From:  Missed Deadline  (Now, the established title of my novel)  

That’s when I saw her, running from a side door, hoping to get away without being detected.  I sprinted out from behind a parked car.  Marie was running down the sidewalk, and I intersected her at a full run, grabbing her arm and swinging her into a dark recess between two buildings.  She began to scream, but I covered her mouth with my hand.  She responded by biting down hard on my palm.  I did, indeed scream, and she nearly freed herself from my grip. 

“Marie?  Marie… Please.  Stop.”  I begged her. 

She stopped struggling.  I turned her around to face her, my hands still solidly on her small shoulders.  

“You?  Is that you?  It cannot….” 

“Marie, it’s me.”

“Oh, my goodness!  It is you,” She hugged tightly, and then faced me again.  “It’s really you.  I thought you were…gone.  How did you…  Where did you come from?” 

“From hell, sweetheart.  You’re boyfriend put me there.  Now, do you want to come with me?  Or am I going to have to tie you up and kidnap you?  Tie you up.  Now, that sounds like an idea,” I said a little too loudly, and a little too harshly.

“Shh,” she said, looking around.  “You are one of them.  I knew it.  Listen, you are in grave danger.  If they see you with me, you’re cooked.  You don’t have time to…”

“I think you overrate their chances,” I answered back.

“No.  No, I’m not.  Listen, Milian runs everything here now.  Every aspect of operations here he knows about.  And it’s not just this level of reality, he runs several other realms too.  He’s even making a play for earth, our home.  And he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“Well, can’t you see that’s why we’re doing this, to prevent him from doing just that.”

“You might think you’re running a revolution, but all you’re doing is playing right into his hands.  He wants you to commit to death and destruction.  That is how he gets his power.  You’re making his case for him.  The only way for you and your friends to succeed is to either escape or join him, and look for a way to hold him off…”

“Is that why you joined him then, Mata Hari?”  I played my trump card.

She stopped, and started trembling, “Why… why did you call me that name?” 

“That’s who you were, once.  Wasn’t it?  Or should I say Salome?  How many other women have you been?  Perhaps, the original Eve?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid.  Of course not.  You have no idea what being a progressive woman in those days was like.  Nothing like when you departed earth…”

I waved her off, “Whatever.  We don’t have time to debate social studies right now, like you said.  You have a chance now.  Come away with me.  Join us, and we’ll work out the details later.”

“Oh, my sweet man.  I so wish I could.  I cannot.  I’m damned.  Doomed for all eternity, as you well know.” 

“But, you were also the warrior queen on that boat.  You faced the sky of fire like a true hero.  Like Milian said, I should have stayed there with you to the end.” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but I can tell you that I was never a queen, nor on a boat.  And never listen to anything he says.  He’s the king of liars.” 

Suddenly, a whole lot of explosions and gunfire announced the arrival of the pro-Milian forces firing back against our small forces.  We both heard the tanks coming up the street and then aircraft coming up fast. 

“See?  You have to get out of here.  You have to do it now, before he completely takes over everything, even to the very rafters of heaven itself.” 

“Oh?  And what about God?” 

“You said yourself you don’t believe in God.”

“Well, maybe I’m warming up to the idea.  Besides, there is no way out of here.  You’ve told me that yourself.”

“Listen, you don’t have much time.  But I think there is a way to get out.  It’s one of the things Milian is trying to keep secret, the escape hatch in the sky.”

“What?”

“Several years ago, a guy in a self-made hot air balloon made his way into the sky and disappeared.  A few years after that, some people made gliders that were atop the taller buildings.  It was rumored they all went to a higher, better level.”

“So, they head into the sky?  Nah, they’ll just crash back down to the ground, probably in little pieces.  You know the old saying, ‘what goes up must come down’.  I don’t buy it.” 

She said, “It’s true.  You have to look for the crack in the sky.  Aim towards the blue and the yellow.  Now, look.  You have to go now.  He always knows where I’m at, and he’ll be here any second.”   

“Yeah, I know.  He keeps track of his properties.  So, before I go - what about you?  What about us?  Was all that just a ploy?  Just a joke at my expense?”

