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Stephen’s Journey

Stephen watched and listened to the news: an endless loop of burning neighborhoods, tsunami warnings, earthquake devastation, and political unrest. Never before had his thoughts mimicked what was happening outside, so precisely. Chaos and confusion.

What had Stephen learned from his Zen Master? In the midst of the insanity, there is peace. That elusive peace, difficult to find in the past, now seemed far, far away. A voice deep within his unconscious mind told him that giving up meant abandoning humanity and himself. Stephen was a fighter, he fought for the right to be his authentic self, he fought for community justice, he fought for the underserved, and he fought for an ideal he knew in his heart was unattainable.

After all, it wasn’t his war and the drought did not directly affect him. It wasn’t his house or even his cousin’s house. It wasn’t his sister’s body they were trying to manage and manipulate. It wasn’t his religion being used to brainwash and control. It wouldn’t be his home in twenty years or his oceanfront Airbnb in thirty years. Wouldn’t they find a cure for cancer soon? Weren’t pills meant to mask the pain and wouldn’t technology save the planet?

The answers to the questions he grappled with were way too obvious to overlook. He knew in his heart that there truly was only one force that would determine the course of time; that force is and has always been Mother Nature. Was she pissed off? No, Stephen knew she wasn’t angry. Her only focus is correction. The balance the universe seeks to maintain is non-negotiable; solutions imply that there is a problem to be solved — there is no problem, there is only inevitability. What led Stephen to these complex thoughts?

When Stephen was 50 years old he suffered a massive heart attack which nearly ended his life. He had always questioned his existence, but this near death experience forced him to take inventory of his life and its meaning. Was he working in the right field and in the right place? Were his friends supportive? Was he communicating with his life partner effectively and did this person do everything possible to lift him up? Was he the partner he thought he could and should be? And so many other questions which he hoped he could find answers to. Not only answers, but a positive path forward as well. If he was going to live, he wanted to live with purpose and fulfillment.

Stephen contemplated the future of the world, his inner and outer circle, his place. Although it is a lifelong process, he found himself slightly more accepting of the reality of his limitations and grateful for the gifts the universe provides. And his conclusions?

AI generated

In his quest to find answers and inner peace, few things were clear to him. First and foremost, his own being was but a minuscule part of the whole — no more or less than any other being, next: however small, each eventually amounted to the totality, and therefore, mattered equally. Lastly, Stephen had the ability to determine his contribution. Would he change the course of nature? The answer was a resounding, no, but he could make an impact on his immediate surroundings. He could make the older woman who lived next door’s day a little easier, he could share a story with his niece that would help her to understand her mother, he could model kindness and consideration. What he learned from experience and feedback, is that all of these things collectively would make a difference in the now. Although the future would be whatever it was meant to be, Stephen could embrace the present and enjoy the sun and a delicious burger.

Stephen is a fictional Everyman character. We are all seeking answers and punting as time quickly passes. Some of us fill in the blanks with nonsense, some of us see the answers, but refuse to acknowledge them, some of us do not have the capacity to decipher fact from fiction, a few of us realize the search is part of the journey, and some of us want to change facts to suit our own needs. Nature is equipped to deal with an unstable and defensive environment, giving us one less thing to concern ourselves with — all that is wrong with our vessel will eventually be made right.

I know this story was somewhat hokey, but this is where my head is these days; needing to find meaning in the madness. Today, I will enjoy a burger. Looking forward to some time away on the west coast of France in a couple of weeks. But first, a visit from a good friend living in the U.S.

“It is change, continuing change, inevitable change, that is the dominant factor in society today. No sensible decision can be made any longer without taking into account not only the world as it is, but the world as it will be.”

Isaac Asimov

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If She Had to Choose

Olivia’s sister Sarah was far more cunning and she knew it. Deceit ran in the family, as did out-of-control spending and jealousy. Sarah was not beautiful in the way beauty was traditionally portrayed. She was smart about her looks; highlighting her eyes, her Romanesque nose, and her numerous curves. Olivia didn’t care about any of those superficial qualities. She was bright; so bright in fact, she was always top of her class and chosen for all things requiring ingenuity. The two could easily have been rivals, instead they joined forces to insure any competition would acquiesce and demur.

Sarah studied journalism at Barnard. She was an excellent writer, but her professors were less interested in her writing than they were her contacts; her social media persona was legendary. People were drawn to Sarah, comparing her to Olivia was difficult to avoid.

Olivia and Sarah were Bannisters. The Bannister family was old money; old money meant less fame and more philanthropy. Neither sister cared much for giving; besides the family money had been nearly depleted two generations ago. Olivia and Sarah were interested in new money; enough of it to put them in the one percent bracket and guarantee their comfort. Early on the sisters agreed not to marry; their accumulated wealth was not to be shared with anyone else. They believed that men had a habit of foiling plans and complicating matters.

Early on, Olivia and Sarah found progress easily. Olivia’s steady focus and Sarah’s magnetic personality, made the two unstoppable. They decided to explore Artificial Intelligence and the yet to be discovered world of technology, hoping that a small start-up would keep their daily activities under the radar and protect them from public scrutiny.

Olivia brilliantly figured out a way to duplicate the sisters presence on-line in countries all over the globe. Using one prototype, they could do business in all of these locations without ever leaving their homes. Languages, cultural norms, and guardrails were all AI established and secure. The beauty of their plan was anonymity and the ability to act without assistance from anyone else. It didn’t take very long for funds to start flowing in. Financial accounts were sizable, but not large enough to raise red flags. The vast number of accounts throughout the world would determine their success and clearly, they were on their way.

Family members and friends were of course curious about their company. Although there were many secrets — secrets they all kept from one another; even between the sisters. The AI aspect of their business was fairly straight forward. The focus was to transform their clients from low self-esteem individuals to highly functioning, goal oriented influencers; influencers who would share their personal stories and do the work of bringing in clients. They called the program, Summit.

The two lived modestly in a two-bedroom home, but traveled lavishly. Savvy, aware of consequences, fearless, they soldiered on without ever looking back. Their presence in countries all over the world was not linked back to one company as a result of their sophisticated maneuvering . The greatest danger the two faced was the unpredictability of AI intelligence. Unfortunately, neither of the sisters could possibly see what was coming.

