Living in My World

‘…a tilt-awhirl’ ride!”

Living in My World

By BR Chitwood

*

Living in my world

In all its guises

Has been a wild ride

On a Carnival ‘Tilt-a-Whirl,

An Up-down Roller Coaster,

Blended therein with Love

And matters of the Soul:

Empty moments, dull, void;

Danger moments of emotion;

Beautiful ‘Lady moments’,

Romantic and poetic in

Their magical essence.

Not so much has mattered

Living in my world, not

Business, not budgets, but

Those happy, Quixotic moments.

Other than a childhood of

Mood uncertainties and poverty,

I measure Living in my world

By those who have given me

Love, Hope, and Family.

There is also the gifts God

Gave me: a good, caring wife,

My final Remedy and Romance.;  

A need to write of my living

Through books of fiction,

Non-Fiction, Poetry, and

My World of Living –

Twenty books, over 370

Blog posts, including Flash

Fiction, Short Stories, and Poetry.

My World of Living is told

On and between the lines of

My writing…

Good or Bad?

I say, GOOD!

Is that not what you would

Expect me to say?

Read a few of my books and

Let me Know!

*

BR Chitwood – March 25, 2021 – Archives

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Dispelling Some Parts of Reality

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Dispelling Some Parts of Reality

BR Chitwood

*

       A Confirmation for Gobbledygook!

Hear me well, naysayers, if your ears are picking up thundering TV trumpet sounds in a false and rah-rah-rah background of joyfully pious, feigned sanity and truth. Yes, of course, my words might titillate, amuse, even, confuse you but they fly in the same wind as that rah-rah-rah TV stuff.

Occasionally, the weather reports are maybe accurate. Our sports events are accurately reported. There is a chance that, while our citizens slept, our US population grew larger and considerably more dangerous with the influx of illegal aliens and cartel members. The count of illegal crossings on our border to the South is now in the millions. Our good and caring government put many of these immigrants on buses and sent them off into cities and states across the United States to establish new and better lives…all free, of course, paid – courtesy of US tax payers.  

The House and The Senate apparently play high-stakes poker in their secret hideaways, too busy with rhetoric and bull shit to dig into ‘The Constitution of the United States’ to find solution, to just maybe awaken the ‘Supreme Court’ to action.

The House reps are all dancing to the tunes of ‘Marxist Socialist Creeps’ that want this thing we call Democracy (Freedom, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness) to fade away.

Ah, the leaders, the Wizards of Mumbling and incompetence, before our very eyes, ears, shake us to our core with their brazen incompetence, and steal an election there is no way in hell they could have won.

AND, here’s the thing, these virtual truths by an Appalachian liberty-loving American will not see the light of day…but I’m a little guy with no big audience, just an aching heart and memory of faithful freedom pals in graves all over the world.

Yeah, sure, I know, this is the United States, land of the free, home of the Brave, where free speech is acknowledged …

WHERE THE HELL DID OUR COUNTRY GO? WHERE DID THE GIFTS OF OUR NATION’S FATHERS GO?

If you listen carefully, you can hear Military graveyards trembling in anger and dismay.

Perhaps we are past remedies with the evil purveyors of far-left power now wearing their smiles and clown outfits laced with thievery, the ‘lobby libbers’ paying their ever-faithful government friends to sway this way or that way, funding perhaps the biggest ‘Presidential Election Fraud’ ever to be in the land of our ‘Iffy-Free’ nation. If it was not ‘PEF’ there will be no Moon, no Stars, no Clouds in our skies – just scary blackness. (Just a metaphorical dab of my whimsical side).

Remember, this is just a country boy’s ‘patriotism’ showing a very ugly side…an eighty-eight years-old country boy! But, please, help me to understand WHY summer riots? WHY ‘Critical Race Theory’(CRT)? WHY boy/girl transgender swaps? WHY ‘Defunding Police’? WHY arresting and immediately releasing criminals? WHY deserting our Israel friends and being cozy with China, Iran, Russia, AND, WHAT HAPPENS now in Afghanistan? The huge WHY? WHY are two idiots running our country and allowing millions of illegal aliens to be bused to cities across our country – AND, we pick up the tab, spending trillions of dollars? The BIG MAN has been in Government for near-fifty years, has not distinguished himself in any way – unless you wish to include his plagiarism. He has a Delaware home worth many millions, more millions in the ‘teens’ he doesn’t bother reporting to the IRS because of special-type documents. His son, Hunter, through some devious means is a millionaire and a new ‘artist’ commanding huge amounts of money for his work.

