Love In Vain

I was laying on the beach in Wiainae near the squatter's camps there, reading Jung's "The Seven Sermons Of The Dead" when a darkness crossed the sky.

I shielded my eyes and looked up to see, standing over me, a huge Hawaiian woman in brightly colored moomoo and wearing a large military style backpack and next to her in a white linen suit and and Panama hat... No... God No... Swineheart.

"Oh fuck..."

"Now, now Ehms..."

The Hawaiian woman set down the backpack and pulled out a folding chair and set it up next to my blanket. Swineheart sat down.

"You're a hard man to track, Ehms."

"Not hard enough, apparently."

"Don't be like that, Ehms, I came to make you an offer that you may find helpful."


the Hawaiian pulled a cooler out of the backpack and proceeded to mix Swineheart a gimlet.

"Helpful? Leave me alone, Swineheart."

"Doctor, Swineheart..."

She handed him his gimlet and then pulled and umbrella out of the pack and held it over Swineheart's head.

"Yes, yes, Doctor, Doctor, Reverent Swineheart. Now leave me in peace."

"Peace? Peace? is that what you call it these days, Ehms?" He held out his hand and the Hawaiian woman reached into the pack and pulled out a thick file and handed it to the Doctor. he flipped through it lackadaisically. "Peace, eh? Ehms, I can't help but noticing here, I mean, it's impossible to ignore... Rejection and betrayal seems to be the dominant, reoccurring theme here."

"Listen Swineheart..."

"Doctor..."

"Fine, Doctor Swineheart, I'm tired, leave me alone."

"Tired. Yes, you must be, Ehms, I'm exhausted from just reading your file. Look here, I've taken the liberty of writing you a script."

He tossed me a pill bottle that seemed to suddenly appear in his hand. It had the mark of the infernal pharmacy. "What the hell's this?"

"A gift. something to help you sleep, Ehms. Sleep deeply for a long, long time. you need a rest, Ehms."

"Fuck off, Swine..." he was gone, just like that.

The police were doing one of their sweeps through the squatter's camps. Disheveled homeless where yelling at the cops, kids were crying. One of the squatter's pitbulls was running loose, barking and snapping mindlessly. I pulled out a sandwich I had in my pack and emptied the pills into it and threw it to the big pit as he ran by. He snatched it out of the air and swallowed it in one bite.

he made it about five feet to the water's edge before he collapsed.


______________________________________________



"When the train left the station he had two lights on behind.
The blue light was baby, the red light was my mind."

Rolling Stones


"Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, one of the Twelve."

Luke 22:3

_______________________________________________________

A Hall Of Famer Early On-- or -- Where Have All The Visionaries Gone?

I had been drinking for days and out of commission when I finally listened to Roman's message.

Beep. "Yea, I hate to say it but you need to leave town, take a long vacation... Not South... Definitely somewhere back East for a while..."

In the Ironworkers we worked in teams-- in 'couples'-- Roman was my other half.

There was cheap whiskey bottles everywhere, and big cigarette fire burns in the carpet. It had been bad. God knows where I went... Hopefully nowhere, probably not if I'm alive...

"Yea, fly like the wind Ehms, remember, East, not South. East. Fly." Click.

My right fist was sw0llen. I remembered the sound of crunching tendons and bone.

About a week before...

I woke up in Mississippi not knowing who to kill or why....


"Is that right...?" I brought my arms up and crossed my wrists in a defensive stance and brought my right leg back, set up. "Is that right? Fuck off."

Where had all the visionaries gone? The long odd shooters? What had happened to the American auto industry?

I was so sick of punks I could hurl.

__________________________________

"Therefore I cut you in pieces with my prophets,
I killed you with the words of my mouth..."

Hosea 6:5

___________________________________________


fritz gomez

Tiger Sharks Are Not Your Friends

Rojo called me and asked me to meet him at Ala Moana Beach Park, in the middle of Honolulu.

Ala Moana is a serious freak scene. There's been about 10,000 post card pictures taken from Ala Moana, but not many tourist actually stand in the spot where those pictures were snapped. It's a local beach; not a lot of Haoles (Westerners) there, except for the ones who have gone native, but these aren't your tourist.

