My Oldest Habit

I watch from behind my smirk.
Which does all the hard work.
You seem to read a thousand things.
From this one smile.
We've been on an hour walk.
And we have yet to talk.
As I grin and you enjoy the weather.

Crossroads for Donovan Cook

Behold the epitome of composure. A man so cold hearted that he could give Jack Frost himself shivers down his spine. Eyes as hard as steel, and as dark and empty as if looking down the barrel of a smoking gun… Not really. Honestly I’m nervous as hell, I’m sweating bullets and I think I’m going to vomit just from nerves. Calm down Donovan, you’re a man of the Cook family aren’t you? What’s the problem, what is there to afraid of? You’ve gone through police training, prison riots, and you’ve broken down doors to arrest people; what is there to worry about?
Well you’re ending a human life for one thing. Damnit, why me? Why was I assigned his job? Donovan you know why, you were chosen at random for execution duty. It seemed such an easy decision a while ago. The world was so simple, criminals are evil and had their chances, It’s not my fault if they wasted them right? It’s my job, a civic duty. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to think. He’s getting the chair so he must have done something to deserve such a thing right? Besides the electricity should blowout that circuit breaker in his head before he suffers too much right? The chair is probably quicker than the firing squad, less painful than the poison injection, less terrifying than choking out their least breath in the gas chamber. I’m doing society a favor by exterminating this scumbag, I’m doing him a favor by using this method. Yeah, that’s right. It’s for the greater good, he doesn’t deserve another chance, and besides it will be quick.
I can do this, I can do this. I hear the heavy jangle of his manacles before I see him come through the door. He’s average in everything except that he looks like a ghost with blood red eyes, he looks like he’s already dead. I quell the panic rising in my throat, It’s just an albino, calm down you can do this, I can do this. He’s sitting in the chair all strapped in. All I have to do is pull the switch and I can go home. Seconds pass like years, and nothing has changed. He looks at me with those unnatural red eyes of his and a grin pulls across his face. Why is he smiling? why why why WHY?! He’s deriding me with that stare, with that smile. How dare he mock me? Doesn’t he realize where he is? That I am going to end his life?! Hate erupts from my gut like a volcano and burns all of my sympathy and indecision to the ground. I pull the switch and let the bastard fry.
His grin is still their as his eyes go inside his skull, his pale skin sparks, its horrifying, He performs a macabre dance in his chair as volt after countless volts surges through is frame, it’s fascinating. I have to keep watching it’s compelling. Then there’s the smell, the acrid smell of burning hair mixing with a disturbingly appetizing barbecue smell. I can’t tear my eyes away, and I know I’m probably imagining it but I swear he’s looking back at me with those sightless eyes, it’s unbearable. The chair dams up its unforgiving torrent. It’s done, I can go home and sleep this nightmare away into a faded memory.
Except that he’s breathing… Oh god, he’s still alive. He’s no longer grinning just breathing, gasping raggedly. He’s slumped in his chair but still very much alive. His gaze reaches mine once again. As if asking me if that’s all I’ve got. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I have enough hate in me left to pull the switch again and turn off his light. What do we do now Donovan Cook?

Chapter 1

Journal of an Everyman

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Goes what I hope to God is the kitchen sink. I open one eye and roll over to see the digital clock turn to 3:44 AM. My first thoughts are where am I? Who am I? Am I going back to sleep? The answer was no and as the haze of grogginess dissipates my second thought is two and a half hours of sleep isn’t too bad, for me. Damn insomnia. I roll out of bed and follow the worn out path in the carpet. I trudge slowly towards the bath room. I see Jon Thomason; a black birds nest on top of his head, dark bags under his green sunken in eyes, a scruffy mess of a beard. He’s wiry, and just a bit too tall. He looks stretched out to me. My reflection stares back and says Jon Thomason needs a shower.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Goes the uncooperative shower stall. “Work Dammit!” I smack the shower knob and it responds with a familiar groan followed by an eruption of lukewarm water. As the stream of water heats up, my mind begins to wander. It travels away from this crummy two-bit apartment, past my job and vile manager, beyond summer, past Schrodinger Community College, it wanders outside of middle-of nowhere Schrodinger Missouri, outside of reality. It keeps drifting till I simply exist without consciousness. It’s almost like the sleep I never get, I don’t think anything, I don’t feel anything and bloody hell it’s glorious.

