Friday, September 10, 2010

SIN and SIM


                     There will be no Remission
for the sins of their Commission
and for the sins of their Omission
                    for there is no Admission.

He knew he was hearing 'Them'. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference from 'Them' and from the reality of his day-to-day damned-existence, but he had an idea all the same as to where they might be coming from ... but it was just an idea in his head, hidden somewhere in that part of his brain that was still in contact with him ... just an idea, nothing more ... [or] ... it's maybe very possible that it could be a memory from the past ... it was something he also did not disregard but it was something that scared him more than the 'idea' theory. 
A memory took place, sometime in his past, it had an action which brought on results at the time then to be stored in that part of the brain department for 'memories' to become at a later date a recollection passing through his mind that brings up the emotions that have a reaction that can stay for long dark days with him  and even darker nights with no end to them ... and that's what really scared him ... an 'idea' he could cope with within his reason, but the 'memory', that was another thing altogether, that brought up the fear in him to the point of no-return and that very same 'memory' now taking over his whole being could turn on him, without any warning, rouge and savage, becoming a brutal force of it's own and one to be reckoned with that blows his-self-pitying-life wide open to Kingdom Come ... a terrifying potential of the 'going-over-the-edge' kind with the easily predictable outcome. 

''Do you see or hear 'Them' ?''....

     ''I don't know ... I am still trying to get my head around it all as to what kind of day it was, but it was like a day that didn't exist, or you would wish it didn't. It was a day of numbness, no smells and none of the senses working, but a lot of hurtful words were said, in-there-out-there-in-the-garden, words that were loaded with pain. 
I can almost tell the day by the smell of the air and the time by the light in the garden ... now it's hard to explain in words but it's something inside you that seems to rise in your body, like instinct, and without giving it thought. Without being aware of it you 'feel' it's a Monday or a 'someday' by that sense of smell and light ... but to go through a day that you feel you do not belong in, no part of it ... well that's something entirely different from normal ... it is like being 'punch-drunk', or on antidepressants ... you are just not there at all ... your umbilical line to your soul is the only life-line you have got on that day.'' 

''Do you hear 'Them' ?''

                           The jumble of words just came out of Adam's closed mouth in a mad rush like a wild dog let lose and to quick to make any sense of  if you were to overhear them. He wasn't asked, the words came out ... nobody asked him ... there was nobody around to ask him, that could be seen that is ... but that was O.K. with Adam ... for now. The most part of his time was spent on his own in the garden ... that way he felt he could handle 'life' better, at least to keep himself alive to hear some answers to the questions he was asking, that's if they were going to be answered and that's what he keeps telling himself over and over in his mind.
 ''Answers ... I want some answers ...we deserve that ... they deserve that ... I deserve that ... some answers as to 'why' ... why so much pain ... did I ask to be born into all of this ever-lasting-pain from one lifetime into the next ... 'You' created me ... 'You' answer me ... I do deserve that much ... but in time I will have to answer to 'You' ... 'You', that has all the answers ... 'why'.''  
But they were not coming from Him because Him is not answering him anymore and it's Him ... 'Him above' that Adam wants to talk too ... to try to explain how that day of all days in the garden was for them, the only two of their kind, naked like innocent children with no shame, that was to come later, the shame ... created for no other reason but for His own amusement ... because He can. 
And it came. The pitch black darkness that overcast the sky like a wet blanket putting out a blazing fire ... it's decaying chocking smell taking away the fresh sweetness of the garden in one clean sweep of it's crawling dense blackness and death-smell seeping into everything that was alive ... and how they fell to their knees clinging on to each other for protection like the frightened innocent little children they were, when, from somewhere in the tree it started to 'talk' and 'Evil' showed it's ugly face to them. They could not see Him for His comfort to reassure them that he was only 'testing' them for their 'Love for Him' ... they were not prepared for anything like this happening to them and now He was not there in the garden  for them at that time for their salvation within temptation. He had provided all for them in the garden ... all except the fruit from the tree ... the only fruit in the garden they were not to eat ... but children being children anything can and will happen even when they have all ... they want it all  regardless of the fall.

