Monday, August 28, 2017
Time Pieces (Working title) Chapter 4
o the question persisted - were the events in the world, in the lives we live, random or planned? Was I chosen or was the archer blind? The trajectory of life is not just a one off shot. We are thrust up from birth and we are flung, we are thrown, we are tossed like a baseball or dropped like a scalding piece of iron - we are watched, scolded, reprimanded, bent out of our natural shape and forced into cages with invisible bars. The wardens in our prisons are bankers, lawyers and bosses. Spouses, teachers, family and friends play the part of loved ones yet hold us in their preconceived needed visions of whom they need us to be. The trigger is pulled, the arrow is slung, the sun has risen...the bell has rung and the fucking alarm clock is screaming out that it's time to stop dreaming. Fantasy morphs into reality and no change in the past can change the present I find myself in. Sherry had found, lost and found her life again and I had too much and nothing at all to do with it. As I watched her disappear her memory began to fade from my mind; what she looked like, sounded like and tasted like.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Water is Boiling – We have all Failed
The media is biased to the point of irritation and driven to increase the ratings have elevated the amount of hatred and anger to new levels. Everyone from late night talk show hosts, who claim to be the "good guys," to the pontificating radio talk show hosts who claim that everyone is wrong because they are "right," are to blame. They should be charged with inciting riots of hatred, bigotry and for ringing the division bells across the country
Friday, August 11, 2017
Time Pieces (working title) chapter 3
Sherry was staying at the same hotel as myself - we went to check if our rooms were ready and only mine was. She accompanied me to my room so she could “freshen up.” Her lips were puffy and her smile was soft. Her eyes were blue and her hair was jet black. She wore a pantsuit and a mans white shirt beneath the blazer. Her lipstick was red and her eyeliner was black. Her neck was long and tasted like perfume - a sweet and intoxicating flavor. When we finally got to the room we fell onto the bed and stayed there for the next several hours. She was a supermodel and somehow made me into a superman that afternoon. I truly was grateful for my 50 year old knowledge and 26 year old body. 
Sunday, August 06, 2017
Time Pieces (working title) Chapter 2
How do we know that it's for the worse and not something that needs to occur to promote evolution of some kind? We don’t. But when it's that devastating and it's something that was never written about in the historical files - we know that it's time traveled terrorism.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Time Pieces (working title)
My name is Freddy Zalta. I am 51, well, almost 51 years old. I am writing this as a testimony should anything happen to me or the world as we should have known it. Or as we should not have known it. Officially I work as a watch salesman - selling the means for telling time. We sell watches in all colors and styles - for kids and for adults alike. Unofficially I work at a company called, “Timekeepers.” The only thing that it has in common with my official job is the ability to adjust the time on the dial, Timekeepers, is a company that is employed by the U.S. government to maintain and to improve history and control the future.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Home Again
I found my way down to Los Gatos in California. I was led there by another woman named, Danielle, who's father worked at Netflix in some high powered job there. She promised me a job there and a place to live. I lived with her and her sister for two years; working in the marketing department of Netflix for a while and then shifting over to work in San Jose at Happy Hollow Park Zoo for what seemed like eternity but in reality was only for a month. It was at the end of that month that I met Tracey, a graphic designer and recently a divorcee.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Take it Picture – It lasts Longer
It sneaks up this spirit called, "Time." It moves quicker or slower than we could ever imagine. Some days and nights feel as if we are waiting for the rust to form on the bars that surround us. Some days and night pass and we are left to wonder who changed the measurements of time?
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Forgotten?
The world swore remembrance and swore against intolerance which can lead to genocide. In the aftermath of the Holocaust, the United Nations initiated “The Genocide Convention,” defining genocide as “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group.” Somewhere along the line, the flame of vigilance against genocide was extinguished. The fire upon the “Yahrzeit Candle” which commemorates the memory of the dead, became unlit. Somewhere the promises were broken and the voices were silenced.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Corey’s Coming (based on original song by Harry Chapin)
As I sit on his chair I think back to the stories he had told me – times in his life that he held on to like a security blanket – the passengers he befriended, the overnight stopovers where he learned about love, loneliness and the art of just making it to the next sunrise. His world travels searching for something that he eventually would find right within the stuff he was made of. But the memory that kept him warm in his lone space here, the memory that made it all worth it was the memory of his Corey and the love they shared.
