Friday, October 19, 2012

Running on Empty

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*The first sentence has a curse word only.

October 19th, 2012


Why is empty such a shitty thing? Like a tank of gas that displays on the gauge as running on E, being on empty can get your anxiety going. It never lets you relax. You have one eye on the fuel gauge and another eye on the look out for a gas station or the nearest highway exit. No doubt about it being empty sucks.

Empty. Like that glass of wine or your favorite drink dwindling down to the bottom. Its that last little bit you savor at the bottom of your glass afraid to take that last sip. Your eyes gaze around on the hunt for your waiter you waitress to bring you a refill before you consume the rest.

Barren. Like a desert as you search for water to quench your thrust. Your body is so depleted of nutrients that you don't even sweat. The sand is so hot that even the particles of it that dust up burns your skin. Your tongue is swollen and dry as you hunger for the taste of wetness to touch your lips. The desire to full fill your unfulfilled body forces you to continue towards the mirage. Towards the one thing that ins’t there, salvation.

Destitute. The lack of substance allows your mind to play tricks on you that forces you down into oblivion. Your body begins to give up on you because you muscles are shriveling up. The cramping is taking over and it’s preventing you from moving. Your oxygen is failing you because you your self are running on empty.

Void. The void begins to implant itself further with in you, that you can feel the beginning stages that something is missing in your life. There is nothing to fill the space with, so it will remain empty. You can pretend to fill it with whatever it is that you can find but it won’t work. The void is too far and wide and nothing will bring it together.

Lacking. The will to pursue things that will help change your plight. The emptiness you feel consuming everything that would motivate you to change. The draining of your emotions reveal the loss of support that broke down over time. The bare structure is naked revealing kinks in the pillars that hold you up emotionally. No wonder your lacking the motivation to stand on your feet.

Exhausting. You try to right yourself but when you finally have the time to do it your eyes begin to close. Your eye lids are heavy, too heavy. You can’t  blink fast enough in the hope the fluttering will keep you afloat. Your mind is sitting on empty and there is nothing that you can do to prevent the sleep from creeping in. Sealing your fate of sleep rather then productivity.

Deflated. When you think you have made progress with your life only so realize that the gains were simply an aberration. All the build up just leaks out of your body when one simple act or thought takes control of your emotions. Try as you might to avoid ending up empty it never works out that way. Defeated and depleted of oxygen you can only lie where you fall and reminisce about the person you once were. 

I am a human being. I am filled with all the emotions that a person can possibly have. I shouldn't have to stress about the emptiness that consumes me because I can fill it with peace and love. My soul may be barren but I can find warmth to grow whatever it is that lies beneath the soil so, I will no longer feel destitute but feel lucky that I can find life again. I will let my life grow into the voids of emptiness so that I may pursue and conquer the things I am lacking. It may be exhausting by I will embrace the rest I achieve through heavy eyes and use it to my advantage. And with my new found rest I will inflate what has deflated and come back stronger then I was before, ignoring the fact that I was once running on empty and now I am coming back stronger and more fulfilled.









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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Three Ring Circus

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October 17th, 2012

Step right up folks. Step right up and take a look at what we have here for you.

“That’s right, a grieving widower right out of Florida. One ticket will get you inside folks. Come on step right up, you can watch him grieve; hear him cry, he’ll make you laugh.

“It’s a sight to see for the young and the young at heart. You won’t be disappointed. Just a nickel for your thoughts and a penny for his.”

In the arena of a three ring circus I am king. I put on a great show for those who decide to pony up their five cents and witness my life on the line. It’s a sight to behold and well worth the money to watch me try to figure out what the hell is happening in my world, in my life.

Every time I think I'm at the end of my high wire act, the cable gets extended. I balance my self to further my journey but my arms are getting tired of holding the balance beam that titters on the brink of crashing down below from my failing arms. I look down for my safety net, but do not see any comfort there, so I close my eyes and just let go into free will.

