Archive for January, 2008

Ghetto Love-Frank Orvalle

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
Ghetto Love
By Frank Ovalle
 
I was almost delirious-
the night, young and ripe
was slipping from my fingers.
 
It wasn’t even 9 yet
and the buses weren’t running.
Guess it wasn’t safe
in this part of town.
 
But I had somewhere to be-
I chainsmoked my way
(on foot) past warehouses
and decaying apartments.
 
In the brackish streets
of the stinking swamp,
I was as free as I’d ever been.
It was dangerous, and I loved it.
 
Occasionally panic would strike:
Was there a corpse twisted
behind that patch of unkempt grass?
How many steps does it take
to find a hypodermic needle?
 
But for the most part, I smoked
and I walked, the night air
giving me dark wings and eyes
and I looked into the heart of city.
 
It was rotting and terrible
but also dynamic and full of life.
 
That night, I fell in love with the ghetto.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Frank Ovalle

Reading the New Yorker at the Gut Doctor-Benjamin Nardolilli

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
Reading the New Yorker at the Gut Doctor
By Benjamin Nardolilli
 
I feel proud,
I walked all the way here,
Who else in this waiting room
Can say that?
 
In Chinese and English,
A sign lets me know that I am safe,
There is a phone that sits and purrs
Waiting for an emergency.
 
I have brought things
That I should be reading,
But look at the magazines
My doctor has prescribed
 
An old woman looks at me,
While I look at the magazine
And she wonders,
Her own private theodicy
What is it all worth?
When someone young like me
Has to wait in a place like this?
 
Reading about Joan Didion’s new play,
I read her once, can’t remember what,
But I remember why,
The requirements for a composition class.
The writer of the essay wonders, and so do I
Why put your suffering on a stage,
When it fits much better inside a page?
 
A man with charts and chants of cheer
Waits, the doctor’s white hand brings him in,
He is not a patient and the medicine man
Must listen to him, he has the bottom line.
 
I can’t make sense of Don Delillo’s story,
My comprehension turns to dust.
 
Like the breath of wind
Made from a butterfly’s flapping on my ear,
I can hear the receptionist slowly squeezing
Shut a patient’s diet over the phone,
First rice, then gelatin,
Then broth, then water.
 
I skip the words,
And read the cartoons,
I feel proud.
I get each one.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Benjamin Nardolilli
 
 

In The Elevator-Benjamin Nardolilli

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
In The Elevator
By Benjamin Nardolilli
 
Here, everyone decides
To open their jaws,
Let them fall to the ground:
The mechanical air of the rising box
Flowing in and out,
 
There are some that you see
OPEN WIDE and take in everyone,
They are ready to bite, to tear
Us to pieces and chew the wooden walls
Until the iron ropes are visible.
 
There is always one, maybe two
Usually two, always two,
Sometimes three, who chew:
They open their jaws
For a stick of gum
And lick their teeth and lips
Making themselves minty fresh,
They chew and smack, chew and smack
Each one in a race with the other.
 
Some have jaws open, lips
Passionately spread out and tongues
Poking through the empty whole
To make words with no sound,
They move their jaws to sing,
To mimic the voice of the canary,
They have trapped inside a plastic box.
 
Some are tired and just yawn,
Waiting for their floor, I know,
I am one of them.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Benjamin Nardolilli

Growing Up-Wayne Scheer

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
Growing Up
By Wayne Scheer
 
It started when my mom and dad were fighting all the time. Or maybe it started before that, I really don’t know. My shrink, Mr. Shankowski, says I shouldn’t blame Mom and Dad for everything, but I don’t think he understands what it’s like to be thirteen.
 
I guess my trouble began with the stories I made up. Sometimes they were just for fun. Like telling my friend, Joey, that Kathryn Neeson liked him and then telling Kathryn that Joey liked her. Then I’d watch how they’d act funny whenever they were around each other. It was really cool.
 
And then there was the time I made up this story about how I was riding my bike and I saw this little kid playing behind a car and I saw the car rolling back. I told how I jumped off my bike and opened the car door and pulled the emergency brake just before the car hit the kid. I repeated that story all around school and Theresa Hutchins thought I was awesome and she kissed me and called me a hero. 
 
But then the adults got into it. 
 
Somehow, my mom found out and she made me look into her eyes and tell her if all that stuff really happened. I tried to lie, but she told me my upper lip curled when I lied and I finally had to admit that I made it up. Then she told my dad and we had all these long talks and they made me stand up in front of my homeroom class, the one with Theresa in it, and tell my friends that I made up the story.
 
That’s when I knew that I could never trust my parents again.
 
So from then on, I only told them things that made them happy, like about me joining the science club. I figured they didn’t need to know about how me and my friends started smoking the pot that Paulie’s sister hid in her underwear drawer. Or about the money that the older kids gave me to watch for cops when they went into that abandoned house on Manton Avenue to make out and smoke dope and stuff.
 
Then the adults messed things up again.
 
Paulie’s mother caught us sneaking into his sister’s underwear drawer and she told my mother. That was really embarrassing. I mean, I couldn’t tell her the truth about the pot so I had to tell her I just wanted to touch girl’s underwear. 
 