“No of course not.  You may not believe this, but I was no spy.  Never.  I was not a spy in the war.  Did I do some things that were bad?  Yes.  Did they warrant my eternal damnation?  I didn’t think so.  I swear to you – it felt like the real thing with you.  I knew it was futile from the start, but I just couldn’t help myself.  I felt so safe and so…myself.”

“Then, come with me.  Please.  We can find this exit together then, I swear.”  Cars starting pulling up to the streets and I knew it had to be Milian. 

She pushed me back into the shadows, and said, “Go.  Get out of here now.  I mean it, or I’ll sick the boys on you.”

I smiled in the darkness, in spite of myself.  I whispered to her, “I’ll be back sweetheart.  One way or another.  I’m coming to take you back to where you belong.  Satan, Milian or God help me.”

She kissed me then.  She tasted like a hot wire and salt, which only reminded me what we had one night.  I pulled my newsboy cap over my head and ran like a thief through the back alleyway to the safe area beyond the central blocks, and just over the footings of the great wall.    

A little bit more from a novel by me:  

I think I'm Dead -  Chapter (?) The California Club and Hotel 

Explanation: Our main character - who has no name sat down to write a YA novel for publishing company and possibly died. He somehow landed on a ship in an endless ocean among many other such ships... inexplicable sailing all to the same place...a huge arch of fire on the horizon.  His only companions are an Amazonian woman - who looks suspiciously like the agent that berated him into working to meet his writing deadline, and another man whom also forgot his name... in which he calls "muttonchops" from the late 1800's to try and turn the ship from the huge fiery abyss that looks something like hell.  

Eventually, in a moment of panic he jumps from the ship into the boiling ocean just before being burned alive and awakes to find himself a well-groomed bartender in the mysterious California Club and Hotel in Nevada where he first meets the Lolita-like daughter of the most richest man in the world... (and possible satanic prodigy) trillionaire John Paul Milan, who is announcing his run for the Presidency of the United States. 

That's where he meets Marie.. a singer in the band that is also at the club... and also looks very much like a different version of the same Queen on the ship.  

Don't worry, you'll figure it out as we go along...  

She lit a cigarette, and whipped the match onto the floor, “A little premature don’t you think,” she asked me as she took a puff from her cigarette and blew out the smoke as she spoke.

I turned my head and found myself again staring at the Queen from the ship in a shimmery velvet blue evening gown.  She somehow seemed much different, proportions not so muscular and she was appreciably shorter in this form.  It was also a plus that she appears to speak English.  

“I thought smoking was outlawed in public places, miss.  What can I get you to drink,” Again, my usual sparkling wit seemed to waver. 

“Oh, smart guy huh?  For your information they make it legal here.  I’ll take gin, straight up.  Please don’t add any water,” she said seriously. 

“Why not water,” I asked her. 

“The water here has an aftertaste of sulfur,” she answered matter-of-factly.  

Plainly missing something important, I became a bit emboldened as I gave her the glass of gin.  “I must say ma’am your singing is truly inspiring.  I loved the treatment of Alone again, naturally. So very soulful and very nicely done.” 

“Ah, gee thanks for the excellent review, hired help,” she mocked me, “So, are you one of Milan’s goons, or are you a real boy?”  She took another puff and blew the smoke in my face. 

“To be honest, I’m not exactly sure at this point who the hell I am,” I said honestly. 

“Well, at least you got that part right,” She said, and sipped her drink.  

The speech which whole room, perhaps the whole county, had been waiting to hear interrupted our repartee. 

“Friends, Romans and Countrymen….”  He began, to some chuckles and applause.  “In the original intention of the first Continental Congress of the newly formed country called America, the idea was simple, freedom.  Freedom from all that might impede or tread upon a man’s life.  It was a simpler time that only required the hard work and ambition of a nation of men to use whatever tools are necessary to survive and eventually thrive. 

Yes, there were hard times.  Yes, there was corruption.  Yes, there was slavery.  Life was a series of misadventures and based on what some have called jungle law, the survival of the fittest."