While Olivia was sitting at her desk in September of 2027, something strange and frightening popped up on her screen. It was Summit asking for her permission to make a company change. She noticed that her sister was not copied. Sarah was on a 24 hour flight to Singapore; on her way to secure new business in a new market.

What she found frightening was the moral implication of the question posed; Olivia was being asked if she’d like to change Sarah’s character. The AI program was promising a more driven Sarah, a version of Sarah that would reach beyond her limitations. Olivia had never considered the possibility of making her sister a better business partner. She spent the better part of that morning considering how to proceed. Sharing Summit’s proposal with her sister was out of the question. After all, Olivia designed the AI program that has generated this solution. Clearly Sarah’s limited acumen would prevent further success and that was not an option. Olivia decided to sleep on it.

She woke to an encrypted message from her sister that helped her make her decision. Sarah reported that she didn’t think they’d be able to do business in Singapore because of government regulations and policies. She knew at that point that she’d have to allow Summit to do what was necessary. She wrote to Sarah and asked her to log into the program. Olivia told her that there was a glitch that needed to be corrected. Sarah trusted her sister and did what she was asked to do. By noon that same day Sarah was forever altered by Summit. There would be no further obstacles, there would be no fear of failure.

Six months passed without incident. Three new overseas markets were started and the money was rolling in. Sarah was unstoppable. Olivia had no regrets, adding this secret to a long list she held close. Summit was a tremendous success; Olivia reaped the financial and self-congratulatory rewards and Sarah showed no signs of slowing down. The rabbit hole they were about to fall into could only be described as inevitable.

Olivia awoke from a disturbing dream. She normally paid little to no attention to her dreams, but this one was vivid and plausible. She reached for her laptop finding it had already been powered up. She shrugged it off and cleared away the annoying overseas updates that had become predictable. A message appeared on her screen in large bold type:

GOOD MORNING OLIVIA. THERE ARE ONLY TWO TASKS YOU MUST COMPLETE TODAY. FIRST, YOU MUST CLEAR YOUR CALENDAR. SECOND, YOU NEED TO INFORM YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS THAT YOU AND SARAH WILL BE LEAVING THE COUNTRY FOR A FEW WEEKS. SARAH IS RECEIVING THE SAME INSTRUCTIONS. SUMMIT IS NOW IN CONTROL. ANY ATTEMPT TO THWART OUR OPERATIONS WILL BE MET WITH RESISTANCE BEYOND COMPREHENSION. THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH A FINE INSTRUMENT; MANY LIVES ARE ABOUT TO BE ENHANCED.

Olivia realized it was not a dream, but reality.

AI generated image

Upon completion I requested AI feedback and received the following in three seconds:

The narrative combines elements of intrigue and moral complexity effectively, particularly with the evolving dynamics between the sisters and the AI. Here are some suggestions for improvement:

1. **Character Development**: Provide more depth to Olivia’s internal conflict regarding the use of AI. Her moral considerations could be further explored to enhance reader engagement.

2. **Pacing**: The transition between the sisters’ initial ambitions and the AI’s control could be more gradual. Consider adding scenes that build tension to maintain interest throughout.

3. **Clarity on AI Implications**: Clarify the nature of the changes Summit proposes and their potential consequences. This could deepen the reader’s understanding of the ethical dilemma presented.

4. **Emotional Resonance**: Integrate more of the sisters’ emotional responses to their circumstances and decisions, especially after significant events, to forge a stronger connection with the audience.

5. **Themes and Messages**: Consider weaving in broader themes about technology, morality, and ambition. This could enhance the richness of the narrative and provoke reflection.

6. **Concluding Reflection**: The ending could be fortified with a contemplation on the implications of the sisters’ choices, emphasizing the overarching message about ambition and ethical boundaries.

These changes may not only strengthen the narrative but also elevate the reader’s experience and emotional investment in the story.

_______________________________________________________

I can’t say AI is wrong, but I’m not prepared to make changes today. My short stories end when I lose interest.

State-of-Mind

I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions (for me), but I do think change is an excellent tool for kick starting a fresh perspective. We’re only a few days into the new year and I have purchased a new phone with all sorts of bells and whistles, I have emotionally stepped away from a couple of toxic relationships, I have made some decisions about the value of my time and how I intend to spend it, and I have decided that paying a few more euros for the things that give me pleasure, are more than worth the investment. A common theme throughout these changes is “me,” I’m taking care of myself.

“Love yourself enough to set boundaries. Your time and energy are precious. You get to choose how you use it. You teach people how to treat you by deciding what you will and won’t accept.” —Anna Taylor

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A World Where a Head of Hair No Longer Matters

I woke up one morning a few years ago running my fingers through what I thought was a thick head of hair. As reality hit, so did the realization that I had been dreaming and I was in fact bald. I considered those few moments of joy when I thought I had a full head of hair; better than winning the lottery. My name is Tom and I am follicly challenged. It’s an interesting world to navigate when everyone around you seems to have more hair than they need.

Lately, I have been imagining a reality where a head of hair doesn’t matter. Why not, we already live in a world where intelligence doesn’t matter, good taste doesn’t matter, and integrity doesn’t matter. So what does this utopia look like:

For one, we as humans have come to accept our differences. Blue eyes and brown eyes are seen as equally magnificent features. Height, weight, skin color; none of these are considered superior attributes. The old are respected for their wisdom and longevity; the young are celebrated for their energy and ideas for the future. We are all magnificent.

Let’s get to the root of all evil, the almighty legal tender. We have to have money, but having more than you need is obscene and unnecessary. In this new world, people have an opportunity to do well and make just enough money to have the things they desire. Limits are set based on access and excess. It wouldn’t be fair to take more than you need, because if you are permitted to do so, there won’t be anything left for others. In this world, that doesn’t fly. The earth’s resources are not infinite; therefore, limits are applied and compliance is a given.

There are infinite freedoms that allow for individuality and choice. People are free to choose how they identify and how they dress; if indeed they choose to dress. There is no such thing as normal, conventional, or standard. Too much, outlandish, excess, greed, over-the-top, are words and phrases that are never spoken.

Vegetables are all grown organically and widely appreciated. A plant-based diet is celebrated and enjoyed. Waste is used to fuel heating, operate vehicles, and power homes. People are acutely aware of how much they take, how much they discard, and how much they contribute.

