Mark's Reflections, Ruminations, And Remarks

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Articles: 1, 2

Getting Along
2007-12-19 21:45:00
I looked up from my right and I saw him on my left. He stood along the hospital wall. His cap was cocked. His coat was dirty. His clothes were torn. His face was unshaven. His mouth is nearly empty yet his fist was full. He gripped his pack of gum and each Thursday he stops near my chair and offers me a piece.I’ve written of our introduction and now our encounter has become our ritual. Each Thursday he offers me a stick of gum. Each Thursday I take it from him and I express my gratitude and then we wish each other well. Each Thursday he says my name aloud with a reverence I haven’t earned and I do not deserve. Each Thursday I say his name aloud so that he can hear it on the lips of one human being each week. I shake his hand so that he can feel the touch of a one human being each week. And I express joy and suppress my sadness so that he can see one smile each week.I tell myself each Thursday that it will be the last time that I’ll volunteer. I count my cash and I see my bill...

The Punchline
2007-12-19 18:31:00
I stood near the table and surveyed the sweets. Christmas parties usually part discipline from the decisive. But, I’m determined to maintain my diabetic maintenance. I reached over a truffle as I plucked an olive while he approached from my side. I avoided the fruit plate; this is a party - not purgatory.“Hey! Long time no see!” he chuckled, “How’ve ya been?”“Good. Things are good,” I answered the rote as I extended my hand. I intended to maintain my privacy.“You look good, “ he offered as he assessed the plattered offerings. We’ve stood beside each other in a cafeteria. Now we’re beside each other sharing a companion’s company.“Yeah, I’ve achieved cute. It takes all my efforts but it’s worth it,” I sampled a speared pickle.“Hey, why haven’t I heard from you? We haven’t gotten together in ages,” he placed a couple of cookies on his plate.“Well, it’s been a busy year,” I maneuvered around the table. I hate being corn...

The Consequence Of Being A Wiseass
2007-12-18 02:30:00
He looked up from his beer and asked me, “Why do you feel enlightenment carries an obligation?”I thought for a minute and bided my time with timed sips. “Because you know. And you know you know. So you can’t pretend you don’t know. And the more you know, the more you can’t tell Him no.”“Huh?” he said.“It just does. I can’t think how to explain it,” I dismissed the rest of the conversation. But I’ve thought about his question and I’ve arrived at a proper response.The trickiest aspect of enlightenment is that I have to merge each action with a consequence. I can’t take leaps of faith nor jumps from assumptions. It means I have to measure each moment and equate every effect with any affect. It means I can’t excuse my failings with assertions of foibles or foolishness. It means I have to dissect each of my actions and each of your actions and each of God’s actions with all of our reactions.And I must avoid the near occasion of sin be...
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Unwilling To Sit This One Out
2007-12-17 20:03:00
I sat in the hall as one of my closest friends stood beside me. Bruce and I have shared many laughs and many insights. He’s weathered by life yet he leaves little doubt whether or not goodness exists in my life. I told him I couldn’t tolerate the fact that lonely people exist in the midst of 6.5 billion people. I’ve often thought that if a man counted every person he passed in one day, he couldn’t justify loneliness to God or to his brother.Bruce looked at me as if I had a good - yet entirely too innocent and slightly stupid - heart and he said, “People who are lonely want to be. All they have to do is talk.” I knew he was right but that seemed too simplistic of an explanation.Yesterday I sat at a bar and listened to a buddy play the trumpet with a Dixieland band. I spilled my beer on my trousers and I spilled the contents of my mind to my companion. We laughed and we sang with a man who sat behind us. We shared a platter of appetizers that I had splattered with the beer...

Is It True What They Say About Dixie?
2007-12-17 02:38:00
Ok ... I went to hear my buddy play in a band and I learned a few things:→ Ralph can play the trumpet. I'm pleasantly surprised.→ I like Dixieland. I tapped a toe. I clapped. I snapped.→ I had forgotten how great Louis Armstrong's and Al Jolson's songs were.→ I like watching old people dance. They can. They know they can.→ If you drop a beer on yourself - and it spills down your trousers and puddles on the floor - you'll meet the people sitting near you. You'll meet the staff who'll bring the towels. I was completely sober. Yes. I was. I wonder if "Dixieland" is somehow prophetic. I hope the staff won't limit me to paper cups the next time I frequent their joint. © 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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The Best & The Worst of Christmas Tunes
2007-12-16 21:12:00
So I read in the morning newspaper that two research companies (Edison Media Research & Pinnacle Media Worldwide) have polled the populace and arrived at a list of the best/worst Christmas tunes. Um. No. Here's our list. And "our" is not a royal we; it's actually an our. I've polled my own people. 1. The Christmas Song: Nat King Cole2. A Holly Jolly Christmas: Burl Ives3. O Holy Night: Celine Dion4. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas: Robert Goulet5. (There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays: Perry Como6. We Need A Little Christmas: Angela Lansbury7. All I Want For Christmas Is You: Mariah Carey8. The Most Wonderful Time of The Year: Johnny Mathis9. I Know What I Want For Christmas: George Strait10. White Christmas: Bing Crosby1. Christmas Shoes: Newsong2. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town: Bruce Springsteen3. O Holy Night: Christina Aguilera4. Winter Wonderland: Annie Lennox5. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas: The Pret...
