Funnel Clouded


Mother Nature can be a bit of a bitch from time to time.

My guess is she has to show who is really  in charge of it all.

Earthquakes.

Erupting volcanoes.

She has gotten her “pissed off on” as we say in the country, as of late.

For me….it doesn’t seem real…..

I mean, I know it is, but seeing devastation on TV is still…..just watching TV.

Take this past week for example.

The number 1 story from every news outlet was the earthquake in Nepal.

As it should have been.

I can’t even imagine what it was, is, AND will be like to be there in the foreseeable future.

It is completely unfathomable to me.

In contrast, the number 2 story…..which was barely beaten out by the earthquake, was…..

Drumroll please…..

Bruce Jenner announcing that he is a woman.

How that news effects anyone outside his circle of have to be constantly in the spotlight by just being rich friends and family is once again…..

Unfathomable to me. Completely.

But….this is America.

And on our list of have to do,

Keeping up with any and all things related to the Kardashian’s is much more important than pretty much anything else.

I have never even used the “K” word before this and my autocorrect knew what I was spelling before I did.

Anyway, I’m getting my pissed off on just thinking about the importance of celebrity in our society and have gotten off topic.

Back to my reality.

I’ve always wanted to witness a tornado in action.

Just watch a funnel drop out of the sky and destroy.

It has to be awe inspiring.

Well….

I don’t anymore.

We had one drop down in our area a few days ago.

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That is an upside down boat dock.

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That dock used to be in the water.

Those docks are heavy. Let me repeat that last word-

HEAVY.

Mother nature picked them up and tossed them over like a game of jenga.

Lots of property damage, but luckily no injuries.

Once again, real life does for me what TV can’t.

Cult Forty5


Through the black acrid smoke and bright  flames that were ablaze in my dream, the child walked out from within the fire and pointed at me.

Then, turned his palm up and beckoned me to come with his index finger.

As the hot embers encircled and danced around him, he stared directly into my soul, smiled a devious smile and said-

“You should be here with me….”

He then put the hand up to his mouth, blew on the muzzle of his index finger, turned, dropped his weapon to his side and returned to the blaze.

The bang on the metal door is what awoke me and prevented me from following the child into his abyss.

BANG BANG

“Med time, Forty5.”

I got up from the bed and made a slow walk to the door.

The slot on the center of the door opened and a cup with a single pill and another cup  filled with water were pushed through. 

From behind the tempered glass window above the slot, the pill pusher said,

“I expect you to be shuffling around in a daze the next time I do my rounds like the rest of the psychos in this place.  Swallow your pill this time. Don’t make us come in and force you again.”

Without a word, I looked him in the eyes and pointed my index finger at him. Then I turned my palm up and beckoned him to
him to come in, while wearing a devious smile across my sunken pale face.

He returned the smile with a missing  front tooth and held up his arm which was in a cast and replied-

“I said us…..not me. I learn a lot quicker than you psyche patients do, which is why I am on this side of the cell and you are on the other. Take your pill.”

I took the pill and swallowed it.

I then put my index finger up to my mouth and blew on the muzzle, turned and returned to my bed on the other side of the sparcely furnished cell.

“Good boy, Forty5. Once you are nice and loopy, the doc is gonna come by for a session. Don’t worry….he will have back up, also.”

My name is not Forty5, by the way.

It’s the cell number.

I’m not the only Forty5 that has called this dump home. Evidence of their past occupancy are carved into the concrete walls like cemetery headstones.  Names, dates, conversations, pleads for help, admissions of abuse and criminal acts by patients and staff.

The walls are a virtual soap opera of psychotic bliss.

The pills I am forced to take are Thorazine…..which are used to keep psychotic and schizophrenic people in check.

By, in check, I mean turning them into zombies that shuffle around in circles until then last coherent thought slowly escapes their mind and the drooling sets in.  

Then hours of sleep.

I’m not crazy.

It’s just that no one believes that they are real.

……………..

And…

That they will stop at nothing to get me to join them.

(Shuffle shuffle)

………………

I thought the fire……..

(Shuffle shuffle)

But even death won’t…….

………………

Sometimes the writing on the walls talk.

(Shuffle shuffle stop stare)

Beware of the listening bugs in the vents – November 1973 fourdefive

I pull my stubbed pencil out of my pocket and scrawl a sentence on the wall amongst the other cemetery residents.

(Turn shuffle shuffle)

The bed…..is……far.