“Hey, HEY!” Oh man, I’m being snapped back to reality, good bye peace of mind. “Save some hot water for the rest of us, bro” I return to reality and the familiar voice of my room mate Alexander Id, he’s like a brother to me. “One second, hold your horses” I reply. His retort is so very typical of him “Since when was patience ever a virtue of mine, Jonny? Don’t you know me?” That wise guy of course I know you. I wipe away the water from my eyes and grab my towel. I see Alexander Id better known to me as Bishop, the most unique guy I have had the misfortune and privilege to meet.

I see my room mate wearing his trademark smirk. He’s pierced three times on the eyebrows, two on the left and one on the right. He’s got hair like the Cheshire Cat, short spiky and striped with dark purple. There’s plenty of muscle on his frame, good build. He looks like your everyday punk except for those eyes. At first they look terribly blood shot but its all a little bit off, then you realize his eyes are just dark pink normally. The rest of him is just white, not Caucasian or anything like that, Its just he has an absence of any color, he’s just white. I think the term is albino.

“You’re awake already?” I ask him, he gives that little smirk and shrugs his shoulders. “I just got in actually, not that it matters.” I take in a familiar smell, he doesn’t reek- but I can’t mistake the smell of booze on him. For a moment I can imagine him at one of the singles bars and I pity the poor girl that actually thinks he’s going to call her back the next day. The pity was fleeting and the next thing that rolls of my tongue is “You went drinking with out me? I guess you can pay for a round next time. By the way did you at least get her name this time?” Over the dull roar of the shower I can just make out what he’s saying. “I think it was Alice or something like that. I don’t really remember that many details Jon. How was work?” I snort and spoil the ending before I even open my mouth “It was an abomination, I was supposed to train some new girl, but she never showed up. So we were short staffed and I had to run most of the kitchen because the managers so freaking cheap that he doesn’t want to pay us more than he has to, goddamn scrooge.” Thinking about it brings back remnants of the day’s anger.

Alex steps out of the shower and shakes his head like a dog. He gives a me grin “Sounds like a good reason to get blazed, while I was out I stopped by Teague’s place. Dime bag of pure sticky. Whaddya say Jonny Boy? It’ll help ya sleep.” He looks just like a kid who just bought a toy and wants to play with it right away, with a silent chuckle to myself I head out to grab the bowl. “Sure thing Alex, I don’t have work tomorrow, I check the clock, today. Might as well catch up on my beauty sleep, God knows I need it more than you”

We reenact a ritual from our high school years. We pour the water, we light the leaf, we breath it in deep, hold it. Holding, holding, holding, gone. And everything coherent in our heads float out of our mouths. Thoughts like the smoke rings I blow are spinning lazily in the dimly lit living room. Time… goes… funny… I’m hungry, What time is it? Alex is talking about how art is sexist against men… I don’t get it. Did we play chess? I think we did, who won? Meh, Let’s go get a pizza. We barter and intimidate drawing lines, using diplomatic tactics on the other in an arms race of pepperoni and mushrooms. Holy Shit! Who put that sofa there? I’m tired. Did that Wall just move? And the disjointed thoughts begin to drift off to sleep one by one. Bloody hells I’m so tired I feel like I’m dying. Maybe I’ll feel alive in the morning. I’m drifting off and Alex is already out cold on the floor. I’m going, going, going gone. I exist without consciousness and I’m dead no more.