As I free fall into nothingness, I am caught in mid-air by a flying trapeze artist, who makes sure I stick around a little longer in this spotlight. He sways me back and forth above the crowd that is, "ohhhing and awwwing" from the sight. Without notice he releases me tossing sideways towards what feels like infinity, until I'm caught again by his partner who is hanging onto his fly bar while swinging near by. He seemingly plucked me out from the sky, catching me before I hit the ground.

I flip and I flop, all the while the crowd gasps from the horror and excitement of the show. It’s a circus so they have to enjoy the thrills. My body extends down toward the ground, while the man grips my ankles, and swings me around, until he releases me with precision into the barrel of a cannon.

I can feel my body slowly glide down the thick layers of the cylinder that is made of metal until my feet are firmly on the base. I sigh in relief as I get a breather. I’m hidden from the prying eyes of the ticket buyers and I'm enjoying my brief relief. I just want to sleep. It's quite because I'm protected from the noise that this hardened steal seals off like a force field.

BOOM!

I launch out, like a bullet from a gun, flying though the air but, unlike my high wire act there is a no one there to catch me before my destruction only a safety net to catch my mangled body. My face presses inward into the stretching net while my body presses deep inside like a pocket. I spring up and fall down into the net. This repeats over and over until the momentum slows and no longer move. The popcorn and candy crowd stays silent until my body comes to rest.

“He’s okay folks!” A voice announces through the P.A. causing the crowd to erupt in a euphoric tone.

I am dazed and confused, but I wave to the masses hoping that their enjoying the shows, not quite sure if I'm okay myself. But does that even matter? I feel so tired and all alone. I just wave to the masses and pretend I got my shit together while the people around me build the next act. They hurry before the crowd decides to go home. The people around me want to make sure the crowd gets its money's worth.

Happiness is the one thing I portray in the best way. Like the clowns humoring the crowd in their powdered make-up and fake huge smiles, I do what I have to do, even though I don't have a mask of my own. I try to lighten the mood and fill the time-in with stupid antics that really no one likes.

When high wire acts fail to bring me crashing down I have a feeling that some people want to continue their entertainment by throwing me inside a lion's cage.  Are they disappointed that I am up to the challenge and I run around like the clowns?  But this ain’t no joke. I hold my desperation close to my chest refusing to give anyone the satisfaction by viewing my misery. I am almost out of steam and prepare myself to be eaten alive. After all is seems to be what the crowd wants. I imagine the people shouting, " Shove your head in this lions mouth and call it a day, will ya." I think I'm imagining them saying that. They could really be saying it. But it does seem like the easiest way to get-a-way from my current life, and what the hell, my death and destruction is what the ticket buyers want to see anyway.

I can barely muster any more entertainment as I climb out from the cage unscathed. I, myself, is kind of disappointed I survived it. I tip my hat to a standing ovation. It's so hard to make it look this easy but I aim to please during my Three Ring Circus. This is a performance of a lifetime.

I suppose I'll put on a show for another day. Just keep in mind that a lot of this is only smoke and mirrors made to make things appear that they are okay however my life is not okay. But people are happy when they see me this way because they realize that after all their neglect of me and my children. The cold shoulders the presented me and lack of compassion they shown me has in no way destroyed me. It allows them to sleep better at night.

"Are you not entertained?"







Creative Commons License

The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.


Monday, October 15, 2012

Easy Sunday, A Short Story

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*Warning there is swearing in this story

October 15th, 2012

Things can be pretty easy in law enforcement especially, on a Sunday. One of the reasons someone becomes a cop is for the adrenaline rush you get when you hunt the bad guy/girl. But once you get in this field you quickly realize that the job is about 90 percent boredom, 9 percent balls to wall excitement, then 1 percent of standing around waiting for the detectives to arrive.


This particular Sunday was no different. The day was slow. It wasn't just one of those drawn out days that seem never ending. It was one of those, look at the clock and realize that only 15 minutes had passed since the last time you looked at it; the small clock hand seems to be locked on the current hour as the second hand just drags across the face of the clock like nails on a chalkboard.  It’s a day you try to help push the seconds along.
“Damn I just wanna go home,” I said to my partner as we sat side-by-side in our respective police cars.

