The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto

April 23rd, 2012 Arguments happen. They happen to the best of us no matter how strong the relationship is. Sometimes they're healthy and sometimes they're not. Other times the argument can give you a good laugh when you reminisce about days gone by. Like the time when... My alarm goes off at the usual time, 6:15am on my work days. I hate that sound. A high pitch shrieking buzz sound. Like an annoying pet bird that doesn't come with a snooze button. I always set my alarm clock 15 minutes fast. I don't know why. Maybe for a tactical advantage to trick my body that I may be late for work. However, my mind knows that it's really 6am when the annoying tone blasts and I wind up hitting snooze until the last possible second. When I'm done teasing my body with the snooze button my mind says, "Get up you lazy bastard." I finally get out of bed and like every other morning .I stumble around like I just had a couple beers the night before. My dog ...

You are here: Home »Peaches, a short true story April 21st, 2012 This event took place in December of 2004. The following is based on actual events. Her name was Peaches. Well, that wasn't her real name. Peaches was her exotic dancing name. I guess strippers shouldn't use their real names. Come to think of it, I never asked the petite, light-skinned black girl her real name. Peaches was beautiful. She had coco skin. Curly hair that went to the length of her shoulder. Her beauty isn't the only thing that stood out to me tonight. She was completely fucked up when she approached me. I'd like to say alcoholic fucked up, but when she spoke to me, I didn't smell a hint of it. I'm guessing she was Xanax, pill-popping, messed up. I was working at a Gentleman's Club. Peaches' was a stripper, so I guess I don't blame her for being fucked up. If I had to sit on the dicks of men's laps all night, I'd probably pop a few pills myself. I wasn...

April 21st, 2012 My wife passed away on a Thursday, and I buried her seven days later. Those seven days and beyond seem like a blur so far. My head pounds when I think of it. I know I should have more control of my emotions and my physical well-being. If I wasn't grieving for my boys at the same time, I think I could. My children make me weak and strong at the same time. I am a sound man who is good under pressure and immense stress. I am pretty strong at 6 foot 2 inches and 220 pounds; however, overcoming this challenge is something I was not prepared for. I don't think many people are when faced with impossible situations. Especially when you lose your spouse. I stand here despondent. People came and went after those seven days. Her family flew in between those seven days and left after the funeral, on precisely the seventh day. I allowed them to go through her possessions. I do not think they know how hard that was for me. Even though they ar...

You are here: Home » A Door with a View: Christopher April 19, 2012 I imagine walking through the front door carrying the diaper bag. At the same time, Mimie held Nico's tightly wrapped body in her arms. I'm brought back to reality by a bright light illuminating through the small window of the front door, changing the color from amber to bright yellow. A car was driving down the street, and the stained glass captured the car light from the headlights. I shift my glance from the door to Christopher, my youngest. I am so tired, yet I can't sleep. I have so much on my mind. I have to find a nanny. Who can care for these kids better than mom when I'm not around? Everybody needs their mom. That thought brings me back to the day she passed away. The thoughts I had that morning. I recalled those events of the day I found out Mimie had died as I stared beyond Christopher. My vision gets caught in the moving drape caused by the downforce wind from the ceiling fan. I re...

You are here: Home » A Door With a View: Nico April 19, 2012 I lay here on this mattress and just stared at the door. I refocus on it; the memories it brought are in the past now, but the memories are coming into view. This is my present with an unknown future. I concentrate harder. Looking at the yellow stained glass window, now amber in the low light. So many good things walked through that door. I can only hope to shut out the bad that has just recently occurred. And the agony it brings me when I think of the sadness it ushered out. I use the time we brought our first child home to revive the good memories I have seen, the only thing that has slumbered in my mind tonight. I remember looking back every second I could at the baby carrier that held our firstborn son as we drove home from the hospital. My wife had to remind me, "Will you look forward. Please, we are driving, you know." Oh, I knew, alright. I wasn't going over 40mph or on the highway. Finally, we ...

You are here: Home » A Door With a View April 19, 2012  I've been sleeping on my son's twin mattress in the middle of the living room floor. I moved it there a couple of weeks ago after taking it from its previous resting place; the bunk bed bed frame. My boys haven't wanted be alone in their rooms since their mom passed so they have been ending up with me on the couch. The couch just wasn't big enough for the 3 of us. Weeks later the mattress is still being used in the same spot on the floor only moved during the day. Well, sometimes anyway. So here I am laying on the mattress staring at the ceiling fan as it rotates around. The shadow of the blades are being cast outward by the outside light illuminating inside through the crevasses of the exposed front windows the drapes failed to fully cover. The light then creeps forward flowing across the ceiling until it touches the fan, casting the shadow of the blades to a larger then life size. I try and count the ...

April 17th, 2012  I'm using my body like a springboard as I bounce off the Social Security Office building wall. I'm here due to the passing of my wife. I may be able to get early benefits for my boys. Earlier, when I arrived for my 9:05am appointment, I had to park my car in the overpacked parking lot and walk a reasonable distance to the front entrance. I had to bring my youngest son, Christopher, with me since I didn't have a babysitter. My son is very independent, so I let him walk with me rather than grab the bulky double stroller. We began our journey down the long stretch of roadway that coming cars drive up and down in their quest for the best parking space. The cars circle the parking lot like vultures, sensing death in the air. Yet, the drivers of those cars are glued to their cell phones, oblivious to the sight of life walking around them. I made sure Christopher stayed close to my right leg, keeping him away from traffic. I placed my right hand on his le...