Exist on our tongues

This is Faceless Frank. Slenderman’s shorter nephew who is a hell of a lot cheaper to hire than his uncle. Thanks Frank.

So I want to talk about talking. I’ve been told that what I talk about is surprising sometimes. Either because of my age, gender or something else. And half of me hates this. I love the looks I get when I bring these topics up, but I don’t like how rare these subjects are spoken of. I want a place where these actions are as regular as showering (not everyone does it, but you get weird looks if you don’t. And you probably smell funny). For instance, I’ve been told guys like myself will not utter a word about one topic, period.

I was with a group of friends who were talking about their periods. And seeing an opportunity, I said “Hey, can I ask a few questions, because I have no idea how to help when a girl is on her period”? There was shock and awe on the table. I felt like I was about to be anointed into a cult. I’d nearly say the lights dimmed, and everyone on the table leaned in close.

One my friends said “Do you really want to know about this”? Of course I did. Most of my guy friends only say one thing when it comes to periods; I should take a tactical leave of the country when it happens. But I needed to know this because I am related to women, I make friends with women, and get girlfriends on (rare) occasions.

The only reason you shouldn’t ask about Auntie Floe’s visits is if you are a guy surrounded by only guys until the day you die. (If this is your situation, I have a few questions, like: How does that differ from modern day society/ Can I crack open a few cold ones with you guys this weekend/ How does it feel knowing your tribe of testosterone will die out in a generation’s time?) And this knowledge puts you in great books with women, because it’s a rarity (when it shouldn’t be). So while this is a barely tapped market, you may as well avail of it. I’ll share three tips I was told, but you’ll have to learn the rest yourself as every period is different for everyone.

Hot water bottles are mandatory. Especially ones with the fur coating, like a tea-cosy. And if she can’t go out herself, someone needs to buy the supplies. (And before I get guys who’d rather leave a woman to buy that kind of stuff, think on this: If you’re chemistry was being dicked around like it was a pharmacy being run by a blind intern, would you be able to go outside so easily?) Another tip I was given was chocolate. Enough said.

But while I was taking notes with these girls, I said none of this should be that rare. And it won’t be if we talk about it. If there are topics that are issues, then it stands to reason that these should be the issues of friends/family. Burdens shared and all that jazz. And since we’re talking about issues, let’s talk about mental health issues. (It took me three months to think of that segway. It’s not going to get much better than that.)

I keep colourful company. Red yellow and green characters too grand for any story written. Problem is, they aren’t always bright colours. And in my time befriending people who were blue, I became very good as an open ear. Break-ups, Trump, a death in the family, they call me. Give me a bottle of coke and a packet of cigarettes, and there isn’t a dark night in creation that can stand against us.

But sometimes I’m the only contact in someone’s phone who they can call. That is just heart-breaking. This should be talk in a café. If I came to you, said “I miss my brothers/ I dropped my ice cream/ Life is treating me like I forgot the safe word” would that be so unknown that we wouldn’t talk about it? I don’t think so, but we act like it shouldn’t be spoken of. And that is mind blowing.

If it exists in our lives, it should exist on our tongues. We need to start somewhere so why not here and now? When I’m offering an open ear in a deaf world, I’m trying to set a trend. We’ll all be healthier with more of those stories told. I want talking about our problems to be as regular as ordering a coffee. Either that, or we should flip it on its head, and make ordering a coffee as taboo as talking about dark days.

 

“Can I get a coffee”?

What!? Here? Now? Are you serious”?

“Dude, it’s just a coffee”.

“Ok ok. Here. Just keep it out of sight, ok? Next you’ll want sugar as well”.

“Three please”.

“Are you fucking kidding me”!?

I’ll tell you a little secret: sometimes, hundreds spent on therapy doesn’t match to a friend seeing you have a world and a half of storms between your ears. And that friend saying “Coffee”?

Society determines what is taboo and what isn’t. Aren’t we society? We should be talking about everything, everywhere, except the cinema. Everyone who talks in the cinema should be flown into the sun. Anyways, I’ve been chatting for long enough. It’s your turn now.

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Phone Call

 

I pulled out my phone while the man beside me was breathing down my neck. I started to dial and sidestepped away from him. He took a step closer.

Mind backing up a little” I asked. “Thanks”. I called my brother. “Tyler, I just had a thought”.

Dude, I’m suited up for an interview so this better be important” said Tyler. I imagined the sight, his short stature and his formal attire. It looked like a child holding a clipboard.

It is” I replied. “So what if an acapella group-”?

Tyler stopped me. “If this is one of your puns, I swear, I’m changing the Netflix password”.

It’s not, it’s not” I assured. “So if an acapella group got into gardening…”?

This is a pun Bruce, admit it” replied Tyler.

I’m telling you, it’s not” I defended. “So if an acapella group got into gardening, would they call their band Pitches and Hoes”?

Tyler groaned on the phone “I’m going to give that a negative four out of ten”.

I got a dissatisfied look from the man beside me. “No but seriously, I called to tell you about my emergency cigarettes”.

Tyler expected another pun saying “Ok…”.

There’s a box under my bed and it has about three in there. If you’re going for an interview, take them. Just buy a packet of mints as well. Pop a mint after your cigarette”.

Tyler was shook by the lack of a punchline. “Ok, thanks”.

And Tyler, you’ll be fine. No matter what happens, you’ll be fine. I love you”.

Ok man, I got to go, but thanks for the cigarettes, and the advice”.

Anytime Tyler” and I hung up. I turned to the man behind me. “Thanks for bending the rules. I’m ready to go now”.

 

Technically, the glass from the windscreen broke my heart. But Tyler looking at the car crash, that is what broke my heart.  He roared like a missile, aware of its purpose as it fell through the sky. Being ok was an impossible thing. And he would go on believing this for the rest of his life. But when he checked the time of our last call, he understood impossible things can happen.

broken-72161_1280

I’m No Good at Titles

I really hate rhyme

Could never get the hang of it

Or keep it in time

It should be banned across the nation

And don’t get me started on alliteration

 

Answers towards alliteration elude me with ease

Which is a shame because it is a skill to savour

A serenade of words sung by those with style

But one thing I loath lower than alliteration

Is fine language

 

I stand at a precipice when faced

With the more articulated parts of the language

I view such trivial efforts to sound educated

As a fruitless endeavour

Wrought with pretension and solitude

From those of virtue and truth

 

When all these aspects of writing

Stand like termites together

They charge at me with a united cause

Birds of a feather

Determined to give a monstrous migraine

To this man who would not

Pity any and all who deem these cheap maneuvers

As something that should be sought

Word Play

words-750316_1280Summery is the feeling after spring
Irony is the taste of a spoon
And when someone says they’re a metal head
I think of Dr Doom
A play on words
Is any dialogue on stage.
When someone asks me to better spend my time
I wonder can I get clocks as a  wage
I would say I’m on a roll
But I have no bread beneath my feet
Cancer research is a virus getting smarter
Having nothing from your ankle to your toes is defeat
Dogs bark
But I can’t find branches or fruit
My jaw hit the floor
When my tired friend said he was pooped
I wrote this because I was bored
But I am not a wooden utensil you can cut the cheese on
Please do not cut the cheese on me
Maybe I got the idea of some of these words wrong