SOMETHING

“SOMETHING”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

Something, something take a little step back, I don’t mind waiting, just have to fill the time in-between. Standing on a rock in the middle of the river waiting for the ice to melt, sometimes it’s safe, sometimes it can be dangerous. Standing in the heartland staring at a factory that makes canned spam and then I notice something is missing and then it dawns on me; a statue of a big sleeve of saltine crackers out in the parking lot, if only life at times could be that simple; but it never will be, someone will say “Hey, what about the hot mustard?” and then complexity takes back over presenting an ill rehearsed juggling act and one just knows something is going to fumble, something is going to come crashing down and all one can hope for is that someone is there to catch it before it shatters. Something is better than nothing they say, who actually says this I don’t really know, but most times I assume it is someone that gets exactly what they want all of the time. It is always going to be something I suppose…

TO SPIN TILL EMPTY TO THE SOUL

“TO SPIN TILL EMPTY TO THE SOUL”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

So maybe I am spinning a little too close to my soul where the fire burns till empty, beyond the point of no return but, it really does not matter to me. I just fill up the tank and drive it till it’s gone, then hike through and to the edge of the forest and if need be crawl  across the hot sand to the sea for no other reason than it’s just the way I like to be. So pack a lunch that will fit in your back pocket and come away with me and maybe if we are lucky we will find a cheap café along the way. Don’t wear your Birkenstocks there useless when we order drinks on the rocks. Don’t take too long to think about it, just say “maybe” and start spinning in that direction. You don’t have to worry about thinking that my way is crazy, we will be in such a whirlwind you will never see the eyes of those strange faces of passerby’s, just you and I spinning a little too close to our souls knowing we can run on empty; and “why?” you say, because boom, boom, boom there goes the time, there goes someone kicking the can over and out spills your life and you can’t just sponge it up like that and put it back. So think of a wish and then try to think of something better than this and then spin a little closer to our souls. There are so many people that are staring at empty but, they have never filled their cup. So come on what do you say let’s start spinning in that direction a little bit closer to our souls.

TRAVEL TO LIVE

“TRAVEL TO LIVE”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

Took a little trip to see a friend but by the time I got there he had already died and they said he wont be coming back again in this life, so I hopped a train to Mexico lived in Rossarita for over a year until I got fed up drinking Pacifico Beer. Bought a T-shirt at the airport and a travel book I will never read, and hopped a plain to Bangladesh, just because it’s there I guess, met a Hindu in a pin stripe suit that drove a cherry red Cadillac, I did not care for his music so I made my own way to Bombay, met an Irish girl and rented a car but, we never really planned on going that far, had a great time even though she was gay but, for some damn reason she shagged me anyway. I ended up in Michigan to see my gramps, all he talked about was belly cramps; so I caught a train to L.A. even though it was a little out of the way, but it was worth it because I met a hooker on vacation from France and for 7 days I was in her pant's, now I’m back home all alone with my feet up on the couch watching boring ass TV wondering how to get out, I guess I will try to make my way to Spain ain’t never been there they tell me it’s nice, before I go I will have a slice of rhubarb pie then grab a ticket for the sky, because if I sit here much longer I will go insane, better keep moving and stay a head of the pain don’t want anything more to infect my brain, ok I guess here I come Spain.

THE GLANCE

“THE GLANCE”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

I was near the old once general store now turned discount hair salon watching fat women lumber out with dated hairstyles dyed in some glow in the dark burgundy type colors even crayola could not define, only to cross the street to enter an ice cream parlor named Tiny’s. I would then glance back down at my magazine and find it impossible to read with such bizarre confusion going on around me. I am at a place in my life where I know longer can define the world, but the more I think about it the less I truly care to. Sometimes if we are unlucky enough we get a vulgar glimpse of creation and the people that are because of it and trust me the haunting sticks with you a long time.

THE ODD WAIT

“THE ODD WAIT”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

 I was waiting at the train station at this little outdoor café, when an older man walked up to me and asked me the time of day. I smiled politely and checked my watch twice to make sure my time zone was correct as I often do and then I replied 12:55. He pulled a vacant chair from the table and invited himself to sit down all the while wearing a rather displeasing frown. There was a pause and stillness in the air until the 12:55 blew it’s whistle & pulled out going somewhere. He said son that is where you’re wrong. I then told him then I am not sure what he meant, but if he was asking for the time of my life I guess it is 43 years and some change. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand and replied to me that that answer was a start. Then he told me that I could be sitting anywhere, but for some odd reason I choose to be sitting here. Well if it were up to me I would choose to be sitting on the train, but it had not pulled into the station just yet and was not expected to for another 2 hours, and that is when I thought that this could be a long odd wait. He then introduced himself as Francis McKilacutty. All I could think was great a pissed of Irishman too afraid to fight. Then he told me he was the Director of Human Necessities at the Hilton Hotel in Washington D.C. on vacation here in Europe. After Francis broke his job title down for me a little I was able to determine that he was the guy in the restroom that handed you a towel or comb or even perhaps a splash of cologne, and then you rewarded him with some loose change or a fiver if you had been drinking the spirits. The world is filled with odd ducks, I hope to meet all of them, there's no space on my plate for much else I suppose.

LIFE HAS ME WELL

“LIFE HAS ME WELL”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

There once was a man from Nantucket, well never mind we all know that one and if you don’t then I can only assume your friends are as unimaginative and just as poorly culturally seasoned as yourself. You see an education that is valuable is a well rounded education which can grasp both ends of the spectrum; anything else is just one-sided bullshit, hardly worthy of debate if one was hoping to hold substance for more then thirty seconds in a simple conversation.
It serves really no purpose to only be familiar with the works of Van Gough or Picasso if you know nothing about someone like Walter Tenseptein. Walt was Manhattan sidewalk artist that drew in chalk on side walks, whom also happen to be an off the chain schizophrenic of the most brilliant order. He was not well known globally, his mother knew him, I knew him only because I took the time, but everyone that walked by his work enjoyed him. Many people tried to compliment him with cannibalized ill formed and tortured clichés which they believed they did not try to borrow from their art appreciation course book 101. These people may just as well shook a coffee can filled with gravel in front of Walt’s face to convey there spirited delight, but all Walt really wanted was some loose change tossed in his cigar box so he could at the end of the day purchase Chesterfield cigarettes and soda pops. If you wanted to communicate with Walt you would have to ask him a question in the form of a chalk drawing, and he would give you a rather definite and plausibly intellectual answer in the same media. If you wanted Mr. Tenseptein to answer you quickly you had to draw in blue, I have no Idea why this was, and it was just something I observed one particular day...
Sitting up in a chair 32,000 feet above sea level traveling at 654 miles an hour I begin to notice in this overly crude elongated cylinder of an illume most refer to as an Air Bus; one thing I notice is the men to women ratio in Business Class, its about 12 to 1, the other thing is the ratio to attractive looking women to homely women is about 10 to 1; and the only attractive women in Business Class today are between the ages of about 40 to 45. In Economy Class the men to women ration is 2 to 1. The amount of attractive looking women in economy class versus unattractive women is about 3 to 1, and all the attractive women are under the age of 30 except for 2. There ages are some where between 35 and 42, and they are smoking porn star hot. I don’t know why these ratios configure the way they do, it was just something I observed on this particular day.