There's a seedy side to Honolulu and you can see it from Ala Moana-- tatted up fighting Polynesians cruising the walk, native girls in one-coat, painted on no-kinis, hardcore surfers who know the way through the reef that sits about 75 yards off the beach, skateboarders and stoners, grifters and the insane, Asian gang crews and the Honolulu Police winging by on segways trying to keep a lid on the dangerous mix of sex and violence that beats under the surface of the place.

No, this is not a place for pasty, fat mainlanders in crude Hawaiian shirts with cameras. They wouldn't last long in Ala Moana Park. There's only so much a Honolulu cop on a segway can, or will, do when a 300 pound Hawaiian is savaging you because you took a picture of his sister playing in the surf... So I hear.

I found Rojo sitting on the beach wall in a pair of green board shorts, a kukui nut lei, a palm leaf cowboy hat and nothing else. There was an eight foot Eaton Bonzer surf board standing up in the sand near him with a good ten inch diameter bite out of it. He was sunburnt and smelling like the surf and sun and sex and beer and garlic shrimp off the wagons. Him and his native girl had been living in Ala Moana Park for the last three days. Not because they had no where to stay, but just because they didn't want to leave. I understood.

He had a little brass pipe hidden in his left hand and from time to time he would take a drag of cool Hawaiian Ice, if I'm not mistaken. A native came up and fist bumped him and said. "Ula Pona!" (Red Righteous or Righteous Red, or something like it).

"Loni showed me the channel through the reefs", he began, taking a hit off his Hawaiian Ice.

"We should make a map and sell it to the haoles."

He ignored me.

"I've been out there surfing the waves like a god for days now." He took another hit. "There's sharks out there..."

"You don't say."

"Tiger sharks, worse than bull sharks, really, they feed around the edges of the reefs all around the islands."

"And again-- No shit?"

"I've been out there at night when they're feeding, it's unbelievable."

"You've gone all Kurtz on me, Rojo."

"Are you the assassin?"

"Not yet, I'm going to try and reel you first."

"Umph." He took a big drag and blew out the sticky sweet Hawaiian herb smoke. A cop on a segway was passing by, he screeched to a halt when the cloud of smoke hit him. He looked over at Rojo, the obvious culprit. "Fuck-off I got a medical chit." A big Hawaiian sitting not far off stood up and growled at the cop, he hit the throttle and zoomed off.

He took another big hit and went on with his story.

"Last night it was hightide and a full moon. The sharks came it and were wrecking havoc on the reef, it was wild."

I didn't say anything so he went on, "A big, eight footer made a couple of passes by Loni and I."

"Of course, Loni was out there with you."

"Yea, of course, anyway, Ems, you got to believe me, I was communicating with him; we were communicating."


"You realize, this is the part of your story where I throw a big net over you, right?"


"No, for real, we were communicating, on some other kind of level, we were speaking..."


"So what happen?"


"He got mad, or jealous , or something and took a bite out of my board."

"And what did you do?"

"I gave him a right cross." He said as if it was obvious and took another hit.

"You gave him a right cross?"

"Right across the head. I stunned him or knocked him out or something because he went limp and started floating vertical in the water and then another, smaller, like a six footer came up and about snapped him in half."

"Holy shit."

"When we got in Loni said I was now a king and gave me this kukui lei."

"Where is Loni now?"

He tapped the ashes out of his pipe and said, "Oh, she went off to get more supplies."



________________________


"All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I'm fine..."
Jeff Spicoli

"If it keeps on raining levee's gonna break... All last night, sat on the levee and moaned..."
Led Zeppelin

"The horror! The horror!"
Kurtz



m.e.

Waves

I was born a Pieces in the city of Neptune, New Jersey. My brother and I grew up in the Jersey Shore surf getting our little asses thrashed in the rough Mid-Atlantic surf, for fun. I grew up with the smell of the ocean never far off.


The Marine Corps sent me to South Cali when I was 21.


I drove there from Jersey, my first time doing the 'crossing' but not my last. After days through the desert we came over a rise planted with avocado trees and there, suddenly, stretched out in front of us, was the blue expanse of the Pacific.