Adam found it hard to cope with the everyday responsibility of just living, downtrodden to despair, and he was afraid of it. It was a day-in-night-out-trap-situation.  He felt he was in a strangulation, swinging like a pendulum gathering up speed to do the full circle to be released like a sling shot and fly off to a place of no return. He hoped that it might just all go away and he will wake up back in the garden  under the tree as if it was all a very bad dream that got out of hand and turned into a nightmare that turned into a  bloody daylight living ordeal that was to become the normal kind. It did not have to be like this but he had no say in the matter, then or now, it was all up to Him but He was not answering ... not this day anyway ... but Adam stayed on in his pain, breathing stale air in and out because of his Sin of Admission. Life is and will always be, unforgiving ... it was how he believed it to be for no answers were coming. He was fully 'fledged-by-birth' for the submission but not prepared for the Commission.

     ''Maybe it was a blackout I had or maybe it was ..... but come to think of it I haven't had a blackout for some time now,  in fact not since that  time  in  the garden, so long ago that it feels like in another lifetime ... so did  'that day' happen ... maybe and maybe not, who's to tell and who's going to tell  ... besides Him ... I can't, I just have memories ... there's   nobody to tell me ... only Him ... it's only me now to answer to me, so if me can't tell me, that's it then ... me-no-can-tell ... only Him-can-tell.''

''Do you hear 'Them' ?''
                Adam was a good man by all accounts and He was pleased with His creation ... but faith did not deal him a good hand him being the First-Man  and  maybe because of the name. He was most unlucky that  day in the garden ... right place wrong time. He trusted her and he trusted Him, without question, and for trusting he ended up on the rocks like a broken shipwreck that he was to become for future generations to relive that day like puss oozing from a sore on a lepers leg. It was to mark him like a brand on his back that would burn into him just for the Hell-of-it ... shit ... it's what 'brands' do ... for the Admission of Sin ... his sins ... sins that kept in touch with him, reminding him for every bleeding-breathing second of the day ... for what reason he was never told about 'sin' even though he had tried over the long dark years to deny 'Them' any remission but they don't bother to return their admission ... for it's their commission too ... but he tried, and how he tried ... only He above knows how he tried.
Adam took all this very-very personal, and why not,  he alone was carrying all the guilt of his own sin for the future fathers will also carry that guilt and future mothers will help to give birth too for all to burden the loss of Eden.

''Do you hear 'Them' ?''

     ''This is something I think about ... you see it in films ... you know ... the bit where it comes he is going to take his own life and he is standing at the shore line or at the edge of the lake, his back to the camera, and him looking out at the horizon ... have you noticed, it's always a male in the situation, well ... nearly always ... with his clothes neatly stacked beside him, and the shoes ... ah the shoes, this is the bit I love ... the shoes always polished and placed side-by-side facing in the direction he is looking, symbolically telling you in which direction he went, that scene alone tells it all. The film could end there because you know how it all ends and you are not disappointed, in fact you are quite pleased with yourself because you think you came up with the ending before the director or writer did ... get a life man, [ah, nice touch there].  I often thought about that scene in films for it tells me one thing and one thing only, he did not want to take his own life ... why ... the neatly folded clothes and the shoes, that's why, nobody folds their clothes like that unless they are going into a suitcase and very few people might do it before going to bed each night and if they do ... it's because maybe they have the same feeling that it's possible that they won't wake up in the morning and they want things to at least look right when they are found in the bed ... dead, that is, dead ... but to do it all before doing away with yourself, I just find it hard to accept. It's like giving out the message to those who find the clothes that ....
 'I have taken my own life but I didn't really want to do it, look here, can't you see how neatly I have left my clothes, that alone should tell you I didn't want to do it and besides what is 'freewill' if I can't put it into practice.' ''

''I hear 'Them' now all the time.''

                              Adam is sitting, knees to his chest on the granite rock looking out at the blue-green sea like the child that he is. He has been there all the gray-day long and maybe even longer that the seagulls pay him no attention anymore ... they gave up on him long ago ... even before he came to this place. The sun is trying it's best to be warm on his back as if it's trying to comfort him that little extra on this day-of-all-days. Nature's little reassurances of what 'love' is like when all is well in your world, but all is not well in his world and all is not well in His world for there is not a soul in the sweet smelling garden He created. 
Adam's mobile rings ... he reaches inside his pocket for it. None of your silly jingles here. A straight-forward-no-nonsense-ring-tone ... burr, burr ... burr, burr ... burr, burr ... he flips and He flips ...

     ''How are you.''
''O.K.''
     ''Where are you now.''
''On the coast.''
     ''Are you O.K.''
''O.K.''
     ''Are you coming home ... we can sit out in the garden under the apple tree like old times ... you remember how it was before all this happened.''
''Soon, I just want to sit here for a while.''
     ''O.K., but .... please come home, we can talk ... I know very well you are hurt deep Adam.''
''Yea ... we can talk, but what good is that going to do now ... tell me ... do you see 'Them' now.?''
And he flips. 
His toleration had gone at times beyond the requirements of toleration and this was one of the many times  he had forgiven her.
And He flips.

