Thursday, September 6, 2012

Rounding First

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September 06th, 2012

Instead of teasing myself by rounding first and only going half way to the island that’s nestled between first and third on my baseball diamond, today’s my day I get to second base.

I don’t want to return to the safety of first base.  I’ve been there done that. I need to have a stand up double. The crack of the bat drowns out the crowd as the ball launches out to center field. I run up the first baseline watching the ball disappear in the lights of the stadium. The white ball becoming engulfed in the white lights of the burning clandestine heat, emanating from the candlepower of the large steal structures that house the bulbs.

The crowd roars with excitement. The sound from the bat gives them the false hope that I may have hit it out of the ballpark. The fans behind home plate rise to their feet creating a domino effect the spreads down the first and third baselines as each fan gets on their feet to cheer the ball on its quest to find the outer limits of the outfield.

I drive me feet into the dirt. The right sides of my leather cleats straddle the white line that is lying on top of the baseball dirt forming the infield. I drive my arms forward and backwards as I exert all my power in my sprint as I continue to eye the run away ball that is somewhere out there as it drifts to never, never land. So I focus on the center fielder that seems to have beat on the ball.

He moves his body backwards, his steal cleats digging into the neatly manicured grass in center field. As he attempts to move with the ball, trying to out run its velocity. The ball is ever sailing as it descends from the white lights and stands out in the blackness of night like a star falling from the sky. He is moving as fluently as the ball is in motion. I can only hope the wind gives it that extra push it needs to sail the ball over his head.

I’m not hoping to see it fall into the out reached arms of some overzealous fan. I just want to get to second base. I hope, with the hormones of a pubescent boy, to get my chance to round first base after months and months of trying to move from right to left.I want to stand on my island with a smile as I survey the field and the people in the stands.

The music travels from the stands where my fans are seated. The music notes reaching my ears as they flow past me and echoe throughout the ballpark. I’m standing with one foot on the second base bag and the right foot on the orange clay. My weight applying pressure to the dirt as it surrounds my foot drowning out any color on the bottom of my cleat.

From my second base position I can still feel the energy of the crowd who are still buzzing about my near home run. Their anxiety is high after I scored an RBI. The smells of the food get caught up in the breeze as the aroma finds its way to me among the music notes and chatter from the first few rows of the stadiums seating platform.

The combination of it all intertwines with one another overloading my senses as it stimulates my mind causing the nerves in my spine to transmit a smile to my face while I stand back and contemplate if I will make it home from here.

“Cotton candy, here, Cracker Jacks,” is the words I hear. Drowning out the PA announcer who is starting to divulge the next batter who walks on the field.

I watch the pitcher with a keen eye as dig into the infield, taking a few steps from the safety of my second base. I rest my forearms on my legs as I widen my stance and lower my hips to get a good starting base, so I’ll be ready to launch when I see the baseball fly of the tip of the bat.

My goal was to hit a stand up double. Life is a game and it’s all in how you play it. I may strike out or ride the pine but I knew eventually I’d find my place. I’m standing here perched on second base looking to find home plate. It’s better then packing it in and giving up on a season before I had a chance to even try.

The way I see it, a double was fair enough for now. I just needed to believe that I could at the very least, round first base and make it half way home. Because home is where the heart is and I have a pretty good view from second base.










Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.


Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Captain Imperfecto's Lake View

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September 05, 2012

Ever feel that your life could be on the pages of a sitcom script making fun of your most humbling moments...

[Gilligan's Island music]


"Just sit right back
And you'll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip,
That started from this modest dock,
aboard Captain Imperfecto’s tiny ship.
The first mates were tiny sailin' men,
the Captain new, but sure,
One passenger to set sail that day,
For a brief island tour,
a brief island tour.

"The weather wasn’t getting rough,
But the tiny ship was stopped.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The captain would be lost.
The captain would be lost.
 
"The ship set ground in the middle of the lake
Of this uncharted water stream,
With Christopher,
And Nico too,
Captain Imperfecto,
And his dog,
The good friend Ron, and the fun,
Here on Captain Imperfecto's lake view."

