Blood. We're Born With Rage. (Our New World)
by Mark William Darus
Yesterday, on my way to work, I was looking for music software at Best Buy at Westfields Great Northern Mall, North Olmsted Ohio, USA. I happened to venture into the laptop section and hit the NET. First thing that popped up was about yet another Shopping mall shooting.
Nice. I mean, don't we find comfort in the normal day to day happenings that help us feel grateful to merely be alive? Hearing of this event on a car radio, seeing a commercial blurb about it on TV and how there would be film at some point, catching it like a starving fisherman as something tugs on your line on the internet. Did a neighbor, coworker, stranger, member of the clergy share this latest event in passing?
Did this catch you, take momentarily hold of your thoughts , knowing it a weekend and wondering if your children, loved ones, charges were going to roam the local Mall to kill nothing more than simple time amongst others like minded as you as were doing a Saturdays weeks worth of laundry?
Did you, let your over-stuffed McDonalds laden gut sodium scented belch out as your vehicle reaches an intersection that slow moving traffic makes you wish you had a gun to speed things up a wee bit?
Were you sitting alone at a Starbucks, surrounded by others very much self-guarded/shielded like your hiding self, while vibrant Jazz blaring as succulent whiffs of rich coffee blends mix with diabetic hells of amazing pastries with your Lappy, IPAD, and the like when this news hit?
What did you feel within as your chilled winter ears captured unkind information?
Did you think about what this world is coming to?
Hearing this, did you clutch your mate close to you? Inhaling their scent into you, as your mind swirls like a carnival ride gone berzerk, tugging them closer, placing a hand on their chest to feel security of a wanting, beating heart against you?
Perhaps you had the product of you and your husbands loving look at you and ask, with pigtails splashing to the right and left, pure innocents in young and tiny impression, why does this happen?
I asked over two dozen people about America's (and i have little doubt will be eclipsed in a week or two, sadly so) killing fields being schools, movies and Malls in the last 50 hours.
The following is what I was given when I asked them what they FELT about it. Filling my Trailblazer at a gas station sharing across ther pumps throbbings, getting coffee from various venues with chit chat though eyes met square, shopping at walmart in check-outs with video monitors that carry no audio, eating at a two restaurants.
At Best Buy:
Me: Damn, another Mall shooting? Maryland.
Worker: Sad. Dead?
Me: 2 so far.
Worker; could be worse, right?
Me: This is occuring now.
Worker: Sad. (he pauses about two/three seconds, adding about the current sales end soon and how I should take advantage of them.
Me: oh. yeah. I should do that. Hmmm, does you girlfriend work at a mall?
Worker: She sure does! I soooo love her! She works at an ear piercing kiosk, She's amazing-
Me: cutting him off. So she could next in the line of fire, right?
Worker: Uh, sir, I, I- am so sorry... (I had caught him off guard, clearly so.)
Me: It's okay, man. Just take a moment, call her and tell her how much you love her.
Worker: Do you think something like might happen in Ohio?
Me: Well, do you think the people of Maryland woke this morning thinking it would happen there?
Worker: (his eyes bulged, breathing increased,) DAMN!
Me: Hey, I don't mean to frighten you. I'm just saying time is precious and fast moving. In days like these we need to band together, not under a flag of nations but one of love, understanding and comfort.
Worker: Dude, what church do you go to?
Me: I don't have one. I have searched a very long time and keep failing. Oh well. I keep looking though.
Worker: I'm gonna call my girlfriend, could you excuse me?
Me: Absolutely! Be not afraid. Things happen as they do. Peace be your journey, brother.
At a Walmart while doing duty shoving a squeaking cart about. In the candle and incense area, feeling my oats and splashing myself out there like a megaphone in a maternity ward, i gained these after saying: Several dead in a Westfields Mall in Maryland. Any care to share your thoughts?
"They must have needed a good deading, m'boy. Jesus doesn't call his kin home without dem earnin' it. Praise God!" a man sporting a low-end T-shirts fading glory stating: KILL 'EM ALL! and baggy camo-shorts proclaimed.
