Why I Write or Angst The Companion, Sex The Compulsion

The need began in Junior High school. I am not certain what the catalyst was. Perhaps it was something I read. I know I had this impression that I would be famous and that people would want to read about me. So I started journaling.

I continued to journal in High school. I began writing creatively as well. Angst is the teenagers’ companion and sex the compulsion. There was much to write about. One day in high school Sydney made an appearance. If you’ve recently begun reading this blog you are not acquainted with Sydney of Australia and his sidekicks Roscoe and Veronica. They initially surfaced in those high school years; Roscoe a street in the valley and 7-11, where I used to work, his secret lair. Truth is it was more fun to write Sydney stories than to listen to chemistry lectures.

In college I took a journalism class but the professor was an arrogant blankety-blank and a lousy teacher. I received a bad grade in the class and was dissuaded from the pursuit of journalism---thus saving me from the probability of life as a liberal.

Throughout all those years I was compelled to write. I dabbled with starting a greeting card company, I wrote notes to friends for fun and I wrote letters to the editor. There were also a lot of love letters written which I hope have become fuel for Franklin stoves at this time. I kept journaling. I wrote poetry. My mother enjoyed my poetry (dark as it was) and encouraged me to keep writing.

I played around with the idea of starting a blog. On a trip to Portland my friend Glenn strongly encouraged me to begin blogging. It continues to be both voyage and adventure. Like Sir Edmund Hillary in his pursuit of Everest, I must write because ‘It is there.”

Sydney Meets the Kat

This time, the body was far better than the voice; and the voice had already caused him some lack of sleep. Not much information in last nights’ telephone call, a vague description and the name of a coffee bar.

Walking across the hard wood floor, his brain was still processing. Golden blonde hair cut shoulder length, blue skirt slit past the knee exposing thigh, followed by shapely legs. “Hello,” he said extending his hand, “Sydney at your service.”
Rising, she stood up to meet him. “Kat with a K. Please be seated.”

Sitting down, he was aware that the rich smell of coffee; chocolate, earthy, nutty, had receded. He was intensely aware of her perfume. Light and sweet, floating gently, hiding itself from full revelation to the senses, like the woman who sat across from him.

“You said you had some crucial information for me,” said Sydney.

“We have Veronica.”

“Damn,” thought Sydney. “Why doesn’t anyone ever kidnap Roscoe? Please explain.”

“As we speak, she is my prisoner. Foolish girl can’t bypass a pass and a drink. She lives still, bound and drugged…”As Sydney drew a breath to speak, Kat (with a K) said, “This time, against her volition.”

“Do you know how much I hate conversations with quotation marks? What do you want?” As he asked the question, he reached for the shortbread. In doing so, his hand met hers, sending electric shock up his arm, while at the same time igniting his brain at the hint of how soft and smooth she was.

Kat stared directly into his eyes. “We need you and Roscoe out of the picture for three days, beginning in two days. Then, when you return, perhaps we can meet for more than coffee.”

He’d wanted to say that Hades could freeze over before he’d enjoy her company, but Kat had got his tongue (and a few other parts) and what he said was, “That would be delightful.” Like espresso acid on a baristas’ hands, she’d already begun to seep into his soul.

Meanwhile, in a warehouse not far away….
She wasn’t sure which was worse, the dryness of her mouth when she was aching with thirst, or the spit that dripped down her neck after they’d poured the water down her throat. She made a mental note to herself not to drink with strangers. The hard, cold cement grew harder and more uncomfortable with each moment. She could not find a comfortable position. Warmth was just out of reach, and cold was ready to completely envelop her.
To be continued…..

The Band is Formed: In Which Sydney Meets Veronica and Roscoe

There she stood. Not that she stood alone, but everything else receded, dull by comparison, colorless in contrast. Black skirt, hugging her hips and accentuating her form, leaving everything except her calves open to his imagination. Ruffled top, sleeveless, exposing strong nicely shaped arms. Were those leopard spots on her blouse?
He’d sauntered over, made foolish chit-chat, and introduced himself. They found a table in sight of the bar. Being a millionaire had its privileges.

Before he could react, she’d pulled the dagger from somewhere (Was it hiding amidst the leopard spots?) arcing it towards the young man behind the bar.
“What in the tarnation…?,” said Sydney.
“The closer the tip, the bigger the TIP. If he spills one drop of beer, or gets distracted…. We've played this game since we were young...,” she said, her voice trailing off.

No wince, no sudden movement; only a smooth, fluid angling of the body to drop the shoulder, and the man behind the bar averted the impact of the dagger.

Sydney had gone to The Bar of the Dancing Bear on assignment. He was searching for the Four Toed Man. How would he find him? How would you discover it was him until you were able to autopsy him? Perhaps he’d be lucky, and he’d taken to wearing sandals. It was only later that he found out he was looking for The Four Toad Man, collector of trinkets and exotic reptiles.

The young man came out from behind the bar, bringing out more ale and setting down the dagger between them. With raised eyebrow and a hint of mystery (or perhaps it was a hint of strawberry, blueberry or some other jam that he’d missed on his upper lip) he said, “A cord of three strands is not easily broken. Those who use a mini-mart as a front should learn to cover their back.”

To be continued……

Sydney Makes An Appearance

Sydney, Roscoe and Veronica have been with me since high school. He's a superhero. His mansion is fronted by a convenience store which is where he goes to get urgent messages from the town's mayor. The 80's type video game emits screeches, whistles and clanging noises in rapid succession which indicate that the Mayor is on the video screen. The series was originally titled, "Sydney of Australia." Far as I remember, Sydney has been single. At least that's the way he appears from the outside. He may have had some ongoing relationships that I'm not currently aware of. Mostly, he lives in my head. I'm not certain exactly where Veronica and Roscoe live.

He reached for the shot glass. Remembered the last time he risked it for a woman. Granted, it was Veronica, which made for unique circumstances. Still, it had nearly cost all of them their lives………

Veronica walked into The Spotted Cow, her leopard skin dress calling attention to all of her assets. There the man sat, as promised. The seat across the table obviously only for her.
“What are you wearing tonight?”
“It’s called Evening Jasmine,” she said.
“Ah, the flowers that bloom in the daytime have their own unique features, but that which blooms at night is sweet beyond comparison.”
That was the last thing she remembered from that night.

The Doctor placed a poker chip on the table. “Sydney, I’ll raise you one. I have Veronica….and the price for her return is significantly steep.”

And that’s how the last adventure had begun. Now he sat at his bar, wondering if he was too old for this super-hero business. Refilled the glass. Perhaps it was time to settle down. Last night really had him spinning. Her silver eyes, the long auburn hair. It had been a great evening. They’d shared some good food and some great laughs. Finished the night on her doorstep.
To be continued…..maybe……