[Camera Pan in]

Viewing from the air, the camera moves in and slowly descends on our stars as they prepare the boat for launch from the boat ramp. The evening is glorious. The twilight sky shimmers on the lake reflecting back towards the heavens. The water is still and there isn’t a ripple to be seen on its surface. The truck is backing in with the trailer and the new boat on top ready for launch. The kids are strapped in their car seats as our star Captain Imperfecto backs his truck as he navigates the trailer into the water while his buddy Ron waits in the boat.

Ron

Ron is standing behind the center console of the boat

Chris! [He shouts]

Chris

[As camera zooms in on Chris que hard clapping and whistling track]

Chris stops his vehicle and exits the large 4 x 4 truck. He walks to the back of the trailer to talk with Ron. Chris is relaxed. He is wearing a t-shirt, baggy shorts and flip flops. His favorite ones. He’s a Florida boy and he enjoys living the life of a beach bum.

What’s up Ron?


Ron

Hey [in a commanding tone] just unhook the straps from the eye hook on the boat’s hull and I’ll drive the boat in reverse right off this trailer and into the water. [use hand gestures]


Chris

I don’t know Ron. [Shaking his head] The boat guy stressed to me “do not unhook these straps until the trailer and boat are fully in the water.”

Ron

Oh, please Chris he’s a salesman what does he know. [with a chuckle] Trust me. Just unhook those straps and back her up. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve been around boats my whole life.

[que laugh track]

Chris

Chris reiterates what he previously told Ron because deep down he knew he was right but, he does know Ron is a pretty smart boater so he decided to give Ron the benefit of the doubt.


OK. But I’m warning you Ron. He stressed to me, do not unhook these straps his exact words were, “Don’t unhook these straps whatever you do, until the boat is in the water.”


[Chris gets in the truck and slams his door. He checks his kids then his mirrors as he begins to back the trailer up.]

BOOM! 
[the noise scares the near by birds as the fly away]

A loud crash is heard and the back end of the boat falls off the trailer and hits the ground. Chris jumps out of the car and runs to the rear of the trailer where he sees his boat resting partially off the trailer and on the ground his mouth drops. His eyes wide open he just stares at Ron at a loss of words.

Chris [cont.]

Wa…Wa..Wa.. [Chris’s hands our out in front of him and he can hardly speak]

Ron

Opps, sorry Chris, I guess you were right.

[Que laughter soundtrack]

End Scene.

[Fade in]

The camera shot is from the dock as the boat pulls out from the dock and heads into the black water as the evening slowly turns to night.

Ron

Our hero's finally get on the boat. Everything works great. The music is playing from the Sony Marine stereo. All the lights are working. The engine is humming. It was a rough start in the beginning but it looks like things are going to go well. But Ron has to ruin the moment.

 Ron begins to sing the Gilligan's Island theme song


“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale…”
.

Chris

Not funny Ron [with a serious look in his face]

Ron

Aww Chris where’s the sense of adventure [pause] Captain Imperfecto [he pokes Chris’s chest]

[Que laugh track]

The camera follows the boat as it travels through the lake. The speed ranges from fast to slow. The only visual on the water is the boat lights illuminating the black sky and the only thing illuminating the water are the white caps from the wake the boat is creating. The boat motor is roaring but the music can be heard slightly. As Ron drives the vessel the camera zooms in on Chris embracing his boys at the bow of the ship.

Chris

Finally at the helm of his craft he kills the motor and allows the boat to just drift.

Wow [smiling and shaking his head] I love this boat.

Ron

Me too, you got a hell of a deal Chris, really I am jealous.

Chris

The boat is just floating stagnate as the water brushes up against the hull of the white fiberglass body. The slight splashes can be heard over their talking.

Well you know Ron when...

As Chris begins to talk a small splash can be heard from the right side of the boat

 Chris  [cont.]

NO! [Chris shouts]

He lunges to the side frantically kicking off his shoes and nearly diving overboard.

Ron

WHATS WRONG [he shouts back]

Chris

His head is down as he embraces the side of the boat

Christopher [ he mumbles] just threw the keys overboard.

Ron

Its okay [he says with a bit of relief] You have floats on the keys right. Just fish them out.

Chris

Looking at Ron. His hands still on the boat.

No Ron [he hangs his head] I don’t

Ron

NO! [He shouts]

[que laugh track]

Ron

[Exhaling as he speaks]

"You have a spare right?"