First Fights (Ties that Grind)

"Alex? Alex? Alex Id, Oy!" I need to raise my voice with him, my roommate, my oldest friend. "Yeah, what is it?" I now have his divided attention. "I want to talk about the past" I say to the back of his head. "What about, Jon?" I now have his whole attention...for now. "You remember our first fight? You know that one back in third grade?" a half grin slowly tiptoes onto his face. "Yeah I remember it, my first fight in a new town. Who was that other kid again...? Kevin Dooney? Or was it Dalton?" I think about it wading through hazy flashbacks "Cormac Turlough actually, Dooney and Dalton were his gang, if you could call it that." he lets out a laugh like a barking dog. "Yeah, yeah! He tried to beat me up at recess because I was new and albino. Then you showed up to stop him because you're Ma had given you a talk the night before about racism. You thought I was white. Heh heh, a misinterpretation saved my sorry ass."

"Ha! I know Alex; the best part was that they were so surprised when I stood up to them..." He suddenly hijacks my "That’s when I smacked Cormac right in the face with my boot. He was out cold before he knew what hit him. Ha ha! The look on..." You could tell he was getting into this retelling of our younger days. That crooked grin of his is wider than ever as he goes on. "Then the teacher finally finished her smoke break and found us waling on Dalton and Dooney. Oh man, that was a hoot, you remember that right?”

I remember all of it so vividly, that first moment of combat, the blast of adrenaline that wild way of the young not knowing how far they could've gone, how much pain could be done to another, and how easy it was. Though to be honest I'm just glad Dalton and Dooney were too scared when they suddenly lost their leader, though I can't argue with results, we won. Then I remembered how my Mom and I started arguing about the results. I remember her yelling at the top of her lungs." What on earth were you thinking! A boot for Christ’s sake! What happened to being a pacifist? This would have never happened back in China! You are in so much trouble young man, so don’t even think of getting out of this!" I correct myself. We won the fight but Mom won the battle, and the war began after that night.

You see my Mom was a very traditional Chinese woman. She expected me to be the filial son. Which meant no fighting, being straight laced, and a dedicated academic. I really wasn't any of those things and this fact brought her much aggravation and disappointment, feelings she never allowed me to forget. Dad still tries to keep in contact with me while he's not working abroad, Mom on the other hand avoids talking to me by raising my little brother Simon in the hopes he'll turn out better. I wonder how he's doing.

Alex on the other hand had it easier in a way; he hardly got into trouble with his folks since his very Irish family had a tendency towards "shenanigans" so to speak. He and his four brothers were the thorn in Officer Cook's side since the day they moved into town. His family was also very Catholic. That wasn't a bad thing at all, but there tend to be two kinds of Catholic children, those who follow the good book throughout their whole lives and then there are kids like Alexander Id. Right before high school graduation he announced to his family that he was an atheist. His family promptly disowned him, and told him to never come back until he "comes to his goddamn senses and stops being a heathen". His response to that was to change his last name from Macpherson to Id, a namesake that would motivate a majority of his life’s choices. He is still dead to them.

"Jon? Jon Thomason. Oy! Stop spacing out on me!" I snap out of my recollections. "Sorry Alex I was just thinking". He grins at me "Now that I have your hopefully undivided attention, let’s go out to eat I'm starving" I look at the clock it’s been about four hours. "Time flies when you’re reliving the past huh?" He looks at me funny as he throws on his coat "Whatever you say Jon, let’s go eat already- mushroom pizzas don't order themselves you know." I chuckle to myself as we head out. I can't argue with that logic and away we go.

Thugs Drugs and Paranoia

So here I am.

Life going down the drain.
Whisked away by a hurricane.
Of chemicals boiling in my veins.
Its me and bunch of bottles.
Empty, used up, burnt out.
Just like me.

I can barely see.

Much less talk.
Much less walk,
My buzzing body home.
So I guess I'll lay here on the floor for another minute.