"It's tragic, to say the least. Our world is slipping sideways, sir. I fear our children are more predatory than us. They desire so much and never wish to do honest work to gain anything. I have grandbabies in their late teens. Fired from this Mcdonalds, that Burger King and the lot. High school dropouts, the lot of them. I'm sorry, honey. I'm old and just go on and on and on..." She looked so frail, Her grey locks tossed over heavily wrinkled face that had witnessed so much in her life. She was sniffing a blue coloured Ocean Sea-breeze candle as she finished with: "Young man, thank you. I think I need to call my children now. Tell them I love them no matter how badly they could have done better in their lives. What church do you attend?"
I told her I appreciated her thanks. I also told her I had no church I called HOME.
"Sweet child, I watched you. What did you feel as you heard the news you ask us?"
Respecting elders, I told her that I wasn't sure. In all honesty, I truly didn't know. Yeah, how emotionally dead am i, really? Gave her my truth though adding: "Sweetest, you might want to not add the "how badly they could have done better" part. "do as you will, but to me, is that how Christ would have you speak to them?"
She hugged me as another responded most loudly.
'"Fuck you, bitch. WHERE BE SHIT PAY-PERZZZ, HOMO CUNT!" a heavily bearded male spoke to a lady clad in a burka (sp? Islamic garb)
"SAD, yet a common aspect of life. People walk in front of that which kills them. People die this way. Better them than me, " a highly thin blond lady laden with more gold jewelry than her total body weight seethed through gritting teeth. I liked her coral dress design. Most colourful. She was smiling as she spoke.
"YOU GET ANY CLOSER TO ME AND MY KIDS AND I WILL KILL YOU! " a misty blond haired lady in a bright blue tank top with short-short blue Levi's chopped down said as she quickly gathered two toddlers under her winged arms, pulling them to her as she covered yet a small babe in carriage.
"No offense intended." I softly spoke, adding: "I so applaud the way you protect your kinder. And, yeah, I have little doubt you would kill me."
"Okay, you gonna leave this isle, mister?" her dark brown eyes meeting mine fully, squaring off, Instinctive things making her react within her.
"Yes. You are a good mother and never doubt that while most of your friends do." I backed myself and my pisspoor shopping cart which sounded like a baby seal being clubbed to death by hungry Russians.
"DAMN, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT NOISE?!?!" she asked. Her slender hand dove into her over shoulder Gucci-clone satchel.
I looked at her, her tiny children gazing toward her, their faces taken into my memory while backing up, and proclaimed: "This shopping cart is either a result of bad American engineering or the Univeral work L Ron Hubert's Dianetics! Either way, this thing is possessed and making me think of Eskimos doing their thing for survival. SORRY!" i smiled all the while, and this seemed to work for her.
But another gave his mind to me.
An awesome three-piece, custom made dashing grey suit, red shirt and black and white patterned tie spoke up as i backed off the candle isle. This person spoke softly in a voice so cold and devoid of emotions I developed GooseFlesh on my limbs. Giving me a truth to consider, I felt the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise giving instinctual warning signs. "Why shouldn't they be dead? Clearly someone has an agenda, No? Are you really so naive to believe this days shootings such as these are random? Columbine, Chardon, Colorado Opening of a Batman movie. Have you written have you learned nothing at all? It's part of an Order that will be followed by many more horrific things. You are not so ignorant to not know this already."
As she continued, I listened, never dropping my eyes from hers. I am not sure how I managed to do this. Perhaps the power of God, Christ, my Frodo-dog. No clue. I just knew I had to keep my eye contact with her.
"I;m damned ignorant! Seriously so!" i managed.
"Mark, just do as you do, keep writing and sharing a Word from long ago with as many as you can and all will be as it should." she smiled as she spoke, long brunette hair running over shoulders.
E'nuff said on that one. I have never seen eyes so deadly with the purest of meaning aimed at me. This is an amazing woman.
What would you share?
Mark William DArus
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
PSYCHOPATHY: ANOTHER LIFE. A Personal Awakening.: Another Cinema Shooting! Are These Events THE Next...
PSYCHOPATHY: ANOTHER LIFE. A Personal Awakening.: Another Cinema Shooting! Are These Events THE Next...: Another Cinema Shooting! Are These Events the Next Craze in the USA? ...