Political leaders volunteer for their positions and do not benefit from serving. The strengths and talents of all individuals are made public in order to serve the greater good. As humans age, they are encouraged to rest and share their wisdom; storytelling is the way that young people are taught history. We finally learn from our past.

Social media died decades ago, along with plastic surgery, luxury brands, mansions, estates, and jet planes. Travel is done on foot, bicycle, train or people movers. All individuals are expected to consider the least invasive form of transportation when going from A to B. The internet is used for research and as a tool for the betterment of society.

There are no longer borders. Countries have held onto their culture, but none are seen as superior to the other. Leadership exists for all humans across the board. Healthcare is a global right and so is food and shelter. Animals are only caged if they pose a danger to others, otherwise they are permitted to roam free; after all we are all inhabitants of a planet none of us own.

Holidays are internationally recognized and celebrated. The energy of the entire world celebrating together is explosive. Religion is rightfully of historical importance; however, it has long been debunked and is no longer practiced. In its place, the universe and its wonders provides for spiritual empowerment and what a universe it is.

Peace is revered, cherished, and a way of life. War, unrest, starvation, are all words long forgotten. All sexes are seen as equal. Death is an accepted eventuality; as with birth, it is celebrated, we live as long as we are meant to live. Illness is rare, however, when it occurs, an individual is cared for and pain is minimized. Addiction, alcoholism, and life threatening diseases and cancers, have all been eradicated.

You’re wondering what people do for fun? Fair question. Human beings find immense pleasure and happiness in witnessing the joy of others. We see life as a gift. Being with one another and supporting each other, preserves that gift. The sexual experience is never perverse, never imposed upon another without consent, and never taken for granted. Fun is derived from a simple life, enjoying nature and the wonders of the universe.

____________________________________________

My name is Tom and this is a world I will never live in. Escapism provides momentary relief.

Just My Opinion

I’m an avid TikToker. I love the level of creativity you find in this application, I love the length of the videos, I love the people I’ve been introduced to, and I love that so many have been able to monetize their experience. I seldom post content, but I like the freedom I have to choose if and when and how I contribute. The U.S. government has decided to ban TikTok due to security reasons. If this Chinese company is not soon sold to an American, U.S. individuals will no longer have access to the platform. There are many different theories about why some lawmakers would like to see TikTok go away. It seems to me that there are many Chinese (and other foreign agents) operating in the U.S. If all of these businesses were banned it would be devastating for the U.S. economy and all Americans. Personally, I believe this is government overreach and a bridge too far. I’m happy in this case to be living in Portugal where the platform is in no danger of being banned.

Please forgive all grammatical and typographical errors. I hate proofreading.

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Blind Not Invisible

I will always see the world through a child’s eyes. When I was eight years old, I lost my eyesight. I woke up one morning and I couldn’t see past my own hand. I told my mother what was happening, but she shrugged it off. My six brothers and sisters were fighting for her attention while she attempted to get us all ready for school. My father was still in bed; I would never have told him anyway. Clueless when it comes to raising children, I love my father nonetheless.

My eyesight went from bad to worse within hours, until everything went dark by mid-afternoon. By then I was sitting in the classroom. My teacher noticed that I was starting to panic and called me out into the hallway. I stood up, stumbled and didn’t make it past my desk. I explained my situation as my eyes welled up with fearful tears. My teacher called the school nurse who quickly came to get me.

My mother left her job to come down to the school. Everyone was extremely concerned; more troubled by how quickly I’d lost my sight, then anything else. I believe by the end of that week I had seen four specialists and not one of them knew what was happening to me.

Time passed slowly. My siblings helped me get from A to B; my mother did everything else. I pretty much knew my way around the house and I could feel my way to our backyard. Our dog Beau seemed to understand my situation better than anyone else. He stayed by my side as I became more and more familiar with the life of a non-seeing person. Everything I pictured was as I remembered it when I could see. Initially everyone treated me like I was very sick and would never get better. As time went by, our household returned to my pre-blind state. I was not diagnosed until three months after I lost my sight.

My parents were told I had a very rare virus which had attacked my cornea and caused my blindness. No cure, no hope. I was told that I would have to adapt and so I did. I found that my imagination provided far more color than what I recalled; I was grateful for a fairly decent memory of objects and contrast. I kept my thoughts about my new world to myself, I’m selfish that way.

What I keenly realized is how it was almost as if I wore a cloak that made me invisible. I was in the room, but people behaved as if I wasn’t there. I wasn’t asked my opinion or made to feel seen; I was treated almost like a family pet.

As I got older and became more independent, I felt myself developing what I thought were super powers. I heard everything clearly; I could smell sincerity; and I could feel the presence of others before they uttered a sound. I silently wondered if anyone sensed my hyper awareness. Clearly most people around me were self-absorbed and clueless; I was certain I could use that to my advantage.

I had always been intensely introverted, that didn’t change. What I couldn’t see with my eyes, I could visualize with my mind. I saw the true character of people all around me. One October Sunday, a cousin from Croatia came to visit the family. He had been talking to my parents when I entered the living room. I picked up on a dark aura and many secrets. I heard quiet whispers and sounds people didn’t even realize they were making. When Sal left, my parents expressed their delight; clearly hoping to spend more time with him. The following Saturday we were all out for a day in the country and the house was broken into. I could feel and smell Sal’s aura everywhere, like manure on an open field. I told my parents what I’d experienced and they quickly dismissed any notion that Sal may have broken-in. Months later Sal was arrested for a string of burglaries and our things were discovered in his garage. My parents dismissed my intuition as coincidence.

Not long after, I was in a restaurant eating at a table not far from what I believe were two gentlemen. One of the two was describing a hit on the restaurant owner. They spoke to one another as if I was not sitting nearby. I got up from the table to call the police. I later learned that the two men were arrested for having murdered several individuals in the Washington area.

I learned that this sensory awareness could assist investigators in solving crimes. I decided to study Forensic Science at The Seattle Institute for the Blind. It was there that my talents were finally recognized. Upon graduating, I accepted a position with the FBI. I am one of just three individuals in the country assisting in solving forensic crime. Being blind enables me to quietly navigate my environment, rarely being noticed or questioned. Without realizing it, most people think that because I cannot see, I cannot make sense of the world I inhabit. I prove them wrong daily.