"If I were a politician asking for your vote, I would tell you this is a bad thing.  If I were asking for your vote, I would tell you that we have come a long way since those bad, old days.  We are now a civilized nation.  We subscribe to the rule of law in our society.  And because of this, peace reigns throughout the land.”

(General laughter throughout the room) 

He then pounds the podium with his left fist, “NO!  I say NO!  Our nation was not founded by any means other than the strength of its strongest.  The weaklings, the poor, the unfortunates did not contribute a thing other than misery to this country!” 

“It is time we embraced the uniqueness of the American spirit.  It is time we embraced the uniqueness of American exceptionalism.  Forget the poor and weaklings that expect a handout and a free meal ticket to supplant their miserable existences.  And what have they contributed to even their own versions of THE GREATER GOOD?”  Loud cheers and applause came from the audience.

“The best and brightest are the ones to drive America to greatness.  The best and brightest, when left to their own devices drive industry, research and most of all, wealth.  Did Alexander the Great become great by bestowing good will on his enemies?”  (NO! From the Crowd) “Did Napoleon conquer Europe by benevolence and good will?” (NO!)  “Were all the great economies in the world created so everyone could have an equal slice, regardless of their station or contribution?”  (NO!)  The time has come for a strong hand in leadership, one that will lead this country, finally to greatness among all the nations for all time.”  

“Now, if I were a politician asking for your vote, I would ask you for your money; I would ask you for your support; I would ask you for your undivided attention.  I’m not asking for any of those things from you. I am not even asking for your vote.  I am not going to seek my name to be on any of the ballets, but I want all of you…everyone out there to write the name in the blank, John Paul Milan as your next President.  I am NOT running as a democrat, nor as a republican.  I’m running as myself.  And with the help of the combined third parties that have allied with our common interests, we will prevail and we will win.”

“My name is John Paul Milan.  I WILL be your next leader!”   

Thunderous applause and a roar filled the room that seemed louder that it should have been.  The band played the now-declared candidate off the stage and into the warm regards of the grateful and enthusiastic crowd. 

I looked away from the tumult of the stage and back to Marie, which had turned her attention back to her drink. 

“The old windbag. Surprised he didn’t crown himself king.  What a bunch of hooey,” she sounded deflated.   

“Oh? You don’t think much of the richest man in the universe?” 

“That loser?  No, he tried to… well, let’s just say his pelvis seems to keep getting in my way,” she took a long drink, and crunched her cigarette out on the bar.  Something in her face made me feel sick to my stomach. 

We both stood looking at her drink for some time, until she picked up the glass and finished it, 

“Well… looks like I’m going to go hit the next set.  Hey, sweetie can you hold this glass here and fill it when I’m done.” 

“Of course, happy to ma’am,” I smiled at her, yet it was a little unnerving to see the doppelganger of the Queen of some third world country that almost forced me to go down with a burning cruise ship, which I barely remember.   I shook my head. 

When it stopped  by Druchland Floric  

Dear reader:

I know this may book be difficult for some of you to read. Some of the words within are hard to understand, as printing even with advanced locomotive techneeks have been difficult and expensive. It is possible you are reading this edition on root-bark parchment as paper has been (at least in my day) extremely rare in parts of the world. Though I dare say this accounting is not the only reading on the subject, but it seems to be the most sout-after.

My name in Druchland Floric and I was commissioned by the Vienna Science committee (which met in secret on the relatively unscathed city of Bordeaux, France and later in Lisbon, Portugal) to undertake a factual and personal account of the days leading up to and just after the happening. 

I suppose the reason the committee picked me was my relatively young age at the time. I was a fresh puter technician who moonlighted as a writer in my spare time. (Note: I understand some of these terms are new to you, but we will endeavor to move ahead) They had felt that my background in science and my humanistic qualities in writing made me a good candidate to write the words in front of you now.

It took nearly 10 years (20 demarks) after it happened to establish alternative means of communications using carrion pigeons, air-gliders, sailing ships and mirror signaling.  After that, some mechanicals were used with steam engines, but it was still an amazing undertaking all things considered.  Of course the great science purge after the Mygod Wars and then later the great burnings of what was called “North America” eradicated many of the brightest minds that may have presented us with answers to some of our questions about the happening.  

