Getting a tattoo?

On a lighter note:

Do you change your mind often? I did

This tweet after getting a smile outta me, got me thinking about changing our minds, How often do we change our minds? Say for example on your morning commute to work, you got your GPS on and select «work», you follow the device’s directions and you get into a traffic jam. «Crap, why did I listen to this thing?» you start thinking about an alternate route, bum! there’s that exit, you get on your alternate route, but you are not the only one that had the same predicament and now you are in another jam, on a much smaller street which makes it harder to get out of it, in the distance you can see that the original jam has started moving and is now flowing at a constant fifty miles an hour or so, while you are stuck.

«I should have not changed my mind»

You go out for an ice cream and get the chocolate with chocolate chips, your date gets the vanilla flavour, she makes a funny remark, looks at you expecting a smile. It was funny to you so you smile with your perfect teeth, except for one tooth that is now covered with a chocolate chip.

«I too should have gotten the vanilla flavour»

There are two girls at work that are appealing to you and they both seem to be interested in you, you make a choice and go out with the blonde, start dating after a while and as time goes by, things get complicated and end up in a mess.

«I wonder what would have happened should I have chosen to go out with the brunette?»

So my final thought on getting tattoos is: Are you !00% sure you want to have that Tasmanian devil with you for the rest of your life?

Wait!, I still do, I still change my mind often 😉



Notes on wrinkled papers, tickets from the store down the road, a $10 bill from the coffee-house we used to go to. A sketch book and three note books filled to the last line.

An overhang lamp casting its light on a mug half empty with stale coffee, smoke from a cigarette dancing and twisting to the breeze.

The same music playing from an old AM radio day after day, as a constant reminder of old memories that promise to keep us in one piece if we play them over and over.

«Will you turn that damn music off already!«

I’ve banged on that wall every day since I moved into this apartment, that old fart I have for a neighbor must be deaf.

I’m considering moving; so many memories gathered in such little time. Oh and that music, sickening like the constant drop from a broken faucet.

«Turn off the fucking music!«

It’s driving me crazy, the clutter, the papers filled with notes and ideas I can’t seem to be able to straighten up.

This table I write on is the mirror of my mind.

«Oh for crying out loud man, turn the music off!«

At least for one day if you will?


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No great Journey ever started sitting still

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

Neale Donald Walsch

Jack was upstairs working when someone knocked on the door, he went down stairs to get the door, two men in black fatigues and ready to draw their guns at the slightest hint of resistance greeted him. «Come with us know, we can do this the easy way or the hard way»

Jack was taken downtown after a mild routine beating to set straight who was in charge. «Why am I here?» Jack said once they were at the police station. He was stripped, searched and thrown in a dark, cold piss and shit smelling cell decorated with graffiti made from human waste.

A few hours went by and Jack all beat up was tired and drowsing off when suddenly guns were fired outside his cell.

«What’s going on?» Jack muttered, «We are warming up to give you another beating» the two policemen replied laughing, Jack was terrified, he felt like a rabbit in its hole with the dogs digging it out.

The next day Jack got out, he was never given any answers or explanations of why he had been taken in.

He went back to the pile of rubble that was once his home, looking around he found his key ring, a gift from his girlfriend which complimented her own key ring. Her’s was a cookie, his a glass of milk.

Jack knew what he had to do.



Do what I told you to do

Dark bags under my eyes witness countless sleepless nights. Unanswered questions haunt my dreams.

«I guess I was wrong, I guess it wasn’t your voice I heard after all.»

Silence… Absolute terrifying silence…

«Screw this» I said as I determined to leave complaining about his silence and lack of response.

Suddenly, I’m choking, I’m unable to spit out any more words, my rant stopped cold, my mind goes blank and I forget how to speak, babbling I notice my tongue paralyzed.

«I spoke to you, I made you a promise, I gave you my word, how dare you ask for proof or confirmation?» said the same gentle voice that I’ve heard three times before.

My knees gave in and I dropped to the ground.

«Seek me, have faith, remember? Now get up, go do what I told you to do.»

At that moment I was filled with incredible peace.



The secret Life of John Doe

John was twenty something when he attempted suicide the first time.

Lights were dim, warm water running in the sink. «I’m ok, just got a little dizzy» he replied to the person knocking on the door.

A thread of red running down his finger tips turning the water pink. The music of the party outside the filthy restroom grew louder by the minute, lights flickering, voices in off calling his name…

«John, John, come on dude hurry up, the weed’s in your car and we need the keys»

Someone knocked open the door when there was no response, the hot sharp blade that once caressed his skin, fell to the floor in slow motion.

«HELP!» someone yelled, that was the last he heard as he fainted.

No one knew John’s family or who to contact in case of  an emergency, they just knew the weed was in his car and he had the keys.

He woke up in a filthy sofa, there was no one in the room, his wrists bandaged with ice bags.

John stood up, took a step forward and tripped, managed to get out of the house, no body noticed when he left, he reached for the car keys in his pocket.

No car keys…