Another Cinema Shooting! Are These Events the Next Craze in the USA?
Mark William Darus.
Here's what we know thus far:
People are at a cinema to watch a movie. Some jerk is texting his 3 year old daughter during the movie previews. A 71 year old retired Police Chief is offended and asks the man, two rows away, to cut it out. Apparently, the guy didn't listen to him very well.
He should have.
"B-B-B-B-B-B-BLIP!" comes the sound of the incoming texts, though I somehow believe it was probably a Brittany Spears tone, after all, we know only She could someone to get a gun and kill somebody.
The 71 year goes to the cinema's manager and complains. He then exits the extablishment, reenters and shoots and kills the texter. He claims he was in fear of his life. Apparently, the texter threw popcorn at him.
He shouldn't have.
Wow, really? Christ, how many people of my generation were bombarded, yes, i said bombarded by lethal barrages of popcorn , ice-filled soft drink container, empty Raisonettes/SnowCap boxes during our youth on saturday matinees where flying objects were as common as zits on a teenager? Hmmmm, maybe one of us should've pulled a Smith and Wesson and adjusted peoples thinking right quick back in the late 1960's early 1970's.
WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE???
Christ, I use to think writing fiction was fun...
Writing about reality is far more entertaining and far more frightening.
I am worried though.
Worried for all of us here in the Jolly Old United States. A once great land where now people's nerves are triggered as fast as their fingers on a gun.
Allow me to increase your level of paranoia, if you please.
Imagine having a sneezing fit in a crowded store. You cover your face as you blast snot into your hands and some friggin' idiot takes it as an assault against them. In their demented mind they believe you're trying to infect them with H1N1, pull their trusty Colt from their hip and send your snot blowing ass into oblivion.
You're buying coffee in a convenience store, Arabic music lazily playing in the background and some dickhead screams: "THIS IS AMERICA! PLAY THE BEATLES FOR CHRIST SAKE!" as he/she whips forth a shotgun and baptizes the place with pellets. (yeah, I know Beatles weren't American, but you'd be surprised how many here don't know this.)
You sitting in church on a Sunday morn. Your 2 year old daughter in bright dress and pigtails, somewhat antsy, begins to cry. You try to calm her, gently stroking her soft face and an over zealous usher loses it and smashes your babes head with a collection plate, shrieking: WE CANNOT HEAR THE SERMON!"
I sincerely wish I were wrong with the above scenarios, but we shall see.
As the philosopher Jim Morrison once said: This is the End...
Mark William Darus 01152014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Kick Drop: The Way The Big Wheel Spins.
Mark William Darus
I have so little idea how some things, life occurrences, happen as they do.
I haven't a clue how the big wheel spins, churning fiercely, stirring things up within me to create and place myself into uncharted waters. Finding berth in lands anew and vastly different than I've known before.
If I have learned one thing in the last two years it has been to ALWAYS follow my hunches, to trust my inner voice which I believe comes my higher power, and never doubt anything heading my way. Find beauty in the run of the mill and ugliness in things seldom looked at by the average passerby walking thru life that never give themseselves enough to meet the eyes of those they purchase Starbucks coffee or cigarettes from much the time to view the moon, sniff the rose or think about their here-and-now.
With photography I usually find both, where as my writing almost always ventures down the avenues of psychological nightmares to utter despair of those experiencing it.
I never asked for the creativity I have or the roads my passions would lead me down. I did not ask for the gifts that have been granted me in this life while travelling the brick, dirt and asphalt byways, to find the wondrous encountered or the impacts and impressions they would leave on me.
The stories those would share with me as I shared mine with them as plainly and simply as ordering a McDouble from a McDonalds drive-thru to those that screamed and yelled their truths to me while smashing random objects and crying hysterically in the Skype and telephone background. From Hail-Mary Email passes I was sent to face to face visits in motels, dimly lit back alleys, vibrantly lit Steak and Shakes: They'd give me what they had to share, never asking for anything but an even shake in my thoughts and words. For me to throw their lives encounters out there to be seen, read, perhaps judged by others as cautionary tales and learning tools.
Funny how I got this both from the predators and prey alike.
I have done my best to give both equal playing ground on Psychopathy Another Life.