Okay, it is fairly obvious who I am – check the age again, where my political loyalties are, and WHY Marxist dogma across the board will get us to where Cuba is today. Marx and other bored college professors wrote about Marxism and how it should touch about every aspect of our lives. It is all about POWER for the Elites. I am NOT a RACIST and do not believe in the BLM, Anarchists, and the misguided themes of their movements.

For narrative clarity and excellence, please read Mark Levin’s NEW BOOK: ***** AMERICAN MARXISM *****

If the country goes the way of some of the things mentioned above, I’m good with the boat ride to Hades… Otherwise, I’ll stick around until 2038.

BR Chitwood – 7/12/21

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Bewildered Nation

    A Bewildered Nation

BR Chitwood

*

As a bewildered child I could not have known the word, ‘Confusion’, nor any word that defined my state of being. ‘Fear’ was there along with the body tremors and tears, the displacement, the whirl of movement, the sharp and ugly words uttered in the anger of the times, bodies attacking bodies in the fading flicker of kerosene lamps. No, not a constant force in those early years of my youth and yearning to be in the light. It seemed always dark and shadowy, always awaiting the clouds to gather for another storm.

Along with bewilderment and fear there was within my genetic make-up a tendency toward cowardice – and it was easily defined by my eyes, the quivering of my body, and my pitiful voice of surrender…an easy, choice-prey for the bully building his noisy audience of smiling ‘tag-along’ buddies…

After a few shoves put me on the ground, a few sympathetic voices from the gathered crowd would come: “Let him up! He doesn’t want to fight you…recess is over.”

My emotions, my mind, were in a frenzy as I took my seat at the small desk in the back of ‘home room’, and, in that quiet contemplative place, the teacher’s voice a soft and barely audible hum in my ears, my mind did to me what the bully had intended to do – ‘beat me up’… Why was I built this way? Why did my body reject me in those danger moments, sending the waves of doom through the brain and paralyzing any impulse to react to a bully not a lot bigger than I?

There was no corner to hide in. I would be forever known as a sissified little boy, afraid to defend himself. In those moments, I loathed my life and the awkward embarrassment I brought to it.

Friendships that came helped me gain some degree of empowerment. High School football was a major source of encouragement. The body contact nature of the sport awakened a part of my small degree of gridiron talent. Not that I would ever be a bully or close friend with a bully but their bloated egos no longer lingered long in my mind. Our genetic networks carry all of our truths and secrets – good and bad.

Our lives are filled with all the emotions, our loves, our hatreds, our industry, our desires, our capacity for or ‘lack of’ positive energy, and a generous supply of kindness. It is my belief that few of us are Saintly Gifted, empowered by some spiritual gifts of goodness that keep us unselfish and mercifully steadfast in solving crippling and societal issues.,

How we bring our inheritance of virtuous and unvirtuous qualities to adulthood, the pros and cons of our beliefs, determine the good and evil forces that bond and move us toward the good and evil sides… Rather superfluous, to be sure, but so, too, are birth and death.

From an historical perspective we must be coming close to some final determination about our relatively short stint as a democracy…do we stay Free and Sovereign as our Constitutional patriots envisioned, endowed by a loving God to defy negative voices that would destroy all for which our historical documents pledged for us?

With all the universal diversity, the spread of our rapidly growing knowledge, the gaps in personal intelligence, the riots, political parties that appear to seek power and give glib analyses to match their Masters’ dictates. Can America and the World survive if an elite few dictate how we must live?

It is my opinion that the 2021 Presidential election was farcical and without precedent in the annals of history, notwithstanding the awful World Pandemic and some major Cities’ and States’ manipulations.

Our Southern border, once secured, is now open and allowing hundreds of thousands of immigrants into the United States, many of whom are bused and sent all over our country, good people along with child molesters and killers.

I’m just one voice.

Perhaps you won’t like what I’m writing.

Perhaps I’ll be censored.

There are times when a weak voice like mine speaks and few will read what I have written, but I felt the need to put down these thoughts. I love my country and pray we can solve our issues.

B R Chitwood – July 5, 2021

brchitwood.com

The Party’s Over

©The Party’s Over

By BR Chitwood

*

Friday nights became a weekly

ritual at my apartment in the

Lovely ‘Spanish Gardens’ –

My drinking pals were there with 

‘Lady prizes’ of the evening, plus

Some Male and female loners…

They usually matched up quickly.