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Wanting To Stress The Point
2007-12-15 18:16:00
I stood in the hall of a hospital Thursday and shared a chat with my best buddy in the building. He stood beside me; I leaned on the handrail as he listened to my latest chapter in my life. We’ve quickly become fast friends. I’ve rarely revealed with this much rapidity but we share a similar sentiment and a twin temperament. We talk work; we talk worries. And we talk women. His arms were folded and his head was bowed as he absorbed the details and processed my assessments. He punctuated my points with bobs of his head.He looked up. He smiled. And he said, “Mark, I think you’re a bit of a slut.” He crossed his t with the snap of his smile.“No, man. Not even,” I laughed as I continued, “I just like challenging women who keep my interested. But, I don’t like the ones who cause too much stress.” Our conversation moved to a chat about stress. He’s remodeling his basement. He enjoys the physical expense of the project. I’m not living in abasement but I am dealing w...
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Christmas Parting Gifts
2007-12-12 19:40:00
He saddled out of his seat and closed the car door. He pulled his coat over his suit and leveled his scarf around his neck. He straightened his tie and slid his hands inside his pockets to grasp his gloves. He felt the cold cylinder against his chilled fingers.He remembered the last time he wore this coat. He had held his tongue when she asked him to hold it for her in his pocket. He lifted the stick above his mouth and wistfully whiffed. There wasn’t an odor but her memory lingered near his lips. He saw no point in waxing nostalgia: it was over; she was gone. He’d drop her lipstick into the mail. He dropped it into his trouser pocket and he heard it clink against his keys. Her melancholy stuck in his mind as the snow stuck to his glasses.He stood on the stoop and tried to raise his spirits as he raised the knocker. He wrapped up his emotions as he rapped on the door. He pasted his perfunctory on his face and smiled as he greeted his hosts. They took his coat as they took the...
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Citing The Blind: Jalousie
2007-12-12 03:06:00
He didn’t understand loving more than one person because he never loved more than one person. He only loved himself.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Seasoned Greetings
2007-12-10 15:20:00
Why do they insist on saying "Happy Holidays?" The word holiday derives from the words "Holy Day." So actually when you greet someone with the words "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas," you are offering them a non-secular greeting of happiness on a day when the sacrifice of the Mass is offered and a Sacrament is received. And of course without that knowledge, when you say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas" you're denying Christ. Of course when you reject both greetings and simply state, "season greetings" you deny you have testicles.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved

Severance Pay
2007-12-08 18:34:00
Someone asked me the other day what obligations friends have to each other. I can’t speak to the issue in the “sisterhood.” I think those obligations have something to do with tags and lines that show. And I have written of the obligation man has to a Deity and his responsibilities to his fellow members of humanity. I’m unaware of a litany of obligations that are exclusive to friendship. Yet I know of one obligation that is an intrinsic element in the fraternity of mankind. When a buddy is suffering through a break up, his friend is required to oversee his activities on the day of the break up.He must:1. Sit beside his buddy at a bar and say: “No man. It’s a good thing. She wasn’t right for you,” through the first two beers. The next two beers should be echoed with: “Yeah, she was a bitch. Fuck her.” And he must end the evening with, “Yeah I know you loved her, buddy. We all loved her,” as he nods his head and helps his buddy into the passenger seat of the ca...