That's how us cops conduct a conference. One car faces one way and the other car facing the other, so that we can see each other face to face, while we sit in our vehicles. As casual observers drive by or walk by they gawk at us wondering what we are devising. The exciting things we are planning. Who are we going to go after? What is on our agenda?


“I have to shit bad," my partner retorted, "I think someone put something in my food when I was on lunch.

“That’s why I don’t go there man. I think Bobby arrested the cook,” I said.

“I think I better go now and get over with I don’t think I gonna make it,” stating as he was grinding his teeth.
“Just go lights and sirens, I mean it is an emergency, you’re about to shit your pants!” I exclaimed, jokingly of course.

The thing with law enforcement is you better not wait for anything because the longer you wait the faster the shit hits the fan, no pun intended here.

[BEEP]

The alert tones go off on our radio. A loud shrieking tone that can rattle anyone. Right when you hear it you know that the dispatcher is not about to say anything good. In moments like that the only thing you can muster one word out of your mouth and it's a collective, “fuuuuck.”

“Units we just had a stabbing at the ball parks, 23 [hold on] for more information,” the dispatcher blurts out.

"You should have shit when you had the chance,” I said laughing as I activated my police lights.


“DAMN!” is all I heard my partner say as I turned on my blaring sirens indicating that shit, (again) no pun intended, just got real.

I begin to plot my own arrival. What route should I take, what kind of precautions should I start to plan.
“Come on Deanna, get me more information,” I shout out in my unwillingness to wait on my dispatcher.
“Three subjects,” the dispatcher begins, “running east from the fields, one with a gun and another with a knife,” she proceeds to continue with further information but I’m in the area and I have heard everything I needed to at "running east."

I shut off my patrol siren because I do not want to scare the suspects into another direction. I knew I would come across at least one of them. I drive back and forth on the main road like a shark sensing blood in the water. I knew they were close but how close?

“Shit that guy just jumped the wall,” I said out loud as I passed an office building.

I was on the other side of the road and I knew if I went further down to make a U-turn and went back I would lose them. So I decided I would make a stand right then and there.

I place my patrol car in park in the middle of the north bound lanes. The momentum of my car causes it to go into a sliding stop. I exited my car while the wheels were still turning and begin my pursuit.
“Woe, woe,” I yell at the car traveling in the opposite direction.

I place my right hand out as I brace for the impact of the bumper or at the very least a surf ride on the hood. The driver of the car slams on the brakes. The loud screeching of the tires on the pavement surly alerted the bad guy I was in the area. I tip toe past the front bumper. My eyes still fixed on the area where I last seen the suspect. My knees taking on paint transfer from the car. One traffic lane down, one traffic lane to go.

I take my eyes off my suspect for a minute so I can see the other car that is traveling towards me. I do my best to make eye conduct with the driver behind the steering wheel as he approaches me in his large car while I do the ballet into his lane of travel. I know he is going to stop so I train my eyes back towards the bad guy, scanning the area on the look out for him.

He sees me! I see him!

He stares at me as I run towards him like a raging bull ready to strike. I run in between the buildings until I confront the man who jumped the wall. He knows I know it’s him. He is trying to think about his next move. My move is already made; I won’t stop until he gets on the ground. I charge hard at him and begin to draw my gun from my holster. As I raise the barrel at him I realize my momentum has taken me closer to him then I had wanted to be. I extended my right arm out and push him to the ground, simultaneously I reverse my forward momentum and hold my gun on him until the cavalry arrives.

"STAY DOWN!" I shout, "Don't even think about moving!"
My suspect doesn't move. He buries his face in the grass. My eyes are fixated on my subject and the 8 foot wall in case one of his friends come over welding the gun attempting to free his friend. What I didn't see was a good Samaritan running up behind me. My peripheral vision catching his shadow but by then it was too late.

The good Samaritan jumps on my bad guys back.
"You don't do that!" He shouts.

"Sir, sir," I yell, "get off of him now!"

He doesn't listen to me forcing me to holster my weapon and move into the danger zone. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him off. His body flinging backwards onto the grass. 

"You asshole!" He shouts at me.

I can only shake my head in amazement. And I thought it was just another easy Sunday.







Creative Commons License

The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.