                              Adam is tired. Tired of her mood swings and the control she has over him. Tired of the sick feeling he gets in his stomach when they row about that day and that feels like every day now to him. Tired of the whole living bit. Tired of having to auto-eat to puke it up each day to stop the hunger pain in his gurgling knotted stomach ... he does not look at food as food as a means to keep himself alive, but as the 'Sin of Glutton'. He is tired of the daily struggle to keep things together.  Tired of asking himself questions with no answers coming from outside, but from 'Them', and not ... Him. Tired of telling himself that tomorrow will be a better day but tomorrow is already here and it's no different from any other bloody-day. Tired of the 'talks' and tired of talking to himself ... and to 'Them', and not ...  Him.  Tired of waiting. Tired of trying. Tired of it all. Just tired. Only He knows how tried he is, and tired of 'Them', and waiting for Him to answer ... but no more ... for the stroke of the whip can cut deep marks into the flesh but the stroke of the tongue can shatter the soul for eternity and for the mind never to reflect again.
    
     ''Fuck this and fuck the neatly folded clothes bit ... I'm going for a walk ... to Him and not with 'Them' ... but to Him since He is not coming to me ... back to that garden with my Admission. A straight-forward-no-nonsense-walk into the deep blue with Him waiting for me in the sweet smelling garden.''

                         Eve was waiting too ... waited with the phone in her hand. It never left her right hand, day or night ... that phone ... her contact ... contact to Adam.  She's laughing that nervous laugh of hers and always when she was on her phone to Adam. She can hear the waves now all around herself. She can smell the salt from the sea. There is the taste of salt-water, water inside her mouth and somewhere else inside her body burning her up like acid ... you could hear the gurgling sound, almost like the waves she is hearing on the phone but with more softness in them and the pungent smell of decay in the air hanging like damp mist  but the voices inside that phone of hers continued to argue, like the 'Hitchcock-birds'. 
     ''That's it ... keep arguing ... keep it going, non-stop-shop-talk ... continuing the debate on the sins of their commission and the sins of their omission but there will be no remission because there is no admission to the non-stop-debate-till-death about that 'sin' in the garden ... like the demented little children you are.'' 
If only she could stop the talk, could stop 'Them' ... but she has long since forgotten how to turn it off and turn 'Them' off  and He knows it ... but He hears it all, her cries for forgiveness ... but no-answers are coming from Him ... and no more toleration from him ... not on this day anyway.

     ''You are not seeing 'Them'... it's not a question it's an answer. Do you know you were found out in the garden hugging that apple tree crying and speaking 'gibberish' and calling at the height of your voice for someone by the name of Adam ... look in my direction, are you or are you understanding me what I am saying to you.?''
     ''I'm getting used to it, I guess, doe's that answer your question, doe's it mean I can turn it off ... the phone, why are you  so hard on me.  I talk to Adam all the time about sin ... do you see 'Them' ... do you want to talk to 'Them' about the 'sin' ... we all have that 'sin', we can't run from it and He is not forgiving, not today anyway ... please find my Adam ... I want to say I am sorry but 'sorry' will not be good enough ... I know it ... not this time.''
     ''Has she been medicated ?''
''You bet .... like a rabid dog.''
     ''Family .... and what about this Adam she is talking about.?''
''Nothing we know off but talks all the time to him on that phone of hers as we have heard her, non stop talk,  best of times not making any sense in her words. We believe he lives by the coast, so she says ... we are trying to contact him as best as we can but so far no luck, he might be her son, husband, friend, lover, could be anybody but we won't know that till we contact him.''
     ''I see ... you can take the phone from her now, she has no need for it here.''
''I think we should leave it with her, if you don't mind my saying, she has some comfort with it and besides there is no Sim card in it ... I checked it when she was sleeping ... she sure likes to talk into it though to this guy Adam, the sooner we can contact him we might get some answers, we don't have a name for her and she's not telling ... she tells us that if she tells us we will think she's mad ... her words.''
     ''Well ... O.K. ... but I thought she said Sin and not Sim.''
''If you ask me I see no difference in 'Sin' or 'Sim' ... they both hold memories.''
''Do you hear 'Them' too, I see and hear 'Them' now all around me,  like ... like sparkling silver dots in front of my eyes ... I have 'memories' you know of that day in the garden and how we were put out by Him and how it hurt Adam deep, so deep ... he trusted and he trusted me ... I let him down ... but we are trying to find our way back to that beautiful garden ... but things will not be as before ... poor-poor-Adam. Do you want names and numbers, I have names and numbers too ... just ask, they are on the Sim card all keyed in ... names, numbers and memories ... everything is there ... it goes deep, and maybe, just maybe, but I doubt it very much, that you can contact Him ... but the hurt goes deep, it's not going to go away that easy ... it will always be there like a stain ... we are damaged souls to relive the pain for all time ... will Adam come back to me.?'' 
     ''O.Kkkkk ... full admittance till further notice from me and I want a daily report on her ... I have seen and heard enough but try to make contact with this guy Adam she is talking about. We will need to talk to him too and get some answers as to who she is and where this garden she is on about and let's hope it's all easily explained ... I hate the freaking paper work that goes with these cases.''
''I talk to Adam everyday on my phone ... everyday ... and everyday we talk about sin ... that 'sin' ... but I try to tell Adam that there will be no Remission for the sins of our Commission and for the sins of Omission because there is no Admission coming ... but my Adam lives in the hope we will all get back to the sweet smelling garden,   poor-poor-Adam.''
     ''Who's next ...''
''Him ...''
     ''GOD, what is it with phones today and why all the Sim cards.?''