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Doing Their Part
2007-12-07 20:32:00
He took the back of his hand and wiped her goodbye from his lips as he walked to his car in her lot. She watched from her window as she took the palm of her hand and wiped his goodbye as it trickled down her cheek.He’ll be her wouldn’t.She’ll be his won’t.It will be their wasn’t.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Embarking From A Foolhardy Venture
2007-12-07 18:38:00
Thursday I learned that I've nurtured and tended for a plant that has no roots, bares no fruit, retains no leaves, and provides no shelter. My arms ache. My back is bent. My knees are scraped. I’m ashamed to admit it - I’ve watered a stick. I’ll embark from the forest and leave it to the dogs. Perhaps they’ll find it fetching. Dogs' limbs don’t tire when nothing grows from their wet.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Footprints In The Sand: Better Than A Carbon Copy
2007-12-05 03:29:00
“Because I always know the reason why,” I boasted. “I can always explain human behavior.”“Ok. So, why did George W. Bush invade Iraq?” he chuckled as he challenged.“He wanted to beat his father,” I hastily replied. I condensed a speech into a statement.I feel bound to unbind. So, here’s my declaration:George W. Bush invaded Iraq because he shares a name. He wanted to leave a footprint. He doesn’t want to be a footnote.√ Duly noted√ Dually noted√ Carb on copy√ Carbon footprintArrange them along any party line you toe.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Bedlam
2007-12-02 00:10:00
He feels her pulse against his chest while she sleeps. His emotions echo her breaths as they enter and they exit. His chest is bathed in sweat and he shivers from his chill. He gently glides back from her back so his wet won’t awake. He stares through his mourning as she sleeps until morning. He used to tell her everything. Now he’ll tell her anything. He’d tell her something but he’s afraid she’ll think it’s nothing.He lumbers from her slumber as he slides out of bed and into his shorts and a shirt. They stick to him and feel clammy against his calmly contained chaos. He scratches his ass as he brushes his teeth but never allows his conscience to scratch more than the surface of the source of his sadness. He smiles to his reflection and checks his teeth as he notices he’s getting a little long in the tooth. He faces his face and his heart sinks as he splashes the cold water from the faucet into every facet of his façade.At the arrest of her rest, she awakens and fin...

Beholden
2007-11-28 03:39:00
I listened; I advised. I gave my word that I wouldn’t reveal her words. She sought my sagacity and begged my silence. Her words have never passed my lips. I did not speak of it to anyone. Now her situation has deteriorated. I know that I can offer assistance. I hold her opportunities in my hand. I hold her help on my lips. My words reach the ears of influence. Yet I gave my word, so I sit in silence.I could compromise my essence and assist her. Yet she insists that I keep my tongue in my mouth and my hands in my pocket. I watch her persist. I keep my word to her and resist the temptation to say a word for her. There are two qualities that consist in manhood: honor and truth. Without both a man cannot exist and manhood cannot endure. I could lie and dishonor my word and dishonor our friendship while I alleviate her temporal problem with a permanent solution. I would be less a friend and less a man. So I’ll keep my word and I’ll keep my place ...

Dual Duel: Trying Not To Be En Gard
2007-11-27 23:12:00
There was a time we were rivals. Who was the smarter one? Who was the funniest one? Who was and who wasn’t. We competed at everything. Our encounters rivaled a feud. He was vicious; I was brutal. Our friends and our souls were the casualties of our competition.Monday I walked into a shop and I perused for a purchase. I spotted him in an aisle. He spotted me as I approached. I wasn’t certain whether it was him or not, but I am certain that it’s sinful to feign indifference or forge ignorance in the presence of a possibility.I approached him and I inquired if he was my remembered. I spoke his name and I reintroduced myself. It’s been nearly thirty years since we'd last met. I have less weight, less hair, and less corrosion in my conversation than the last time we dueled. He averted his eyes and put his hands into his pockets so that we couldn’t exchange a shake. He owes me less than civility; I’d won the contest of being cruelest. Yet we’re adults so we exchanged civili...
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Ironing Out Their Christmas Issues
2007-11-26 02:56:00
He walked into the apartment and saw her standing near the ironing board. She swayed and sang to a Christmas carol he knew but didn't recognize. She stopped ironing her skirt and took a sip of her coffee. He set his keys on the counter and hung his coat on a hook. He stepped behind her and peeked at her progress. "Will you leave it up so I can iron my shirt for tomorrow?" he asked before he kissed her hello.Her staccatoed "sure" sliced the syncopated sounds of "Carol of the Bells." "Oh God, who is this?" he squirmed at the song. "Beyoncé," she smiled. "Don't you like her?""I pity her," he snickered. "I didn't know she was asthmatic.""Oh hush!" she laughed."Jesus woman, do you mean to tell me that you like this crap?" he winced with his words."Yeah, it's good! Where's your Christmas spirit?" she chided."I have the spirit baby. I just don't think Beyoncé has her inhaler," he shuddered. "Let me coach you to the realization that good Christmas music is Nat King Cole ... Bing Cro...