As we came down we could see palm trees as high as buildings, and the bluest, blue-white water I had ever dreamed. And waves. Waves like we never knew to dream about in Jersey. Waves. Beautiful line after line of slick, slow crashing smooth waves. Beautiful zen garden waves rolling in perfect tubes all along the beach.

__________________



When I first got to Oahu and went to the North Shore I had been away from the ocean for a long time. I had missed her smell. I had missed her touch. I had dreamed of her constantly, especially her waves, especially her South Cali waves.

These were different waves. These were wild, massively powerful mid ocean waves. Jumping in was like swimming off a boat in the middle of the ocean. These were wild lion waves. Strong and inscrutable and dangerous.

I have been swimming there many times since. Wild, crashing, multi-directional, terrible strong, rip currented surf.

One day I had my small, quiet epiphany.

In the words of George Costanza, "The sea was angry that day my friends, like an old man trying to return soup at a deli." But worse, like a lion trying to return surfers to the cosmic deli. It was raining and overcast and the sea was rough with 7 foot by the Hawaiian scale (9 by the mainland scale) waves. As usual they were breaking about 200 yards out. You could see little surfers out there, and, occasionally one in their glory, riding the monster.

We stood on the beach a long time watching. An old man came up, in his 60's, I would guess. He was toting a longboard. He picked a spot on the beach and stretched and then waxed his board and looked out into the ocean. He crossed himself and dove in and paddled out through the breakers and disappeared into the surf.


Suddenly, in my mid-forties, I finally knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Suddenly it was so obvious.

I had always liked dangerous outside work.




I remembered, years earlier, talking to a friend about a neck tat that I was thinking of getting: a cross. He's a smart devil and told me that I should wait a while, until my life had irrevocably jumped the tracks; until there was no hope of me ever having a straight job again. He said I probably wouldn't have to wait long. He was right.

As soon as I had my epiphany I headed to the nearest ink parlor to have a nice cross jabbed into my neck. My new vocation takes commitment.





_________________________________


Tragedy and sorrow and brokenheartedness
Roll in the wild surf that
Crashes and washes over us--
So eat, drink and be merry
For tomorrow we will never die.

Tomorrow we will never die.

___________________________________________

“Martha, Martha, you worry and fret about so many things and yet few are needed, indeed only one. It is Mary who has chosen the better part and it shall not be taken from her.”

_____________________________________________________


m.e.

Prayer For The Fallen; Prayer For The Standing

There are things we must keep in our hearts like, if, breathing was involuntary, we would have to remember to breathe.

We have to remember to breathe; breathe what God says. Through Isaiah He said:

"but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."

And:

"On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth, The Lord has spoken."

I know these things are true, but there are some things, that when they are said, strike with such impact that their truth is obvious. Jesus said, in an extraordinary way, that death was a lie. He said:

"have you not read what God said to you, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of jacob'? He is not the God of the dead but the God of the living."

Jesus said that death was a lie.

And those who fall from this world do not fall in vain. God says that He knew us before we were formed in the womb and he knows all of our endings. He is the potter; we are the clay. He creates with words; we are his words. He says that his word will not return to him void. We all accomplish His purpose. We must remember this like, if, we had to remember to breathe.

Any man who judges the circumstance or falling from this world of another is a fool and the same measure that he metes out will be measured back to him again. I don't make this stuff up. You do not want to be meted out a foolish child of darkness' measurement.

Remembering all this, my prayer for the fallen is that they are blessed and renewed and soaring on the wings of eagles, as it is written.

The prayer for the standing is harder. We can only see through the glass darkly.

I was an iron worker for a long time. There are things you hear, on the ground, in front of the TV, that seem obvious. The same things will take on a whole new meaning when you are a hundred feet up in the air, in a cold February windy rain, walking down a ten inch I-beam, burdened with 40 pounds of gear and tools. When people tell you not to look down or not to make any sudden moves; to move purposefully, up there it's different than hearing it on the ground from a movie.

The ones standing are the ones a hundred feet up in the cold February windy rain walking down a ten inch I-beam, burdened.

Do Not Look Down. To honor the fallen, Do Not Look Down. Move Purposefully and Do Not look Down. That is my prayer for the Standing.

