2012年5月24日 IIF: For Higher Part 1

The office door opened again, and I was too tired to even take a peek at who it was, and like most days-- okay every other day, I was hoping it was someone who had just enough of a grudge that they would end it for me.

"Rick, it looks like you have mail." Mose said as he closed and the locked the door behind him. I sat up and reached out without looking at him to hand me the mail. It was still raining outside. Grey and miserable.

There were three bills, two for utilities, and one for printing services. I had needed new business cards for such a long time, it never occurred to me to restock them. I could always use the cards I have left over from the force... But I knew that using those would give the image that I'm still on the force. Even then I still kept at least two of those official police cards in my wallet. Just in case. But In case for what?

The last four pieces were a large and annoying-looking coupon pamphlet, which had ads for stores I had never heard of; a post card, I think from a cousin or aunt, I can't remember nor care who went where; a general envelope from a friend in Columbus, it contained financial records of a case I've asked to just give a second opinion on; and an odd, but half an inch thick manila envelope with typed font.

The envelope's font didn't look like it was printed on from a printer, but rather it looked as if someone had taken the time to type on it with an old manual typewriter. The electric typewriters have a different kind of ribbon that's a little harder to find these days.

I tossed the rest of the bullshit mail on my desk. Mose picked up the ads pamphlet to skim through them as I opened the manila envelope. Inside was what looked to be a copy of a faxed document. The dates and times were blacked out in advance on the original, so that nothing showed up on the copy I was holding.

"Ingram, there is work for you. Do you still work at the cleaners?"

I don't do work like this anymore... I had a feeling this kind of work would come back.

"Terry Harbin, 33 years old. No physical defects. Athletic or body builder. Works in sales over at Phantom Point advertising. Lives at 232 Alton Drive, in The Forest. Single, no pets."

The Forest being an area of town where the up-and-ups lived. It was because they actually had an opportunity to have trees around them, whereas the rest of us poor bastards had to live in the city. The description continued on about his neighbors, a Korean couple with two small dogs - breed unknown - and another recluse like Harbin.

"...Harbin has a history of rough abuse towards women and escorts. Seven months ago two counts of rape, one count of aggravated murder, and three assault charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. The Nest suspects that number should be as high as thirteen counts of rape, two counts murder, and numerous assault charges.  

There is belief that Harbin is a sadomasochistic, including acts of molestation, murder, mutilation, rape, and torturing victims. Included are photos of the only known murder."

I ignored the loose dossier on Harbin and looked at the 8 1/2" by 11" black and white photos. There was a sticky note blocking out the victim, with the text, 

"Deceased: Celeste Vickers, 20 years old
Vocation: Student/Unemployed
Last seen: July 8th"

Of course I would have peeled away the sticky note to look at the girl in question, but I was not yet ready for that kind of commitment. It's bad to look at pictures of dead bodies if you can avoid it. I told myself. In this case, if I looked at the girl it very well would have already sealed my decision to do this kind of work again. 

It seemed to be some kind small room for an apartment where the victim had died. The carpet in the picture was or seemed to be a very light color, except the surrounding area of sticky note. A black blob-ish looking ring blocking out the deceased. 

Black, in a black and white photo, almost always was blood in my line of work. Always blood. Once it was red wine, but I wasn't able to determine that from the picture alone. I only found out later that the questionable black spot on a carpet was a cheap Cabernet. It was one of those rare chances when I actually had access to a crime scene. And that was another case...

In my current line of work, sometimes I've only been able to go back and pick up the broken pieces. The Nest however showed us where I could find the breaker, and with those broken pieces and shards of people's lives and families, I'd cut the fucker's throat out. In this case, Harbin. But I hadn't decided to do anything yet. Of course, I'm certain I'm not the only one The Nest uses, that I knew for a certainty.

"Anything interesting?" Mose said, without looking up from ads.

"It's from birds." I said cryptically.

Mose looked up from the pamphlet, and made a face as if he wanted to throw the ads away. I nodded and waved a "go ahead" with my hand.

"What do they want?" I guess he knows it's important.

"What do you think?"