Friday, March 10, 2017
The Broken Man
The hardest truth for the heart to accept is the truth that it's all a lie. Dreams, love, forever..even right this second… Slipping through my hands, melted memories like the celluloid scenes we once held so dear. Lost in the backstreets and the deserted ruins, like the dreams upon awakening, gone and forgotten. Forbidden satisfaction, is it all a sin? Laughter and peace, can it ever win? Shivers felt, warm breeze lost...it's getting colder and colder, take me home. Lay me down in your bed, drop off your coverings and open yourself to me. Can you warm me, can you make me feel alive? Can you hold me, hold me hold me…take me in...it's cold out here... The night is cold, the day is secluded - is this atonement for a sin I cannot recall?
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Soundtracks of My Life – Billy Joel
What he did for 22 years, from “Cold Spring Harbor” through “River of Dreams,” was change the worlds of millions of people. He gave them encouragement to be who they were; to think for themselves but to not forget the ones who loved them. He told us about our past before we even had one to hear about, he told us about the bars, the taverns, the street corners, about the crazy summer in New York City with blackout, heat wave and the 44 caliber killer. He told us to sing along with the Piano Man because even the Piano Man needs the support to make it through the songs. He told us about “Keeping the Faith” and about his meeting with a Russian clown, Viktor, who made his daughter laugh. He sang to us about his mood swings, how he goes to extremes and he has no idea how to control them. He is the piano man, he is the Streetlife Serenader, the Fisherman trying to stay afloat despite the laws and regulations all stacked against him. He is the everyday guy who, well learned stickball, found how to dance and still look tough and of course, made it with the red haired girl in a Chevrolet.
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Boat Upon a Lake
In the darkness, if you close your eyes you can hear the songs from years past; the splashing from the swimmers, the laughter from the summers from so long ago. The sounds of panting, crying and conversations. The optimism of the youth and the innocence...now gone.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Soundtracks of my Life – Bruce Springsteen
I listened to these songs, over and over again. Music had always been a part of my heart and soul; before this there was Elton John, Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Billy Joel, the Beatles...but when I listened to Bruce Springsteen I felt a sense of freedom. I felt that it was alright to express yourself without having the poetry of Dylan. To express yourself by spitting it out there for the world to hear. The dream of finding the girl who may not be "The One," but is the one; having her jump into your beat up Chevy and heading to where the "Highway is alive" to "wash the sands off of our hands." The sins of allowing ourselves to be caught and imprisoned in a reality built by walking dead figurines. By the ones who need to numb themselves to get through another day - beat up their wives and kids to find the manhood they had taken away. Listening to Bruce I lost my virginity; I lost my sense of blind trust and I questioned everything from God to the existence of life on Mars. 
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
I respect all opinions but I am tired of hearing them from people who are hiding behind books and Jon Stewart infused media. Life is hard. There is no black and white, one plus one does not always equal two. A work of art in color does not automatically define happiness and monochrome is not always a rainy day. Good does not always win, evil wins way too often. Is there a God? That's your opinion, your definition of It, Him, Her or That, is your business, keep it to yourself. Perfection is non existent, imperfection is what the stuff of life is made up of. It's ugly, it's brilliant, it's simply frightening. Stop judging and start listening. Don't read this if you are too intelligent or a false elitist. You will reject it's simplicity. Don't trust me, her, him or them, think for yourself and then decide. Literature is an escape not lessons in life. Only actuality can teach you, if you live with eyes open wide and your mouth and mind quieted long enough to hear others. My opinion should mean very little to you, maybe a nudge or a shake to wake you. It's magnificent the way people stand up and gather, but why not put that same energy to voice the voices of the socially mute? The starving, the abused, the depressed and the disenfranchised whom live within our zip codes? Where are the crowds fighting for all people? Hunger is still alive and thriving within your community. Where are the ones, the protestors to fight against this power? There is an old saying, "charity begins at home." That doesn't mean within your four walls. Stand up against oppressors of women, men and children. Stand up against hunger. WhyHunger Sephardic FoodFund among others, make a difference. Do something rather than quoting articles to prove your points.Instagram
Monday, February 13, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
A World Unformed and Void…
Are you, all of you, superior? If that is so then why do you lower yourself to an animal’s standards? If you are high above the black, white and the grays; then why are you confined to a world without color?
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