We have to remember these things like, if, we had to remember to breathe.


___________________________________


mike edwards

4: Chat Fantome

I followed him out onto the pier. A murky dawn was spreading across the sky like a sickness. Men began appearing out of holes and from under rocks, shuffling this way and that with burdens and fear.

Rojo started talking, in a big booming voice, oblivious to the doom all around him. I ignored him. He was going on about the ship being a converted deep sea fisher. "She wanted a crew of at least six, we've got four- not counting you, and why should we? Ha!" His laugh echoed across the pier. The zombie men were frightened by it and scurried away from his laugh like water bugs from a hand.

My spell started back, in and out, like a radio with poor reception. I faded back to when I was sixteen. My mother was standing in front of me grimacing. She told me to go into her room and get something off her night stand. It was a late Saturday morning. The old man was in there sleeping. He was an ironworker by trade and Friday nights he always stayed out late and slept in half the day on Saturday. He was a tough, mysterious old fucker. He played his cards off close to his chest. I didn't want to go in there with him still sleeping, but old girl was adamant.

He had a tattoo, some writing, running across his right bicep. We caught glimpses of it from time to time, but he kept it cover and hidden, jealously, most of the time. There it was. His massive right arm hanging out on top of the covers. I was terrified but I could not resist. I snuck noiselessly around the bed to get a closer look.

My high school french told me it was French, which was odd, given the fucker was loudly Scot-Irish. "Chat Fantome" I repeated in a whisper.

"Chat Fantome. Cat. Ghost cat..."

Just as I whispered my discovery the massive arm moved, lightening quick, like a snake striking; like a ghost cat pouncing. Suddenly the fleshy bicep was under my chin, clamping down on my air way, my feet off the ground. Somehow I had been turned around and was facing the ceiling. I tried to speak but nothing came out. I could smell stale whiskey and cigarettes and his strong musk funk and see the ceiling starting to spin and fade.

"Oh, it's only you. You sneaky little bastard, you're lucky I recognized you before..." I suddenly went flying and landed on the floor. "...before... well, tell your mother I'll be up early today and wanting poached eggs." He coughed and rolled back over, with his arm under the cover this time.

The blue mist and green sparkles faded. Rojo was in front of me. "Green! Green! You silly bastard here we are, you're new home. Once you get on there's no getting off. We're hauling organs, fucker, might as well tell you, there's nothing you can do, except get yourself killed, Ha! Maybe we'll put your organs in the cooler with the rest." He laughed uproariously at his own joke and stomped up the gang plank.

It was a rusted out tub, "Albatross" painted across the stern in flaking black paint.


__________________________________



mike edwards

The Smoking Pig

Machine Farming.

A Bad Day To Quit Sniffing Glue

Global economic meltdown, swine flu pandemic, what the hell is next?

I believe famine comes next.

Barry picked a bad day to quit sniffing glue, as they say.


____________________________

Maybe

From John Steinbeck's East Of Eden:

Samuel said, "...Why is this word so important?"
Lee's hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. "Don't you see?" he cried. "The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt', meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel- 'Thou mayest'- that gives a choice. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on man. For if 'Thou mayest', it is also true that 'Thou mayest not'. Don't you see?"

For Bernard Moitessier

There is one of two terrible fates that await all men: Not fulfilling his dreams or Fulfilling his dreams,
So man has dreamed of making machines who will dream for him.

____________________________


fritz gomez

Melchizedek, King of Righteousness, King of Peace

Melchizedek is the mysterious king of Salem during the time of Abraham. He is mentioned twice in the Old Testament and once in the New Testament. His name comes from the Hebrew, Melek, meaning 'king' and Tzedek, meaning 'righteousness'-- King of Righteousness.

Genesis 14:18:

Then Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine. He was priest of God most High, and he blessed Abram, saying,

"Blessed be Abram by God most high
Creator of heaven and earth
And blessed be God Most High,
who delivered your enemies into your hand."

Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.

_____________



And then David writing in Psalm 110:

The Lord says to my Lord:
"Sit at my right hand
until I make your enemies
a footstool for your feet."