Mose smiled looking down at the corner of my desk, "I don't know yet."

"You'd rather not know." I said staring at him.

"So what are you gonna do then?" I knew he meant, "we".

"I'm thinking." I don't do this kind of work anymore. But you know you can do it, I heard a little voice say.

"Is that the file?" Mose motioned towards the envelope, photo, and dossier I was still holding.

"..." You don't want to look at this Mose. "If you look at this, you don't get to go back. This kind of stuff doesn't end. Even if you don't do it anymore, it follows you home. You can't justify it."

"I'm not a cop." Mose said smirking. I could tell his face had that 'And you're no longer one!' look to it.

"Fine." I said tossing the files onto the desk.

Mose picked up the file and then sat down again across from me. I could tell he was scanning more of the dossier than I did. His lips pursed for a second then he spoke, "What is The Nest?"

I had completely forgotten what or who they were. I remember one day two men approached me when I was scheduled as an assistant liaison officer for the then police commissioner when the then VP was in town.

Two men, well-dressed pulled me aside. They spoke gently, but firmly. Neither wore rings, nor had noticeable scars, corrective lenses, or any abnormal features. They honestly looked B-grade models working mid-level management, who did cardio and lifted weights two or three times a week.

The card they handed me had no address, nor phone number. Egg-shell white, with raised lettering. It had the name "C.S. Drenning", nothing else on the card, not even a title. The backside, said, "We'll contact you." And had the letters ZX-AE-Canary.

"We're interesting in having you work for our agency."

"What agency is that?"

"Well, that's irrelevant now, just know that we're travelling with the VP's caravan."

"What kind of work."

"We'll contact you."

"What if I'm not interested?"

"Then our profilers failed."

They profiled me? "I'm not going to do anything illegal. You know I'm a badge."

"Aren't we all?"

"I think we're done here."

"You'll be hearing from us."

I doubt that.

But I did hear from them, albeit about seven months later.

Sitting in a coffee shop three blocks from my precinct, I was approached by two men, who looked and acted the same.

"Mr. Ingram, hello."

"Can I help you?"

"Do you still have our card?"

"We'll contact you." the other man said.

Actually I do. I pulled it out, and while faded it was still there.

The other man took it, while the first one continued to smile at me. The other man looked carefully at the card, and fingered it with his thumb stratching at the surface of the lettering.

"Okay." He said towards the first man.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Ingram, will be visiting you later this evening."

"I have plans." I quipped

"They're cancelled."

What the--

"We'll see you tonight, good day."

Several times over the past seven years. I was given recovery assignments and cleaning assignments. Most of the things I wanted to do with the badge on, but couldn't. Among other issues, I was practically living a double life. Up-holding the law, and breaking it to maintain "a balance" as they called it. Any leads to identify Drenning failed. I found out nothing more about him except meeting his "partner" in France once while on vacation.

When I ran into Drenning's partner I knew they had to have operations not only in the states, with retainers in Ohio, L.A., and Quebec, but also in Sartrouville in France. It was when I was on vacation for two weeks touring castles and chateaus in Europe, when I was approached in a men's lavatory at a cafe in Sartrouville. The man who bumped into me was Drenning's partner.

"Hello-- Isn't it, Mr. Ingram!" He feigned surprise.

"Yes it is, how are you?" I asked.

"Yes. Enjoying France?" He said ignoring the question I asked.

"Yes the castles are nice. Are you here for something?"

"Oh? The coffee here is quite nice. Maybe if you are here longer we could arrange a time to meet over coffee? We'd love to have you."

"I'm busy." I lied. So far France had been a total bust and didn't interest me at all

"Would you like the number of the hotel I'm staying at?" I continued.

"I see. Oh thank you for your number. We'll contact you."

Drenning's partner walked out with a smile, his pressed navy blue pin-striped suit looked expensive. On his right wrist he wore a Breitling Navitimer Premier in 18K gold. That watch was at least double what I made in a month. Right wrist... A lefty.  

I didn't know more than that about locations. But they gave me work, and they did contact me, of course that was after I got back state-side. 