My parents decided to send me to a shrink. They couldn’t afford a real one, so they had me talk to this old guy, Mr. Shankowski. I think he used to be a high school guidance counselor or school psychologist or something. 
 
And I had to lie to him and tell him all kinds of crazy sex stuff because I sure wasn’t going to tell him the truth and get Paulie and me in trouble with the older kids.
 
So I kept telling lies to keep Mr. S. happy and then I’d tell other stories to my mom and dad to keep them happy. 
 
And last week Mr. S. asked me what I had learned from all this. I was able to look him in the eye and tell him I learned that I shouldn’t keep things to myself and that I should trust adults who care about me. And my top lip didn’t curl up the way it used to.
 
Now I don’t have to see him anymore.
 
He says I’ve learned what it means to be an adult.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Wayne Scheer
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunrise Eyes-Peter B. Diseth

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
Sunrise Eyes
By Peter B. Diseth
 
He struggled to keep his eyes open. 
 
It was hard work, and at this point, so late in the day it was almost day again, he could almost feel his body resigning to the fact that the feat of staying awake long enough to see the sun again was impossible. Almost. Despite the odds, though, despite the persistent nagging of some voice from another world demanding that he must quit it already, he stayed awake.
 
            Thoughts careened into one another, mashed, meshed, bonded, and broke apart like sticky bumper cars. If it was difficult to keep his eyes open, it was utterly hopeless to make sense of any one of his memories. They passed before his mind’s eye so quick it was like they were never there in the first place, and the one or two of them that lingered long enough for him to catch a glimpse were too foreign for him to make anything of. It was a maddening exercise in futility. His mind was all but gone, and yet he tried so hard to find something concrete within.
 
            One image that slowed down enough for him to see was some kind of pet collection squashed together to make one, enormously hideous creature he didn’t even want to recognize. Like a stack of photograph slides with a light running through, he saw a garble of two dozen legs, a handful of heads, a mass of tails that didn’t fit, and a horde of tongues lagging and swaying in a hundred unforeseeable directions. Somewhere deep down he knew they were his dogs, the ones he’d had by his side since he awoke in this life, but he couldn’t understand why none of them were recognizable. He thought about calling out names to see if any of the heads would turn his direction, but the words he would use never made it anywhere. They got lost in the frying synapses of his brain and wandered aimlessly around the broken images in there, discoloring and further confusing other memories and dreams.
 
            Outside, the sky was still black. But he knew it was coming soon. He’d just have to keep his eyes open for a little while longer. He had nothing more to do in this world but stay awake long enough. He thought he could manage. He hoped he could manage. 
 
            He prayed a silent, mumbled prayer for help. Of course, he heard nothing in return.
 
            Another image bubbled to the surface of his conscience, bobbing up and down slowly before retreating again to the murky depths. In this one a woman sat in a wheat field wearing an orange summer dress and laughing. Her head held back as far as it was allowed by her spine, her hair falling so far down her back it tickled her waist, her mouth upturned in a grin wide enough to lay in. This was the happiest woman he had ever seen in his life. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if he actually had seen her in his life. He thought he probably had, that there’s no way she could have been in his mind if it hadn’t been placed there by experience, but it was pointless to try to be sure. He accepted that he knew who she was, and he pretended that he was in love with her. He pretended that they had been married, had a family, lived in the simple luxury of a country life somewhere green. He pretended that their years were spent in laughter, lovemaking, deep gazes, and poetic pillow talk. He pretended that their kids, now grown up with families of their own of course, were leading lives of meaning and substance. He pretended that any minute now one of them, a son perhaps, would walk through the door of his bedroom and sit with him as he waited to see the sun again. He pretended that the laughing woman in the field was in bed next to him, that one of her hands rested on his chest and the other one stroked his fine, white hair. He pretended that she was whispering the lyrics of his favorite songs into his ear. There was no harm in pretending, just in the inevitable realization that pretend is only pretend, and can never be anything else. And then she was gone and the memory of his created memories went with her.
 
            The mattress of his bed sagged horribly in the middle so that he found himself trapped like a caterpillar in a cocoon. He couldn’t imagine ever getting himself off the bed again. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten into bed in the first place. Had he always been there? It was nearly too difficult for him to turn his head to face the window. How could he ever have lain down? Was there someone else here with him? Did he have a nurse, a maid, a friend, or a lover? He didn’t think anyone else was in the house, and yet he was certain he was not alone. 
 
This certainty, though, seemed to come from a place deep down in the pit of his stomach, a bright and glowing place amidst the gloom and shadow of the rest of his body, a place inhabited by someone not yet born, not yet alive, not yet ready to emerge anew. It was an infant voice that insisted he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t prepared for that infant to climb out of its shell or womb or whatever enclosed it. Not yet. That time was not right. There were things to do first. He quieted the voice–or did it just quiet itself?–and focused all his energies into watching the scene beyond the window pane.
 
