The Lonely Immortal (Book Excerpt)

The Lonely Immortal (Book Excerpt)

“Are you okay?”

“The souls of the dead see my light. They believe it is their opportunity to reenter our world. It happens every time I enter a cemetery.”

“You can feel them?”

“They pass through me like light through a prism.”

Spirits swirled inside Amani in a whirlpool of ancient scents, tastes, joys, and tears. The haunting pain of unfulfilled dreams from their previous lives pinched his heart. 

Angelo came to a sudden realization.  “This is the closest an immortal can come to feeling death.”

Amani inhaled deeply, longing to breathe in their hopes of a new life, the passions of lovers past, the cold inevitability of death.

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

———–

Cursed to live forever, Amani befriends Angelo, a cranky Vietnam veteran who searches for his long lost love.  Sharing the story of his 5,000 year journey searching for his perpetually reincarnating twin flame, Amani the immortal, learns the true meaning of life from his dying friend.

This manuscript, my notes. and outline, have been registered and are protected by the U.S. Copyright Office (within the Library of Congress). 

Secret Admirer

Secret Admirer

Sitting at a bar, thoughts of muses, poetry. and loneliness floated alongside the ice cubes in my mojito.

I scribbled an occasional sentence or verse on a napkin because they were napkin worthy, unlike most of my other thoughts which are written on….

A waitress asked what I was doing.

“Writing poetry on a napkin.”

Time passed, my melancholy mood in this crowded bar, did not.

The waitress returned with a carnation. Pointing at an empty booth, she advised me a beautiful blonde was watching me as I drank and wrote. She was the curious person who wanted to know what I was writing.

Just before she left, my secret admirer asked the waitress to deliver the flower with a message.

“Mr. Poet, let this inspire you until the next time we meet for the first time.”

.

This photo is the carnation resting on the footboard of my bed.

Must Love Shoes

A bold glimpse into me. Since I was courageous enough to post this, I will leave comments open. I could use a good laugh.

Must Love Shoes

In a recent conversation with my friend Shelley of Quaint Revival I confessed my love for women’s shoes. (No, I do not wear them). No, not a shoe kisser type either, I just adore women who have plenty of shoes (in all styles and colors). Women’s shoes and feet, totally drives me insane.

One of the reasons I chose this new apartment, it has a shoe closet.

My idea of the perfect evening?

Lights are turned low. We are sitting on the couch, sipping wine, listening to soft mood setting music. We talk about poetry, life, books, and my favorite subject – YOU. My hands gently caress and massage your feet which rest in my lap.

Coming from New York, I met women all the time, on the bus, trains, stores, and streets. I guess you know by now, shyness is not one of my traits. So, I don’t use any of those internet meet sites.

But if I ever was to place a personal ad….

Single guy in Orlando area. Loves walks on the beach, shopping, coffee, sunsets, writing, and great conversation. Enjoys an occasional sangria, wine, or mojito. Other than blogging, not into social media. You: Should share my love for writing and poetry. Prefer if you were smarter than me. Don’t worry, this is a no brainer. (bad joke). Love for trying new restaurants required. Good sense of humor necessary! Oh, and you MUST LOVE SHOES.

The Experiment (75 words)

The Experiment

Jackson volunteered for the dangerous experiment.

Scientists advised him of everything that could go wrong.
Who knew everything would go right?

Total recall; they said it was impossible.

Memories coursed through him like blood through his veins. Every heartbreak, toddler fall, prenatal sensation. Trapped in a state of eternal nostalgia.

They said he would recall every memory.

No one knew he would relive every pain.

Jackson finally understood some things are meant to be forgotten.

Write Your Own Story

Write Your Own Story

This is exactly how I start my blogging day. My coffee mug reminding me I am the author of my life.

I have come to realize that New York and my current lifestyle consume so much of my time, my manuscript goes unattended. Too many friends, ex-girlfriends, parties, and after hours. There is always something fun to do.

With that in mind, on Friday afternoon I flew down Orlando, Florida in search of a new apartment (where I can write in peace). I decided on Central Florida because it is the perfect place to explore the entire state while I decide where I want to plant new roots. That is my birthday gift to myself.

I considered my beloved Miami, but it would only be reliving the same problems I face in New York (see above).

As my close friends know trying new restaurants is my hobby. So, tonight (April 8th), for my birthday, I will be dining at Cuban singer Gloria Estefan’s restaurant Bongos Cuban Cafe.

I will catch up with all of you when I return to blogging next Tuesday.

Have a great week.

Memories

As I said right before my vacation, jobs fill our pockets. Adventures fill our souls. My first 5 days in the Dominican Republic were at a beach resort to relieve my stress. This was the view outside my balcony.