Eventually I had to stop cleaning, I wasn't sleeping well anymore. I was worried someone would come after me, but no one did. Occasionally I got mail, sometimes I answered and sometimes I didn't. It still came in, nothing that was traceable. 

Of course, I was too scared to ask anyone else for help. Inspector Pennetta offered some advice, but never anything direct which was unusual of him. It wasn't like Pennetta and I didn't do hard-boiled things off the record, but any "agency" asking us to do it was a different issue all together. Some of the things they asked...

They'd come into to town once in a while, during major events, like the VP visiting or conferences. That's how I later learned a few were based in Ohio. From there, I found the few other offices, but nothing helped after that. I never got any clear answers with my leads, other than the cryptic and confusing, "We'll contact you." I heard this so often, that when I heard it out of context from some hooker in the red-light, I started to think even she worked for The Nest. It's how I knew these guys, whoever they were, played hard-ball.

I came back from those years and looked at Mose, "Did you drive here?" I said reaching for my grey suede shoes. They didn't match well with my brown my slacks in nice weather, but I didn't care anyhow nor did it matter since it was still raining.

With a toothy-grin Mose replied, "Right out-side."

2012年5月23日 Starvation

While I'm not going to discuss how starvation feels when it's happened in my life, I will discuss Krimull's. 

"Ever been so hungry you could eat the asshole out of an elephant? 

All I've had in the past 24 hours is a butter finger, a shitty brownie, and a breakfast burrito that tasted so bad, I had to finger my ass and lick my finger to get the taste out of my mouth." - Krimull [emphasis mine]

Asshole of an elephant.
Fingering assholes, and licking it.

Wow.

2012年5月21日 Vivisecting shadows

Dreaming again. 

Dreams are coming out 

from under the dresser 

slowly creeping. 

Some dreams come dancing. 

Waving above from the efficient work of the ceiling fan.

Sleeping feels so good.

Good feels sleep.

I watch them cut themselves open and share their innards.

The shadows smear it on my mouth, 

while hard and tar-ish in texture similar to licorice, 

it's salty, bitter, and a tinge of sweetness at the end. 

Repeating repeating.

Tar in my stomach, 

now my blood-stream.
Vivisecting my emotions. 

Shadows dance on them, 

but where are the dancers?

2012年5月20日 Cougar cookies

I was hanging out with Fozzjnen today and noticed something I hadn't seen before,

Yes, I know it's just a gourmet cookie, but still... It says, "cougar" for crying out loud. It might as well say, "MILF MOUNTAIN" at least then I wouldn't feel like a jackass if I bought it.

Anyone else see questionably named products?

2012年5月19日 וְאִם לֹא תִשְׁמְעוּ לִי

And if you don't [fucking] listen to Me [I'ma gunna bring the pain]!

This week's parshah was fun, albeit partially depressing at times. Actually, it was pretty fucking gloomy. No joke about that at all. But the best part was learning something interesting and new, such as grammar. And of course the part where God is laying out the Law. Seemingly much like a parent. Single, but still a parent.

After shul, I realized that I need and want more. I need more in terms of Judaism, and living a Jewish life. Of course, I also feel like I have to play catch-up, and I'm working hard on it. I just want to catch up to the point where I feel like not learning is the worst feeling I could have, outside of kidney stones, getting kicked in the balls, being jilted, loss of friends (people I love), or getting beat down by the police.

Solution? Ask for some kind of mentor.

I have too many questions, and I don't seem to get clear answers.
Including the location of the bathroom.

2012年5月18日 Greed

Not really a good thing.

There were times in my life where I have been greedy. So much so that I actually thought I should be exempt from whatever I'm doing to other people. Most of the time (95%+) I'm not like that. If I see a guy making fun of someone, I make fun of him. Even if I know I will be made fun of back. That same fairness that use almost all the time doesn't matter if I break it, even once.

Basically what greed comes to is this, 

"What does it really mean?" 

"Where does it really come from?" 

"Where will it take me?" 