            From his place on the bed, he couldn’t see his neighbor’s yard. And that was fine, that was just perfect. He didn’t care to see anything man-made then, just the sky. He wasn’t sure if the twinkling pinpricks of light in the sky were the stars are just the bright cracks of his corroding eyesight, but he chose to see them as distant suns and was delighted that there were so many in the sky. 
 
            The sky was less black now. Dawn was approaching.
 
            Another image flitted across his inner field of vision like a hummingbird stopping briefly to suck pollen through his straw of a beak. This one was of a little boy sitting under water. It must have been in a pool of some kind because the water was so blue, so clear. He didn’t think he’d ever been to a tropical beach, so a pool it must have been. The boy was twelve years old and had his legs folded together Indian style. One of his hands pinched his nose shut while the other floated around on its own, at mercy to the will of the water. Little bubbles streamed out of the corner of the boy’s mouth. His eyes were shut tight. Streams of an even lighter blue color pierced the depths of the water, glinting off the boy’s arms and face, like spotlight on the stage. After an eternity of pure blue silence, the boy jumped up, eyes wide, and swam as hard as he could for the surface. His feet kicked out of view and the image was gone.
 
            He realized that his eyes were closed. How long had they been shut? He opened them as wide as silver dollars. If he could have lifted his arms, he would have pried his eyelids open with his fingers. But his arms were too heavy. They lay limp and useless at his sides. He took as deep a breath as he could manage.  
 
            The sky was turning gray outside. The pinpoints of light stayed where they were. If they had been stars, they would hardly be seen now. He knew now that they were just more signs of his body’s rebellion against his soul; of his body’s relentless shutting down. He smiled and thought of them as stars anyway. He thought how wonderful it would be to see the sunrise and the stars at the same time. How lucky he was, how privileged.
 
            There was a noise then from another room in the house. He couldn’t tell which room it came from, or even what other rooms there were. It came again, a loud thwump like an old washing machine that was spiraling unevenly. Nobody was doing laundry were they? Not in his house. He decided to ignore the noise and focus on the task at hand…
 

            His eyes were closed again. He silently cursed himself, using every blue-stained adjective he could come up with, words that would make his mother do more than just blush. But they just made him laugh. They were ludicrous coming from his own voice–even if it was only in his head. They didn’t fit in his mouth, the vowels too short, the consonants too violent, and he was beside himself with the strange way they had found a passage through the muck to the forefront of his mind. Some things will never be forgotten, he supposed. Least of all the naughty things.

            He felt his breath getting slower and slower, shallower and shallower. He knew the end was near. Hell, he’d known it for some time now, but there was immediacy to it now. All he had to do was close his eyes and exhale and he knew he would drift away forever.
 
            Another image dangled before his mind like a stringed carrot before a racehorse, forever one step ahead before it was pulled out of sight. Here two black men sat across from each other at a fast food restaurant booth. One ate French fries, the other sucked on a milkshake. Neither of them left the other’s gaze. No words passed between them, not in the physical sense, but volumes were being spoken. They conversed about life and love and God and damnation and politics and sports and someone named Jeremiah. They argued, they agreed, they fought back and forth, and they reminisced. Neither of them moved except to eat and drink, but they were dancing arm in arm, hand in hand, forehead to forehead. Sometimes the dance was dangerous, yes, and sometimes it was downright bloody, but it was dancing all the same. They were intertwined in each other’s lives, each other’s souls, each other’s daydreams, and they held on to one another for dear, dear life. The one finished his last French fry as the other sipped the last glob of liquid ice cream, and they both stood up as one into the bright yellow shine of the sun’s light coming through the restaurant’s window. And as they did, that little carrot of a memory/dream/riddle was pulled away, leaving the racehorse of his mind to its own reckless devices.
 
            He pulled himself out of his head. It was too dark in there, too murky, images and voices were emerging that had no right to be there. He felt like he had become a channel, allowing other people’s thoughts to flow effortlessly through his brain. It started as a small stream, trickling over bare rocks and untouched earth, desperately trying to make a path for itself, and was now like a raging bull of a river, knocking down trees, digging ravines, and crashing over the sides.
 
            Outside, the sky was now a powdery blue. The sun was just moments away.
 
            And then another sound from another room. Not a washing machine now, but an instrument. A brass instrument. It sounded too high to be a trombone or tuba and too low to be a trumpet. A French horn, maybe? No, it was too guttural. It sounded like power. No, it sounded like Power. Where was it coming from? Who was playing? The notes came through the wall like giant bubbles through water; slowly, grandly, and with purpose. They fell upon his weak ears with such thunder and gravity that he was forced to close his eyes despite his will to keep them open. But though the sheer power of the blasts of the horn was enough to rattle his bones, there was something about their unnatural length and adagio vibrato that lulled him in a way. It wasn’t putting him to sleep, nothing so cradling as that, but it was wildly hypnotic. He could sense, if not exactly feel, his organs pulse and sway with the rhythm of the music.
 
            The uneven washing machine sound joined the thunderous horn and provided a kind of lop-sided percussion to the march. Was it a march? Was it anything so common as that? He thought it wasn’t. He thought the kind of music they were playing, if even it could be called music, had no name, no style, not category it would into.
 