That's it, that's the Spirit.
Though Spirits did this to me.
I dont even know anymore.
Why I changed, or who I wanted to be.

Aloof Antares

Why are we fighting?
Lying?
Trying?
Dying for something we know we cant have?

Why are we fighting?
Grasping?
Thrashing?
Gripping?
Stripping ourselves down to feel all right?

We shut off oursleves to get through the day, man are we dense.
Trying to fake a kind of common sense.
Deluding ourselves in inventive new ways.
Believing that tommorow is just another day.
We are all kinds of fucked, what else can I say?

Tell yourself its all right, so you can sleep tonight.
Tell yourself its all right, so I can turn off the light.

The Nirvana we never had.
Dominion of Mab.
Lets enter the world of dreams.
I decided to join the land of Faeries.
I assumed the mantle of Aloof Antares.

Thats why I'm fine, this time.
Because there is no line.
No edge to go over.
Only a current stream of life.
Carrying my ship out and away to far off dreams.
Where things are odd, because they are what they seem.
Its interesting, and with absolute truth.
Its a good place for the Aloof.

A child's imagination.
A man's station.
And if its too much for he.
One can simply flee.
Take a trip and visit the faeries.
And don the mantle Aloof Antares.

Allow me to share my dream with you.

Dominic's Boys

Here's a tale of two.
The first I ever made.
About an innocent.
And one made of jade.

I want to get jaded.
Jaded with you.
But we can be innocent too.
I will keep on smiling.
As you are defiling.

My hopes.
My dreams.
So far in darkness.
All I will hear are screams.

Stare into the abyss.
Stare into my eyes.
And I will not lie to you.
I'm doing just fine.

Working It Out

Sometimes, I smile when pissed.
I apologize if I act like this.
Its cuz we are all players on a stage.
Though I'm probably in the wrong age.

I'm a lover in an age of fighters.
I'm a fighter only with my lovers.
Because I'm wrong, right, wrong.
Because I try too damn hard.

It's as good as it gets.
When we pick up the bits.
Passing of bad weather.
And we're still together.
Gazing at bows after the rain.

Looking for answers in the sky.
Maybe nothing's there.
We don't really care.
You don't mind as long as I try.

The Perscribed Lifestyle

Here's antidepressants
Pill shaped presents
Making life more tolerable.
When you are miserable.

Science will save me from myself.
All of life's answers on a shelf.
For just 42 dollars.
Your allowed to holler in the comfort of your home.

And for that monthly price.
The man with the couch is rather nice.
And listens to all that your mind tries to smother.
By the way "just how is your mother?"

Lock me up for my own good.
Hey at least I get free food.
The way I think isn't how I should.
Hey let me lighten the mood.

With my Dark Sarcasm.
Involuntary Spasm.
Don't defy the medical.
That's nearly heretical.

I will let Science will save me from myself.
All of life's answers are on the shelf.
mood stabilizers, and Ritalin.
That's the kind of world were in.
Don't be yourself, you've lost sight.
Take the white pill, you'll feel alright.

Side effects may include...

Odysseus was a "could have been"

Names have power, they are you. Without it you would be nothing. It's true, whats the first thing you said in kindergarten? "High my name is "So ad So, or Blah Diddly Blah". Names can give off an image too, they adjust how people see you. Billy sounds like a kid, William sounds well learned, Bill sounds like just an every man.

You know, my dear old dad wanted me to be christened Ullyses. Not a clue why though, although it doesn't matter at all because my mom was adamant with a NO and named me Alexander. I found it funny that they both wanted names after Generals and Fighters, parents tend to give their kids names based on the hopes and ambitions they have for the kid, the name kids certain things such as Eugene which is Greek for "Born Lucky", Elijah & Elliot are both Hebrew for "The Lord is my God". Connor is an Irish-Gaelic name which means "Wolf Lover". They carry a parents desires for their children as well History of the family. My last name Wei stems from the fact that my ancestors lived by the River Wei in China.