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Saturday, July 31, 2010

FILE NUMBER :- 0023-0007-1953-D

                               WARNING                                 
When you live your life in a world of illusion
it is good to know which door to open
to get back to
reality.


''It's what the sign read on the way in'' ....

        
I don't know how I got to be here ....
I don't know why I am here ....
I have never been in this room before,
why am I here ....
I think the wall in front of me has just changed colour,
it has done it again ... and again ....
why am I here,   
this is not happening to me ....
maybe I am dreaming, asleep .... 
and just about now I am going to wake up,
because I realised I was in a dream .... 
I should just about be waking up now, I know this,
I have done this before,
many times .... 
just as I have dreamt before,
many times ....
I have woken up before,
many times ....
why am I not awake now ... maybe I am ....
no ... still in this dream ... still in this room, 
and that wall has just changed colour again,
there ... it's doing it again ....
I will wake up soon ....
that I know ....
what dream does my mind hold to lure me from this room,
when my mind abides nowhere,
but this room is not so bad,
not like some of the other rooms I have been in ....
maybe for eons,
it has a nice smell ....
smells like Lilac,
I love the sound of that word,
'Lilac'....
and the smell of that pale reddish purple flower,
the white is nice too but it was always the purple flower that did it for me ....
oh ... that wall ... all walls, 
they now have the lilac colour ....
think blue,
now it has changed to blue ....
 think green,
think forty shades of green ....
I now have forty shades of green in front of me,
swaying in and out that I feel I am 'connected' by origin
to the rain-forest with all this green in and around me ....
smells like it too,     
'Connected' .... 
heat and dampness hanging thick in the air,
that I feel I am being,  
suffocated ....
don't like that word, 
'suffocated' ....
feels as it sounds,
suffocating,    
STOP ....  
change that thought ....
Lilac ....
that's better,
now I have smell and colour ....
think red,    
   now I have colour and heat,         
I know what's happening now ....
at-this-time-in-this-dream-in-this-room,
my thoughts become the reality,
reality in the illusion and that I have all my senses ....
have to be extra-extra careful here with my thoughts,
and what could happen,    
my own thoughts could be the 'death' of me now,   
my thoughts are my reality in the illusion ....
as I think there go 'I' ....
my thinking is not done by proxy .... 
it's done by me,
as nothing exists apart from my mind ....
I have always done my own thinking and therefore
'I' feel 'I am' ....
leaving nothing behind, 
this is where thought is useless,     
for there is nowhere which is outside the mind ....
'Proxy',   
sounds dirty, proxy ....
tell me you don't feel dirty when you say it ....
'proxy' ...
for such a small word with a dirty feeling to it,
it carries a lot of power when put into action ....
evil comes to the mind,
but in the mind can be destroyed ....
a nice thought now,   
 before I go down too far on that road
where I might find myself lost and not able to get back
to where ever I came from .... 
but there is nowhere outside of my mind,
now that I know I can do anything and that the only limits are set by my own thoughts ....
this is the action of using my mind to produce thoughts,
or convert symbolic responses to stimuli ....
a broken mind will never reflect again,
unless you cherish an idle thought, 
which brings to mind ....
'Virtual' ....
so can I tell myself that the virtual memory of my mind is allowing me to interact with my thoughts that are producing a virtual image that has the experience of being in a very real environment but created with my, 
I would prefer to believe and do I have a choice, 
my Subconscious Mind ....
for I have forgotten what I have learned,  
but I practice what I will learn,
and that allows me to interact in causing changes,
not just 'changes',
but permanent changes,
as in physical state and mental state of mind
as I see fit .... 
and do I have control over my destiny,
or is this a virtual game we are taken part in
unknown to ourselves ....
The Illusion .... 
I think I can tell myself that,
as best as I see it for now 
but all that could very well change,