The Lord will extend your mighty
scepter from Zion;
you will rule in the midst of your enemies.
Your troops will be willing
on your day of battle.
Arrayed in holy majesty,
from the womb of dawn
you will receive the dew of your youth.

The Lord has sworn
and will not change his mind:
"You are a priest forever,
in the order of Melchizedek."

The Lord is at your right hand;
he will crush kings on the day of his wrath.
He will judge the nations, heaping up the dead
and crushing the rulers of the whole earth.
He will drink from a brook beside the way;
therefore he will lift up his head.

_____________


And finally, Paul writes in Hebrews 7:1-3:

This Melchizedek was king of Salem and priest of God Most High. He met Abraham returning from the defeat of the kings and blessed him, and Abraham gave him a tenth of everything. First, his name means "king of righteousness"; then also, "king of Salem" means "king of peace." Without father or mother, without genealogy, without beginning of days or end of life, like the Son of God he remains priest forever."

_____________


Doctor Reverend Fredrick Von Swineheart

Chapter 3: Certain Peril

Once Captain Cook left I ordered a whiskey and found a dark booth facing the door to wait for Mr. Rojo.

I didn't have to wait long. He was a big fucker, and loud, even before he opened his mouth. I made him for a squid immediately. Seal, no doubt. I had seen his type before. He came in and stopped in the middle of the little shack and scowled at the few frightened patrons.

Suddenly I had one of my spells. Doctors say it's a psychiatric problem, but it's not, although I can't really explain it. I leave the world for a moment or days, sometimes. I fall into a blue twilight field filled with lime green shimmering lights. It's beautiful place where I'm exhilarated and full of power and the past and present and future are all bound up in one stream, and there are times, or places, where I remember to care and can divide out the future, and there times when I can't afford to go there, like when some big, dangerous seal is headed my way grimacing, and I remember that I should care...

I could see him, far off, right in front of me. He pounded on the table, "You Green? Duncan Green?" I forced myself back. I would be weakened. I would have to be careful. "Hey, dipshit, are you Duncan Green? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Green? Yes, yes, green. I, yes, I'm Mr. Green."

"Jesus H. Christ, just what we need, another psychopath on the ship..."

The glass in my hand exploded. Whiskey blew out everywhere. "I'm not a psychopath, asshole."

Despite the whiskey that blew all over his shirt, he didn't move. The shock quickly evaporated from his face like mist on a sunny day and he smiled, "Keep telling yourself that. Personally I couldn't give a fuck as long as you can tie a bowline knot and cook."

The man behind the counter must have been watching us; he was suddenly there with a rag wiping up the whiskey and picking up the broken glass, then he went away as quickly and quietly as he appeared.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Can you tie a bowline and cook?"

"Of course."

"Uhm... Passport?"

"Yea." I dug it out and handed it to him. An expensive and clever forgery.

"Canadian?"

"Yes."

"Born in Nova Scotia?"

"Yes."

"Why's everyone a Canadian these days?"

"Couldn't tell you."

"Royal Navy vet?"

"Royal Canadian Navy, although, technically, now it's the Canadian Forces Maritime Command, but yea."

"Job."

"Cook."

"On what ship?"

"The HMCS Rainbow, a polar class."

Just keep the story simple and stick to it.

"Alright, you're aboard. We'll work out your scale aboard. You don't seem to care much anyway..."

Fuck, I've got to watch that, I thought to myself as I was following him out.









mike edwards

Chapter 2: From Nowhere To Nowhere, In Red

I sat at the counter and ordered a coffee. Pure battery acid of a place where coffee isn't their signature drink and whatever watered down dog piss they call coffee has been sitting on a warmer somewhere for 10 or 20 hours.

There was an Englishman, in his 50's, at the end of the counter, swilling gin and arguing with some sort of Flip official. The argument got heated, but in the end the Englishman must have lost because he slid a fat brown envelope across the counter to the Flip. The Flip snatched it up and spit out in broken english, "Boat's not out a bay by noon, boom," he clapped, holding the envelope, "we board." He got up and left in a huff.

The Englishman was, apparently, a skipper of some variety. He cursed and gulped his gin. Not the best time, but I was running out of time.

