I answered my front door, it was late, 10 PM. There stood my cousin looking like he could kill someone!

“I’m so angry, I have to talk to someone.”

I ushered him in and sat him down. His eyes were bloodshot and protruding and he started cracking his knuckles. I got each of us a can of beer.

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

“Relax!” I said.

“The other day I was late getting up for work. On the way in, some jerk cut in front of me on the expressway.”

“Cousin, this anger isn’t any good for your blood pressure.”

“I know, I’ve taken two high blood pressure pills before I came here.”

“What did you do when you were cut off?”

“I did what any red-blooded man would do, I kept on his tail and honked my horn repeatedly.”

“Cousin, when you get upset, you shouldn’t react with anger. You should act the opposite, it might help.”

He looked like he wasn’t listening!

“Then when I got to work, I started getting pains in my right leg. The company doc said it was probably happening because I was getting older! I said: “Hey, Doc, my left leg is just as old and it doesn’t hurt at all!”

He sent me home to rest!

“Then to top it all off, my girlfriend came over with reservations for a Mexican restaurant. I told her Mexican food gives me indigestion.”

She said: “I like Mexican food!”

My cousin gritted his teeth.

“You see, it’s all about her, it’s what she wants all the time.” He raised his voice!

“What did you do then?”

“I refused to go and get indigestion!”

“And your girlfriend?”

“She left in a huff and I haven’t seen her since. I’m so angry with her.”

“Cousin, breathe deeply, in and out. Now calm down.”

“What can I do to handle this anger?” he said, anxiously.

“Well, you need to learn some coping self-talk, a sort of self-instruction when you feel yourself going over the edge.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was shaking a bit.

“When someone, like your girlfriend, upsets you, you need to remind yourself to relax and manage your emotions.”

“Do I have to talk out loud to myself?”

“No, you can think your self-talk in silence.”

“Cousin, do you have some examples of this self-talk?”

“Yes, when you feel your anger rising with someone, say to yourself: I’m not going to let them get to me, or say: I can’t change them with anger; I’ll just upset myself”

“Thanks cousin, I think I’ve got the gist of it.” He actually smiled!

“You have to learn to control your anger before it controls you!”

“Thank you, you are so helpful.” He left smiling!

The next day, he called me and said: “I got an email from my girlfriend asking me to return her picture because she was breaking up with me. This didn’t bother me at all. I simply collected several girls’ pics and sent them to her and asked to please keep hers and send back the rest. I can’t recall who you were!”

He laughed out loud, “HOW’S THAT FOR ANGER MANAGEMENT?”

I have a strong and continuing desire to write my life story. Why? Because I want to make some sense of my life and also, to leave a legacy.

The problem I am having is that I can’t remember events in my life too clearly. I can’t even retrieve them out of my memory, and if I could, sometimes, was it true or distorted!

So, imagine my excitement when I read this advert in the newspaper:

COME TO THE MEMORY PARTY!

LEARN ABOUT YOUR MEMORY

(Cash Bar and free Nibbles)

That night I went to the address in the paper. It was a high-class neighborhood. I was glad I wore my suit. I knocked on the door and it opened as if by magic. I walked into a large room with many people milling around. A tall old man approached me with two cocktails.

“Would you like a drink?” he said, handing me a cocktail.

“Thank you, I thought you had a cash bar here?”

“The first one is complimentary,” he smiled.

I took a sip of my drink, it was strong but delicious!

“Let me introduce myself, my name is Autobio Memory aka Event Memory.”

“I’m Dave Wilson, glad to meet you.”

“Lets go over to the bar and have a chat.”

Now I’ll have to pay for my drinks, I thought. Maybe even pay for Autobio’s as well!

“So, Dave, you’re having problems remembering things for your life story.”

“How did you know that?”

“That’s usually the reason people come to these parties.”

I was looking around for the free nibbles.

The old gentleman smiled and said:

“You know if you could live your life over again, you could write things down as they happen!”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t have the strength to live it over again!”