like the thoughts that go with the emotions
that can bring on the thoughts,
like the bells that make no sound, 
a virtual revolution of thoughts is having the essence or effect but not the appearance or form of the species
Homo Sapiens,
but that which is you in all it's glory and fullness ... complete,      
The Reality ...The Illusion, 
which brings to mind,   
'Virtue' ....
we cannot have Homo Sapiens walking around without  virtue,   
they go hand in hand,
like Jack and Jill going up the hill .... 
but you remember what happened to Jack and Jill,
they fell down from the hill .... 
was it vice that brought Jack and Jill
down from the hill of Eden ....
stirred by the tempest of delusion ....
could very well have been,   
vice .... if not .... 
virtue had the 'Upper Hand' ....
where we return to our origin,
where all things are viewed as One,
The Reality .... 
which brings to mind,   
'Vice',
the dark side of virtue .... 
destiny could mint a coin with the imprint of
virtue on one face and vice on the opposite face
and for each Homo Sapien
tossed the coin to decide on their
'life's journey' ....
virtue or vice ....
The Reality ....
I have Lilac in smell and in colour all around me,
I can assume I am now in my
'Comfort Zone',   
The Illusion ....
'Zone' ....
nice sounding word,  
has the 'feeling' when you say it,
as if in dragging it out into one long tone,
that you could use it in relaxing the mind
from all it's thoughts ....
zoneeeee .... 
The Illusion .... 
a white dove flew across the blue sky
and I thought how orderly the Universe is ....
 The Reality ....
How did I get here ....
 and where is 'here' ... this room ....
am I standing, sitting or lying down ....
can't tell,
I just know that I am here in this room that's like a box,
no windows no doors ....
will I live for a hundred years of my future life
in this room ... there is,
only-this-hour-in-this-day-in-this-time 
there is nowhere which is outside the mind,
The Reality .... 
so I can assume I am in my 'space',
created by my mind ....
that maybe I am 'dead' to all,
for peace of mind is disturbed 
for no purpose to be gained
the activities of the mind 
The Reality ....
and rid myself of conceptual thought
I can accomplish all things,
like the bird in the cage today
 tomorrow flying above the clouds
like the mind set free
and I am now in a state of transition,
nothing exists apart from mind   
that is where 'I am' ....  
in 'transition',     
moving from one 'state-of-mind' into another ....
eternally changing in this perfect contentment
of my Ignorance,
having no form or appearance,
now I know my physical state is 'dead',
and there is nowhere that I cannot go,
but my mind is 'alive' ....
nothing exists apart from mind,
this pure mind the source of all things 
for there is nothing to be attained outside of the mind,
the result is a state of 'non-being' 
if this were realized or attained 
 then I can call myself arrogant
for I cannot suppress my mind from all thinking
in that my thoughts are controlling the situation for the
'Continuous Transition'
of stepping into yet another  
  'Virtual Game', 
life and death continue endlessly 
within a thousand worlds complete in my mind
and I stepped out from one frame into another
in a flash of thought into the dense mist
and prepare to do battle with the tempest of delusion
and trust my natural responses ...
realise the source
eternally present
it flows through all things
for all things vanish into it
both inside and out and returns to the origin of all 
through it all things are done
like all rivers flow into the sea
with the wind against the wind
 'I go',
beyond the voidness
into the beginning
 and after 
 I return to the origin
and remain where I have been
the activities of the mind have no limit 
for all it's contents are reflected in the mind
the mind is the mind because of this
like the moon in the lake
which has no surface nor no reflection
for no traces are left where I walk
 for everything is mind-made 
are of one-mind and nothing else
understand this fact
and all delusions are removed
for all things are the manifestation
of the essence of mind
 'I can' .... 



                                             WARNING
                   File Number :- 0023-0007-1953-D
Reality is not about putting mankind into the illusion but putting the illusion into mankind .. there is nowhere which is outside the mind .... Enjoy.


