My Innards!

My innards threatened to become my outtards… don’t question me… I had a fever. I honestly had so much more than a fever… but the fasten seatbelt sign burrowed into the psyche of my moral standards… well liabilities really. Not only that, but the stay in the airport the night before hadn’t done much for my hygiene at the time… I think the baby next to me is seriously opposed to my stench. “He’s flown before. He’ll be good” Yeah. He’s fine alright.

I couldn’t wait. I released myself from the restricting grip of the seatbelt and shot for the stall. The flight attendant looked at me with wary eyes, but the eyes of a mother were now soft as I explained my health… and she saw the color draining from my face. A mother knows… the obvious.

We traveled down the tarmac as I slushed out my entire day’s previous meals. When I could finally stand, the flight attendant knocked to give a minute warning for the takeoff. Fine… but I looked to the toilet for only a glance to indicate my intent to return.

The take off was not the easiest, but the child agreed with me… Honestly kid… you don’t know true suffering. My intestines were devolving. Fine… I shall return to my capsule of a prison. But first… “Ma’am we have a seat open in the back if you and your son would follow me…” Bye kid.

Side note… I was using the first class cabin’s restroom… well I was in business… but I couldn’t enjoy it… because the very movement involved in ordinary flight seemed to send my stomach into even more of a tizzy.

“Can I get you some ginger ale sweetheart?” Under normal circumstance, the term ‘sweetheart’ would wrench my stomach, but she was kind, and I was already too nauseas.

“Pick out a snack too… The granola bar would be good to settle your stomach…”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ve all been there.”

The warmth behind her smile made my queazy line of lips turn upward at the edges. I sat with my complimentary snack-age and tried to settle myself. I must’ve chewed about five tums… I could’ve paid twenty bucks for some pepto.

I ingested more, but my body didn’t want it… Too late. The brief forty-five minute flight was now minutes from landing.

“Damn…” My empty can was tossed, and the half eaten granola bar was looked at by my favorite flight attendant. “You should try to finish that.”

“Thank you” I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t argue with her either.

If you could believe it my condition was deteriorating further… Up until that point I had kept disposal of my waste to my rectal region, but now… the new contents of my stomach were not being warmly welcomed.

The worst landing of my life then ensued catching the attention of the other flight attendant… She would have to be an idiot to not notice. I was hyperventilating as to not projectile vomit everywhere.

“Are you okay” I could have smacked her… in what world would I be okay…?

I shook my head and she asked again fifteen seconds later. “Do you think I could get off early…?” We landed. I was trying to ask her if I could stand up, but apparently she was an idiot… Eventually, when we came to a complete stop, she said, “You can try.” Of course I can try, but its too late now.

I made it off the plane. I don’t think I said thank you to anyone, but the stench of my tarmac Hershey squirt-age now carried itself up the ramp to my rescue point, the restroom stall now forever graced with almost all my bodily mis-functions.

In all honesty, I don’t know how I made it to the luggage. I was subconscious and everyone kept their distance from me so… that’s probably why. If anyone would’ve crowded me my body would’ve rejected them, dramatically.

I have never endured more bitter suffering in my entire existence.

To the delta flight attendant who assisted me… Thank you from the bottom of my being.

Much love to you and your travel experiences.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~


the beach

~Flashes of fiction~


Patrick is a man of many forms, but today, as he walks from one edge of the earth to meet the ocean’s welcoming frigidity, he is but a man. His lungs expand, filling themselves with the same essence as those around him now inhale, allowing the scent of the sea to inhabit them.

Chirps of distant cheering children skate across the surface of the waves just before they tumble against the shores subtly displaced sand. He moves to walk along the edge of the shore, “oh, excuse me…” the girl’s blackened lips parted slightly as her densely eye-lined eyes filled up with a common courtesy, “No problem.” He moved past her, but the remnant of her similar nature resounded in each mull of a wave’s displacement. Even goth girls go to the beach…

He walked as another being, a tanned man with broad shoulders, a defined physique, and unconcerned eyes, trotted passed. He turned to watch the man pass a few girls who cutely chattered as he passed. A screeching child darted into his path, stopping his observation. “Phoebe! Wait for me!” Her mother now moved passed him giving a simple smile as she went onward towards the little version of her.

The place around him seemed to be motion itself, yet it fueled his calm, a dense pulse now pushed him to sit atop the sand. The occasional “Shark!” would echo out, but no shark would ever be active. The sun’s high throne topped everyone with a layer of its rays allowing for the general white population to turn a nice shade of pink.

“Excuse me… You’re my history teacher from high school… don’t you remember me?”

He looked up into the young woman’s face and smiled warmly. “I’m sure… Oh! You’re Amy!” She smiled at his enthusiasm that was now mirrored in hers. She nodded and gestured, “May I sit?” He nodded in response.

“So this is how you were always such a calm teacher… and why everyone enjoyed your classes.”

“You still remember me so it must be true.”

“Of course… Hey you remember a guy named Tommy?”

“What does he look like?”

“Here…” She ruffled the items in her bag to pull a phone from it. Her hand held a picture of him. He smiled and nodding, a memory of the classroom clown clowning his way to the principal’s office in many of his other classes, but his antics had always been a welcomed comic relief to the density of history lessons.

“Well… he died. Yesterday he was hit on his way home and…” Amy’s words stopped as she choked back an apparent rush of emotion. Something clouded him, pulling him from the sound of the waves and the squawks of the guls.

“I am so sorry… He was an amazing person.”

“How do you know that.” She almost snarled with the response. He smiled softly.

“He was one of my favorite students…”

The words seemed to settle somewhere deep inside her eyes. She pooled like the waves her clear eyes now reflected. She let slip the emotions one by one. He turned to look out at the ocean, feeling somehow displaced by each wave.

He was one of my favorite students… Tommy. 

The waves seemed heavy as they released their weight and gravity’s upon the surface of the earth. The screeching children and echoing seagulls seemed harsh. The glint of shine from the spiked choker of the goth girl seemed a bit too much for the noon time’s sunlight. He sighed, closing his eyes. The sounds gave him something simpler to ponder.

He was an amazing person. Gone or not… Yes, he wouldn’t continue to affect the people around him, but the people had affected him were here now… On a beach, surrounded by life itself.

Patrick… A man of many forms now watching a beach and appreciating life. Realizing that life itself was and is and always will be beauty.


~may your breath always be the way you wish~

Journal Entry 2; Looking Forward

September 3rd 2017

I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. nonstop. It seems to be a good sound to take in the city to. May it be a good sound for you to take in my journal entry.

Its been a while since I have felt the density that is independence. Yeah its a lot to deal with, but I think the biggest confidence booster is finding out that you can handle more than you have before.

Life is beautiful… and not just when its obvious. I am all too grateful that life is great right now, but even when its sucks… For example. The profuse vomiting out a window of a vehicle that isn’t yours will most likely not leave you feeling fulfilled. Trust me. But in the end… you go to sleep and wake in the morning a little nauseous, but able to live another day. Alive because you had friends to get you home. Alive because you had a place to go home to. And truly alive because of reasons to leave that home and live life.

I am so happy to have finally found a venue for my creativity. Art school is filled with beings just like me in the nature of creativity and acceptance and beauty and reverence.

I encourage you to live your life. Its a choice. Move forward. I promise it’s difficulties will be worth it if you feel fulfilled from the beauty of it all.

Much love to you and your life.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~