I reach the bed, groggy….lay down and face the wall that I just wrote on.

As I surrender to the effects of the pill, my  epitaph on the wall rings through my head-

And a child shall lead them – yesterday today n fourever Forty5

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To be continued……

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good2begone:

A history lesson on Honest Abe from a 12 year old who cares not for learning history.

Originally posted on Good2begone:

Middle school and history class. 2 phrases that don’t get along.

I enjoy history. Not just American history but World History. To know where your going, you have have to know where you’ve been as a nation.

When my middle school aged step daughter comes home with History homework I like to help try to engage her in conversation to see what she is learning.

One particular topic that she was studying this past year was Abraham Lincoln. One of my favorite subjects and most fascinating to me. It was time to engage…..

Me- tell me what you know about Pres. Lincoln.

Her- he had a beard….but no mustache, wore that hat that looked like the one that guitar guy you like wears, he was famous for some address he lived at-

Me- address he lived it? You mean The White house?

Her- no, he gave some speech about some…

View original 280 more words

Feeding The Labrinth


The labrynth calls to me…..beckons me into its maze of bound backs and spines filled with stories from centuries long past and ones yet to be told.

Fantastic imaginative yarns weaved with words that speak louder with each page that is turned.

The labrynth allows journeys to the farthest corners of the earth and beyond. The only barrier being the limits of the imagination of the one who breaches it’s hallowed corridors.

One does not seek the labrynth. The labrynth seeks for the one.

Calling out in dreams that begs to seek the reality.

The labrynth has no address, no sign to announce it’s existence.

It is only found when the one seeks to follow it’s call.

The whispers begin at the back of my  memory. A distant calling back to a time when when audible letters became words. Pieced together, they became sentences. Transcribed on paper and repeated through the eyes they became magic. Unleashing worlds and creatures that beg for existence beyond paper and ink.

Those whispers beckon the search for the location where imagination lies in print.

The Labrynth.

The whispers called to me.

The only rule of the labrynth is this-

To satisfy my hunger for the labrynth, the labrynth must be fed in return.

To keep the delicate balance of the mysterious labrynth in check, I  must give my words in order to take someone elses.

I left my home as day was turning to night. Dark clouds began to roll in and shielded the blood moon from illuminating my way.

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The whispers as my only guide. Leather satchel flung over my shoulder containing a bound portfolio of my minds work.

My imagination.

My sweat.

My cramped hands.

My soul.

Stories created on this blog, casually listed under the menu section, transcribed from screen to paper using ink that flowed like blood once the process began.

My words.

My sentences.

My stories.

My soul.

About to be turned over to a place that I have never been to and will probably never find again.

In order to be fed…..I must feed.

The whispers grew louder as my journey wore on.

Beckoning.

Begging.

Pleading.

My head was ringing with interconnecting voices, accents, and language I could not decipher.

My eyes began to water and blur from the decibels the arose within my mind. I closed them tight to regain my focus.

As I turned a bend in the road and nearly collapsed from the weight of the drawing force within me……

Everything stopped.

Silence.

I gripped my leather satchel with both hands until they became numb and then opened my eyes.

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A single building with a single light stood before me in the darkness.

I walked up the few steps and cautiously rapped on the metal door.

Knock…..

Knock….

Knock….

The door opened.

A man who stood easily over 7 feet, looked me up and down and said,

“Welcome to the Labrynth…..we have been waiting for you.”

I walked past him and into the entryway of the labrynth. My first thought was he smelled of dust…..and time.

“I trust you have brought something of yourself to leave behind….” he asked.

I opened up my satchel and reached in to grab my portfolio.

The tall man stopped me and shook his head.

“You dont give to me, young man. You give to the labrynth. Leave it in place of the one you take.”

I quizzingly asked,

“How will I know which one to take?”

He smiled and replied,

“The labrynth knows…..the labrynth knows. Come. It is time.”

He walked over to 2 large oak doors that stood taller than he. He pulled them open revealing as many stories of books above as there were stories below.

Walkways.

Hallways.

A virtual skyscraper of books that reached into the heavens and to the depths of the underworld.

I tried to take in the massive inventory of bound words.

All I could manage was a gulp.

The man led me in and said,

“Take all the time you need. Find what has been waiting for you. Leave what will be sought. Exit through the door from which you came.”

I began walking through the catacombs. Brushing my hand against books that could very well be older than time itself.