The voice buried deep in the pit of his being, the infant voice, spoke up then and sang with the horn and drum. There were words, many words whose sounds were colorful and lively and epic in scope and meaning, but he couldn’t make them out. The sounds of the unseen instruments and the voice of the unseen being inside mixed together in an overwhelmingly other-worldly blend of soul and fire.
 
            He felt the pull of the song, tugging at him like a leash, and resisted. He had business to conduct before he could allow himself to join the chorus of that ethereal symphony.
 
            With all the strength he could muster, he opened his eyes and looked out the window. The powdery blue had been replaced by what he knew used to be a golden hue, but had since become a bronze rose. The sun would break the plane of his windowsill any moment now. He could already see the glare its shiny forehead cast on the ceiling of his bedroom. He watched with a nearly steady, almost straight stare at the space outside the lower pane of glass beside him.
 
            The music, though he had tried his best to ignore it, or at least put it aside for the time being, was still present and louder than ever. If it was external, which he knew now it wasn’t, it would have burst his eardrums and made his eyeballs swell. But it was deep inside him, so it just filled him up, like a balloon-full of helium, and threatened to float him away on its grand orchestral wings.
 
            Only the vision outside his bedroom anchored him to the earth.
 
            His eyes, having been open for nearly a full minute now were excruciatingly dry, and at last he finally allowed that he would blink once, very quickly to wetten them, before opening them again. But he couldn’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t budge his lids. He could have laughed then, if he could have, at the irony this situation lended: here he’d been struggling like mad to keep his eyes open for hours and now, try as he might, he couldn’t force himself to close them. It seemed they were going to be open till the end.

            And that was just fine by him.

            The music, which was no longer music so much as a calling, grew louder, more sophisticated. Other voices joined the infant’s, other unimaginable instruments joined the horn and washing machine drum. And just as he feared, he felt himself being pulled up and out of bed, lifted from the world that he called home for who could remember how many years. And as he floated higher and higher yet, he found he was able to move his body with ease. He craned his neck and looked down at his bedroom. There he lay. Or rather, there lay the dry husk of what he had inhabited. It was a shrunken and shriveled body bent at a horrible angle in the concave cubby of the mattress so that its eyes could peer out the window. It was nothing now. Nothing at all.

            He thought what a pity it was that he didn’t get to see the sunrise one last time.

            And then he ascended further; through the ceiling, past the insulation, into the dusty open space of the attic, and finally beyond the poorly shingled roof. When he was surrounded by nothing more than the cool morning air, he stopped moving. He looked to the east, and there he saw the face of God.
 
            Never had the sun been so big, so bright.
            Never had music run so deep, so spirited.
            Never had voices sounded so full, so inviting.
            Never had he wanted anything more than this.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Peter B. Diseth

Notoriety And What It Is-Dan Schneider

Thursday, January 31st, 2008
Notoriety and What It Is
By Dan Schneider
 
Kate Topps always seemed destined to be the kind of person whose career would be involved with helping others. Granted, this was technically true, now, as she had become a collections team manager at a large telecom company, after several years as a phone rep. She had never even worked on telephones before starting at the telecom, but had found that she enjoyed talking to others. She would have preferred working in customer care, or even sales, but the job she started at was in collections. It was a truism in the phone business, or even in telemarketing, that women make the best salesmen, but worst collectors. The reasoning, and truth, behind this, is fairly simple. Women excel at sales because when they are speaking to a woman, there is that sort of connection on an emotional level that women can speak of without seeming strained. If the customer mentions a child, or a divorce, or even some minor accident in the kitchen, a woman can relate, while a man is likely to seem insincere. Even when listening to a female customer rail on and on about her louse of a spouse, Kate would just try to tune out, for too much of it reminded her of her own life. Her own husband had cheated on her, a few years ago, and although Kate had gotten over it, there were still the self-doubts and queries, wondering what she had done to drive him away. There was also the feeling that she had been a fool, herself, for one time, at another job, one of her male co-workers, after many months, confessed to her that he had fallen in love with her, and Kate did not know what to do. She was very attracted to him, but even though her marriage was not going anywhere, she felt a loyalty to her promise. It was what her would be lover said to her next that stuck the longest with her, especially after her husband’s later infidelity. Her co-worker had said, ‘Kate, always remember that you could have.’ It was the kind of thing that he probably said offhandedly, yet it stuck with her almost like guilt does. She felt that he and she could have had far more in common than she ever did with her now ex-husband, and every time a woman digressed into something personal, Kate found herself back at that utterance by her former suitor, pining over her choice, and wondering how much a difference a momentary lapse of ethics would have wrought for her now.
 