Nonetheless, we must appreciate what effort went into the meeting of the minds during the science congress held underground in the year after our Lord 025 (demarks). Many sacrificed their lives, torture and their freedoms to come together and like them, I tell their stories which will culminate in this tome. I hope that it finds some usefulness after all.

Before I tell my tale, I must numerate what we know as of this writing:

No one knows exactly why the electricity stopped working. Some earlier scientist theorized that a great solar flare erupted from our sun which caused our atmosphere to completely ionize and create a situation where the nuclear elements known as electrons and protons (negatively and positively charged particles) became equalized and ceased to become dynamic. Unfortunately, these scientist whom suggested this were quickly rounded up and burned at the stake for heresy during the great expulsions of the first Mygod War.

Though their early observations have some merit, it did not explain how many things continued to function on battery* and generator* power for hours, days and even weeks after the happening. It was this that allowed several of the later committee members to openly communicate with each other to formulate a plan to meet at a central location.  There seems to be no scientific explanation why the disruption was not immediate and complete. We still do not understand this.

Many of the Mygod religious sects which sprung up across the globe were originally convinced this was the work of the hand of God as foretold in the books of the Bible then known as “Armigetton.”  It was said that at the end of times, God would destroy the earth, but before he did the righteous people would rise to heaven* and what was left would have to repent or die in hell*.  However, in the 80 years since the happening, there has been no indication that God has destroyed the earth or has raised anyone from the dead. However, mankind has really done a good job of killing each other in his name.

Some had theorized that alien beings from another part of space had caused this as a prelude to an invasion (Some Many of you may have seen the kinescope presentations of “movies” which show this). Again after 80 years of no answers, this seems a foregone conclusion.  If there is beings willing to take over our planet after we have killed it and most of ourselves, they are in for a terrible disappointment.

There seems to be no reason of why other than it happened.  It continues to be a mystery and for all of us, our reality.

Without further a due, I present my story. 

Excerpt from my next attempt at a novel: 

I Woke up Dead 

 Burning sky / Sinking Ship

Soon after we arrived on the bow, the Queen stood next to Starbuck and stared at the same thing we were looking at.  Her long, dark hair blowing in the wind made her look like an artwork by Frank Frazetta.  She raised her scepter as in defiance to the alarming site in front of us all. 

Starbuck then pointed to an arch of yellow light on the horizon, “There seems to be our destination.  We noticed it just before you came on board, and we appear to be sailing into it.”

I squinted at the odd light.  It seemed to be almost dancing in the water far away.  Starbuck handed me a pair of binoculars, “Here. These fancy optics can get your eyes quite close, indeed,” he paused then, “Just a warning, what you see may be agitating and extremely troubling.” 

I put them up to my eyes.  Agitating and extremely troubling, indeed!  My eyes beheld what looked to be a swirling mass of fire far up ahead on the horizon.  It was if someone made the sun proportionally smaller and so very much closer and hung sunk it on the far horizon.  It was a gigantic arch of fire. 

“Well, that’s just the sunset, right,” I hopefully asked. 

“No, the sun arises on the port side and sets on the starboard.  If this were truly earth, our direction would be due south.  More interestingly, have you ever seen a sunset which displaces so little light?” 

I looked through the field glasses again, and it was as the blackness of space entirely ate up the light from the fire.  It’s almost as if there was no physical light from the fire at all.  In any reasonable universe that would be impossible.  Yet the normal laws of physics do not seem to apply here.  That’s when I noticed something even more troubling, I could spot thousands of small dots aflame in my lower field of vision.  It made me realize those were multitudes of ships sailing right into the flaming abyss. 

Starbuck’s voice took on a strange, deeper timbre then, “Behold, the inferno!” 

“Achitoo!  Pattooe!  FRUCKERS,” exclaimed the Queen.  Yeah, I with you there, Queenie, baby.  FRUCKERS, indeed. 