“Well, Dave, I’m an expert in replaying the events in your life. Do you remember how and when you met your wife?”

“Oh yes, it was on a blind date and we met at a party my brother set up.”

I turned to the barkeep and ordered another drink.  When I turned back to Autobio, another fella was standing there!

“Can you tell me what is 6×5?”

“Of course, it’s 30.”

My companion smiled, “You got the answer right away. I’m Fact Memory. I deal in the facts you have learned about the world.”

Another well-dressed man joined in the conversation.

“I’m Learning Memory. I’m the one who taught you how to orchestrate your motions to perform some behavior. Like you learned to dance or even talk.”

All of a sudden I was surrounded by many people!

“I’m Memory Cue. I make your memories come to the forefront via a cue. Memories don’t always come to mind on their own!”

I nodded.

“I’m Repressed Memories. I help people forget traumatic memories.”

I was starting to get dizzy!

“Hello, I’m Unreliable Memory. When you try to recall some event, a few highlights come to mind, but not everything. That’s where I come in. I reconstruct the rest of the memory, adding bits and pieces. This is how recalled events get distorted!”

“Hey buddy, you know me, I’m Memory Interference. When you learn new stuff it interferes with the older memories. So the old ones are harder to retrieve.”

I ran out the door and down the street. I finally stopped, out of breath. What was that all about? My mind went BLANK!

I decided then and there to forget about writing my life story! IT’S TOO HARD IF YOU CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING!

“Web of Guilt” by David Wise out now on Amazon Kindle

One day my cousin came visiting unexpectedly.

“Come in, you look kind of haggard!” I commented, upon noticing his heavy breathing and pinched expression.

“My mind is full of voices, it’s like a committee meeting with lots of points of view, all wanting to be heard.”

I ushered him to a chair and sat opposite him.

“This sounds serious.”

“I’m in a constant state of frenzy!”

“You sound like you’re a candidate for meditation.”

“Is that where you just sit and do nothing?”

“It will make you flexible enough to kick your own butt, if necessary!”

He stared at me wide-eyed!

“I’ll help you get into it.”

“Thank you, cousin.”

“First, there is the position.” I took a cushion from the settee and placed it on the floor.

“What’s that for?”

“Now, sit down on the cushion cross-legged.”

My cousin proceeded to sit like an Indian on the floor.

“Now, you are going to pay attention to your breathing. Take deep breaths, inhale and exhale slowly, to bring calmness to your body.”

“Hey, that feels good and relaxing.”

“Now, you need to concentrate on your daily frustrations: When the alarm wakes you up, how does that make you feel? Do you feel minor aches and pains? When you’re in the bathroom and you look in the mirror, are you pleased with what you see? On your way to work, does the traffic bother you? Does someone at work say something to injure your feelings? How do you feel about that? So, at the end of the day, how did you handle life’s little irritations?

My cousin yelled:

“It’s the world that’s to blame for so many daily irritations.”

“I’m sorry, the world is not to blame. The problem is that you expect too much from the world. Now, relax and keep breathing deeply.”

“I feel a little better, but I have another problem. I’ve been thinking a lot about my own death recently, since I lost my mother. I’m afraid of aging and death!”

“Keep breathing, inhale and exhale. You must confront your feelings about death, to free yourself from the fear. You must liberate yourself so you have an appreciation for every moment, your have to get on with the business of living!”

My cousin had a gleam in his eye, like an inner light.

“Our culture conditions us to avoid thinking about death. We turn the dead over to a funeral home and they take care of everything, disposing of the body, so we don’t have to.”

“So, how do I face up to my own mortality?”

“You have to come to grips with the idea that our lives are transitory. You will have to repeat these lines over and over to yourself: One-I will get old, if I’m lucky, it’s unavoidable. Two- I am subject to sickness. Three-My death is unavoidable. Four- I will be separated from everyone and everything in this world. Five-Whatever I do, either good or bad, I will reap and leave as a legacy. Facing your own demise through reflection is essential to living a full, enjoyable life.”