I slid down the countered gently. "Excuse me, sir..."

He looked at me over his drink, "What the fuck do you want?"

"Sorry to bother you it's just that I'm looking for work on a boat..."

He nearly spit his drink, "What? As what?"

I generally said 'cook'. I had cooked on boats and if they didn't need one I could then get on as a hand, but it didn't work the other way.

"Cook."

"Bloody hell, you're kidding me."

"No", I answered getting nervous.

"You're a good omen then, Mr..." He held his hand out waiting for me to introduce myself.

I took his hand and told him my alias.

He shook vigorously. "Captain Logan Cook. A pleasure. I had two Flips, one hand, one cook, supposed to be here and hour ago. Had assurances from some high ranking local, a Mr. Pablo, but they didn't show and now the local port master is bleeding me dry in bribes. We need to shove off."

I took my hand back, startled, but he didn't seem to notice. I assured him, "Well, Captain... Cook... I'm, ah, ready to shove off at once."

"Wonderful. I'm going to sent my man down here to give you the once over. He gives you the OK and we'll get you boarded and be under way. Just hang tight here for a few minutes. Wait a minute. You didn't ask where we're headed..."

"Oh, ah, well, I just want to get out on the water again, where's not too important to me just now. but where are we headed?"

He gathered up his paperwork and charts shrewn in front of him on the counter and pulled out a cell. "Uhm", He made a weird sound. "I'll have my security man explain it all." He started walking out with the cell to his ear, "Rojo, get down here right away. I ran into some cunt says he's a cook... Yes, yes, a flook, hurry...."



mike edwards

Dandelion Bouquet

by mike edwards

Chapter 1: A Sudden Au Revoir

I had had a premonition and so slept on the floor next to the wall.

I heard a key slip into the lock about 3 or so. Two Filipinos came into the room. They had large bolo machetes. They walked noiselessly up to the bed, looked at each other and then began hacking at the bed. The three cheap foam pillows that they thought were me were utterly butchered.

I had a large bat-like stick ready. The first one was gone from this world before he knew what happened. The second one was just realizing something was wrong and was turning. I caught a flash of his eye. There was no fear-- hatred, acknowledgement, and evil and then, blank, but never any fear.

It was time to leave town.

Before dawn I was down on the docks looking for anyone who needed a hand, on anything that was reasonably watertight, leaving for anywhere.

My rates were fire sale negotiable just now.

"Everyday was your first day, and every day was possibly your last."-- It was something my father had said to us just before he died. It calmed me to think of it.

Pablo had sent his Flips to kill me, there was no doubt about that. For a minute I thought about stopping by his place and... But that would just be asking for it. And besides, Pablo was too well connected. I would never get out in one piece if I went out of my way to croak, or even just stomp, Pablo.

I had met Pablo about eight months ago, not long after I arrived in Subic Bay. I couldn't stand the ex-pat crowd and besides, I couldn't really trust them, what with that big fat reward for my arrest hanging over me, so I tended, as always, to gravitate towards the local riff-raff.

We became friends, I thought, because of a similar world view, you could say. Then I was invited to the Friday night card games. Which was fun, until Pablo started cheating.

By the time I noticed that Pablo had had a mirror installed behind where I always sat, I figured Pablo had taken me for, on the order of three large. I'd be needing that back, plus penalties.

It wasn't the money that bothered me, I had more money than I knew what to do with, it's just that the asshole thought it was ok to do.

I started doing some cheating myself. Without going too deep into it, it involved a highly polished silver ring and a pair of special bifocals. It worked well, maybe too well. But this night I had got back my three large, plus penalties.

Pablo must have been using the same math. Although now there was the cost of two dead Filipinos laying on the floor in my apartment to factor in.

It was over. Time to go. But there was no ships looking for a hand that I could find in the pre-dawn dark of the piers.

I started thinking of my father and what he would do-- probably never get himself into this situation in the first place-- and then what I would do if I couldn't find any boat out of here. I didn't want the sun to come up on me with no way out.

After an hour or so of roaming the piers I decided to regroup in a little cafe/bar shack on a dark corner. There was three or four men sitting around in miserable repose.

mike edwards