Okay, amendment to the amendment:  I am stuck on a ship with professor muttonchops from the late eighteen hundreds and his boss Queen Nefertiti who looks like a cross between my ball-crusher literary agent and Jackie Brown, and now person non-grata me, and apparent pawn of a deity is sailing directly into perditions flame.  Well, okay then.  Yatzee, it is.

 

State of State of the Union:  2018

If asked, no I did not watch it.  I think I’d rather eat glass, fiberglass that is.  Now, before you get all up in my grill… I haven’t watched the last several “State of the Union” addresses either.  Like many things these days, the whole thing has turned into a reality TV “must see.” Oh, look… there is Great and Glorious Leader up on his podium, reading a prepared speech (In this case, thank God!) and tell us all what we’d like to hear.  Everything’s great, America!  Let me tell you what I’m-a gonna do. 

Frankly, I found the speeches tiring…. Clinton, George W and yes, even the King of soaring sermons, Barack Obama.  Lettme break it down for you:  State of the union is strong!  America is awesome!  We love our country.  Introduce you to the “survivor of the year” (a symbol of how strong our country is in the face of overwhelming odds…..)  

aka: Everone loves an underdog that wins!  Yeah, us!

Then: Here are all the overinflated things I have done for you this past year.  Oh, and here are all the proposals I’ll send to Congress because you’re my peeps – Oh, by the way….none of these have a chance in hell in passing… but, I think free college for everyone is a great sale point for my re-election… 

Then some video shots from around the room… the bored wife with the pasted-on smile, ditto for rest of stuff-shirt family.  A couple of the sleepy-eyed Congressmen, one of which has nodded off to sleep.  A few shots of glassy-eyed admirers of the king.  About half the time is spent applauding each other.  Then the end game of the speech.  

We are one and one is we and we are all together.  

I am he as you are he as you are me

And we are all together

See how they run like pigs from a gun

See how they fly

I'm crying – (I am the Walrus)

Well, as nicey as Trumpy was, I ain’t buyin’ it folks.  No, sir.  Wolf in sheep’s clothing, that sort of thing.  I like to use “for instances” to put stuff in perspective. 

For Instance: 

“Harold” breaks into your house, steals all your worldly goods.  He steals your money, credit cards, and bank accounts.  He steals your identity, all your furniture and even raids your refrigerator.  Lastly, he takes your liquor.  Bad Harold.  

Well, you know it’s Harold as there were witnesses that saw him break into your house.  Not only that, but he actually brags about what he did on his Facebook page!  So, you do the right thing and call the police to report what has happened and who you think did it.   

Well, the cops are no help as they laugh at you and say….  “Well, you know Harold, right?  That’s just Harold being Harold,” they say.  “He’s just helping you making sure you don’t spend too much money on your credit cards.  It’s because he cares about you…”   

Of course, you are frustrated, mad, and angry.  How could he get away with such atrocities? 

Well, shortly thereafter, a most astounding development; he shows up at your doorstep.  Now, a small part of you can’t help but feel a little impressed that the little jerk actually has the chutzpah to show up at your door.  You certainly suppose perhaps some of your property will be returned, or some money to cover the loss.  At the very least, you would expect a sober and solemn apology, from the little thief.

SURPRISE!  You get NONE of that, except Harold brags about what a great guy he is.  Then he says, “The problem with the world today is that we must work together to achieve great things!  We must continue to work together as a team!”  He promises you of all the great things he will do for you and then applauds himself.  Finally, he turns his back on you and trots away to his golden mansion located on the highest hill. 

So, how would you feel after that? 

Welp, there ya go….  

Part 1: I Woke up Dead

“So, why are you so fascinated with death?” asked the publishing agent, leaning over her impressive, oak desk, staring down on me.

I was trying hard to impress superbitch - Wanda Scythes, and was attempting to form a witty one-liner, something like Bob Hope might retort.  

“It’s the only sure thing in life,” I tried my best smile on her.  Dead silence.  She did not even crack a smile.  Suddenly the leather chair became even more uncomfortable.  

After several terrifying seconds, tapping her fingers on the desk, she said, “Mister ######…”

“#####,” I corrected her.