At party’s end I was alone.

While soft Frank Sinatra ballads

Floated among the low lights

And polluted air of booze and smoke

I lazily reclined on the sofa,

Allowing my mind to wander

Down its normal paths of

Romantic memories of pretty faces,

Love affairs in Time’s vacuum.

As I stared at the shadowy ceiling

It came clearly vivid to me…

Stark, plain as the mind can

Render and a ‘hobo heart’ can

Pump its Romantic sadness…

No matter the attempts to

Rebuke the world for my failings,

I was a man ignoring his destiny…

‘His destiny’? I smiled at my hubris…

An author who wrote of his small

Accomplishments, his Loves, his idiocy,

His books, his poetry, were to bring

A new name to literature – my name!

‘His Destiny’? Really! ‘His Destiny’?

A fool at the journey’s beginning – 

An enlightened fool at journey’s end!

*

BR Chitwood – June 28, 2021

Website/Blog: https://brchitwood.com

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Brutal Brevity

BR Chitwood

  1. Flash Fiction –

Jean and I were driving to the Napa, California Wine Country, enjoying light conversation, taped music, and an occasional soft touch of endearment via hands or lips. It was our first weekend trip together after a few initial dinner dates and exploratory love episodes. It was a happy sunny Saturday, a clear blue sky, and the promise of taking our relationship to perhaps a more permanent stage. We were a couple filled with the desire to know if we were a true match.

We stopped for a Red Light in a small town. In the light’s left-turn lane, a couple were vividly angry about something, and the man began to throw hard punches at the woman.

Without thinking, I yelled at the man: “Hey, knock it off, Man!”

The man turned quickly and glared angrily at me: “Shut your face, ass-hole!” He turned off his ignition, opened his driver-side door and started to round his car to get to mine.

Jean was scared as I started to get out of the car: “Don’t get involved, please…this could end up badly. Just drive off. Go through the light. No cars are coming either way. Please, don’t fight this guy. He may have a gun – or, a knife. Hurry, please, drive through the light.”

Just as the madman reached for my outside door handle, I sped away and through the light. I could not see the other car in my rearview after turning onto our road route to Napa. Jean and I sat silent for some time.

Jean finally spoke: “I’m sorry, BR, I hate violence. I know you wanted to help the woman, but it’s likely the action you did take cooled him down…”

“I hope so, Jean. That lady was crying, her face already bruised and wet with her tears. I just… Oh, never mind. Hopefully, it was just a spat that will be forgotten soon, and they will have ‘whatever it was about’ out of their system.”

We listened to our musical tapes without a lot of talking the rest of the way into Napa, and I kept checking my rearview mirror for the madman.

The weekend was lovely enough, but there was something hanging in the air that kept it from being all we wanted it to be.

Jean and I saw each other a few more times, but something went missing that we could never quite get back.

*

Flash Fiction from a true event, by:

BR Chitwood – June 19 2021

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©Survival of Love and Truth!

©Survival of Love and Truth!

©By BR Chitwood

*

PART ONE:

*

(Cameron’s Concern…)

You sit across from me with that soft sweet smile of love and compassion, dressed in one of my faded blue shirts, the fulsome curves of your breasts taut against the unbuttoned upper edges. The cut-off denim shorts give delightful vision to your splayed legs and naked feet.

Yet, it is your face placed inside the mold of your long raven braids that reach near the top of your breast-line on which my sight is locked, pondering its beauty and the sparkle that shifts with the light in those deep-blue eyes. Moments go lost with my staring until your velvety soft lips part to speak.

“You’re making me nervous, Cameron. Why did you want to talk to me? Is something wrong at work? Is it me? Have I done something to cause you concern? Talk to me, Cam, we’ve been sitting here in silence for several minutes, and I have a chore to finish.”

These were the moments he dreaded with a heavy heart but his decision had been made and he must painfully finish his charade…it was the only decision that would solve the ugly dilemma he faced.

“Mattie, just one question! Please consider it carefully… Do you love me?”

Mattie shifted her head a few times, began to rise…

“No, Mattie, sit. Answer the question.”

“Cam, what the hell kind of question is that? You know damned well I love you. We are hopefully having a child soon, beginning our family after trying so long. What on earth brought this on?”