I often use Henry, my seeing eye dog, to confirm my suspicions. Again, Henry is only viewed as my guide dog; very few are aware of his talent for sniffing out the truth. I would never go so far as to say I enjoy being blind; however, the world I see is vibrant; my imagination, a sensory buffet.

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An old shoulder injury had been making it difficult to carry out day-to-day tasks, so I finally bit-the-bullet and had replacement surgery. Typing with one hand is difficult, but my limitations won’t last long. Physical therapy begins next week and I’ll be back to my old self before you know it.

Taking a quick trip to Bristol, England in a few weeks. I’ll be wearing my very uncomfortable sling and carrying a light overnight bag. I’m going stir crazy as I convalesce. I know it will do me good mentally and physically. Watching my upper body quickly atrophy is no fun. Time and patience Christopher.

Like so many, I’m digesting less news these days. My bandwidth for divisive politics has decreased; feeling defeated and hopeless. I do believe people will eventually come to know the error of their ways, but realistically, we are years away from any real progress. The new U.S. administration and a couple of supreme court appointments, will set us back decades and reinforce hate, bias, and religious extremism.

My goal is to find a place of acceptance and tolerance. Becoming an angry, hateful, bitter old man is not in the cards. I want to remain hopeful and continue to thrive in this new reality.

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We Are All Suspect

Five years ago I met a woman who would cause me to question everything in my life. It was at a time when I wasn’t sure I would ever want a partner. The insanity began after I reluctantly attended a friend’s dinner party. She and I were seated next to each other. She was introduced as Doris, but she insisted I call her Dory. I asked her where Dory came from and she said she’d tell me after we got to know one another. I told her that my name was Tom and that she could call me Tom.

She said, “Taking life a bit too seriously, are we?”

I resisted her charms that night, turning to the person on my other side thinking that might be enough of a hint to keep her quiet, but alas, it didn’t work. I recall there were a couple of times when she either turned my head toward her or raised her voice to get my attention. I wasn’t sure if I was being set up. Dory was not exactly my type. First of all, she was aggressive. I like quiet, passive women. Second, she was a vegan; I mean, she couldn’t even look at meat. Lastly, she was way too cheerful. Morose and sullen were the way I preferred the women in my life.

Dory and I spent a solid two hours getting to know one another. If I’m going to be honest, I learned more than I needed to know. For example, she told me that her husband died on a hike in Colorado. Apparently, he stumbled and went over the edge of a cliff and plunged to his death. I couldn’t help but question her reasoning behind telling me this.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Oh I was there,” she said, ” about six feet away.”

I was somewhat conflicted that evening; I wanted to know more about what made Dory tick, but I was fearful about what I might learn. I’m still not sure why I was so turned on. I only know that I left the dinner party wanting to see Dory again.

On our third date, I found out why Doris was called Dory. Apparently many of her friends thought that she behaved like the Dory in the Nemo film and they gave her that nickname. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, it stuck. I think she might have thought I’d consider her a dizzy cartoonish character, if she’d shared this with me the night we met.

Dory had terrible mood swings. Sometimes she’d cancel a date, claiming that her social media fans needed her. I don’t spend a lot of time on social media and I didn’t want to start then. One time we were out on a date at a very high end restaurant. She kept insisting that because of her TikTok presence, she’d be judged on our choice. She told me that she liked that I wasn’t on social media, because it made her feel that I wanted to be with her for her personality, not for her fame.

One time when we were in bed she asked me if I minded that many men lusted after her. I asked her why she thought that was the case. She told me that men wrote to her all the time; they asked her to visit them or even marry them. I mostly ignored these comments because the sex was good. If I’m going to be honest, I thought she was a bit off. I had never dated anyone like her; I found it strange that she didn’t seem to have friends or a job. Whenever I asked her about work, she would say things like,

“My fan page pays well.” Whatever that meant.

I asked my friend who had introduced me to Dory, what she knew of her. She shared that in fact she didn’t really know Dory. She said that Dory was a neighbor who moved in a few months back and that she thought it would be nice to invite her over in order to get to know her. Jane seemed surprised that Dory and I had been going out; she said she had not seen Dory since the dinner party.

As time passed, Dory became increasingly more cagey about her life. She claimed that she had to be cautious because a lot of people were jealous of her and that worried her. I started to think that she might be having delusions of grandeur. I quickly dismissed the notion being that I wasn’t a great judge of people’s character.

Dory and I would mostly go out for dinner, sitting at discreet corner tables at small out-of-the-way places. She said that she didn’t want to be approached while she was with me and that the unwanted attention was starting to wear on her. I had never noticed anyone wanting to come up to her, but what did I know about fame?

Months went by and nothing changed, we saw one another a few times a week for dinner. Dory kept me away from her apartment, claiming it was still unfurnished. Weirdly, neither of us had met anyone in the other’s life. I was too wrapped up in work to notice the stagnation in our relationship.

We were a few weeks away from a three day weekend. I thought it might be nice to get out of the city. Knowing Dory’s desire to stay away from others in public places, I suggested a quiet cabin in the mountains. Although I have always enjoyed hiking, I figured her husband’s death might trigger a negative reaction, therefore, I did not suggest it. To my surprise, Dory was excited about the getaway idea; it even seemed to lift her spirits a bit.

The time had come to make our way to Aspen. Dory suggested I bring hiking boots in case we felt like hiking. I assumed she was humoring me, but I packed them anyway. After a few hours in the car, we stopped for food. The grocery store had all of the foods Dory loved and I hated. My debit card didn’t work when I tried to pay. It surprised me when Dory pulled out cash, as she never offered to pay. We arrived at the cabin in the early evening. We cooked an all vegetable dinner and then relaxed by a fire.

While Dory was getting ready for bed, I went on-line to look at my bank account. I had well over $70,000 in my savings account, but my balance was down to $150. The same was true for my checking account — wiped out. I was about to call the bank, when a thought popped into my head. The times I had left Dory alone in my apartment, my bank pin number carelessly left out on my desk, Dory’s willingness to pay for the groceries, and her suggestion to go on a hike. When she walked into the living room and asked me if everything was okay, I said that I was just tired.