Of course not just limited to those questions, but one should always ask questions about their greed. Questions always need to be asked. While I'm not happy per-se, I am above total misery since even though I was greedy during parts of my life, I still was able to ask tough questions. Sometimes those tough questions you ask yourself while you're greedy will make you miserable and make you doubt whatever you are doing, and it should. Unless what you're doing already IS greedy and you're trying to escape the greed. If one tries to escape greed with less greed, it does nothing. 

Just as one digs a hole, it must be filled back up. Digging a smaller hole to fill in with dirt from the big hole, changes nothing. It's kind a credit card to pay off another credit card. Without filling these holes back up, one's emotional landscape and life will only amount to huge mounds of dirt and filth. - Certainly I've felt that way before. - Emotionally this feeling is beyond the limitations of a six-letter word like "misery." Good movie though.

At some point greed may leave, but the feelings that soon come in might never go away. The pain, the shame, the guilt, and anguish that comes with greed, they'll stay for a long time until the dirt is put back in the hole and the grass is green again. Whether or not things can be okay between the greedy and another really depends on the parties involved. Sometimes nothing changes. If that's the case, then it's best to part ways. 

A guy

One I wrote about, here (Jabberwocky)

I had that happen with a guy I knew for about 22-23 years. He'd more or less be super flaky with me, and every time I felt hurt by his greed. He only wanted to hang out when it was convenient, or basically when no one else was available. When he was bored of hanging out with me, even while I was still around he'd call other people and schedule things to do with them. In front of me! Sometimes he'd disappear for a minutes to several hours while chatting online with others while I'm visiting with him or something else. 

Well, years went by and he joined the military and left. Recently he came into town and wanted to meet up. I arrived at the pub we were supposed to go drinking at 5 minutes earlier than the time he said. He wasn't there. I waited an hour. By then I was pretty much pissed off and how he could blow off leaving me in the lurch. I had one full-bodied 8.5+ ABV or 12+ beer, which wonderfully he paid for. I was still pretty irratated since he was trying to have me visit with him, yet he kept things extremely shallow and only wanted to drink a beer then leave. I felt like I was just a touristy spot on a map. One of those places that not even the locals bother to visit since it's just a place. But I'm not a goddamn place, I'm his fucking-friend! Or so I thought.

The effects of the alcohol started to settle. My filter was coming off, no surprise he had mentioned 20 minutes earlier I had no filter with humor. Wait till you see the things I say when I'm not being funny... I called him out on somethings and treated him like shit, like he had done with me. Not only to his face, but also in front of his woman friend - I don't even think they have anything more meaningful than that, - and one of his social buddies. 

I made no excuses for myself in the process of doing what I did. He did it and I did it. We were cutting ties. It was interesting since I had watched him after years of telling me I'm "a good friend" and how much he "cares about [me]." Yet quickly he started saying callous things about how I'll "die a lonely miserable man." Thankfully only I get to decide that, or God, whichever comes first. I stopped letting him be greedy with me, and using me. And I stopped feeling miserable. Still, I was being greedy with myself within the way I got out of that situation. I could have taken him aside, I could have done the right thing. By then I was either working my way through the beer or too disappointed and frustrated to care. 

All I know now is that I was probably greedy in trying to "get back" at him (verbally unloading), for something that he seemingly took for granted anyhow. I should have taken him aside when he came in and told him how I felt about the situation, and laid down the law. But I didn't. Hindsight is certainly worth it's weight in gold, porno, and lotion.

Yep.

It's important to do the opposite of greed once one realizes the danger of greed. A desire to become penitent is certainly the first step. In my case, instead of being greedy, I should make an effort exact myself through benevolence and generosity. 

Alternatively I could do nothing, but then I would feel like the emotional forest I have towards my heart and soul would become listless and lifeless as dead trees litter the landscape. Walking on a path like that would be like walking through an endless cemetery. Large monoliths devoid of life. Only carrying the memory and images of things long gone and never passed on. Dead. Dead trees are like that. Greed is like that. Taking, taking, and taking. Eventually, there is no place to rest.

2012年5月17日 Castles, houses, and bodies

Uwajima-jo
(Uwajima Castle)
Quite modest

For a long time I have wanted to build a castle. Sometimes I've given up on that dream, but I still go back to that dream. Whether it's a small castle or Japanese yagura (castle keep) sized structure, I will make sure this dream becomes a reality or die trying.