“Mister #####, we gave you a contracted agreement for three books.  To date, you have produced ZERO that are acceptable to this agency.  We certainly enjoyed your first novel for young adults, and it’s upon the sales of this first book alone, we gave you such a generous contract.  Now, give us something more like that first effort.  This?  You have given me nothing we can work with, nothing.  Death? 

We cannot sell death to young adults.  What could you be thinking, Mister #####?” 

I decided not to correct her this time.  She was on a tirade. On a mission.  On a lecture tour. 

Let’s just say, the conversation degraded from there.  The summation of which was a not-so-subtle threat to terminate my contract with Big Bookstores incorporated, unless I wrote more drivel like the Sirens of Jupiter.  And by Friday. 

Let’s see, about eighty nine thousand words divided by fifty-eight hours is about…. Ah, crap.  And without sleep.  Of course, I could pull out the old box of tricks that I stuffed away in my garage storage.  As Ms. Ballbreaker was blabbing on about the virtues of shit-cake Company incorporated, I was weighing my options. 

A certain part of my conscience detested my forward line of thinking.   In the box about ten years of college student assignments and short story segments, I had taken with me when I left Bresser College.   To say I owe my entire writing success to stealing other’s ideas would be simplistic at best.  Besides, the clown heads at that college owed me.  

They owed me, bigly. 

Okay, sure.  So, I lied about my teaching credentials.  Look, I was teaching those classes every day for ten years.  I was present more often than any of those so-called “real” professors, that’s for sure.  I already had tenure!  I would have gotten away with it forever, if it were not for that slut, Heather. 

Okay, Okay.  I get it.  I’m not painting a very rosy picture here.  Look, Heather was eighteen years old when we first met, so it’s not like I was doing a child, for Christ sake.  She knew what she was doing.  Brother, did she know what she was doing.  That chick was a total nymphomaniac.  I mean, anywhere, anytime. 

She was a freak for sex, I think.  I mean dangerous sex.  Like in public, that sort of thing.  The more in the open it was the crazier she became.  In the car, the park, the swimming pool, the tennis courts, dressing rooms at the mall, the woods.  It just did not stop.  And I was such a willing stooge. 

Just when I thought it got as freaky as it could, it got way out of hand, when she introduced me to her friend, Vicky.  Vicky would join us on occasion.  Me; little old me, laid a sum total of ten times in my life, suddenly lost in a sea of young tits and ass.  I guess I should have asked how young.  Since Vicky was a “friend” of Heather’s I just assumed…  

Well, you know what they say about assuming… 

The Dean herself caught us three after class one night, having a “special study session,” in my own classroom.  That was the end of a golden time in my life: Employment, housing, sex, and adoration from my peers.  They pulled my records and found I had no records, at least not for a college degree.  Hell, I never even went to college. 

Well, come to find out the bitch girlfriend’s name wasn’t even “Vicky”.  She was a seventeen year old runaway from Las Vegas and running her own “business” out of her foster parents’ house.  It was just too sickly sorted for the little college to expose publicly.  So, they covered it all up and after all the dust settled they allowed me to exit with nary a scratch.  I tell you, somebody up there must love me. 

Hey, I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done in my life, okay.  Let’s just say I had to take a few shortcuts to get ahead.  Fact is, I landed as a writer partially because of my inclination to….well, take certain liberties with the truth.... 

D.I.V.O.R.C.E   (War of the Roses)

Oliver Rose: I think you owe me a solid reason. I worked my ass off for you and the kids to have a nice life and you owe me a reason that makes sense. I want to hear it.

Barbara Rose: Because. When I watch you eat. When I see you asleep. When I look at you lately, I just want to smash your face in.

I have a friend that is going through a difficult divorce.  I would call that NEARLY ATYPICAL.  I’ve avoided the subject of divorce in this blog, even though it’s a topic that affects many of us.  It is a subject near and dear to my heart - Or, maybe a bit lower than that.  Many of us which have been through the “process” realize even if has been many years since the BIG D, it’s still brings up those icky feelings… sort of like an acid reflux attack. 