“You went out yesterday afternoon with Bev Rawlings to shop. After shopping at Central Mall, you went to Durbin’s for cocktails. Who joined you there?”

“Jeez, Cam, you’re having me followed?”

“Just answer the question, Mattie.”

“I can’t believe this…nobody joined us, you silly man. Now, stop this inquisition now, Cam. You are scaring the hell out of me. This is not you. You are never in this sort of mood. You know very well I love you – and only you. Who is feeding you this crap? We had two drinks and we left.”

“So, your ex, Charlie Pike, did not join you at Durbin’s, Mattie?”

An angry squint came to her face, “Hell, no, Charlie Pike did not join us…yes, he was there with a friend of Bev’s, and we only said, hello. They did not join us for drinks. In fact, we left after our second drink…end of story. If you just remember, we had a late dinner here at home last night because your final appointment ran longer than expected.

“What is this all about, Cameron? We’ve been together for three years. I’ve never been happier, and we are trying to get me pregnant and start our family.”

“So, that’s your story?”

“No, it’s not a story. It’s the truth… I don’t know what brought all of this on, Cameron, but don’t do this to me again. Maybe you are seeing someone and want to make a case against me to suit your ends. If that’s the case, tell me. As for me, I’m invested in this relationship. If you want it otherwise, be man enough to tell me without pulling this kind of crap on me. Fidelity is most important to me. I love you, Cam, but I can live with the truth, not a lie.”

*

(Mattie’s Thoughts…)

Mattie, her face red and tears beginning to flow, rose quickly from her chair and left the room, leaving Cameron to stare after her. She finished her housekeeping while the entire time was spent with thoughts about the sudden and surprising accusation by her husband. She was shocked, hurt, by his words that broke into their assumed happy marriage. She could not shake the thought that there was something more to their conversation than what Cameron told her, and it puzzled her. Their marriage was good, had been good for the few years of marriage. No, their marriage was ‘story book’, happy and lovingly strong. She was certain there was some other problem she was not yet aware.

Mattie heard the door to the garage open and close, assumed Cameron was off to his office. She put her favorite CD music on the stereo and resumed her chore, humming along with the dip and sway of the romantic song. She closed her mind to the Q&A with Cameron and somehow felt whatever the cause all would be back to normal by the time he arrived home.

Finished with her chores, Mattie decided to go poolside and work on her tan. When the large bedroom wall mirror presented her in the pale blue and yellow polka dot bikini, she smiled her satisfaction – her body was still the same 110-pound weight and the curves in her assessment were still as they should be. She shook her long raven hair with a hip swing, grabbed her Smart Phone, and went to the pool.

Before Cameron left for the office, the pool service guy showed up, and, now, the water was sparkling and the strong scent of chemicals filled the air. While unable to explain the feeling, this was her most favorite time to be poolside, breathing in the gentle chem-aroma carried on a soft breeze.

She brought a new John Grisham paperback to the pool and reached for it from the concrete table next to her lounger. Mattie in her lazy effort dropped the paperback in a small water pocket, uttered a mild expletive, and placed the book back on the table for drying.

With the lounger in a comfortable laid-back position, Mattie placed eye-pads on her eyes, took a deep breath, and gave herself up to the May sun and gentle breeze. She forced out the negative conversation with Cameron, and, in a few moments, a lethargy induced a short nap.

The nap was short as a small stray cloud moved across the bright summer sun, bringing a shadowy grayness to momentarily dull the back part of her closed eyes.

It was as she suspected – a small cumulus cluster was leaving the sun’s brilliance and going westward, leaving the sky again clear blue and the pool lustrous in its sparkle.

Mattie closed her eyes again, a slight smile lingering for some seconds, but the nap would not return. She reached for the ice-filled fruit-jar of water under her chaise lounge, took sips, and began to recall the morning’s ‘accusatory attack’ by the husband she loved. It had all seemed so hollow and somehow staged, so totally outside his polite and loving nature. There had been no preamble, no hint of outrage. ‘What the hell is going on’? she thought aloud.

Mattie looked all around the beautiful 2-acre property, the royal palm trees, the freshly mown grass, the flower gardens, the hedges, the pool and spa, all the beauty outside and inside their delightful home. She married Cameron Lee Hendrix. She loved the man so completely, wanted no one else in her life, all her dreams of ‘the good life’ were met by this man. Everything about Cameron, his humility, kindness, his intelligence, his hard work, his tenderness in love and friendship. He was perfect in her eyes…

The morning shocked her. As she came into the den, he seemed aloof, pretending to look over some papers, not the man she had lived with for three years, love growing richer each day, talks of children, trips to be taken, never a ‘chink’ in their love and union.