Every language.

Every genre.

Every type of script ever imagined.

Shelves upon shelves lined with books, manuscripts, stories, lives waiting to be awoken and explored.

I searched up.

I searched down.

I lost track of time and place.

Mesmerized by the centuries of print.

As I glided down a certain corridor lit only by candlelight, I was strangely drawn to a spine that seem to illuminate the closer I got.

My heart rate quickened, my fingers seemed to tingle as I brought the book out from the chorus line of the adventures that surrounded it.

Upon releasing the novel from its libraric prison, a soft but quite audible

“yeeeeeeesssss.”

was heard from somewhere deep in the labrynth.

I turned the cover toward me and shuddered when I saw the title-

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With shaking hands I placed the book into my satchel and pulled out my portfolio to put in its place.

As I pushed it onto the shelf and released my fingers from my written soul another soft yet audible sound was heard-

“aahhhhh”

Then all went silent.

The only sound was my footsteps as they were strangely led directly to the door from which I entered at the other end of the very corridor from which the feeding took place.

I walked out of the labrynth into the sunlight, which was overtaking the west and illuminating toward the other horizons.

I felt exhausted…..yet light on my feet. With my prize under my arm, I began to walk back to where my reality resided.

Stopping once to smell the bluebonnets, whose sight and smell were much brighter than I had ever imagined.

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I stood up and opened my satchel. In the darkness of the case, the book that lay within, which bore the chosen name of my blog, seemed to tell me-

“We have such sights to show you……”

But that…..

Is another story all together.
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All photos taken by good2begone or Mr. B Gone, if you will.

Story created as a tribute to the ‘Cemetery of Forgotten Books‘ found within the pages of “The Shadow of the Wind” series written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

The “We have such sights to show you” Quote taken from “Hellraiser” by Clive Barker.

GET YOUR READ ON

The Deep End


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Sometimes, the best thing about work comes down to 3 things-

1- location
2- location
3- location

If you ain’t doin’ what makes you happy, maybe it’s time to dive into something new.

Chicken Coup


Clucking news from the good2begone underwire-

A Kentucky woman who allegedly tried to strangle another woman with a bra was thwarted when the victim fought back with a ceramic chicken.

Police in Lexington arrested Ashley Sies, 31, early Monday morning after she allegedly pushed her way into a home belonging to Patricia Leece, 61.

“It happened about 12:30 the other night. Someone came to my doors, banging, screaming and hollering,” Leece told WKYT.

At first, Leece thought her granddaughter was the one banging on the door. Instead, it was Sies, who pushed her way inside of Leece’s home and wrapped a bra around the homeowner’s neck.

Sies and Leece struggled for about 15 to 20 minutes before the victim found a way to protect herself, Leece says.

“Finally, I saw one of my (ceramic) chickens on the floor so I picked it up and started bashing her on the head with it,” she said, according to UPI.com.

Sies was knocked out by the chicken. Leece locked herself in the bathroom and called police, Kentucky.com reports.

Officers then took Sies to the hospital before booking her on charges of first-degree burglary, WKYT reports. Leece told the station she also plans to press charges for the attack.

Sies was in court Tuesday morning where she pleaded not guilty to the burglary charge, according to Kentucky.com.

Colonel Sanders was not available for comment at newstime.

We are still waiting for word on whether or not the apparent burglar was under the impression that the homeowner was in fact about to go public with the infamous secret that Victoria has been hiding.

As far as places with crime worth talking about…..Kentucky remains undefeated.

That’s the news, that does in fact, taste like chicken.

I’m good2begone…..

And your not.

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—————–

Actual story from David Moye at the Huffington Post.

It’s true….no matter how much I wish I made it up.

Memory Lane


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Norman Bates: …..No one really runs away from anything. It’s like a private trap that holds us in like a prison. You know what I think? I think that we’re all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.

Marion Crane: Sometimes… we deliberately step into those traps.

Norman Bates: I was born into mine. I don’t mind it anymore.

Marion Crane: Oh, but you should. You should mind it.

Norman Bates: Oh, I do…
[laughs]…..But I say I don’t.

Quotes from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho”

Image by good2begone.

Roll The Bones


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 “After that my guess is that you will never hear from him again. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist. And like that… he is gone.
 
Quote taken from the film ‘The Usual Suspects’. Spoken by Roger “Verbal” Kint, played by Kevin Spacey, speaking about Kayser Soze.