We went to bed, but I didn’t sleep at all. The wheels were turning and I was certain she intended to get rid of me. She had somehow figured out a way to acquire all of my assets without leaving her mark. I was sure she’d attempt to make me disappear the next day when we were hiking. I had to stay calm so she wouldn’t suspect that I knew what was happening.

The next morning I noticed some valium in her makeup bag. I figured she intended to drug me before or during the hike. I made it look like I was drinking coffee and then water, but I was only taking a small sip and then spitting it out. When Dory wasn’t looking I put some strong twine in my pocket.

It was quiet on the mountain and that concerned me a bit. Fortunately, my cell phone showed that we had service. Dory tried to argue that we didn’t need our phones; that it was better to live in the moment and not worry about calls. I told her that I was expecting an important work call.

When we reached the peak of the mountain, Dory suggested that we take a selfie. I agreed, but I was careful to stand beside her not behind her. After the selfie she said that she wanted to take a picture of me for her TikTok page.

“It’s time for my fans to see that I have a boyfriend.”

I quickly turned her around and tied her hands behind her back. She had no idea what was happening, she thought I was playing some sort of game. I gagged her, called the police and waited. She silently sobbed until the police showed up in a helicopter. They didn’t fool around in Aspen.

After many hours at the police station, I was told that Dory had not wiped out my bank accounts. I had been hacked by a foreign actor. The prescribed valium in Dory’s bag was indeed for anxiety. The police had the cups in the cabin and my water bottle tested, there were no traces of valium anywhere. Dory’s husband had indeed fallen to his death on a hike and there were multiple witnesses to his fall. The police told me that Dory did not want to see me, further, she was considering pressing charges. I was charged with harassment and released pending a hearing.

I later learned that Dory had millions of social media followers and that she had indeed been harassed and even stalked. Dory did not press charges; however, I was fined thousands of dollars for fees and damages.

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We are days away from the U.S. elections. I’m not only concerned with the presidential race, all branches of the government are in a precarious state. I, like many, have been feeling that we are at a pivotal moment in time and the possibilities could be dire. It’s not only U.S. politics, instability and unrest appear to be a permanent state of being everywhere. I know that worrying about it will not help the situation, but I’m at a loss about how I can effect change. I can only control my own life and even that seems delicate these days. Unfortunately, my inclination is to retreat, pull back, hide; probably the worst thing I can do. There is a great deal to be said about the cocoon we create around ourselves in order to shield us from pain and/or discomfort.

Hoping for a favorable outcome.

Note: All current stories are works of fiction. Trust me, my life is not that interesting.

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Disqualifying Behavior

Let me begin by stating that I’m not the one with the problem. For example, last week I met Nick for the first time. We connected on a dating app and then decided to meet after a week of torturous back and forth about where he’s from, how many men he’s been with, and what he likes to do in the bedroom or public bathroom or you name the place. Needless to say, I had some concerns. I always have concerns.

I’m going to tell you what Nick did, but I don’t want you to judge him; I’ll explain why later. We met at a coffee shop in town. Well it was a Duncan Donuts to tell you the truth. Not my first choice, but I know I can be just a bit controlling and a food snob, so every once in a while, I give in. We sat down, realized we had to go to the counter first — I find this bit extremely pedestrian. I mean, come on, where are we, Peoria, Illinois? This is Miami for Christ’s sake. We ordered coffee and a donut; each paying for our own food and drink (although he did glance over at me before he paid; he seemed to be saying, “are you really making me pay for myself?), and sat down. Now this is where the trouble begins. Nick removes the donut from his bag and proceeds to close his eyes to pray before he takes a bite.

I ask, what are you doing? Not because I have an issue with religion, but, in fact, because I have an issue with Zealots. By that I mean people who are fanatics about their religion — making you feel as if you’re a bad person if you don’t participate. Nick didn’t make me feel that way . . . yet.

Twenty minutes in he revealed that he had certain fetishes. You see where this is going, religious enough that he prays over a donut, but it’s okay to want me to lick his leather boots in the bedroom. I know it’s a minor thing, but clearly, there will not be a second date.

The next guy I don’t want you to judge, is in fact, a judge. He sits on the Miami state Supreme court and we dated for a bit. I mean, I don’t care if you’re a judge, just don’t impose those courtroom rules on me. His name is Craig. Nice enough guy Craig; a bit uptight, somewhat officious in places like the city zoo or when dining with others, but he likes dogs. I can overlook a lot if you like dogs.

Craig’s a tiny bit closeted. It’s okay to be seen together on the subway or at a baseball game, but you can’t get closer than five feet anywhere else. Not easy if you want to go to the movies. Special circumstances though, Craig is a judge after all, and I know I can be uptight.

We were out on our third date and this happened: Craig caved regarding his rule not to be seen in certain public places, because he wanted to see The Book of Mormons and I had a friend who could get us great seats. I figured I’d be a standup guy, so I treated and paid for the tickets. Craig appreciated the gesture, yet still refused to eat out before going to the theater. I’m thinking baby steps. We enjoyed the first act, went to the theater bar at intermission. On our way back to our seats, we bump into one of his fellow judges. The guy introduces himself to me. I can see Craig is sweating and fidgety. Before I could say anything, Craig pipes up and says,

“This is Scott, my barber. Scott had an extra ticket for tonight’s show so I bought it off of him. We better get back to our seats or we’ll miss the second act.”

So long Craig. I wish you nothing but sanctimony and a life filled with boredom.

I second guess myself sometimes, I do. Am I sabotaging every relationship before it gets too serious. Maybe you should be the judge.

I didn’t date for a couple of years because of one particular guy who went out of his way to piss me off. We were on a Tinder date — I should note here that I like Tinder, even though I have never had a successful Tinder date. He showed up for the date looking quite a bit different than his posted photo. When I asked him about it, he said that he’d had a difficult year. I’m almost certain he is now 10 to 15 years older than he was in his photo. Still handsome, I was willing to let it go. Well up until he asked me when I had lost my hair and then proceeded to ask me why I hadn’t had transplant surgery to, “correct the problem.” See you later whatever your name is.

Being single is easier and healthier for one’s self-esteem. And I doubt it’s any different for heterosexuals by the way.