“So, the more I repeat those lines, the less I will fear death, and I will want to get out there and enjoy my present moments and live.”

“You’re getting the idea now,” I smiled.

“Well, thanks cousin, for getting me started on meditation.”

“I’m glad I helped you.”

As he walked out the door he exclaimed:

“If I can survive my fear of death, I can survive anything! Death is hereditary!”

I shouted after him: “Keep breathing deeply!”

“WEB of GUILT” BY DAVID WISE, available on Amazon Kindle.

One day, when I was perched on a green padded stool at my favorite watering hole, a fella climbed onto the stool next to me. He sighed heavily and said:

“My wife has threatened to leave me because of my nasty habits!”

His eyes were gazing upwards, like the answer to his problem was on the ceiling.

“What nasty habits do you have?”

He started drumming his fingers on the bar.

“I come in here after work everyday and have a few drinks, even on weekends. My wife says I have a drinking problem.”

“Why do you drink so much?”

“It relaxes me after work, so I can face the problems my “old lady” will tell me about when I get home. I don’t know what the answer is to my drinking addiction.”

“Well, alcohol is not the answer, it just makes you forget the question!”

He ordered a stein of beer. The barkeep brought his beer and he just stared at it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, my heart says yes, my brain says no, and I haven’t heard from my liver in a long, long time.”

He started laughing so hard he almost fell off the stool!

“It wasn’t that funny,” I said.

He turned to me and raised one eyebrow and gave me a glassy stare.

“That’s what my wife says, it’s number four on my nasty habit list. I laugh at my own jokes and they’re not funny to other people.”

He gulped down his beer and ordered another.

“I love these green padded stools, don’t you?”

“Yes, they are nice and comfortable,” I humored him.

I was wondering what kind of crackpot was sitting next to me.

The crackpot continued:

“Okay, number one, I have a drinking problem. Number two, I burp a lot. Number three, I pass gas constantly. Number four, I told you already. One leads to the other, but the others stem from my drinking, according to my wife.”

He drained his stein and ordered another beer. This guy wanted to get looped fast.

“How can I break the drinking habit and by doing that get rid of the other three?”

I thought to myself, I might as well try to help this guy.

“Bartender, bring my friend another beer.”

“Thank you very much,” said my crackpot friend.

He proceeded to take large gulps of beer.

“You see, you should have refused that drink.”

He shook his head in frustration.

“You have to learn to pace yourself. Drink slower and take small sips. That way you will also taste your drink better.”

“But I’m a fast drinker.”

The crackpot then burped and passed gas at the same time! He did have very nasty habits!

“You could try going “cold turkey”, complete abstinence.”

“I couldn’t do that, my brain wouldn’t recover from the shock!”

“How about replacing the habit with something else, like drinking fruity drinks instead of alcohol?”

“Oh God, I don’t know if I could face my wife cold sober! On second thought maybe my liver would start talking to me again.”

This guy was starting to scare me!

“Well, my final piece of advice is to wear a rubber band around your wrist and snap it hard when you feel the urge to do any of your four nasty habits. Pain will turn your attention away from your bad habits. But be sure to reward yourself when you stay on track.”

“That suggestion sounds alright. Bartender give me a rubber band.”

The barkeep supplied the crackpot with a thick rubber band. He put it around his wrist and gave it a good snap.

“Ouch, that smarts.”

He got off his stool and headed for the door, all the while snapping the band. His wrist is going to be raw after all his snapping, I thought.

As he walked out the door, he shouted:

“Mr. Liver, where ever you are, will you talk to me now?”

My novel “Web of Guilt” is out on Amazon Kindle.

www.amazon.co.uk/Web-of-Guilt-ebook/dp/B009KACE96/ref=sr_1_1

It was the day before Halloween, and I was on my evening walk. There was no moon that night, so it was very dark. I decided to walk along the 2400 block of Lincoln Avenue. I had never walked on this particular stretch of that street.