''It's what the sign read on the way out'' ....



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Saturday, July 17, 2010

GUILT OF A MACHO-MAN

The News ....
     ''Did you hear the news that's going on the rounds here today.?''
     ''Hear what news, I only got here now. I got held up in traffic trying to get out in time for that fishing trip we talked about .... and in my mad rush to get here I nearly ran over a stupid dog too, lying out in the middle of the road as if he owned the whole freaking patch .... stupid dog, when I think about it now, maybe he was waiting for somebody to come along and put him out of his misery ..... remind not to lie down in the middle of the road ....
you know how close I was to hitting him ..... I .....''
     ''Hey, forget about the stupid dog or I will help you myself out onto the road ... our 'fly-boy', he has not been seen for the last two days.
No-where to be found ... or that seaplane of his.''
     ''So.!''
     ''So ... what do you mean 'so' ... 
it's not like him. He took that plane of his out after doing some repair work on the engine and he has not made radio contact since he put it's nose into the air, which is not like him and it's not playing the game by the rules. You know that, he knows that and we all know that'' ....
''So .... flew into the deep blue horizon did he.?''
     ''This is no freaking-joking-matter we've got here. The coast guard has been called out, and have, that I know off, reported finding nothing as of yet.''
     ''Ohh shit .... sorry .... 
I thought you were joking. We had arranged to go fishing today, just him and me, I was wondering why he didn't phone to remind me of the time we were going out in that boat of his, he said he would phone me but he didn't. I knew he was working on the plane. He was saying he wanted to take a long trip, didn't say where he was going to me.''
     ''This is not like him at all.
It's a bit if a 'Bermuda Triangle' mystery at the moment until we hear from the coast guard.''
     ''You don't think he really did fly off into the deep blue horizon ... do you.?''
     ''Don't say things like that .. but I don't know. 
That plane of his could have ditched, he could have run out of fuel, lots of things could have happened.
Don't forget it was an old two seater seaplane he rescued and spent all his spare time and cash on from the metal crusher.
Look .. all I am saying here is, he was an experience pilot over thirty years flying from 'dust croppers' to combat to hauling commercial. If I know 'fly-boy' I would put my money down on that he knew what he was doing, he knew so well, and if he did do it,
fly off, it was .... let's say, premeditated.''
     ''What you mean ... he knew what he was doing, how can you say that.?''
     ''Well, he wasn't himself the last month or so,
now was he ... truthful, even you were saying it. 
I thought he would come around and say something to me but  you know how he is, only talks when he's in the mood or has something to say and it will be in that boat of his, if he has anything to say. 
It's like the 'freaking-floating-confessional-box' on water, that boat. Him up front with pole in the water, beer in hand and talking away as if he was the only one in the boat, never looking back to see if you were paying attention to what he was saying, and never asking for your own opinion ... 
like he cared less.''
     ''Yeah ... sure, but that's the way he was, you know that ... how long have we been friends.?''
     ''Did he say anything to you the last time you were out with him in that boat.?''
     ''Funny you should bring that up ...
I mean, him saying anything to me. 
About a week ago we were out fishing in the 'confession-box', you know it has more repairs on it than an old shoe, well he kept talking on-and-on about his time flying in Nam.
Never stopped on about it, but as soon we came on shore again he shut up ...
 no more was ever said about it, so I gave it no more thought on my part. Just at that time he wanted to get it off his chest, real bad like, you know how he is .. getting moody in his old age too.''
     ''Yeah, I know ... what did he say, tell me.?''
     ''I forget most of it now, as I said, I gave it no  more thought.''
     ''Come on man ... remember, try to remember, it might be important. It could very well explain what is happening now to him, the state of mind he might be in too. I know we said we would not talk about those days when we were in Nam together flying. We just got on with what we have here when we got back, trying to keep our own shit together and not going off the rails all together with it.''
     ''Well you know he was flying napalm all that time of his duty out there. He use to say it was just like flying a 'dust cropper' ... it was getting rid of the termites in their 'dug-outs' ...
it was how he handled it. We all needed to justify what we were doing and that was his way with it .... 'justifying' .. that is.''
     ''What brought that shit on now at this time of his life, Christ All-Mighty man ... we can't live forever and who wants to anyway, we have seen and done enough for two life times, I want no more part in it, I will be happy to move on when my time comes.''
     ''I think it might have been some 
in-your-face documentary on T.V. he saw recently about that 'damned-war-from-the-start'. So easy now for them to talk about it in the open, like we are all buddie-buddie about it.
He told me it jogged back the memories like 'real time' clicking in and maybe the nightmares too and God knows what other shit he was holding out on.
It all came up and out like vomit and the bad after-taste was still there in every word he spoke, if you ask me he was starting to lose it altogether.''
     ''That just might qualify for a 'suicide-run' in that seaplane. Might want to go out like his famous name sake, James Dean, the actor.
The right man in the wrong place at the right time for young American adults who wanted their own
'Rebel-Hero'.''
     ''James Dean did not commit suicide,
I have you know. It was an on-coming car making a turn that crossed into Dean's lane and ran into him, head on, bang-crash. That driver of that car was the wrong man in the wrong place in the wrong car. He lived on till an old age but never talked about it, not to nobody. I often think at times how destiny steps in and surprises us when least expected. 
Three movies I think, Dean made and then life pulls the 'joker' .... dead ... what a waste.''
     ''Jeez, now it clicks in my mind as to why he called that sea plane of his 'Rebel-Spyder' and me thinking it was to do with his Ego .... and maybe it was.
James Dean was driving at the time of his death a Porsche 550 Spyder .. 
if I remember correctly now... and his most celebrated movie was ... let me think .. yes ..
'Rebel Without a Cause',
made him a cultural icon, and what was the year he died in now .. remind me on this one.?''
     ''It was September 30th 1955.
Yes ...'55, I will never forget that date,
it was also the year my old man died, fell into the water-well at the back of our house and drowned, poor bastard, drunk out of his mind on bourbon ... 
that's how I remember the date, plus, it was also the year Dean starred in the movie 'Rebel' ...
that's how I know all this stuff about James Dean and about the 'Rebel' date.?''
     ''Our 'fly-boy' .... James Jack Dean told me while we were out fishing in that 'confession-box',
how he was living in the shadow of Dean and using his name and name sake throughout his life to get his way, it was a game to him he got caught up in and he just kept it up to the extent it was hard to tell the difference between reality and the illusion ...
but every man has a story to tell and that's his.''
     ''Pass me a beer .... so your old man fell down a water-well ... that's interesting .... 
my mother walked off a bridge one night leaving my old man to bring six of us up, from eight to six months, and going through the rest of his miserable life blaming himself for it ... never got over it.
Nobody could give a reason as to why she did do it at the time ... but now they can say it was postnatal depression but you can just never tell with people why they take their own lifes ... can be a shit life,
that's my story .... 
boo, do I get my beer now.''