Chris

Hanging head further

No [pause] I don’t Ron

Ron

NO! [He shouts]

[que laugh track]

Ron

You have flares right [eyes open wide]

Chris

Chris hanging his head even further, he could practically drown himself

No, Ron, I don’t

Ron

NO! [ He shouts]

[que laughter]

[Begin slow fade out]

Ron

You got an air horn?

Chris

[Eyes wide open staring at Ron]

No Ron.

Ron

[Mouth open before he speaks]

Flares?

Chris

[shaking head]

Nope

[continue fade out]

Ron

Do you have food on board Chris? Water?

Chris

This was only suppose to be a three hour tour Ron.

As the scene fades to black a boat is seen traveling towards the boat to save the day as Chris and Ron continue their give and take on their situation.. The camera has a full shot of the lake and continues to pull out back past the dock, the trailer and the truck










Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.


Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Ray of Hope

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September 4th, 2012


Things are so fucking dark. And I don’t mean when the sun goes down and the street lights go on. It’s just black inside and out. How the hell can you see in the dark? I guess you just have to wing it and figure out exactly where you are.

Too bad being in the dark isn’t as easy as if you were in your house. I can get around my house in the dark because I know where the hell everything is. It’s the one thing normal in my life that doesn’t change. It never changes. The same things are there that have been there since we moved into this damn place. If I was blind and deaf I could move about my house without a stumble. But beyond my front door I am expected to know where life begins anew, when I don’t have a fucking clue.

No matter how many times I have driven down my street. No matter how many times I have gone to the same grocery store. No matter how many times I drive my children to some kind of function. It is different. My world is covered by a dark shadow, as if the sun has been eclipsed.

But yet, I search. I seek out a ray of hope from my cold dark place. I yearn to shower my soul in the layers of the sun’s rays, so it can stimulate growth in my body. I want the light to pound on me like the winds of a relentless hurricane so I can feel again. I am crawling on the ground to comfort my fall in case I fail to see the light and fall on my ass as I strike something I can’t see or I am blindsided by tragedy again.

I am not ready to stand on my own two feet that would enable me to look over any obstructions that may block the truth of my reality. I hide behind this wall searching and searching for my way out of this lonely place, for my ray of hope..

But I cannot find it. I cannot see. Does anyone have a flashlight? Where the hell is the light? We all want to be free from within ourselves, once we find our inner peace. But damn it, where is that ray of hope to help me see it, to nurture my good nature, so I can continue to cultivate my past and begin to heal my seared soul.

It’s so dark. I place my hands out in front of me extending my arms sideways bracing my self along the hallway’s walls of my house. I apply pressure locking in at my elbows. My shoulder blades push inwards and with all my might, I pull myself up. The walls appear high, so high they might as well be the Great Wall of China.

“Come on Chris. Pull. Pull. Pull,” I tell myself with the motivation of a drill instructor.

I rise but I can’t see. I can’t see what’s there. Why can’t I fucking see damn it. Why is it not clear to me? This shroud of darkness smoothers me like a cloak, consuming not only my sight but my every breath. Damn it! I hate feeling this way.

I hate being a victim of my own environment. Just walk. Walk forward. Charge a head. Damn, what’s there that's blocking my recovery?

Knock it over. Fight. Take your lumps and bruises. Wounds will heal and your scars will tell the tale of how you fought your way through, until you found the light. Don’t be afraid of the dark. Embrace it and make the dark your light. Adapt to the situation and fight to live another day.

When you’re winded and the fighting is done, just remember the sun will always rise in the east and set in the west and there will be light. I know the flares emineting from the surface of the firey star is bursting full of solar energy and substance as it is being hurled from the powerful sun, across the deepest parts of space, where it reaches out and touches the earth and when it does, I pray the ray of hope will shower down upon thee, drenching me with hope as I soak up its God like energy.

The ultraviolet rays providing the nurturing I desire. But it does me no good. Because I resist the sunshine it brings with it. I am alone. I am alone to think of the song I sang to Mimie on many occasions. I sang the song whether we were by ourselves, on our honeymoon, when the mood struck to make her smile, or in a restaurant at Disney World in front of a room full of people.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when times are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you so please don’t take my sunshine away.”

I guess if I look to the sky I’ll see my sunshine again. Where there is will there will always be a ray of hope..











Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.


Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com