Walking is thirsty work, so I dropped into a bar for a beer. The place was dimly lit, musty, and cobwebs were in the corners. It seemed the place was ready for some paranormal infiltration!

I climbed onto a stool and signaled the barkeep.

“A beer please.”

The barkeep said:

“Did you come here to meet the ghosts?”

I could feel my face turning ashen and the hairs on my neck standing erect!

“What do you mean?” I gasped.

“Well, whenever I see a new face, I automatically think someone told you about the place and it’s bad karma. People enjoy being frightened.”

I stared at the bartender, he was a frightening looking bloke himself! He had black hair and slicked down long sideburns, tiny black eyes and a rough, sickly color to his skin. He was a big fella, with a scar on his left cheek. His mouth seemed to be molded into a perpetual sneer.

“I feel a little hungry, give me two of those hard boiled eggs and another beer.”

The barkeep smiled slightly. “Eat, drink, and be merry, that’s what I say.” He gave me my eggs and beer and a salt shaker.

“Who does the dusting around here, there’s lots of cobwebs.”

“We had a cleaning woman once, but she kept locking the lady customers in the restroom. She would let them out after about 15 minutes, they were well powdered by that time. The boss got rid of her.”

All of a sudden I heard a loud banging on the women’s restroom door. The barkeep ran over and unlocked the door. A frazzled middle-aged woman stumbled out.

“How did that happen? I thought you said the cleaning lady was sacked!”

The Frankenstein behind the bar said:

“That happens every once in a while, it must be the ghost of the cleaning lady.”

Then there was a loud crack of noise from outside the bar, it made me jump.

“What’s that!”

“It sounded like a gunshot coming from the alley that’s haunted by Dillinger.”

“Why does he haunt the alley?”

“Because it’s a DEAD END!”

I wasn’t in the mood for laughing.

I looked out the dirty window and down the street was the Biograph Theatre.

“That’s the place where they trapped Dillinger, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right, he was gunned down in the alley.”

I gulped down my beer and asked for another. All of a sudden the jukebox started up with some jazz music. But there was no one by the jukebox!

I looked at the barkeep, he was grinning at me.

“Did you do that?”

“No, it goes on by itself sometimes. Jazz was Al Capone’s favorite music. He once had an apartment around here.”

Just then a flapper-type woman, straight out of the 1920’s, came into the tavern and sat at the end of the bar.

“Who’s that?” I said, pointing toward the beautiful girl.

“I don’t see anybody, mister, I think the beer is affecting your mind.”

I jumped off the stool and ran out of the tavern. I was exhausted when I slammed shut the door to my apartment and slumped into a chair.

The next day was Halloween and I decided to go to the tavern again and see if what I experienced was real. But when I got to the spot where the tavern was, there was only an EMPTY LOT!

“WEB of GUILT” now available on Amazon Kindle.

www.amazon.co.uk/Web-of-Guilt-ebook/dp/B009KACE96/ref=sr_1_1

Sitting on the sand at the Oak Street beach in Chicago, I was looking toward the downtown area. Straight ahead was the Drake Hotel, many celebrities stay there, and behind it, loomed the Hancock Building, once the tallest in Chicago. Great architecture in a great city!

Then I laid back on the warm sand and looked at the sky with its cloud formations. It was so peaceful, this is how I get my shot of dopamine, the feel good chemical released by my brain.

I was in the process of counting how many faces or objects I could see in the clouds. When I noticed the shape of a good looking woman, in a bikini, laying next to me, also looking at the clouds.

“It’s interesting how many objects or faces you can see in the clouds,” I said, hoping to start a conversation.

“Yes, I see a face in that cloud over there,” she said, pointing.

I looked at her cloud and said:

“It looks more like a flower vase to me.”

“That’s funny, we see different things.”

“Our brains are in the business of deceiving us. It seeks patterns in random stimuli.”

“You sound very knowledgeable.”