Yet, never did her voice quaver on such recollections. This was a key to her success, even as a collector, where usually that fact handicaps. Women’s voices are naturally smoother than men’s and betray a vulnerability, which usually allows a customer to feel they have the upper hand, even if they do not, and perception, on the other party’s part, is everything in collections. Women’s advantages over men, however, when selling to men are obvious. Especially if the woman sounds young and sexy and perky, she will immediately have an in because, even on a subconscious level, most men will want to appear like they still are virile, to impress the woman, even if they will never meet her, even if they are married, for the man will want to feel that he ‘knows’ that he could have bagged the woman on the other end of the line, if he really wanted to. The best way to show his masculinity, in such a situation, is to show a willingness to buy, thus impress the woman, whom he has impossibly long odds of ever bagging sexually.
 
            Yet, these very qualities, which give women superiority in phone sales, also work against them in collections. Kate knew that the best collections rep in her office was a man who came from New York, had a weird and deep accent, and who spoke in a staccato monotone. These factors would have made him a very bad sales rep, but were the very things that made him a great collector. He was impassive, stuck to the facts, and did not budge. He almost seemed to revel in having the most foul mouthed customers call in and playing his little mind games on them- to castrate the men, especially. A well placed, ‘Well, let’s look at your account and….well, well, what is this?’ and then a good five or ten second pause, would send most customers, even those who started the call on a tirade, into meek and submissive silence. Or a strategic, ‘May I put you on hold?’, followed by a couple of minutes of Muzak, would again totally deflate a customer. This rep especially liked initially denying that anything was wrong with the account, when he got back to the phone, because he knew the more he denied the more the customer was worried and the more likely they were to want to actually resolve the problem. The fact that literally ninety percent or more of the problems were mostly or wholly the fault of their company didn’t really matter, because that rep just liked playing the game, especially knowing that he had the power most of the time. It was a way of controlling a small portion of life when most of life was never able to be put under control. Then, if he conceded even a little bit, the person he was speaking to could feel that he was a reasonable person, even if firm and business-like. Women, on the other hand, were often too malleable, and that went beyond mere perception. That quality, which allows for flexibility when selling, is seen as a weakness by those avoiding to pay what they owe, and if they feel that a collector is weak they will feel they can fluster them, or obfuscate with facts, and perhaps even delay payment until a ‘superior’ at the company investigated. With a man, the Harry Truman edict applied more often than not. The buck, and the deal, stopped with him!
 
So, getting in at the collections end was a challenge for her, but, as the months and years passed, she became quite good. Never a top collector, but someone with a great knowledge of the processes and computer systems, and a good ability to work with, and teach, others. Since she had only a little bit of a college education, and obviously no degree, when the offer of being made a team manager was made, by the manager of her center, she, mostly for the increased paycheck. She wondered if she would have the stomach to discipline others, but she looked forward to being there to help others maximize their talents. She especially enjoyed helping out others achieve good results, as she felt that she served some purpose in the cosmos. She realized it was not some grand thing, but how few people were ever capable of such grand implications from their presence and work? This was all especially good for her ego as she had still not gotten over the break up of her marriage of eleven years, a few years before she took the job at the telecom. Then, she had been a bright, effervescent woman, who was sought out by a number of men. She made the wrong choice, in retrospect, and when looking in the mirror, at her wider hips and crow’s feet, she wondered if she would ever find the sort of joy that she had felt would inevitably come when young. When she was younger, and more idealistic, her idea of a job where she could really help people consisted of working in the Peace Corps, or even Greenpeace. But, reality intrudes on all aspects of life- personal, professional, and elsewhere, and such flights of fancy often fade and crumple to reality’s siren call like so many other dreams, such as there being a Prince Charming out there for every girl, or even there being a plain old decent guy.
 
It’s not that her ex-husband was really a bad guy, he was just not the right guy for her, and not even at the right time. They had been in love, but, the truth was that that love, in those days, was just another word for lust, and as Kate was a girl with morals, she would not consent to sex until they were married. It said something for her ex- that he never pressured her, but such a flawed reason for a lifelong pairing is never a recipe for success. If the world had a meter to gauge how appropriate sexual pairings were to their participants, then she knew that her marriage would have been doomed from the start. How simple it would be, if people could gauge just such a thing. Now, some people might go ahead and get hitched anyway, and they might even prove the exceptions to the rule, but that would not be so for the majority, and maybe people would delay marriage and kids until they were older and wiser. Given modern life, that could only be a good thing. In retrospect, she even felt that a similar gauge could be used to most effectively pair people up with prospective jobs. Most people spent more waking time at work than they did at home, anyway. And, after all, the two sources of most people’s misery, she determined, was their choice of lover and their choice of job. Emotion and finances were at the root of almost all forms of human misery. Yes, it was not necessarily the cause of war, famine, nor the like, but most people did not suffer under reality’s grand ills. Most people squirmed uncomfortably under the thumb of little vices and pains that they did not want to acknowledge lest be mocked as being weak. Kate saw, that after she had re-entered the workplace, after her divorce, how few people really even understood the fundamentals of life, and how they could be used to derive happiness. It saddened her that a word that she might say to help someone at work might end up causing them to veer off into a depression. At the other end of the spectrum, there were people who, no matter how hard you tried to guide them, they would just let what you told them waft in one ear and come out the other. Yet, she found it interesting and helpful to learn how to tell the difference between those two types of people.
 