In the closing of this last year what have I learned?
I went from a 187 LBS to a low of 148 leveling off at 153 LBS. Going from a 34 inch waist to 29 (s0mething I haven't known in over two and half decades.) and seeing the value of this and joining a 24 hour Gym to work out and on the muscles I am getting paid to develop. NICE!!!
We can live without much normal sustaining factors with the help of friends and those caring as they give us privilege. Internet access via codes from their wifi's, power to recharge my camera batts, to simply them being there for me via voicemails and gifts of Safe Harbours for either a place to crash as temps go into the negatives or merely have a shower or serene bath in peace.
To those that offered, I cannot say enough about them. Some were family and friends while others were drug addicts and whores, thieves and clergypersons (not sure if the clergypersons thing is really a word. Aw Fuck it, call it a Bushism). Me having a steady job and most of these having not, yet wishing me to stay with them during the sub zero temps of 48 hours last week. I'd tell all not to worry as I said thanks for the offer, but I'd be okay. Receiving many a hug from them last week as if they'd never see me living again, we'd part company. I made a point to see each and every one of them as the temps rose. Some said, praise Jesus, while others stated Allah is merciful, Buddha smiles, to "you are one lucky mother fucker!"
I told them all I'd be okay. And I was.
Yet, how did I know this in a home without electricity and gas? Camping in a plaster over slats wall environment where occasionally the outside temperatures would be warmer than that of its rooms and hallways?
Was it sheer pride that propelled me? Perhaps.
Was it vanity? Yeah, right. Anyone that knows me or my words know I care little for how others view me. I look like shit most of the time and always display myself with lopsided beard, generally shabby clothing and fucked up, disgusting shoes. I think that's an accurate assessment of the physical me.
I learned heroin usage is not for me. I did it twice in 2013. My findings: The best of physical/psychological highs in full throttle body orgasm don't mean squat to me when waking surrounded in my own urine and fecal matter in its wake. Sorry to the addicts of this drug hooked/fooled like the millions that go to polls thinking their vote means a thing in the overall scheme of things. Perhaps a political party should be created for heroin addicts. Why not have a party for those hooked on Crystal Meth, Weed, Frisbee, Religion, Atheism, Agnosticism, Fords, GM's, KIa Souls-(God help ya if ya forgot where you parked your Soul. yeah, boooo. lol).
Yet why, in the land of endless possibilities, that being the United States of America, do we really only have two real parties to politically choose from? Hey, we can walk into any Walmart, Kmart, Macy's, CVS, WAlgreens , Sears Rite Aide, Mcdonalds, Burger King, Denny's, Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Carraba's and be given hosts of options for similar products, yet not arenas to make change for our betterment? Stroll into any local bar nowadays and you're given such a massive beer list of domestic micro-brewery choices rivaling vineyards across our great lands that either from sheer depth, consumption, or both when sobering might make one wonder why.\
C'mon America! Are all of us only worth two real political powers to choose from? Seriously, aren't we worth so much more? For your higher powers sake, aren't we given so many more choices for things of lesser value, like the number of cable stations we have, radio stations of choice and so many other diversions to make us go astray from the importance of how we are all getting fucked equally by both the democratic and republican parties?
Perhaps, like so many Lemmings, we need to see more of us walk off the cliff and fall into oblivion for it to hit home. If you believe this, you carry far more faith than I carry as an American citizen. Yeah, like the children of our country aren't daily dying overseas in the middle east for little more than to protect sheer sake of profit sharing by few, and consumption of oil b y most of us.
As I have said before: As an American, I am guilty of senseless violence and the slaying of innocents across this world. I AM GUILTY AS MY TAX DOLLARS PAID FOR THESE EVENTS TO OCCUR AS I PAID FOR THE CREATION OF THE BULLETS, BOMBERS AND THEIR BOOMERS, MISSILES, NERVE GAS, FUEL-AIR BOMBS. By all means from a global standpoint hold me accountable and sentence me to death. Shit, my tax dollars should earn me this place as a singular death of me and my loss to tax-deaths might equal about 417 civilians in other lands.
I found personal responsibility most lost as those gained in connectivity via tablets, cell phones and internet hustlers creating a greater world as more Non-Violent Psychopaths become born and fostered by our American Value System.