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The Gift Of Garb
2007-11-25 22:01:00
We shook hands the moment that we met. "What's the beard for?" he asked as he pulled up his stool. Jeans and a jacket: he didn't wear his collar but I know he's a priest. I was his friend before he earned the garb. We’re the same age and I look ten years older than him."I'm going for cute," I laughed as my hand scruffed my chin. "Kind of casual today, aint ya padre?"He ignored my comment and grabbed a menu. "Let's order. I'm hungry." We filled our stomachs as we filled each other's ears with our news."So tell me about her," he ordered while he finished his ordered."Who?" I asked, "my Mother?" He knows my Mother well and he knows she hasn't been well."No, but how is she?" he asked. We discussed my family and he told me about his. "I meant the woman in the blog.""Hey, you read my blog?" I felt surprised."Everyone reads your blog," he said. "I read it every morning. It's how I keep up with you.” He paused and then assessed. “It's so you man...
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Three Sentences: November
2007-11-24 22:27:00
→ He scooped his soup as he asked, “Why are you still writing the blog?” I couldn’t think of what to say beyond the obvious: it’s an outlet of expression. Today I stood in the shower and I wondered why I still wrote it. I thought of my answer. It’s the only thing in my life that I allow to be about me.→ She picked up a chicken finger and looked at me. “How do you justify the sex?” I put down my glass. “I don’t” I replied. I don’t pretend to be good. I am not a good man. I know the why. Unfortunately, I also know the why not. If I had a good heart, would I see it as an obligation?→ She looked over her margarita and asked me, “What do you think your purpose in life is?” My immediate thought was the Baltimore Catechism answer: “To know, love, and serve God.” And if I was a good man, that’s what I’d want. My intention has more attrition than that. I try to make it my duty to stand beside my fellow man and offer myself as a witness to the fact that...
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A Holiday Hosting Fact From Carol The Chef: Thanksgiving 2007
2007-11-24 20:46:00
"It's a fundamental rule of living that the person who washes the dishes should not have to dry too unless everyone else in the house is too small to reach the counter or too feeble to get out of a chair." Carol explained as she offered our brother a dishtowel.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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What's In Store For Me
2007-11-24 18:55:00
She waited in the car while I ran into the store. He stood next to the counter with a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread in his hand."Man, where've you been?" he asked as he slapped the loaf on the counter and withdrew his wallet from his trousers. "You haven't answered my emails or returned my calls. What's up? I gotta talk to you. Hey. What's up with the hair?" he said as he scratched his chin."It's a beard you horse's ass," I laughed because I love him. "It's all about whiskers and women.""Oh women. Do I know her? " He paid the cashier and waited for a sack.I mentioned her name. "She's waiting in the car.""You still with her?" he seemed surprised. "That volunteer thing really worked out for you dude! Hey, she hasn't dumped you yet?""Give her time man," I laughed as I ordered two packs of cigarettes."What the hell are you smoking? I thought you quit," he chastised. Friends always feel the need to provide a conscience."Oh relax. These aren't for me...
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People
2007-11-23 20:43:00
They walked down the driveway a few paces apart. His hand held his keys. Her hands held two pieces of the pie. Feet steps became footsteps. He turned to see her stopped. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” he asked.“You’re never gonna need me, are you?” her stare showed no spirit."What?” he felt confused.“You’re never going to need me,” she rendered her sentence as a verdict.“Let’s not have this conversation. It’s freezing and I’m cold.” He walked back down the driveway.“Answer me please,” she recited. She was at a standstill.“I don’t know what you want me to say and I think this isn’t the time or the place to talk about it,” he defensively deflected.“Answer me,” she stood stiff.“Ok fine. I don’t think so,” he admitted. “I don’t feel like I need people. Come on now, let’s go home.”“I don’t want to go home," she said as she looked at the sky. "You know, I sat at the table tonight and I watch...
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Smooth Operator
2007-11-22 03:35:00
“Hey! You’re not playing fair!” he said as he twisted away from her lips.“Oh come on! Pleaaaaasssse!” she giggled. She knew his earlobes were his soft spot.“No, seriously. I don’t want to” he resisted.“Ok, here’s what I’m thinkin’. I say we play a game. Winner wins” she suggestively urged. “If I win, you have to do it. If you win, you don’t!” she seductively smiled.“Yeah, but I don’t have to do it now” he stated the obvious.“Oh come on! Where’s your sense of sport?” she raised her brow and lowered her voice.“Which game?” he asked.“Um … let me look what’s here,” she knelt as she began to dig through the boxes. “Hey! Scrabble or dominoes?”“Oh Christ,” he laughed. “Scrabble. I vote scrabble.”“Ok mister! I can whoop you at scrabble!” she stood and started to walk toward the dining room. “No, let’s play on the coffee table, then we can play tunes” he urged as he removed the books and knacks. “I’ll set up th...