She was shocked, yes, and surprised that her anger had reached the hot point so quickly. That never happened in their three years together before this morning. She was shocked, surprised, as never before in their months dating and their married years.

She could not fathom this day she was living.

Her mind covered so many possibilities that it could not accept.

What was today’s meaning? In their lives and for building a family? The doctor suggested there were signs a little girl was beginning life inside of her. Cameron was so happy when she gave him the news ten days ago. Mattie’s hope that their talk this morning was to be about that new joy coming into their lives. 

Mattie began to weep, feeling an emptiness she could not understand. The years had been so happy. She wiped away the tears with a lounge towel, forced a smile, and said to the passing air current, “We will make it through this. We have to make it for the little girl growing inside of me.”

*

PART TWO:

*

Cameron Little left his high-rise office early afternoon, and his mood was sad and somber. All morning he could not keep his mind on some important. potentially lucrative meetings with engineers and/or city government officials.

The office meetings were not the reasons for his mood. The morning meeting with his beautiful wife was the cause for his mood. He felt terrible for putting Mattie through that kind of trashy act.

The meeting he was about to attend had a lot to do with this morning’s inquisition of his wife, serving as a beginning scenario that would protect her and protect the child she and he would want to protect.

As Cameron pulled into the parking space of the large Medical Building, he felt a body spasm and a brief reluctance to get out of the car. Cameron’s nature was always positive. He was indefatigable in all sectors of his life, including work and play.

He pulled the key from the ignition of his new Lexus and sat for some moments, his thoughts bouncing around in his head. Finally, he sighed deeply and got out of the car.

In Doctor Salem’s office, the nurses and staff were smiling congenially and announced that the doctor was awaiting Cameron in his office…not the examination room, but, his office.

The usually upbeat senior nurse, Marcie, had a warm smile on her face but it lacked its more normal glow of gaiety. Marcie led Cameron to the Doctors office and left as the two men did their customary handshake and brief shoulder hugs.

The two men were longtime friends and golf buddies, both members of the Arizona Country Club, both graduates of Arizona State university, both members of Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity, both trading off family dinners and vacations.

“Sit, Cam, please. Would you like something to drink, cola, coffee, even a highball since I have no more patients for the day?”

“No, Stan, thank you. I prefer the final words on my lab work, particularly the final X-Ray work-up. Don’t feel the need to soften your words, my good friend. I know why I’m here and a good idea of what might be coming…but I wish to hell we were on the golf course. What’s the final word, Stan?”

Doctor Salem’s brows drooped but he forced a small smile. “The words from a beautiful song come to me, Cam – ‘He can turn the tide and calm an angry sea. He alone knows how to write a symphony…’ That’s just my way of saying, Med lab data are not always Absolute. In my years of Medicine, I’ve seen reverses of a patient’s lab profile that were stunning to me, and, yes, I know you want to know what our lab reports show. The congregate lab reports show that you do have Tuberculosis.

“That’s the bad news, Cam. The good news is, you have ‘Latent TB’, NOT the TB disease. Your ‘LTB’ is curable in relatively short time. There are various methods of antibiotics treatment lasting a few months at the most…”

“What’s the difference, Stan, between ‘Latent TB and TB Disease?”

“Your ‘Latent TB’ is asleep in your body and protected by your immune system. Your LTB will not pass to anyone else – non-infective.

“What effect will this have on my longevity, Stan?”

“Virtually, none, Cam… You, know, a hundred years ago, the TB Disease carried with it a death sentence – it could vary from weeks, months, and, for a lucky few, some years…

“In fact, and this is a true story, a gentleman in Seattle was diagnosed with the TB Disease, the doctor giving him a true assessment of what remedy measures might be taken. The doctor likely be a short period before his death from TB.

“The good gentleman had a loving wife and daughter in Seattle who knew nothing of their husband-father’s medical condition. The man was suffocating on his thoughts of ‘what to do’ – to stay meant death to his wife and daughter, a legacy he could not accept… So, he stayed in the desert just south of Phoenix, Arizona, and had the movie reels been rolling, they would have now on record a most interesting and improbable tale to show and tell.