I smiled, feeling very full of myself.

“We see things that are not there!”

She shifted her bikini clad body on the sand and said:

“Oh, you mean like when you see something in the tea leaves but it really isn’t there.”

“That’s right, you’re getting the hang of this now.”

“It’s sort of scary really, when what we see, we perceive of as reality, yet it is an illusion built by our brains.”

“Oh, you’re giving me goose bumps!”

I turned toward her to check. Yes, she had goose bumps on her arms. Looking at her, I felt sort of dizzy, like I was on drugs that lead to nowhere, but at least it was a scenic route!

“I feel like I exist somewhere behind my eyes!”

“Your brain is deceiving you to feel that way.”

“How does that work?”

She was squirming in the sand to get comfortable.

“Well, different parts of your brain are talking to each other constantly, coming into conflict on what is the right decision to make.”

“You mean it’s like little people bickering inside my brain and together they build an illusion of one mind, when really there are different parts of consciousness?”

She was getting smarter by the minute!

“That’s right, let’s say, I want to eat a piece of chocolate cake for desert.”

“I love chocolate cake, but I have to watch my weight!”

“Yes, right, but what’s happening is the primitive, instinctual member of the brain says, “Go ahead, enjoy, you’ll feel good if you eat it.” Another member of the brain says, “Hold on, it could be bad for your health!”

“There is a fight going on in my brain?”

“That’s right, the fight will be resolved one way or another. When the conflict is over, your brain will release “feel good” chemicals, as a reward.”

“I knew when I took this sunbathing spot next to you, I would learn something. It’s my intuition!”

“That’s your brain subconsciously processing again. Your brain invents a reason to explain how and why you feel a certain way.”

“Oh, my head is bursting with information. I’ll have to leave now, see you again sometime.”

I turned toward her to say goodbye, but all I saw was a mound of sand that resembled a HUMAN BODY!

It was late and I was slowly drifting away into unconsciousness, which is sleep to you and me.

“Hey, where are we?” They all said in unison.

My four friends were seated on the green padded stools in “Dave’s Watering Hole”, located in downtown Chicago. We were all lined up together at the bar, Tom, Larry, Marla, Cousin Jim and myself. It was great to be altogether, ready to have a party.

Tom, my boyhood classmate, going back to 1^st grade, 68 years ago, was here in person. We didn’t see or hear from each other since we graduated High School at 18! We met again on facebook after 55 years.

Larry, started reading my blogs late at night or early in the morning, and commenting. His comments are always interesting and to the point.

Marla, my writer friend, who keeps me on the straight and narrow when it comes to writing.

Cousin Jim, aka the Long Lost Cousin, has a good heart and always has a joke handy. He is really my cousin on my mother’s side!

“Set them up bartender, it’s my treat,” I said, enthusiastically.

“Oh, this is great to get together,” said Larry.

“Beer for Cousin Jim, cocktails for Tom and Larry, a margarita for Marla, and brandy for me.”

Marla got off of her stool and started dancing a salsa with an imaginary partner!

“There is a saying, that everyone should have at least four friends. One to talk to and three to talk about. But, I’ve got four friends that I can party with!”

We all met, with me writing and the other four reading and commenting on “Writer Dave’s Blog”. When I created the Blog, I acquired four loyal readers who I greatly appreciate.

“I always thought we might meet someday,” said Tom.

“I, too, always wanted to get together,” said Larry.

“I wanted to meet Writer Dave because he has supplied me with many laughs, which always lighten my day,” said Marla.

“I’m a down to earth guy, and I always enjoy my cousin’s stories,” said LLC.

“And here we all are, let’s party,” I said.

Marla said: “I’ve sold over a million copies of my book!”

“Hey Marla, did you ever live in a basement apartment?”

“No, I haven’t, why do you want to know?”

“Because you’ve wrote a best CELLAR!”

Everyone laughed!

Tom went to the jukebox and put on Elvis’ record, “Let’s Have A Party”.