Politicians from both our massive TWO sides agree: There is an abuse of the welfare system as well as the unemployment system, so cut-backs become law.
Isn't it funny as the lack of employed here in the United States Of America hasn't brought about parallel increases in home break-ins, personal assaults and car thefts?
Crack the shell that covers your brain and think for once for yourself.
With me about drugs. Pain Relief caries with viable reason for physical need in managing pain. The mind can do far better than any drug when treating others if administered properly by those that have a sound EMOTIONAL base, geared toward empathy and self sacrifice.
Is Self Sacrifice so hard in the realms of your supposed passion? Satisfying tiny pangs of guilt, you toss coins, paper into Salvation Army kettles strolling in and out of stores mindlessly.
In the heavy overtime season, my partner and I on night shift packing, on average, container by hand, about 37 tons a piece per week.. I am considering this amazing about myself, yet my partner is over ten years my age and strives to keep up. (Know this: Twenty and
Thirty year olds have failed to do barely 3/4's of what he and I can do. )
get higher and higher,
Sunlight causing pain to cross my, our meager bones.
Splashes of passionate forsaken dreams in those of quilted sheets
MARK WILLIAM DARUS
Monday, January 6, 2014
Do you have enough water? Heat source? Job stability to survive.
Mark William Darus.
Being a child of Cleveland Ohio USA, born in 1962, we learned to deal with cold spells that lasted two to three months at a clip. We were taught to bear this burden to merely walk to school and get wherever. We merely wore more clothing and walked like robots as the layers of wool, cotton and polyester stifled our forward process to reach our schools, churches and jobs. We did this because we had to do so.
We here, in the 1970's would ha ve temps stay in single digits for days/weeks on end and simply take it as a matter of course. We'd bundle up, our parents would send us outside to either walk to school, shovel something, whatever.
As a result, we children grew, we'd meet up and go sledding with steel runnered Western Fliers and build ramps to fly over on Clark Field Hill. We had fun with the cold, Granted, many would say we were merely making the best of the worst scenario, yet I'd argue that whole heartedly. Fun is fun, smiles shared are smiles in lifelong memory that carry with an amazing abiltiy to create warmth in the chilliest of hearts as we get older and jaded. Confused.
This child growing fondly remembers the commercials from Standard Oil, later to be taken by BP British Petroleum about the perils of Fuel-Line freeze up. This happens when there is enough water in your cars gas tank for the fuel line to freeze and kill your car in its track.
Look at it medically this way: Your human system develop a single clot. This tiny little microscopic fucker can shut down your kidneys, trash your liver, waste your heart and lungs and gnenrally kill you. All this killer is merely nothing more than an impedance of flow of vital blood and oxygen to your organs.
Serious cold will do this to your Behemoth Chevy Suburban, Ford Excursion, Lincoln Navitagor regardless of your status just the same as those that own a Kia Soul, aging Dodge Neon, Saturns, SAABs, Beamers as we descend into temps colder than known in recent memory.
Not so many years I was given an opportunity to teach frostbite to two willing skiers, Nathan and Becki as we skied a Dawn Patrol in sub zero temperatures. heaTeaching them the tells, discolorations and symptoms to cell death, hypothermia, gang green. we'd do two runs down the desolate slopes and head toward ten to fifteen minutes in the lodge to recharge and d back out. After about an hour of my approach, I let them, in their teens, make the decision of when we should get shelter. They'd look at one an other and make the call.
In a territory of less than zero, when you inhale, your nostrils freeze and lock down as icicles develop. Mixing with the warm damp exhale, icicles further grow.
Some, perhaps many, would label this child abuse. Yeah, bring it on, AssClowns.
I have very little faith in peoples common sense to know what to do in severe cold weather.
My thoughts to you:
Stock water. This main stay is the essence of life. Pipes will burst as watermains break about y0u lands. Civi War moment: The Value of a chamber pot can be freeing. For those of you that don.\t know what a chamber pot is. Imagine yourself, having no where else to dump your waste than into a wide mouthed pot to later shed ourdoors.
Hey, when you gotta go, ya gotta go. Toilets hold, as long as the water is flowing....