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Loose Week Ends: Under The Covers
2007-11-19 20:42:00
He tells himself he leaves the light on so that he can see the clock face. Yet he refuses to face the fact that the clock glows in the dark. He tells himself that he shivers during slumber because he’s chilled. Yet he wakes up each morning with a halo of blankets around his feet.She tells herself that he’ll turn off the lamp and cease the shakes when he shakes off his fear of intimacy. She snuggles as close as she can and ignores the coldness of his chest against her cheek. She blankets him with her sense of security.He’s not afraid of intimacy; he’s in terror of the impending.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Standing At Attention
2007-11-19 20:11:00
I have stood and wondered why people behaved as they did. I have stood and wondered why people treated each other the way that they did. I decided that it was unjust to remain ambiguous and allow people to misinterpret my actions. So, I have stood and I have tried to explain my actions so that they wouldn’t cause confusion. I have stood and laboriously searched for the appropriate word to offer for a complete, entire, and without omission explanation until my mouth was too dry to spit out another sentiment. I was judge empathic.And then one day I realized that no one asked for my intention. They only sought my attention. So I put my salute inside my pocket and I went home. I felt like a complete fool. © 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Rumor Has It That I Like Theater
2007-11-19 19:20:00
I attended a production of the local collegiate theater department Sunday. I'm getting to the stage in my life when I'm a little old for the demographics of the audience at a college production, but I do enjoy the enthusiasm of the participants. I participated in the productions at The University of Saint Thomas as an undergraduate, so I enjoy perusing my old haunts. And besides, the cashier from the local supermarket is in the productions. I tell Helen that I'll remember her when she's famous.Neighbors complain about the students who park in our neighborhood but I'm pleased to have access to all the amenities that our proximity provides. Hell, live theater for $5. That's less expensive than a film. People who claim that there isn't anything to do haven't looked. I intend to attend as many productions as I can until my life is all played out. At this stage in my life, it's the closest I'll ever get to being a player.© 2007 - Mark R Trost - All Rights Reserved
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Playing With The Prose
2007-11-18 18:51:00
She leaned over his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his, “it’s got to go. I hate it.”“I hate it too,” he said as he scratched its itch, “I have to show it to my buddy and then I’ll shave it.” She leaned into his neck. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” he warned.“Oh I don’t care,” she said as she tasted the pizza. “Cold pizza? You know better than that! You have to eat healthier!” she admonished, “I’ll make breakfast after I shower. What are you writing?”“I’m writing about you,” he acknowledged.“Why do you write about us in the third person?” she asked, “It seems weird.”“People who know us - know it’s us. People who don’t - don’t. I just like to rework my style sometimes. It keeps me interested in the process. Sometimes I write in the present tense. Sometimes in the past. It’s always true; I just change the tense or the perspective. Besides who wants to read everything in the first person? It’s not always a journal...
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Write To Be Wrong
2007-11-18 14:59:00
He sat in his seat and rendered his verdict. “Your writing is too dense. There’s too much packed into each word. The reader has to work too hard to understand your point. A writer only gets three sentences to make his point. No one reads more than three sentences per paragraph unless it’s for a degree. Also your points aren’t marketable. Be at better person? Who cares about that? How to make more money or have better sex or lose weight is what sells.”“But, it’s good writing Mark. It’s astonishing really. It’s like nothing out there now. But I can’t see a mass market for your work unless you dumb it down. Also it’s not cynical enough. Social criticism sells if it’s mixed with political satire. And you have to take morality out of it. Nobody wants to read what they should have done. We’ve got the bible for that and everybody buys one but nobody reads it. So who needs another book? And Catholic apologetics, even Catholics...
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Reaching A Settlement
2007-11-17 16:14:00
He shuffles his feet and stuffs his hands inside his pockets. He’s chilled. She judged him cold; he feels that’s harsh. He tempers his emotions; it’s how he endures. She’s late again. He rocks on his heels as he whistles under his breath. “I’ll give her five more minutes and then I’m out of here,” he justifies to himself. He nods to the passing as he passes the time.He spies her as she turns the corner. The sway of her hips and the sass in her steps reminds him of a reason he loves her. Loved her. “Loved,” he reminds himself it’s past. He feels tense.“I hate it,” she says as she steps up to his side.“My face isn’t a democracy,” he chides. He bristles at her bray. His throat is too dry for a chortle; his mood is too somber for a laugh. His reply is rote. He’s rebuffed opposition all week; he’s learned how to save face. She drops her cigarette onto the sidewalk and saunters to his side. He savors the nicotine on her lips. It’s with more than a ta...
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