There was nightly entertainment. On the second night 8 professional dancers selected 4 men and 4 women from the audience to compete in a Dancing With the Stars competition. Yes, I was selected. When I survived the first five rounds (rock & roll, the twist, hip hop, lambada, and salsa) I thought I had a chance. The last two elimination rounds were the typical island dances; merengue and bachata (my forte). At the end of the competition I was called back onto the stage to receive my award (a bottle of rum) and I pulled a hamstring. The very next day I received Swedish massage to ease my pain.

One of the reasons I went to the island was to see the humpback whales. These whales come every winter from as far away as northern Canada and Norway. This is a single female flirting and letting the males know she is free. The white on their tails are like our fingerprints. No two whales are alike.

Here I captured two males crashing into one another as they fought for the attention and right to be with the female. In all, there were four males fighting for the lone female. I guess she had an amazing tail.

This is my goddaughter Dibel (proounced Dee-bell). We spent plenty of time together shopping, beaching, and playing. Now, the peculiar thing about Dibel is she swears her parents gave her the wrong name. She insists her name was supposed to be Lily. So, I always make sure to call her Lily.

My good firiend Luis has a slight resemeblence to actor Daniel Craig. After years of teasing him about it, I put it to a test. One night in a beach bar, I turned on the charm and convinced two lovely ladies that Luis is James Bond’s stunt double. Well, after a wonderful night of dancing, laughing, and drinking, the two ladies left the bar with 007’s stunt double. Lonely Author went back to his room alone.

Because of the wedding, I had the opportunity to stay at this private resort for two nights. This was the table where I had breakfast and did some writing.

My long time followers recognize Ally. We spent some time together at the 75th birthday party and at the beach wedding.

I had the chance to dine at two mountainside restaurants. This one Aroma De La Montaña (Aroma of the Mountain) has a revolving floor which gave us spectacular views while me and my friends dined.

Ah, the wedding. It was my first time being a bestman. I had plenty of fun dancing and mingling. I recited poetry (English and Spanish) during the bestman speech at the celebration.

Sadly, I said goodbye to two old dear friends Maria (95) and Tato (93). Hope they will still be there when I return.

Here is a peek at one of the orange sunsets.

Life is about the memories we make. And the memories waiting to be made. So, go out there and make some memories of your own.

Can’t wait to go back.

Fragments Of Me

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This is an old post for my newer blogging friends to get to know me.  It posted three years ago.

Fragments of Me

When we were young our lives consisted of questions.

The questions we needed answered. The hundreds of questions our parents and teachers asked.

But a ten year old was never meant to have all the answers.

My classmates attended the big party. Stupid me promised to dance with every girl. Boys stood on one side, girls on the other.

My friends taunted me. “Go dance.”

With wobbly knees and sweaty forehead, I tried to look cool.

Then I spotted Lisa Big Boobies Barelli. Oh my, she could fill up a B-cup like no other girl in school.

Ever since kindergarten when she first smiled at me, I knew the other girls didn’t compare. Lisa had all her teeth.

From across the room I admired her.

Who cares if she had rounder cheeks than the other girls?

Lisa had something the skinny girls didn’t have.

She had curves.

Deep breath…..I broke the ice approaching the circle of “cool girls” as they giggled like hyenas.

Unable to speak, I did something that became my signature move. Never inviting her to dance, I took Lisa’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

Everyone watched us dance as I impressed her with witty banter.

She said, “Nice party.”

I replied, “Uh-huh.”

“Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeah.”

Even at that early age I knew women preferred a good smelling man. So, I wore my mother’s Chanel #5.

My friends mocked me for dancing with Lisa. I maneuvered us around so she wouldn’t see their hurtful antics.

The boys never understood. Why dance with other girls if I was already dancing with the prettiest one?

“Andrew, there’s so many beautiful girls here with lovely dresses and their hair in pretty curls. You could’ve danced with any of them.”

Then, Lisa asked the terrifying question.  “Why me?”

I felt the universe collapsing on me. Boys laughed. Girls gave me dirty looks. Now, I had to answer this….

How much pressure could one ten year old take?

Searching for infinite wisdom, I gazed into her big blue eyes and whispered. “Why not?”

The lights dimmed.

A love song came on.

Lisa gave me a bear hug and kissed my cheek.

Thankfully, the darkness cloaked my confusion.

That ten year old boy learned so much that night.

He learned about having the courage to be the first.

He learned to go after the girl he wanted, no matter what anyone else thought.

And dancing cheek to cheek…

He learned some questions are meant to be answered by asking another question.

Photo of myself taken by friend of the family.