“The Seattle man lived a hermit life there in the Phoenix South Mountain area with no one but the snakes and animal types of the desert. He began a tedious building project there in the foothills, working for years, collecting discarded wood and metal left by nearby home builders, relics, rocks and anything that would fit in the mansion he was building for his beloved daughter   as some form of atonement for his desertion.

“Today, that colossal structure is called ‘The Mystery House’ and is visited by people all over the world. The daughter was left the property and lived there for some years – until commercialism saw the value of the structure and its essence.”

“Wow, that’s quite a story, Doc… AND, I like the first story as well. You set-up my schedule for treatments, and I’ll be here. You know, my mind was going somewhere in the direction of that poor man in South Mountain. Thank you, good friend for this day. You won me the ‘lottery’.”

{Okay, readers, build your own ‘Welcome Home Story’ for Cam and Mattie! AND, if you like the story, refer it to a friend – the ‘Mystery House Story’ is NOT fictional!]

©BR Chitwood – June 2, 2021

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Enigma Of The Soul

https://brchitwood.com/2021/04/17/enigma-of-the-soul/(opens in a new tab)

***

by BR Chitwood

How often do you use the word, ‘Soul?’ How often do you think about your ‘Soul?’

Mirriam-Webster defines ‘Soul’ as:

1. the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life

2. a: the spiritual principle embodied in human beings, all rational and spiritual beings, or the universe

So, that’s enough, right? The two definitions pretty much say it all, and there are more definitions there in the dictionary if you want more.

‘Soul’ seems to me, though, such a huge word to be so small. Writers likely get the most use out of the word than the people who really work for a living — no anger, please, just adding a little levity here. Really, it seems to me that ‘Soul’ is not in too many mundane conversations. ‘Soul’ is usually saved for the philosophers, poets, preachers, Romantics, sentimentalists, and writers.

You can almost envision the literary expatriates who gathered in Paris between the period of World War One and the onset of World War Two…wtiters like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemmingway, Sherwood Anderson, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, John Dos Passos, Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller, Anais Nin, Lawrence Durrell, Gertrude Stein to name a few — okay, okay, I’m name-dropping — but these were the people I read and studied in college and their lives got somehow interwoven with my own, with my ‘Soul.’ I can see them sitting at the sidewalk cafes talking in the afternoon about their writings, about how the devastation of war had impacted their lives. I can see them drinking the Bacchus liquids and debauching in the evenings, pausing in their fun and frivolity for serious and sober moments to discuss the condition of the ‘Soul.’ These were the people Gertrude Stein referred to as ‘the lost generation.’ Certainly, why not Paris? Why not gather in the great city of lights with so much art and beauty? It was the place to be if you were disillusioned by a world intent on war and destruction. It was the perfect place and time to discuss matters of the ‘Soul,’ and these great writers held those discussions in the finest style and with some of the most celebrated erudition prevalent in those days.

So, why do I post about ‘Soul?’

Guess it’s easy for me, an oldtimer looking back on his life, how he’s lived, somewhat of an anachronism in today’s fast moving digital world. ‘Soul’ is such an all-encompassing word. It holds such a fascination for me in these sunset years, but it has always held that fascination for me — guess ‘Soul’ for me is what writing is all about. We live, we pay taxes, and we die, but the ‘Soul’ offers us so many delectable scenarios of which to consider and ponder.

‘Soul’ is that defining part of us that we can’t pinpoint, can’t know exactly where it is, but we have to know that it is there. ‘Soul’ is everything Mirriam-Webster says it is, but so very much more. There are times when the directions we take as a world concerns me greatly. It is my hope that we can still take time, Paris or not, to discuss the implications of such an enigmatic and beautiful word.

‘Soul.’

BR Chitwood – Archives – April 17, 2021

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Life’s Potpourri of Sweet Madness

“The Cracked Mirror” was written as much for me as for the reading public, but the book does go a long way in outlining the not so whirlwind aspects of my existence…

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 Life’s Potpourri of Sweet Madness

By BR Chitwood

*

I’ve lived life, some of it given to writing novels, short stories, flash fiction, poetry, and songs, much too much of it given to chasing the illusive butterflies in my mind…a cute euphemistic couplet for looking for love in liquor-juice joints where pretty perfumed  ladies congregate to diminish the aroma of alcohol and smoke and make themselves available if the matching system worked its magic…it was, one might say, a large part of my existence. (Call it a lure to one of my twenty books, a memoir titled “The Cracked Mirror.”)