          Such small things interested her. The very ideals and concepts over what constituted a good and a bad job, for example, were always changing, and usually for the worse. When she was young, and just entering the workforce for the first time, there were expectations of a good pension, and benefits that the company would provide, in exchange for hard work, so that a catastrophic illness to the person, their spouse, or child, would not forever send a family into debt. Companies that had these sorts of safeguards, and paid well, were considered good companies. How this change in perception took hold she could not figure out. Just as she could not figure out what young people found so fascinating about electronic gadgets, while she preferred reading a good book. Then, one day, it clicked. The very thing that made people so fascinated with I-Pods, cell phones, and other such devices was the same narcotizing factor that turned them off from realizing how badly they were being treated by companies. If someone could while away their free time playing the latest video game, then why would they care if a quarter or more of their paycheck went for basic health insurance that wouldn’t even cover certain illnesses that they may get, or if they had a recurrent condition. How little it took to lower people’s expectations, and demote what was once thought of as a ‘right’ to a mere ‘luxury’.
 
While her telecom was till one of the companies that could be classed as providing decent benefits, she noted that they refused to provide pens, paper, scrap paper, and often ran low on toilet paper and paper towels in the bathroom, even as they were making record quarterly profits. The CEO always whined about his company’s outrageous expenses in disability and healthcare, but never seemed to mention that his stock option bonuses, paid quarterly, were worth millions, even though the company floundered under his leadership. Still, there were worse places to work, and Kate had worked at them, and even if the telecom did routinely do things that were questionable on an ethical scale, and definitely do some things that were illegal. Kate resolved that as long as she never actively nor knowingly violated the law, she could live with the compromise. In a sense, she knew that this very malleability was why she was offered the managerial job, and not the New Yorker, who was a far better collector. Yet, she did not want to be a mere ‘puppet’ nor figurehead.
 
But, nowadays, companies that provided such were considered dinosaurs, and mocked for their lack of business acumen by Wall Street. Employees and their hard work were devalued, stripped and codified into units. They were just shy of being labeled with UPC bar codes, she felt, and she thought back to her days in high school, and reading books like 1984 and Brave New World. Had that actually come to pass, but with the even greater horror that no one even took note that it had? Had she just become a management cog in a faceless machine- part of the problem she knew plagued society at large? There were reps, on her team, that Kate knew were excellent with customers, retained much business, but by the modern metrics of sales per hour, and time spent on the phone, were considered liabilities, even though Kate knew their contributions were invaluable. She resisted the subtle and not so subtle pressures of the management forces above her to downgrade such employees in her reviews, and this sometimes got her a rebuke from upper management.
 

No matter how much she tried to explain the intangible value that such ‘old time’ ethics brought, the pimple faced kids who were now running most of the company simply could not understand. It was like trying to explain the penny wise but pound foolish IVR phone systems that the company used drove away customers. The management reply was that, since all the telecoms, and even non-telecom companies, used such systems, the consumer had no place else to go. Kate countered that that left a perfect opening for their company to brand itself as ‘the company that cares’, or ‘the company with a human face’, or some such easily marketable slogan that could boost the company’s standing in the industry. But most of the young managers were only obsessed with the transitory, the metrics by which their own paychecks were gauged, and the rest of the company could go to hell. Even her own paycheck was calculated by billable dollars in revenue that her team handled, not in actual dollars they brought in. Thus, she had an incentive to lie and ‘cook the books’ on a weekly basis. While Kate never did so, she knew that many of her fellow managers did, to ensure they made as much money as they could as long as they could, but Kate simply could not bring herself to lie. Not only that, but she knew that if the FCC or FTC ever started looking at things she did not want any personal liability coming her way.

Kate had been concerned with such ethics for the longest time. Little things affected her more than she cared to admit. One day, while going to the bathroom in the women’s restroom, she was in the process of defecating, when she noticed, in the corner of her stall, by one of the metal supports for the stall, there was a large brown insect lying on its back. It may have been a roach or a waterbug, she could not tell. What she could tell was that it was in its death throes. Perhaps it has eaten some strategically place poison, whose effects were only now being felt. That it had flipped itself upside down fascinated her, as she saw its translucent bottom twitch, and its slower and slower moving legs slowly open and close until, after a few minutes, and by the time she was ready to wipe herself clean, the sic little spindles had locused themselves shut, and down upon the body. From a distance, she blew a bit its way, but the creature was still. It was dead, but in the wince of a pause a chill ran through her, as she stood up, pulled up her clothing, and walked out toward the sink to wash her hands. Such moments always touched her too deeply.
 
