The fool hearted lover

Still needs a proper ending. "Write drunk edit sober." Tried both can't find the finish I am looking for.

I once met a man who was so passionate about art that it was all he cared for. He traveled with a backpack almost as heavy as himself. Being no stranger to living out of a backpack myself and knowing the needs of reducing weight. I teased him. All he responded was, "Paint is heavy, man."

One time I met a man who loved to watch people smile. He skipped town on the run from the police hoping he could brighten a few days with the last of his freedom. It was beyond me at the time to grasp this. This system failed him. Threatened to make him spend the rest of his short life in a cell. Yet all he cared about was making others laugh with a quick witted joke or cry with a deep hearted poem.

Not long ago I met a woman who wanted change. She traveled from city to city planting 'gorilla' gardens for the hungry. Yelling in peaceful protest for the wrong doings many have suffered. Using street art, songs, and any means she could to help spread the word of a much needed change.

Then I met another. She did not care for anything out of the scope of her daily life. Focused so deeply on the negative thoughts of others it hindered her ability to live. Before doing any task she would ask herself how it was beneficial. Never concerned for the well beings of others.

The Artist was a dear friend. A recovering alcoholic who needed a hand. Someone to help him through some rough times.

The Poetic Joker was someone I will always consider my family. He wanted nothing more to show me a better way. A way to live that would bring joy and peace to others and myself.

The Activist she was a lover. Someone I thought I might be able to always cherish. She wanted to hold my hand as we tried to make a change in this world.

The Center-Of-The-Universe I turned my back on everyone for. Traveled distances farther than most would go for anything. Just to be where I never should have gone.  

You might ask why?

Men are idiots

Author's Note

A short story. To quote Hemingway, "He wrote letters but none were terribly quite good."

Reviews

[Dot]

Very interesting indeed. I feel a certain level of connectivity to this piece, even though in my reality, these things described are vastly outside of my personal boundaries of comfort - this ability for a writer to pull a reader into their world is of utmost importance, and like I stated, is achieved here perfectly. The author manages to create a means of translation from their experiences exquisitely, with a flavour of actuality, a hint of value, with additions of understanding and knowledge; most interestingly however, is that the author finds no use for preservatives, no salt, no formaldehyde, this short story is precisely its own being, autonomous in its own right, filled not by superfluous content, its finely cut like the seam of some grotesquely expensive silk evening dress... or as finely cut as the cheapest of jeans, of which will last forever; compare the similes as you may, this story seems to bring about a duality of morals and value.

The structure of the writing is somewhat usual, using a simple describe and justify for a finale technique, yet, the author has chosen, and then used the technique perfectly, and if any other technique was used, I think the story would have a vastly lesser impact. The overall developments of the story are delightful, charming, and towards the end, curiously comedic. 'T would seem the author is completely in touch which their own concept of reality, and expresses this connectivity via prose and detail in a way which leaves the reader no means for misinterpretation. I find the content to be fusion of previous writers - by this I mean no discontent towards the author, in fact I purely mean this to be a compliment, - the fusion between Hunter S. Thompson's gonzo journalism (the reality aspect - however, considering certain works of Thompson's, the "reality" aspect could be disputed, still, his prose dictated a great vividness towards reality), and this fused with a secondary fusion between Steinbeck and Hemingway, this tri-fusion creating the effect pure realism, with the lessons learned not concealed within some obtuse metaphor, but in plain view, naked, but smiling.

The texture of the piece? I don't think I could say there is one. However, having reached the conclusion that this is "pure realism" in my opinion, if there was a texture created between the reader and the works, then no longer could it be "pure"; if there stood a sepia filter between created and interpreter, reality would be masked, and thus inevitably misinterpreted. When one reads this, one does no struggle to picture the content, it is not described in a way that creates sensations of confusion or anxiety, no; this is innocently beautiful. It would seem their stood no obstructions between what the author was attempting to say and what was written down. Delightful.

As for the content, it's so expertly written that when one reaches the final line, one emits a involuntary giggle; the kind one might when oblivious to the world and carefree, with the truest of smiles accompanying the initial laugh. It's as if this is glimpse into the life one who is alive to live, one who does not feel a need to decipher the reason of living nor to study anything outside of the university of simply being. For those of us who could only be compared to the opposite of this type of person, this work is most profound, greatly implanted with an undecipherable "natural" knowledge, and captures attention instantaneously. It leads me to question just how one lives this way, and if it is possible for any human - no matter how mentally dysfunctional or acute - to adopt this lifestyle, this mindset, and contemplation. If only it WAS possible to shift into this method of thought!

Overall, this piece, I feel, surpasses whatever the author intended it too, yet, then again, in writing that, I get the impression that the author - with their "pure realist" ability - would in truth, not really care, to document is worthy of the highest value, right? Hmm perhaps there is the possibility of change!

[Daniel Eckert]

By far the longest, kindest, and most well thought out informal review I have ever received. If your reviews are so well formed I can't wait to bite into some of your writing. Thank you for the time you took reading and reviewing my story.

[Daniel Eckert]

Just read this again 2 years later and you inspired me to not be a depressed and sad person at least for the day. You are awesome.