“The Cracked Mirror” was written as much for me as for the reading public, but the book does go a long way in outlining the not so whirlwind aspects of my existence. If anyone could be interested in a ‘hill boy’s story’, the book is on Amazon. Had the book been available when I was teaching ‘Writing’, I would have brazenly made it ‘required reading’…under the hyped heading of ‘How Not to Live Your Life’.

The truth is, like so many lives, there have been for me awe and wonder, beauty, college, the US Navy, film and acting work, lovely women, marriages, divorces, children to die for – my own and the satellite children as well. The offset: Sadness and too much Regretting. All in all, I equate my life with so many others. Each of us has these elements in our lives. There are good decisions and there are bad decisions, good dreams, bad dreams.

.

So, writing sustains me, gives me a voice in the great scheme of things, and, maybe a few people will read me, feel somehow benefitted by the flow of my words.

I just write and do very little marketing except for blog posts and Twitter.

At least, I’m out there in the ‘Sphere’!

*.

BR Chitwood – March 30, 2021

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See my 20 books/blog posts/poetry at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Follow me on twitter.com/@brchitwood“TheCr

Living in My World

Living in my world in all its guises has been a wild ride on a carnival ‘Tilt-a-Whirl’, an up-down Roller Coaster, Blended therein with love and matters of the Soul…

Living in My World

By BR Chitwood

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Living in my world

In all its guises

Has been a wild ride

On a Carnival ‘Tilt-a-Whirl’,

An Up-down Roller Coaster,

Blended therein with Love

And matters of the Soul:

Empty moments, dull, void;

Danger moments of emotion;

Beautiful ‘Lady moments’,

Romantic and poetic in

Their magical essence.

Not so much has mattered

Living in my world, not

Business, not budgets, but

Those happy, Quixotic moments.

Other than a childhood of

Mood uncertainties and poverty,

I measure Living in my world

By those who have given me

Love, Hope, and Family.

There is also the gifts God

Gave me: a good, caring wife,

My final Remedy and Romance.;  

A need to write of my living

Through books of fiction,

Non-Fiction, Poetry, and

My World of Living –

Twenty books, over 370

Blog posts, including Flash

Fiction, Short Stories, and Poetry.

My World of Living is told

On and between the lines of

My writing…

Good or Bad?

I say, GOOD!

Is that not what you would

Expect me to say?

Read a few of my books and

Let me Know!

*

BR Chitwood – March 25, 2021

View my books/synopses at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Follow me on Twitter.com/@brchitwood  

A Mind’s Dark Corner

To compound the anger comes news that the killer, Ahmad Al iwi Alissa, age 21, was being tracked by the FBI, was considered ‘deeply psychotic’ and troubled. After losing a wrestling match in high school Ahmad threatened to kill the winner.

A Mind’s Dark Corner

By BR Chitwood

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Pretend if you will – only, pretend, please!  – that this post is written by a ‘mad man’!

Instead of sitting, stewing, and, in my mind, performing several hours of pain carving in my mind sharp little icons into the arms, chest, and face of the degenerate Boulder, Colorado bastard who killed a police officer and ten people, I grab my laptop and eliminate the hatred and evil thoughts that roam in wild waves through my mind.

I know that the majority of people who read this have their own anger and do not need my words to clash with their own.

To compound the anger comes news that the killer, Ahmad Al iwi Alissa, age 21, was being tracked by the FBI, was considered ‘deeply psychotic’ and troubled. After losing a wrestling match in high school Ahmad threatened to kill the winner.

We live in a big country with nearly 350 million people, and the United States cannot guarantee against such horrible crimes, so, we have to live with ‘trade-offs’ here and there. I get that. I’m sure we all get that, but it is still a hard pill to swallow by all of us who have some tenderness in our hearts, some regard for our neighbors and friends.

Being angry is easy. Most of us, if not all have been there, and we hate ourselves a bit when we adjust in our minds the intricate network that governs us.

These few short paragraphs have eased the negative flow of anger… Yes, the worst of our world stays with us until there is only a ‘soul’ somewhere in an eternity repair shop preparing us for another life – maybe, or a pure paradise.

I won’t be talking about other alternatives in the afterlife.

BR Chitwood – March 24, 2021

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Check out my 20 books in most genres and over 370 blog posts, flash fiction, short stories at:

https:’//brchitwood.com

Follow me on Twitter.com @brchitwood

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