Everybody in Dave’s Watering Hole was jiving away!

“Breaking News! Writer Dave’s Blog has gone viral, with 500,000 readers, and they all promise to buy his forthcoming ebook,” said the TV newsreader.

The entire tavern broke out in a cheer!

Larry said: “Hugh Hefner wants me to be a PR again for Playboy.”

“That’s great, Larry, you always enjoyed that job.”

Tom said: “Andrew Lloyd Webber wants me to take the lead in his new Broadway play!”

“Tom, you will be a STAR,” I said.

Another News Flash came on the TV: “Cousin Jim has won a trip to Disneyland for his entire family.”

“Cousin, you will be a kid again with your grandchildren,” I exclaimed.

More drinks, bartender, all our dreams are coming true!”

These are my friends and we all finally met in person. Tom and I knew each other as children, now we meet as adults. The others I met by internet connection.

“Sometimes in everyone’s life, we get down and our inner fire goes out. It then bursts into flame again by an encounter with other human beings. You four people have rekindled my inner fire!”

We all cheered!

All of a sudden, I sat up in my bed. Shaking the grogginess from my head, I remembered an email I had recently from Tom.

I had just emailed him to tell him of my dream, that we would all meet for a party someday.

And Tom said: “It’s a wonderful dream but it’s good we have the internet to connect us. We may see each other again and we may not. Either way, we are friends and I am grateful.”

I smiled to myself, and laid my head down again on my pillow, hoping I could re-enter my dream!

PS- Writer Dave’s novel, “WEB OF GUILT”, coming soon on Amazon Kindle.

When I was a boy of eleven, I started talking to myself on a regular basis. I was an only child and my father had just died. So, it was really my mother and I against the world. I felt very alone, but self-talk gave me comfort.

My self-talk involved explaining to myself what my daily experiences meant to me and who I was and why I acted the way I did. Also, what I needed to do to survive without a father.

When I grew up, not only did I talk to myself but I started writing. That’s when I began explaining myself to myself through my writing…

“Hey cousin, what’s all this “explaining to yourself” stuff,  a form of therapy?”

“You could call it that, writing can be therapy.”

“Sometimes when I’m depressed, I feel like I need therapy,” said my cousin, soberly.

“What I’m talking about is explaining to yourself how you see the world in terms of your own life, occupation, and your immediate preoccupations, and how you should proceed in life.”

“This is getting deep!”

“Not really, you know the stories I write?”

“Oh yes, I like your stories.”

“Well, I usually ask hidden questions about the world through my stories. Why are we here? Who do we think we are? Looking for explanations and answers, the writer uses words to explore concepts.”

“Oh, I get it, we have gaps in our knowledge, so you fill the gaps with words.”

“Right! You’re getting the gist of this.”

My cousin smiled from ear to ear.

“When I write, I ask myself: What I’m thinking, what I’m seeing and what it means, what I want and what I fear, this is the explanation process of writing.”

“That’s interesting, you’re writing your self-talk!”

“I try to explain myself to myself so I don’t become someone I’m not. Life is difficult enough without being an impersonator too!”

“Hey cousin, I like that line! But how do the stories you write explain things to you?”

“I write dramatized explorations of all the emotional turbulence I experience, anger, love, hate, guilt and so on. Through my words I try to make these abstract concepts, concrete. So I understand myself better.”

“Sometimes, cousin, I wonder who I am, maybe I should start writing!”

“Just be yourself, you can do that better than anyone else.”

“You’re a philosopher, cousin.”

“When I read my own stories, even though the story itself is made up, I can tell that it has been molded by my own life experiences. And this helps me explain myself to myself, in other words, to understand myself.”

“Cousin, I’m going to take this “explaining yourself” stuff to heart.”

“I hope my rambling on has helped you,” I smiled.

“Oh yes, I’m going home now, to EXPLAIN to my wife that I’m going to lay down the law in our house, but I will probably have to accept all of her AMENDMENTS!”