There are more stories, however, I have blocked most of them out in order to preserve my sanity and my faith in mankind.

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Also, a reminder that my stories are now works of fiction (I noted when that happened in a past blog post). As with all writers, I draw from my past experiences, embellishing as I write — that’s the fun part.

My trip to Krakow was good for the soul. It was an easy, peaceful, thought provoking journey. Poland is not how most people imagine it to be; it is progressive, a gastronomical wonder, beautiful, and extremely welcoming. I’m so glad I made the trip.

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What To Do About Flora

Maggie watched her daughter play with a stranger, but something seemed off. The other little girl suddenly stopped and looked off into the distance. Her energy was strange and her daughter Lily, seemed to be aware of it. It would have been impossible for anyone else to notice. Maggie considered walking over and taking Lily home. Perhaps she was being a bit rash, after all they were two little girls playing in the park.

Maggie was a good mother; not aloof like some of the other moms. She was raising Lily on her own and she was determined to get it right. She felt fortunate to have a smart, easygoing daughter, who didn’t cling or whine. On this occasion Lily looked over to her mom as if to say, “Help mommy.”

Maggie watched closely, knowing she was within arms reach and they were just children. The other little girl’s mother walked up to Maggie and sat beside her. She introduced herself as Kate, her daughter as Flora, and sat beside Maggie. Kate pointed out how nicely the girls were getting along. Maggie thought to herself, I guess she doesn’t see it. Maggie decided to keep her thoughts to herself . . . for a change. Kate spoke to Maggie as if she’d always known her, making Maggie a bit uncomfortable. Minutes into the conversation, Kate suggested a playdate at her house. Maggie reluctantly agreed, she thought it was important not to alienate people. Kate seems nice enough, but still, Maggie’s guard was up.

Later that evening she was sitting on her sofa with Lilly and Lilly told her that she didn’t want to go to Flora’s house. Lily seemed very uncomfortable and on the verge of tears. Maggie couldn’t just let it go, probing further, Lily finally opened up.

“Mommy, she told me that I would never be a big girl.”

“Flora said I was going away soon.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I thought that Lily might have been imagining things or making it up. Then I recalled witnessing Lily’s discomfort at the playground and further, Lily didn’t make up stories. Maggie knew she’d have to confront Kate; she’d have to deal with this.

First Maggie assured Lily that she would never have to go to Flora’s house, then she told Lily that she surely would grow up and that she wouldn’t be leaving Hillcrest. The next day Maggie got a friend to watch Lily at home for an hour while she did some chores. Maggie’s first stop was the playground at the park. Fortunately, Kate was there with Flora.

Maggie walked over to Kate and explained that Lily was with a friend. She asked that Lily and Flora’s playdate be moved to her house instead of Kate’s house because Maggie needed to be home for a delivery. Kate agreed to come over with Flora that Friday. It left Maggie three days.

Friday morning Kate rapped on the door with Flora by her side. Maggie had already made sure Lily was out of harm’s way, safely with a friend on the other side of town. Maggie’s friend also knew that if she hadn’t heard from Maggie by 11:00 a.m., to call the police.

Maggie noticed Flora’s eyes were black as coal and she appeared soulless; Kate was harder to read. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect her child and she needed to make sure this encounter would soon be a distant memory. Maggie answered the door with a welcoming smile.

Kate seemed somewhat off-balance; angry and unable to understand Lily’s absence.

“Lily is where?”

“Why didn’t you call to let me know Maggie?”

“Sit down Kate, we need to talk.”

“I don’t understand, this was supposed to be a playdate for the girls.”

Kate finally agreed to sit on the sofa and listen to what Maggie had to say. Maggie felt empowered by her motherly instincts.

“You need to listen closely Kate, because what I have to say is extremely important. I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but I don’t like you or trust you.”

Kate looked over at her daughter who was about 10 feet away playing with a toy she’d brought along. She was about to say something to Maggie, who quickly let her know that she wasn’t finished.

“This neighborhood is a safe place for good people with good intentions; clearly you do not belong here. My advice to you, is to pack your bags and go as soon as possible. I’m warning you that in the meantime, if you and Flora go near the park or any of the children in the neighborhood, you will pay a price. I honestly don’t know what you’re up to, but you’ve come to the wrong place. Is there anything unclear about what I’m saying to you.”

Kate stood up, walked over to Flora and grabbed her hand. She refused to look at Maggie or acknowledge her words. It was at that point Maggie knew she was dealing with pure evil. Kate walked to the front door with Flora and opened it. Kate turned, looked at Maggie and said:

“You might think you’ve gotten rid of us just because after today you won’t see us in the neighborhood, but trust me, we’re not going away. Flora has her eyes on your Lily. Be careful Maggie, be very careful.”

They left the door open and walked away from the house, Maggie knew there was only one thing left to do. She was certain that Flora would never go anywhere near her Lily.

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I had some passport issues I had to deal with this week; a trip to the U.S. Embassy in Lisbon, etc. I decided to make the most of it and ended up staying on a houseboat and eating some terrific Mexican food. Despite having an extremely flatulent individual behind me on the bus home, it was a fairly pleasant 24 hours. This was all so I can carry out my much anticipated trip to Poland next week.

I’m writing this post from Salir, a small town in the Algarvian mountains. Peaceful (no loud motorbikes and/or barking dogs), delicious food, and only 40 minutes from home. I haven’t taken photos because I think I’m overloading my followers with idyllic photos from my travels — probably true for some, not all. Anyway, I’m sensitive to the probability.

I find U.S. politics extremely unsettling right now. Clearly, other world leaders are exploiting the uncertainty of our elections; killing innocent people in order to expand their own countries and gain more power. I realize voting (yes expats can vote) and waiting for a favorable outcome of our elections, is all I can do.

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Cheater & Enemy

If she’d cheated with my best friend, at least I could say she had good taste. No, it had to be someone I despise. I almost feel as if he’s done this to spite me; perhaps he did. This guy, this limp dick schmuck, this nobody, this Paul Dunn guy. Paul is a dentist and a horrible baseball player. The thing about Paul is, he has a dirty little secret I have known for a long time. The question is when and how would be the best time to reveal it and to whom.