Our own health, be it mental or emotional, is like a building. We can be grand, with kingly halls, wide with great open spaces, or a garage. The former while probably beautiful, might have nothing  inside, whereas the garage may be filled with all kinds of exotic things. One honestly has to figure out how far one is willing to go for X or Y thing, stuff, feeling, emotion, experiences, and/or intelligence. But let's be honest, we know it's easy to manufacture a house (a life) quickly and cheaply. 

Some people might say that manufactured houses are convenient and comfortable, which they are in a fleeting way. Kind of like swimming in a shallow pool: it will never offer the depth and richness of what the ocean offers. Of course the ocean also has it's own price-tag: it's fucking dangerous, has sharks, and hundreds of thousands of garbage, animal semen, real seamen, and annoying fucking tourists.

So, is a manufactured house for me?

No thanks.

For you?

I have no idea.

I'm hiring this guy for
the construction

When it comes to building oneself on the inside or building something on the outside, it's important, extremely important that one makes sure he or she is using the right tools, resources, and efficient labor. Yes, it might be expensive, but we're talking about one's own life. And life happens to be the home for one's character. With cheap and inexpensive products, while convenient and quickly accomplishing a structure still doesn't help a person in the long run, unless they have zero expectations. That means being happy or sad is trivial, but within that kind of mentality why would anyone choose to build THEIR home or dream in such a manner? Committing to a cause or an idea is not something anyone can do without expectations.

We've heard someone fantasizing before, in one form or another, but usually it sounds like this,

"I want to be an gold medal Olympian, but I don't want to work that hard (make those kind of sacrifices etc....)". 

These kinds of people have already committed towards giving up. In fact just fantasizing about the gold medal and not even pursuing is worse than masturbation, - though with I see nothing wrong with real masturbation, so long as people admit to knowing that they're just fucking themselves, which is what masturbation is! But I'm starting to ramble a bit...

Where does this kind of mentality come from? I think it comes from examples like this one, 

"Maybe I should give my seat up for that old person?" 

I'm sure you've thought about something like that before, and then same voice - hopefully your own - commends you for being a good person for having that thought of kindness, even though you did absolutely nothing. 

This kind of action is also done with people trying to lose weight, "I'm working on losing weight!" or "I'm going on a diet!" As soon as the dieter hears, "Good for you!" or "Keep it up!" they pretty much yield to the compliment as if they've really accomplished something, when in reality they've just opened their mouth, which may also explain how they became over-weight.

Another problem is that we - yes, I'm also included in we, - seem to ignore (or forget) that our individual needs. These needs often must be met by specific resources. Food in a sense is a more basic aspect of this concept. If you don't eat, your house (as your body) gets weak, shoddy, and very well may end up dilapidated. If you eat too much, or fill your house with useless things you take room away from nutrients you need and from people who love you.

So why don't we really take more time with ourselves? Looking for our own individual parts, looking for the correct laborers before we build ourselves up? For me I constantly have to add, subtract, multiply, divide, rebuild and look at and for new solutions. I almost never find myself completely content, and when I do it just seems like I'm ignoring reality. The latter of that is especially true for me when I'm happy in a relationship, I seem to ignore everything/something is wrong and/or could go wrong, because I'm high as the sky on rainbows and love. But we all know the "The Winner Loses" (see Body Count), especially if we're trying to be higher than the sky.

No one gets in for free. 

No house worth spending the rest of one's life in should be built with shoddy craftsmanship, especially when we're our own foreman and laborer! No one gets to get in for free, as even we have our own price tags on and with ourselves. Even more so when the house is our soul. 

No one gets in for free, as we can only make so many seats, beds, and rooms in our own "house." Hold tight, and never givin' up is one way. The wise will tell you too that it is never easy. If it were easy, you took short-cuts. Why would you want to take short cuts on materials when building your own house?

As for real modern castles, over the past 5 years I have been enjoying the construction details of Dupont Castle, as seen here http://www.dupontcastle.com/