All this talk about names got me curious about the meanings about my names. Alexander is a famous name due to Alexander the Great from Macedonia, he was aconqueror but before that Alexandros was Greek and it meant "Defending Man". My other name was given to me by my father. Wei Tian Mu means "Heavenly Sheppard" This was based off the story of the Monkey King; he took care of horses in Jade Palace in Heaven, I suppose I was named that due to the fact I was born in the year of the Horse and he wanted me to be in a sense protected. Ullysses wasn't just for General Grant, its actually a Latinized form of Odysseus the traveler and hero of the Odyssey by Homer. I looked it up and found out Odysseus is Greek meaning "To Hate". So what did expect of me? Watched over by heaven? A defender? To hate? Perhaps an amalgamation of all three. It's funny I actually have anger problems, I just bottle it all up and eveutally the bottle shatters and I just snap and hate everthing, scathing words or like the last time I broke down my freinds had to stop me. I hated my anger, but I need accept it asa part of myself right down to my name.

Here is an excerpt from one of my favorite songs that involves names. Enjoy "I and I" by Bayside.
If I could chose my own name
I'd chose something that's bold and fits
Like anger, aggression, or cunningly brash
By the skin of my teeth but with timing and class

Oh woe is me (Oh woe is me)
Oh woe were us (Oh woe were us)
But not anymore we stand up for ourselves
We're like captains at war, we'll get followed to hell

I hope you enjoyed my musing, but I need to ask... Whats your name? What is its origin? and most importatnly of all what does your name mean to you?

Good Day

For this Feeling

Take my head to your eye,
Go ahead and peek inside.
Go ahead enjoy this ride.
Hiding in plain view,
you will see.
My split up mentality.
Hard wired for duality.

I'm nervous as I'm writing this.
Like the time of my first kiss.
Yet also carefree, I breath.
Like a fish deep in the sea.
This paradox within in my head.
Should fill me with nerves misled.
I don't know, but I don't care.
Remembering your hand in my hair,
And the random acts that made me stop and stare,
then laugh.

Because Here I am
Biding, Listening.
Yet here I am
Ardent, Bristling.
Ready for little.
As well as anything.

Just ask, what you want of me.
I can be just about anything.
I can be your Bodhi Tree.
Or the very spirit of animation.
This is my determination,
to showcase my;
Flexibility.
Simplicity.
Complexity.
Assets like facets, cut into a stone.
I want to shine bright,
Like a diamond to your eye.

I am completely grounded,
Yet high as a kite.
Words cannot do this justice,
try as I might.
All I can come up with,
is simply this.

"Thank You"

The Tenth Round Starts

Stay down, stay there and sleep.
I stand there with my guard raised.
He is my greatest foe alive, an eternal rival.
My inner demon fights for dominance and survival.

Fools that we are, we slug it out.
Caged in ten-round bout.
I'm on my final stretch, I want to retch.
I've taken too many blows & I'm being bent in half.

The bell rings, the crowd sings.
Victory due to point decision.
In my derision, I cant help but laugh.
Middleweight Champion of my mind, raises his fist.
But we both know it won't end with just this.

"Ding Ding"

Here comes the new day.

Words Fail Me

I'm so fast, yet so slow.

My favorite phrase is "I don't know"

As myself I hope to grow.
And I've run into a wall.

I cant utter a syllable.
I know I'm in trouble.

I need my gab again.

Before I gag again.

Like I'm being strangled.

Why can't I speak?

I'm not that meek.

At least, I hope I'm not.

I try to present what I've got.

I've got pitches, lines, and attacks.

All stopped cold in their tracks.

I can't convey what's in my head.

Wants and desires left unsaid.

How I'm feeling, and why.

Struck dumb and suddenly shy.

Damn my oh so fickle voice.
I'd speak if I had the choice.

But with just one look from you...
Words Fail Me.