Running Away From…Me

The man wants to know how often I write and if I can tell him about who reads these ridiculous posts and what I know about them.

“I publish with the kind of frequency that makes some people complain they can’t keep up and produce a level of quality that has been described as ‘not good enough to wrap fish in.’

“Do you agree with this assessment Mr. Wilner?”

“Depends on the day and the moment. I don’t like much of what I write, but when I am on my game I am really good.”

“How often does that happen?”

“I think about every 29 years or so…maybe. Figure in another eight years I am due for my second good post.”

“I can’t tell if you are trying to be humble or trying to find a way to brag.”

“Writing is subjective. My number one fan thinks this is my gift and that I should spend my life writing. But she is highly biased.”

“It is ok to do some self promotion here, you are supposed to tell me how good you are.”

I flash a particular smile, thank him for his time and walk away. In spite of what some people think I am very good at letting go and moving on.

Running Away From…Me

Pablo smiles and says to grab another beer. I shake my head no and tell him alcohol and muscle relaxants don’t go well together.

“Senor, if you don’t want to scream you need to do something about that back.”

I smile and tell Pablo that torn muscles and spasms don’t heel overnight.

“I only pretend to be Superman and I didn’t scream but I yelled ouch or some variation pretty damn loud. Scared a few people.”

He shakes his head and tells me he doesn’t know whether to be more thankful I didn’t fly through the windshield or that I didn’t crack my head open.

“I have smacked into the windshield more than once, been hit in the head with bats, brooms and a couple of rocks. Can’t say if that caused brain damage or added IQ points but I can say if I could I would be running away from me. Safer for everyone.”

“In my language we have an expression that describes people like you.”

I cut him off and tell him I am not interested in psychobabble, euphemisms or quotes that make people sound like they know something everyone knows they don’t know.

“For a man who doesn’t like quotes you sure use a lot of them.

“My windows ache, my hurt breaks and my soul burns. Is that better? Does that scratch your hyperbolic itch.”

Pablo surprises me by reciting some Hebrew, “Yeeheeyeh tov, it is going to be ok.”

I tell him his accent sucks and that it already is ok but he says nothing.

Nightmares Happen During Daytime Too

I woke myself up because I was yelling in anger and frustration.

In my dream dad was calling out to me, demanding I dig him up and pull him out of the box. Even in the dream I knew it wasn’t real but it sounded real.

It was his voice and his words spoken exactly as he would say them.

At first I ignored it and then as it got louder and more insistent I told the ghoul pretending to be dad to ‘fuck off.’

That was a big deal because I never would have used those words with him and even though I knew it wasn’t real his voice made it seem otherwise.

And then because dreams are filled with crazy shit I discovered I was graveside, shovel in hand and dirt piled next to me.

He said he was choking and he needed my help…so I dug.

I was possessed by the need to get him out and there wasn’t anything I was going to let stop me except every time I moved I felt like I was being stabbed and or beaten.

Couldn’t move properly, couldn’t take a full shovel and couldn’t get my head screwed on straight.

“Dad, this isn’t real. I know so. I saw you. I put my head against your chest. I felt for a pulse. I held your hand. I did all I could and I will live with it.”

The specter in the dream pushed my buttons and I responded. Three people in the world can press my buttons and they were pressed.


Been a very rough and challenging week or so. Been a time where it has felt like every day has been a fight and there hasn’t been much time to catch my breath.

But today was a little bit different and I can’t tell you why. Can’t say if it is because I woke up and decided instead of being hunted I would be the hunter or if it is something else.

Could be any number of things and could be none of those things.

Pointed at the guy in the mirror and said “we’re partners” and reminded him there are no others.

“It is a single partnership unless and until someone buys in.”

He snorted and shook his head at me and we both smiled.

“If you are going to hunt monsters you might as well do it on hump day.”

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