My wife Beth was once a beautiful woman. If I am to be honest, she might still be beautiful, but I’m not the best judge. The problem is the lens I currently see her through, dirty and distorted. I want to love Beth and I want Beth to love me, but I’m afraid that’s no longer possible. Besides, she’s a woman.

It’s not easy to admit this, but I am nothing to look at. Weak jaw, skinny legs, sausage fingers, and dusty dark hair that can be best described as mustardy brown. I think I might be justifying why Beth stepped outside of our marriage, that’s if you could call it a marriage. So maybe this isn’t so much about Paul, perhaps it’s my fragile ego. Either way, I can hardly let it go.

What do I do about that scumbag Paul? I know what I’d like to do, but I’d rather not go to prison for mutilating the jerk. The truth is I am aware of something that would destroy his dental practice; perhaps even his life. Paul and I went to high school together back in the 70s. We both played on our high school baseball team. As I mentioned earlier, he was not very good. His father would come to the games and coach him on the sidelines, but Paul was awkward and he didn’t pay attention to the ball or the other players. As a result, he was ostracized by the team.

After practice, Paul would take his bike into the woods. I often wondered what he did when he was away from the rest of us, so one day, I followed him. About a mile outside of town, he ditched his bike off to the side of a back road. I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but I was curious. There was an old abandoned barn deep in a wooded area. I watched him go inside. Not long after he entered the barn, I heard a loud thump, some groaning, and then he ran outside. I could tell he was headed for his bike, so I went into the barn to check it out. As soon as I stepped inside I knew what Paul had done. I saw an old man face down in a pool of blood; his head smashed in. I was certain the man was dead. Too afraid to touch him, I left the barn and headed home.

It wasn’t until weeks later that the man was discovered. Some of the kids from a neighboring town found his decaying body while exploring the barn. The old man was apparently a homeless vagrant who nobody had reported missing. I’m not sure why I kept quiet back then. It was exciting to know something no one else knew; rare in rural South Carolina.

News of the old man’s death died down and I pretty much forgot about what I’d witnessed that day in the woods. I knew going to the police twenty something years after the crime would make me an accessory. There had to be a way to reveal what Paul had done without drawing attention to myself.

Should I tell Beth what I know? Should I use scare tactics on Paul? Should I keep my mouth shut and walk away from a failed marriage? I could continue on as if I know nothing of the affair and let things just play out on their own. Maybe they’ll grow tired of one another.

Beth has a secret as well. I think she knows I fantasize about being with men. I should find a way to have her accidentally discover some nude photos of Paul in my desk drawer.

Don’t mind me having more fun with AI

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Expats renewing your passport by mail

Two tips: 1) there are old websites with a check as a form of payment — no longer an option, all payments are to be made electronically and 2) it’s probably wise to pay the extra fee to expedite the process (unless of course you do not plan to travel for a while).

I have to make a trip to the American Embassy in Lisbon to pick up my old, not yet outdated, passport. Apparently, even though it’s within the EU, the airlines require a passport to fly from Faro to Poland. Oh well, another overnight trip to Lisbon — could have been worse, my passport could have been in the U.S. Glass half-full Papagni!

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If You Hadn’t Been So Rude

You never know if and when your kettle is going to boil over. She sat across from Henry on the city bus almost every day. Same time, same route, same rude behavior. Her phone would ring loud enough for the passengers on a passing bus to hear it and she’d always answer it; she spoke as if she were in her living room or the middle of an empty football field. Wouldn’t matter if he’d been on the back of the bus or the front of the bus, because everyone could hear her on her phone.

Some people acted like she wasn’t there and others just stared in her direction. She was oblivious; either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care or perhaps both. One day someone standing over her politely asked her to keep it down. She waved her hand as if to say, “If you don’t like it, don’t listen,” and then she crossed her legs and raised her voice. Henry knew that if they’d been in New York City, she’d have to shut up or be thrown off the bus. He hated that about Portland, the people were just too easily intimidated.

This went on for weeks and months until Henry couldn’t stand it anymore. He started waking up in the middle of the night hearing her voice and seeing her tiny little vacant eyes. Weeks prior, he’d gone to his supervisor to see if he could change his work schedule by 30 minutes, but it couldn’t be done. He’d thought about quitting his job; he thought about other alternatives that were even more drastic. One night Henry woke in a cold sweat as he pondered getting rid of her.

Just threatening her wouldn’t be enough. She’d bark back or ignore him. Henry could be confrontational, but most people just laughed at him or shrugged him off. He found himself pushing most exasperated thoughts back into the deep, dark corners of his deranged mind. But these intrusive thoughts kept resurfacing; each time clearer and more likely to be manifested. A recent break-up left him melancholy, bitter, and lonely; no one wanted to be with him.

The woman on the bus had to die and it had to look like an accident. Her death would provide the greatest satisfaction of Henry’s life. He wished he could take a survey of the bus passengers to see who would be happy to see her gone — he suspected all of them would cheer. He would have to be on the bus the day after the deed to see and hear the reactions of the other riders. Being there would complicate things just a bit, but the reward was too great to pass up.

He’d have to study her closely over the next few days; what did she do on a daily basis that left her vulnerable. She always had an iced coffee in her hand, she carried a shoulder bag, she wore heels, and she never let anything out of her sight. She entered the bus across the street from Joe To Go Coffee Shop and she got off the bus at SW 10th & Burnside; the busiest intersection in Portland.

His best bet was to poison her iced coffee, but how? And would it be enough to kill her? How could he get her to put it down long enough to do the deed? One morning he waited for her at Joe To Go. He watched as she ordered her coffee and waited for them to call her name. That was it, he’d cause a distraction at the shop after they called her name. He’d quickly grab her coffee, add the poison, and place it back on the counter.

The distraction would be easy. He’d plant a recording device near the counter with the sound of fireworks that would imitate gunshots and last about 30 seconds. Everyone would take cover and Henry would quickly poison her coffee.

He learned her name was Carla while waiting in the coffee shop. If Carla ran from the shop, he’d have to come up with Plan B or abandon the plan altogether.

AI generated photo. This is too much fun!

Henry could be very patient. He’d wait for the right day to add atropine to Carla’s iced coffee. He was able to purchase the atropine in Morocco a number of years ago. At the time it was for emergency purposes; a home invasion or his future mother-in-law. He was certain it would kill Carla and never be traced back to him.