Perhaps her sensitivities went all the back to her early childhood. She became obsessed with Vietnam after her father, who was shot down in a helicopter over one of the dozens of rivers in that country, had sent her a letter detailing the country’s beautiful landscapes and how the military was destroying it with chemicals like Agent Orange. There was that famous photograph of the naked little Vietnamese girl, running down a road, after being burned by napalm. It stuck in Kate’s mind, for the girl was about the same age as she was. Then, years later, she recalled when they built that memorial to the war in Washington. She wanted to visit it, put a piece of paper against its blackness, and trace the name of her father, but found that she could never do it. Something about that act would make it true, that her dad was really gone. Even to this day, in a part of her mind, daddy was still at the war, and would come home. It was silly, for she had been married, divorced, had kids of her own, and was now looking at the rest of her life as if the bulk of it was over. All she had was the future and taking care of her kids. There was not much in the future for her, so this made her past all the more powerful and cogent.
 
Yet, there was one more thing from her youth, and that damnable war, that she could never get over. While she never visited the Vietnam War Memorial, she did read up on the monument’s maker, Maya Lin, and was moved by that woman’s story. Then, she recalled a magazine article, many years after the fact, where the little naked napalmed girl was interviewed. She too had emigrated to the United States after the war. But, the incident that stuck the most in her head was the film, by NBC News, of the South Vietnamese general who shot a captured Vietcong in the head. The image on film was shattering, but even more devastating was the still photo by Eddie Adams that appeared in the newspapers afterwards. It was an Associated Press photo, and it was taken right at the second of impact, as the dying Vietcong’s face contorted as the bullet ripped through his skull. In the film, he would instantly fall to the ground, and a pool of blood would quickly form, but in the still photo the instant of his death, and contorted face, was permanently etched in the minds of millions, including Kate Topps.
 
For some reason, years after it occurred, Kate saw the photo again, in a history book, and decided to find out what the real story was behind the incident. In her research, she was saddened to learn that the general who had killed the man had died some years earlier, of cancer. Kate had dreamt of asking the man how he could do such a dreadful thing, but now that opportunity was gone. What was not gone was her quest for a reason. Yes, she knew of the Nazis, and the Soviet Gulags, and the Japanese war atrocities, and the tens of millions murdered under Mao Zedong, and the Killing Fields, and countless other atrocities and genocides from time immemorial. Death became an odd sort of hobby for Kate- she even studied serial killers from Jack the Ripper on. But that one dead Vietnamese man was different. He had a face. And that face was known worldwide. That made a big difference.
 
But, Kate wanted to know not about him, but about the man who killed him- the whys and wherefores. Was he an inhuman monster, so cold that he was willing to brazenly kill on camera without fear of consequences? Did dying of cancer act as some sort of slow retribution for that atrocity, many decades later? Kate was not a believer in such things, and all her years in business had inured her to the reality that evil things go on every day and their perpetrators are never punished. To believe otherwise is to invite dementia into one’s life. Yet, Kate came to realize that the great acts of evil do not occur in a void; they are the end results of countless small evils that help the larger evils occur in the first place. There had to be some larger context for such a brutal murder, and Kate was determined to find out why. Not for some great project on human death nor evil, but just so that she could sleep more easily, knowing that a small part of the cosmos was now more explicable to her.
 
She started going to her local library, and comparing notes with what she had gleaned about the incident online. Slowly, but inexorably, a pattern emerged, and the incident which initially had seemed so inexplicable came into focus. The murdered man had, himself, been a killer, who had helped wipe out the family of one of the general’s underlings. There was a motive for his act, and it was one that could be understood, even if not agreed with. To the rest of the world the general was a symbol of all that was evil in Indochina, on either side of the war. Yet, this was not really fair to the man. After ‘the incident’, he was shunned by the American military establishment, and even his own government. After the fall of Saigon, some years later, American forces refused to help him escape, but he got them out on a South Vietnamese plane. The more Kate learned about the man, whose name she found out was Nguyen Ngoc Loan, the less she felt he was a monster, and the more she could understand him, if not forgive him. This was because there had probably been another General Loan type, on the other side of the war, who felt just as justified in killing her father. But she knew that if she could understand why such a seemingly good, if not average, man could do what he did, then she could make better sense of that whole damnable war and why her father had died in it. She read of efforts to deport the general from the United States, after he emigrated, for many Left Wingers considered him a war criminal- on par with the Nazi’s worst, but when it got out in the press that he was an amputee, the efforts subsided, and he eventually opened up a pizzeria in northern Virginia, in Dale City.
 
Yet, by the time Kate had found all this information out, Loan had been dead for several years, she knew that she would have to make do with the lingering hates and doubts about the war as best she could. Then, not long after that realization, 9/11 occurred, and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq followed, and as more and more American men and women were senselessly wounded and killed for no apparent reason, Kate started having dreams about Loan, where she would ask him questions of things, things that did not make sense only unless they were in the context of killing. She asked him of why there were no attacks on oil fields, while thousands of Iraqi civilians died in senseless attacks. Loan could only reply that things are always considered more valuable than people in wars, and all wars are about things. After treading lightly on larger issues, Kate finally got around to querying the man about himself. She was surprised to hear him answer that he was not a killer, and did not consider himself such, even though he had killed, and was one of the few persons ever in war to have been documented as doing such. Instead, he felt that his job was to help others, and if by killing evil people he helped others, so be it.
 