My automatic advice to anyone that is thinking about Divorce.  Don’t.  Try to find some way of working it out.  You have invested years, money and grey hairs in “getting this far.”  Perhaps you have raised or are raising children…. You have faced traumas, sickness, and sometimes even the other big D (death) together.  That’s what that whole…  “in sickness and in health” stuff is all about when you stood at the altar or judge.  And it’s not a little thing.  

A vow in front of your friends, family, and God is not something you take lightly.  And surprisingly it’s one of those points brought up in many wedding ceremonies, which many never really take the time to listen to. 

“and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.”  (The Wedding ceremony from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer)

HOWEVER….   We are all decisively human, we make mistakes.  We screw up.  We mismanage.  We misinterpret.  What seemed like a good idea then is not so now.  Things have changed.  People have changed.  Jobs, families many things have changed. 

You try hard to tough it out.  You try your best to ‘fix’ the problems.  Then, there comes a point when you have to admit defeat and dissolve the marriage. 

Sometimes it can be when one or both have changed beyond recognizing each other.  For example, when one person grows, while the other remains rooted in the past. Sometimes, it can be more serious, like violence or addictions. 

Notice I did not say infidelity.  Having an affair in and of itself does not necessarily end a marriage.  It is a symptom of a much bigger issue.  That issue does need to be addressed, however, for a marriage to continue… because trust in each other is only possible in a loving relationship.  And trust… well, once broken can be hard thing to recover. 

Yet, continuous infidelity should never be tolerated…whether it be physical or emotional. 

Though there are a great many movies about the subject -  Hope Floats, Kramer vs. Kramer, Double Indemnity (wait, what?) -  But, for me the salve of all things DIVORCY is the movie The War of the Roses – 1989 starring Michael Douglas Kathleen Turner and Danny DeVito. 

You may have seen the movie way back when it came out.  I have rediscovered the movie, through the book, and have led me to read books from one of my favorite book authors:  Warren Adler.  I read several of his works including Funny Boys, Trans-Siberian Express, and the Serpent’s Bite.  Highly recommended reading!

In the movie, the couple fall deeply in love and live their rather banal lives, being highly successful.  As divorce attorney Gavin (DeVito) relates:  They met, great…  they agreed on that.  House, car, boy, girl, puppy, kitty.  The poor bastards never had a chance…

https://youtu.be/5ebv3i_9Ltc

The movie follows a couple that oddly discovers they really do not like each other.  They decide they want a divorce.  The movie takes the separation through the initial stages… with one hiccup, the house.  They both decide they want the house.  In fact, the house is the thing. 

The movie takes a decidedly cartoonish turn, where they basically try to off each other (Spoiler alert: They accomplish this via a fall, plunging from the chandelier), in order to gain the upper hand.  I say cartoonish, though what I’ve heard in some quarters, it could almost be called: “normal.” 

Gavin: There are two dilemmas... that rattle the human skull. How do you hold onto someone who won't stay? And how do you get rid of someone who won't go?

So, back to Divorce thingy.  Here’s the deal.  Harking back to my own experience, I wish I could go back and be a little nicer, a little more understanding than I was.  Instead of treating each other so badly… and trust me, there is no more brutal enemy than a spouse that knows your most intimate details…I wish I could have treated it all a little more ZEN.  I know, it’s hard because when one wants to leave the other, it feels like a personal attack, or that you have in some way FAILED.  

Maybe that is the greatest letdown in the institution called marriage.  No ONE fails in life because a marriage is over, especially not these days.  The range of both single men and women towards success are so much more possible now than ever before.  There is even some scientific evidence to show that singles are just as happy (if not more so) than their married counterparts. 

If you live a “good life,” working, paying bills, a good parent (or a good parent to a pet) being relatively useful, and making the world better by small degrees…. Seems to me, you are a great success in the world.  You should be cheered and celebrated. 

I hope my friend will find their way through the jungle of sadness and bitterness…. Though it may take a very long time to get there.  A heart is a fractious thing…  but, I do believe once hurt, it tends to grow back…though slowly, it gets bigger and more generous than before.  That’s the problem with becoming a human being…  we live too shortly…. It takes nearly one life to figure out who the hell we are as a person in the world. 

By then, it’s getting mighty late.