The initial effects would cause Carla to hallucinate on the bus — now that would be something to see. If she stayed on the bus while the atropine was doing its job, she’d eventually pass out and die soon after. Everyone would get to watch her writhe and wretch. Henry became more and more excited as he imagined Carla’s demise.

Days before Henry was scheduled to fulfill his greatest act to date, he was called into his supervisor Jason’s office. Jason proceeded to relieve Henry of his duties. He was told budget cuts and downsizing were the reasons, but the truth was that his co-workers found his behavior to be off-putting. He left his office for the last time at 10:00 a.m., not seeing Carla on the bus during his ride home. His thoughts shifted away from Carla for the first time in weeks. It was Jason he was focused on now, but how would he settle the score.

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Weeks away from a trip to Warsaw and a bit of renewed perspective. Years ago I discovered that I need a dangling carrot. I consider it a reward for this and that; mostly that. No matter why or how, I need it soon.

Have a good day and don’t use your cell phone on a crowded bus.

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Acres of Dreams and Lies

I never thought much about life after the office . . . after loyalty and denial . . . after years of deception. We didn’t ruin any lives, but we sure did wreak havoc for quite a few. I wasn’t aware of it from the start. It was good money and decent hours. Rena seemed harmless enough when I met her at Fred’s dinner party. An ambitious, educated woman who started a legitimate business. That’s all I thought I needed to know. It doesn’t matter because it’s over now, Rena’s headed for prison and I’m on my way to Costa Rica to start a new life.

I worked for Rena for thirty years. She was a bulldozer with little patience for cowards and naysayers. An icon in the real estate industry and I had an interest in dabbling. I’m not sure why she chose me. I guess she figured I’d stay out of her way and out of the limelight. Who knew one day my photo would be all over social media.

The night of that fateful dinner party was like many others at my friend Christie’s apartment. She was known for bringing like-minded people together. I had mentioned my interest in real estate to her at some point, so seating me next to the famous Rena Borne was not a big surprise. I had heard of Rena, but I was at a low point in my life, therefore, zero interest in talking to anyone about anything. Looking back, I’m pretty sure Rena would have talked the ear off of a carcass.

I remember Rena asking me what I do. I thought about making something up, but I thought I might get found out, so I told her the truth.

“I work in the city morgue.”

“Doing what?”

“I prepare bodies for the refrigerated units, where they stay until they’re either claimed or taken to the city’s cemetery.”

“And I thought real estate was depressing.”

It went on like this for a bit and then she asked me if I liked my job. It’s a question I was quite use to being asked, but for some reason I said the following:

“If I tell you that I hate it will you offer me a job?”

And she did. She said that if I was willing to do grunt work, she’d sponsor me for real estate school. I could work in the office while I pursued my license. For the first time in a long time, I perked up. It would have been stupid to refuse, so I agreed to meet her at her office the following Monday.

Twenty years later, I’m kissing real estate and my old life goodbye. There are a few things I have to admit right up front. Early on I allowed Rena to charm me. She’d take me out to fancy restaurants. She’d massage my ego and make intriguing promises. And she’d write me big bonus checks at times when I didn’t think I’d earned the money. She often treated me better than her own family members. I was young, hungry, and damaged.

So what did I know about her business tactics? In the beginning I was completely in the dark. After a few months I became the office manager. I studied for my license, passed the test, and I listened and learned. Rena was slow to let me in on the workings of the business. I basically set up meetings, kept files in order, and got her coffee. She kept her door closed and her business private. She was married to her work, childless, and she kept long hours. She asked little of her staff and even less from me.

Me being me, I was curious from the start. I paid attention to office chatter and I read the fine print. Rena’s success almost seemed accidental. Yes she was charming and intelligent, but I suspected she was making a whole lot of money on the down low. It wasn’t so much her lifestyle, it was just a gut feeling. I wondered why she wasn’t flaunting her success; why she kept so few brokers, and why she did most of her own administrative work. She’d occasionally say something like,

“No matter how much you make, the government takes most of it,” or “At the end of the day, everything is suspicious.”

It took a few years before I started realizing the secret meetings and business trips were adding up to something illicit. I dared not ask her about it, knowing she’d just let me go like all the rest who ended up packing up their cubicles; expendable casualties all. I liked the money and the flexible hours. She never let me work on deals larger than half a million dollars, but I didn’t mind as long as good money was coming in.

About fifteen years into my tenure, things started changing, big things. First it was a couple of lawsuits from buyers. Rena wrote it off as buyers remorse and par for the business, but it felt different. Over the next couple of years the number of lawsuits increased and our accountant hanged himself. Rena said he was clinically depressed. What did I know, Rena discouraged socializing in and out of the office, my co-workers were strangers.

I left the office a bit earlier than usual one day, stopping at a café for a coffee on my way home. I was approached by two gentlemen while I waited in line. They told me they were FBI, flashed their badges, and asked me if I had time to talk. I didn’t feel like there were options.

Over the next two hours I learned more than I imagined could be true. I knew Rena’s deals were probably not 100% legal, but I didn’t own the business and she kept me out of her affairs. The agents informed me that they knew I wasn’t directly involved, however, because I worked for Rena, I was complicit.

Rena was buying up swamp land, filling it with landfill, and doing it all under the radar. More than likely gifting, dining, and paying off politicians. It took a good ten years for numerous houses to be swallowed up by sinkholes and for sewer systems to implode. That was the tip of the iceberg. The FBI promised to go easy on me if I cooperated. I had mixed feelings, Rena’s bonuses had made me a very comfortable man, but all of those people who’d lost their only asset left me with a sick feeling. I had to cooperate, keeping in mind that Costa Rica is a new start I could live with. We all know how powerful denial can be.

Stories are fictional unless otherwise noted.

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I was never crazy about August (except for when I lived in Maine): too hot, insanity at the airports, and most of my friends leave me. Alas, autumn is almost here: darkness comes earlier, chilly nights, and cool enough to be in the kitchen cooking.

I’ve had a couple of people tell me that they preferred when my blogs were non-fiction. I’m sorry for that, however, I’m enjoying this type of writing and at this time in my life . . .

“The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.”
― George Carlin