As he talked and talked, Kate felt herself growing more and more awake, until, her eyes popped open, and the nebulous field that she was speaking to the general in gave way to her own bedroom, and a midnight sweat. There was no longer the general, and oddly, for the first night in the longest time, there was no presence of her father, either. Yes, in noticing his absence she was conjuring him, but it was not in the visceral way that she always had- the kind which impelled her to seek reasons for his lack in her life in the first place. Instead, she just lay in bed, and listened to the sound of her own heart, not racing in the slightest. It was normal, contented, beating faintly and calmly as it had millions of times before. But the best part was that there was no one but Kate to notice this change, and, after all, she was the only one who could have appreciated it anyway.
 
Copyright C. 2008 Dan Schneider

Archives: Issue Four

Thursday, January 31st, 2008

January 2008.

Creative Writing

Dead Letter Office-Clay McLeod Chapman

Silently Goes The Night-Tano Katusha

To Whom It May Concern-Danielle Ferguson

City of Angels-Francis Powell

Journey-Francis Powell

Binary Lust-Jacob Lasham

One Star Filled Night Jerry Found Power While Looking for Parts-Jacob Lasham

Time Travelers-Jacob Lasham

The Stench-Laura Doom

Waiting For Knights To Fall-Laura Doom

The History of An Eternity-Laura Doom

Fucking Beautiful-Stephanie Dore

Music

Sundowner: Four One Five Two (2007)-Constantine Koutsoutis

Funeral for A Friend: Tales Don’t Tell Themselves (2007)-Davey Boy

Jonathan Rice: Further North (2007)-Ethan Smith

Carissa’s Weird: Songs About Leaving (2002)-Ethan Smith

Patrick Wolf: Wind in The Wires (2005)-Ethan Smith

Film

Fata Morgana (1971)-Dan Schneider

The Magic Flute (1975)-Dan Schneider

Sicko (2007)-Lorna Garano

Learning to Adapt-Norbert Brown

Adventures in Netflix #4-Gabriel Ricard

Interviews

PBC Productions Interview-Gabriel Ricard

 

Archives: Issue Three

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

December 2007.

Creative Writing

Dreamin’-Robert Hyers

Sight-Ann Hite

Showing Off Mary Lou-Bob Liter

French Class Blues-Chris Sorrenti

Under An Orwellian Sky-Chris Sorrenti

Fishing for Love-Jeanna Cole

Laughter is Not The Best Medicine-Jeanna Cole

Accident Report-Joanna M. Weston

Before Spring-Joanna M. Weston

The Person on The End-Joanna M. Weston

Dorothy-Natalie Williams

Let Me Breathe In Your Today-Natalie Williams

Slip Into Me-Natalie Williams

Hair In The Ground!-Sean Rooney

Ripe-Sean Rooney

You Been Up To Goatsneck-Sean Rooney

Music

Thrice: Alchemy Index Vols. I and II (2007)-David Whitesell

A Fine Frenzy: One Cell in The Sea (2007)-Amber Hall

Film

Funny Games (1997)-Norbert Brown

Lions for Lambs (2007)-Wayne Scheer

Adventures in Netflix #3-Gabriel Ricard

Interviews

Doug Jones Interview-Gabriel Ricard

Archives: Issue Two

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

November 2007.

Creative Writing

A Stake Through The Heart-Anne Hite

What’s Wrong With Being Lazy-Wayne Scheer

All Sleeping Together-Ben Latini

The Point of No Return-Laura Doom

The Missing-Laura Doom

1989-Anne Boulender

For My Flat Eyes Only-Anne Boulender

Lights Out-Anne Boulender

Reverie of Goodbye-Selena Dewi Jans

Waters-Selena Dewi Jans

Aborted-Justin Kibbe

Music

Vashti Bunyan: Just Another Diamond Day-Ethan Smith

Patrick Wolfe: The Magic Position-Ethan Smith

Smashing Pumpkins: Mellon Collie and The Infinite Sadness-Richard Fish

Rilo Kiley: Under The Blacklight-Amber Hall

Film

Celine and Julie Go Boating-Michael Patano

From Beyond-Michael Patano

Into The Wild-Michael Patano

Close Your Eyes-Norbert Brown

Adventures in Netflix #2-Gabriel Ricard

Interviews

Tim Ekkebus Interview-Gabriel Ricard

Archives: Issue One

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

 October 2007.

Creative Writing

The Sport of Kings-P. Absbury

Divide Unaware-Michelle Angelini

I Dream Myself-Michelle Angelini

No Life Too Small-Michelle Angelini

My Name Across The Sky-Michelle Angelini

The Valiant Hero-Brandi Purchas

A Single Mother’s America-Teresa Farnham

The Red Bull Generation-Gabriel Ricard

Running for Office-Gabriel Ricard

Music

PJ Harvey: White Chalk-Kristy Parker

Film

Eastern Promises (2007)-Michael Patano

Blood Sucking Freaks (1976)-Michael Patano

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)-Michael Patano

Adventures in Netflix #1-Gabriel Ricard

Interviews

Clay Chapman Interview-Gabriel Ricard

Robert V. Aldrich Interview-Gabriel Ricard