The Story ....
     James Jack Dean Sr. named his first son, James after his own father and James Jack Dean grew up in a some-what happy childhood. When he reached his teenage years he was more 'happy' with-in his life, swapping baseball cards and girls and sometimes not in that order. 
The baseball cards was a passion that will go with him into life.
The girls, well ... they were just there,
like birds can fly. 
 For the girls, they were out on a date with 'James Dean' and when 'Rebel Without a Cause' was on celluloid and showing in the drive-in's, well, life became even more interesting for our 'fly-boy'. He took it on personal-like to live up to his name sake and be 'The Rebel'.
The male homo-sapiens he always came up against in life gave him a more rough time over it .. 
but he could look after himself. They were jealous of 'fly-boy' and most of the time tried to pick fights with him, to rearrange his natural 'Marlboro Man' looks about his face, and you know what, he did look like the 'Marlboro Man' up on the billboards. 
He had that 'cowboy' look, the out-door tan, the cloths, the horse, the cigarette in hand and that silly grin on his face as if he knew the 'secrets' of all life was to be found way out on the open range with a cigarette in hand, horse under your butt and grinning away to yourself ... not a worry in the world.  
How many men day-in day-out looked at those
larger-than-life billboards while in traffic jams wishing they were the real 'Marlboro Man' ... 
free and easy
How many men and women took up smoking because of the 'Marlboro Man' on the billboard looked a nice guy, friendly and ... 
free and easy
What if the 'Marlboro Man' was a homo-sapien-homo-sexual-out-on-the-range ... 
free and easy, 
well nothing wrong with that, and maybe that's why he was 'grinning' but our James Jack Dean,
'fly-boy', was 'Macho-Man' himself,
one hundred present through-out, the all true American 'Macho Man', no butt
kissing here ... no sir. He was driven with a desire, a real inbuilt passion to prove his manhood 
by doing what all 'macho men' do-do,
 and that was ... flying planes,
like as if there is no fear and no tomorrow.   The word 'fear', no matter how hard you 
try, is not to be found any where in the 
vocabular sounds of 'Macho-Man'.
Confrontation of the moment,
that's what 'macho men' do ....
Confrontation of the moment. 
The girls knew that and the men could see it too,
like hunting dogs smelling the wind for the kill but destiny gave 'fly-boy' the name and the 'looks' to go with it and he did not let destiny down, let alone
'The' James Dean ...
he will not be turning in his grave. 
     ''I rode into life on a horse called Destiny'' ...
is what he would say when he had a few beers, like hell the beer reminded him. You know the funny-thing is, now that I think of it ...
our 'fly-boy' never smoked in his entire life, not even 'grass' let alone rode a horse called 'Destiny', or any bloody horse for that matter, the only saddle he was in was .... well you can guess that one for yourself.''