Your car in the Sub Zero's.
Best defense, and unlike the Cleveland browns is a good offense. When the temps go below zero, and your car is parked in an open driveway, city street, workplace setting, go to your vehicle every two to three hours and fire it up for about ten to twenty minutes to rejuvenate the battery. Yes, I bloody well know this will cause an inconvenience in your life, but it might just keep your ferry safe enough to to take you where you need to go. If you are like so many replaceable lives in the United States Economy right now, you know what I mean. Y0u call off, you DO NOT PASS GO and are fucked into dismal worlds of faltering, though growing ranks of those unemployed across this our nation become mere statistics. Powers that be dismissing them as those unwilling to work eventhough their jobs have been stripped from them as plainly as one would swipe at a fly at a sunny outdoor luncheon.
Yes. In all honesty. Many of these lost-world emp-loyees were given another chance to keep their jobs. All they had to do was denounce their citizenship, leave their friends and move abroad at their expense.
Well, welcome to the new year.
Keep blankets anf quilts in your vehicle....
Two human bodies is better than one in a sleeping bag.
Dennys restaraunts. They never close.
keep each other alive
Mark William Darus
Thursday, January 2, 2014
So many memories from decades ago....
Wondrous to see the beginnings of the butterfly you have always been.
by Mark William Darus
Setting the mind clock back over thirty/forty years ago, allowing the ebb and flow to attempt its way about me as I crush normal emotion to the faceplanted pavement. I think of the days we'd spend you and I.
Bitterly Cold days post Christmas, walking slushy pavement under cloggy footfalls we paced. My small hand being guided by yours most sercured down the labyrinth of the center of Clevelands shopping Mecca's. Strolling past the many homeless, asking f0r change as the smells of rich Fanny Farmers chocolates mixed with Petersons Nuts filled our nostrils as we engulfed the very best Cleveland had t0 give us. The animated windows of the May copany and Higbees displayed in our journey the best of possible lunch encounters.
Walking past SS Kresge, my hand in yours, you took me to WoolWorths and the best danged lunches a small could have without a parent in the 1970's.
i'd look into your guiding eyes that beamed such loving glows of amazing things you wanted to share with me, perhaps your wishing me to someday give to others as y0u gave so lovingly to me.
POMC, never doubt that gift god planted on you.
You'd treat me to lunch at Woolworths; on the to this fucking day looking back were the best burgers I ever ate in my life. You'd then walk to areas for me to spend my xmas money on windback tin cars and French choclates.
I so remember these times, POMC. You'd often make sure my scarf covered my young flesh during those, at that time, normal single digit days. Protecting me from frostbite in such gentle fashion as we strolled he well dressed men in sharp wool overcoats and heavy golashes protecting their shoes next to their ladies in furs covering beautiful dresses that sometimes a high wind would show me shapely legs and pressed stomachs.
POMC. You gave to my eldest and attempted to my youngest a Safe Harbor for in their lives as you did for me.
Time will tell as they grlow older and become engulfed in their lives.
Looki ng at monuments you'd point out as I would look to as that of a tiny frightened boy with grandparents dying and our fathers health doing its bullshit.
Y0u, POMC got me thru a huge stage of my life.
And where are we now, Dearest Companion of time?
A mere phone call and a gastank away though considerably less in spirit.
I give to you words you wish/need to hear from me though they can not touch a heart like mine. This does not mean less as I look at you. You are cloxe to me few others are.
Those that truly know me and are not afraid to continue to do so regardless of the curveballs I toss about are rare indeed. I am thankful you are not one of those that dismiss me.
Your transformation is amazing! Dear sister, you are doing great and I believe you will continue to do so. All my strength be yours. 87 pounds lost is a reason for celebration. Yet, Americans like round numbers, so when you hit one hundred down, PARTY ON!!!
I have lost many on this journey that started almost two years ago. I have found many though, and that keeps me fueled eternally.
I was profoundly grateful to see you.
Perhaps on my blogs 2 year anniversary I could cook for you. The greatest influence of this now a days won't even return an xmas wish to her...
THANK YOU POMC!!!! T'was great seei ng you again.
ps: Let this bring a smile to you. You intro'd me to these guys...