Image by good2begone.

They Said


Come shoot hoops with us

They said

It will be fun

They said

You can’t be that bad

They said

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…………..

Maybe you are

They said

STUPID BALL…YOU HAD ONE JOB

I said.

Way to go KenStuckey

They said

Gilligan’s Planet


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Bad ideas happen everyday.

Most of the time the person or persons who have the idea believe that it is actually the greatest idea of all time…..until they put it into action.

Months of planning, high fives, chants of “you can do it” and “this is a virtually foolproof idea” culminate in that faithful day where the inevitable happens.

It turns out to be a…..

Bad idea.

Age will tell if you get this reference or not-

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The famed Snake Canyon rocket bike jump by Evil Kneivel.

Se that arrow pointing to the bottom…..that’s where he ended up…..live….on TV.

That entire event from obvious drunken bet with friends to getting pulled out of the canyon was a bad idea.

Now….

The world greatest daredevil association, known more commonly as NASA, has an idea that they plan to put into action in around 10 years or so.

And…

They already have 100 volunteers that are getting the high fives and hearing what a great idea it is and are willing to participate in going on a one way trip to Mars.

There will be no return flight because there is no Chevron on Mars…..

Or anything else for that matter.

At least, that’s what I get from the video sent from the lego toy robot we supposedly have there already.

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I don’t know how they picked this special group of 100, but I would think that seeing how our planet is made up of such a large cross-section of people that each section would have to be represented.

I did a few Google searches on our planet….first was “How many countries are in the world”-

U.N. Members: 193
U.N. Observer States: 2 
States With Partial Recognition: 2  
Inhabited Dependent Territories: 45
Uninhabited Territories: 6
Antarctica: 1
Total: 249

This where my first red flag went up. There are more countries than people being sent.

Which ones will start the political uprising for being left out?

Next Google question, “How many languages are used in the world?”

While many believe the number of languages in the world is about 6,500, according to Ethnologue, there are 7,106 living languages as of 2014. Although this number might be the latest count, there is no one clear answer as to the exact number of languages that still exist. There has always been the question as to how many languages are there in the world. One might think that linguists will have a definite idea on the exact number, but as it turns out, there are many different reasons why determining a full count of world languages is quite difficult. It cannot simply be attributed to the fact that there are still parts of the world that have not yet been fully explored, such as the Amazon forest areas and the highlands of New Guinea.

RED FLAG #2!!!

Unless a few of the 100 are fluent in a more than 2 languages then we are not representing everyone.

RED FLAG #3

Whoa! Hold on just a second….there are still parts of Earth that are not fully explored? Shouldn’t we finish screwing up every part of our world BEFORE we start venturing off to one that has been just fine without us?

Question #3, “How many religions are there in the world?”

 A comparative survey of churches and religions – AD 30 to2200, there are 19 major world religions which are subdivided into a total of 270 large religious groups, and many smaller ones.

RED FLAG NUMERO QUATRO!!

The people of Earth love their gods. Can we really afford to leave any out. What if the one that isn’t represented is the one that knows Mars the best?

So many red flags……

No wonder we are going to the red planet.

Obviously, there was a more scientific way to figure out the 100.

I just had to think in terms of castaways…..

planetary castaways.

They will have to have someone to get them there. It will take 7-9 months to travel 140,000,000 miles.

They need a guide. A navigator. A map knowing person-

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There really can’t be a colonization of a new planet without someone who knows a lot of stuff. You know….scientific stuff…a brilliant mind sort of stuff-

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You gotta have chicks. Chicks have style and grace. Every planet needs style and grace-

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Not just chicks….but country chicks as well. Style and grace only gets you so far. You gotta have a country chick that takes no crap and can show the rest of the planet how to agriculturally prosper-

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This whole venture ain’t goin nowheres without the rich folk. After all, it’s going to take a lot of money to complete this one way trip. A few of them are going to have to go along-

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The rest of the hundred are more or less supporting cast members that will do what the rest tell them and just be happy to get away…..forever.

Except for the one guy that goes on the trip that no one accounts for. He may screw things up, make every one mad and is a constant thorn in the side of progress but he is everyone’s little buddy.

Mars…..meet your leader-

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Regardless of how the 100 are picked, this is a bad idea.

I can’t even go the Walmart with my family without having an outburst.

And,

There are no rest stops between here and Mars. I hope they remember to pack the febreze.