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Mort's blog: "mouthectomy"

created on 06/08/2009  |  http://fubar.com/mouthectomy/b298844

welcome back old friend

<it has been a while since I wrote but this one....this one is total freehand and it will be bad cause I have no idea what I am about to write so forgive spelling hanging participals and spelling...this will be but one story that I am lucky enough to be emtertained by every second of every day....I hope you enjoy it>

1120 A.M 1-13-10 started typing: (by the way, I do this because so I know how much time has passed I tend to lose track of time)

I have been walking for about 10 minutes down the lazy suburban raods that seems to curve and S, thru the look-alike, mold cut homes that parrallel, it for no reason. Other than to make my walk longer. Which today I dont mind my head is reeling from the words I heard and the perplexed faces I am leaving behind me. Off to walk to my park and sit on my bench and listen.

Of course, the tattered bench that I have claimed as my own, will be there too. It always has since I was little. It has seen better days too, the bright green paint has been that layered it's three piece wooden backboard is all but gone, exposeing the bare lumber to the elements giving it the look of cigar ashes. where shiny bolts fasetted the seat (origionally made from the same lumber as the back but was replaced 10 years ago by fiberglass composite tinted a yellowish color) to the concret incased V's that serve as the legs, are but brown spots that look to have weeped for many years and stained the surrounding material. most people dont sit here for fear of tearing clothing on the splintrered wood and the kids just think it is too worn out to even use as a skateboard prop. But this is well with me, it is far more than the materials it is made of to me.

That bench....my bench....is honestly a hunk of shit. But, I dont know about you but from that seat I have been the bearer of many of my most cherished memories. It looked on as I got my first broken leg, my first fight, my first kiss, my first broken heart....and every time I go to my wooden friend, eveb after many years he welcomes me, As if to say welcome back old friend sit and enjoy life.

And once again I go towards this place but not to enjoy the wind and listen to whatever nature desides to play today. No today I go to ache. I go here because it is the only place I can. my bench asks my no questions, or try to help in any way. He lets me empty my soul to the point that your cheast siezies in sorrow,grief, hate....that you are sure if you are going to be able to take another breath. and when I am done, no guilt or ackwardness just a beutiful view adn my great memories.

1203am (stopped to smoke)

1208am (resmued)

That is all that remains now...memories. Memories of my life that seem to be an old writing of fiction now. The friends that blessed me are only tattered imagine residing in my head. This bench is a place of honoring to those who decided to that I was worth burning time in there finite lives with. but that seems forever ago maybe longer. And there have been times that I urned for there return but today is far different.

Lonelyness has become a way of life and has gotten easier to accept over time. Spending the day surrounded my stranger that are friendly enough to be courtious. not wanting to discuss more than the weather or the football game last meek. That was untill I meet her. untill I was not alone anymore...how wonderful it was! like the old storied where tangable once more. I filled my head with foolish hopes that I would have company on my bench to watch the marvelous memories be created again and I let myself...feel.. alive....but it was short lived but this I knew already. She was gone and all at once lonelyness rusttled from its hidding spot and engulfed me like a pack of wolves waiting for the fawn ro walk away from the herd. And I hurt.

So now I return to my bench to expell the waste and filth that I feel enveloped in. At least that is what I was going to do. Now I am not giving up like before, I have been underwater suffocating for a long time but she was like finally pulling my head out and taking a gasp of air, it was what what I needed, enough so that when I was drug back down under I had the strength to get more. So I am going to find her so that I can tell her SHE is worth  the Finite time I have to spend it on her.

So I have come to say good bye. Even now saying good bye worries me because I am afraid it will be too easy to accept my benches invitation for comfort. But what is this? I was approaching but stop amd flabergasted to be seeing my bench being tossed into the back of a truck. My eyes shoot to the place where MY BENCH (!!!) has always been to confirm that I saw what I saw. and in the place where my bench stood is a sreel picnic table that has a brillant blue plastic coating covering it from head to toe. and already a a mom is seating food out for the 3 energetic kids running around (my bench) the table.

sadness starts too swell but I knew this was the time to know that life doesnt just happen in front of that bench and its about time I go find it. I watch the truck load up it's passengers and drive off like respect is given at a funneral procession and I turn around and walked off to god knows where...hopefully find someone to walk beside me so I can share this finite world for the rest of my finite life......

12:58 (stopped)

 

I hope anyone reads this and enjoys it. if you didnt sorry to have wasted your time.

 If you are one of those that has to go on and on regurgitating pitiful comments on how I dont know how to write, so you can think you are popular or whatever or so that you can feel unlike the pathetic little pussy you really are, go ahead and tear it apart, just remember, unlike you I dont need a faceless stranger on an intellectually devoid website to approve of me. I have real freinds..fir which is what this story is about.

 

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