James Jack Dean loved flying, no disputing that, hence his nick-name 'fly-boy'. It was his 'reason for being' and fishing too, flying and fishing and also 'fishing' in it's broader sense.
Anything 'fly-boy' had a passion for began with the letter 'F' ... full stop. 
It also cost him dearly two marriages. Away from home most of the time flying and what with his good looks and name .. it played on his wife's minds, both of them at the time, that his now ex-wife's had good reason to be concerned. So things soon came apart no matter what was said to try to patch things up ...
but it was the women who were not married to him tended to stay longer.
     ''Good baseball cards in good condition were more easy to find than the woman who could live with me  and understand me'' ....
he always would say it, believing in the truth of his own words.
He never spoke about his combat-flying but he lived with the memories and the nightmares that visited him like old friends as he got older, and as he got older he got worse.
It was all coming in on him. The nightmares became more alive to him, like he was inside a war game. He dreaded dying in his sleep in his bed ... 
he had a real fear about that one. He always wanted to 'go' in 'Rebel-Spyder' his seaplane, he would say this joking with the boys but they knew he was not joking. He said it too often for it to be a joke anymore. 
They knew him too well for that sort of thing not to have some truth in it and it now looks like he made the truth into a fact, and fact into reality and reality into the stuff legends are made off. He became his own hero. He was making the James Jack Dean 'real life movie'. His was his own writer, producer, director and leading macho-man-star ....
he was calling the shots and death was going to be no surprise to him ...
it was not going to take him in one of his nightmares,
nightmares he was living-out into daytime. 
He was now his own God and he was going to have the last say, well at least that's how he saw it as to how he was going to die.

The coast guards arrived back into port with James Jack Dean in a black body bag, all zipped up and sometime late into the afternoon. They found his seaplane bobbing up and down like a cork in the water, empty on fuel and with him still strapped in his seat starting to feed the fish, three days after he took off in 'Rebel-Spyder'. 
There was an autopsy done on the body of James Jack Dean and it was found when they opened him up he was eaten inside with cancer like rust eating away at metal only it was his insides but if that was not enough to deal with and the truth be known by medical science .... guilt too.
Guilt with a capital 'G'.
The type of guilt you can flog yourself with over and over where the scares never heal over, but the doctor's could not find that one, the big 'G'.
They could find the big 'C' but not the big 'G', but his fishing buddies did and knew about the big 'G' a long time ago, well before he knew he had it himself.
It was not the cancer that flew the little two seater seaplane that day but a bigger disease called
'Guilt'. It was 'guilt of a macho-man' that had the controls of the seaplane 'Rebel-Spyder'. It was 'Guilt' that flew out into the horizon that sunny day ...
that day ... September 30th.
By all accounts and these are only other peoples opinions .... James Jack Dean was just in the wrong place on the wrong date at the wrong time ..... 
Or was he ....

The End ....
     'Rebel-Spyder' sank to the bottom of the ocean, the perfect resting place for a seaplane. 
It's owner, James Jack Dean
was put to rest in mind and body in the
'Confession-Box',  
the boat whom he shared his 'guilt' with and did all his 'soul-searching' in. 
   
And the legend of James Jack Dean, 
a.k.a. 'fly-boy', a.k.a. 'Macho-Man'...
It may not go into history like James Dean the actor and become the stuff what legends are made off but it will live on in the earth's 'energy' as his contribution to mankind for the greater good, guilt or no guilt, just like all human beings before him and will do after him, making their own legends and contributions to the world and humanity, it's all about Destiny,
take it or leave it .... free and easy.


''Destiny ...
 is not about getting what you want,
it's about wanting what you have got,
for each of us is the author of our own
Destiny.''



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