Crazy Friends and Writing Keep Me Sane

It’s good to hook up with friends, even if some of them are a bit crazy. I did that during the past couple of days. We joked and I laughed like I haven’t for a long time.

Later, when things became somber, we talked about work, our kids, how life seems to pass by us so quickly, the government, politics, and a governing system that doesn’t seem to work for The People any longer.

Somehow, this led to conspiracy theories from my crazier friends, that 9-11 was a hoax, how the buildings collapsed too neatly (as in expertly demolished) instead of toppling and causing more damage than what happened, how the planes were flying too slow (their engines would have stalled at that speed), and how they believe it’s a ploy by our government to keep us Americans at bay.

Our crazy talk went around the room and included illegal political acts, JFK, the Apollo moon landing, and the DaVinci Code. We could have been telling ghost stories around a campfire in the middle of the night—it was the same kind of atmosphere—the Great Mysterious that leaves us wondering, where missing information creates speculation and conjecture.

Our theories ran rampant and I enjoyed every minute of our crazy banter. As a writer I immersed in the fiction and the fact, and I ended the day with incredible story ideas.

“You guys and writing keep me sane,” I told my friends.

“And never off the hook to think otherwise,” they pointed out.

Never.

Seduction [poetry]

Today at market,
shopkeepers showcased brand-new cars
and seduced nearsighted and potbellied old men
with promises to stop their loneliness.

The promises were offers of a future
spent speeding on swift wheels.

And so shiny chrome kissed the old men
and sent them dreaming behind leather-bound steering wheels,
the smooth bellies of animal skin seats
rubbing the bottom of their trousers,
while the shopkeepers picked their pockets
as each wallet and infatuation came undone.

And I stood alone bearing my scorn, ignored.