If you've ever been confronted with your won mortality in an accidental situation you will know where I'm coming from today. Last night on my way home from a very nice birthday party out in the' burbs, I crossed the Willamette on the 405 bridge, taking the Kerby avenue exit. This exit is defined by a long straightaway followed by a tight turn into a stop sign, leaving not much room for error as the concrete meridian will attest with its black streaked and pocked white walls.
In my rearview I saw a fast approaching pair of square headlights in my lane. My first thought was 'goddamn cops', as police are notorious for their quick entrances into unsuspecting mirrors, but this was no cop as the car in question got RIGHT UP IN MY TRUNK, only to back off a bit at the rapidly approaching right bank turn.
Thinking she (yes, that was my first thought,that it was a woman) was now aware of the approaching turn, I eased off the brakes and coasted to the stop sign While keeping an alert eye behind me, I again realized that she wasn't a very good driver so I braced myself, took my foot slightly off the brake pedal to ready for impact, and the inevitable push into the intersection. Of course, she hit me, I slid ahead and stomped on the brake avoiding the cars already crossing in front of me. Road clear, I pulled across and got out. She slowly followed, like a dog who has shit on the carpet and knows its in trouble.
Three blondes in Daddy's 2008 sedan series BMW out doing everything but paying attention. No damage, no injuries, no police report, just a few scared (and I think high) girls maybe in their 20's cruising a Sunday night.
Chance encounters can change a life in a blink of an eye, for better or worse, yet always leaving an impression, a lasting scar that is always remembered if it was significant enough. So many things could have gone wrong last night but didn't. I have been in a handful of accidents in my day, all harmless, all less than tragic and, up until last night, all more than 15 years ago. You knock on wood, rub the rabbit's foot, utter om mani padme om a few times, and thank the stars for good fortune. Myabe it's sort of bad things happening to good people, obstacles thrown up in my way as a backhanded hint to stay vigilant, watch your back, keep the edge, and keep the good karma flowing. I'm OK with these less than monumental hurdles, it'll give me strength later on if something worse were to happen.
And until it does, I've got the eyes in the back of my head peeled and my karmic bank fully deposited. hope you do too...

March. In like a lion, out like a lamb. I think all marching should be done like a lion, paws forward, chest out, tail high...none of this lamb bullshit. Strut like you mean it, march like you have something to say, announce to the world that "I AM LION AND YOU WILL HEAR ME ROAR"...ya, like that. One more time and I'll feel good about moving on with my opinion....ready?...I AM LION AND YOU WILL HEAR ME ROAR.
Good.
Now, moving on, we can safely assume that things are not going to be the same around here, that change is blowing down the road and I have my thumb out hitchhiking. I have decided that my life up to this point has been too reactive, and from this point on, my motto is going to be PROACTIVE! I've decided to start taking this so called life by the horns and start dictating how I want to live it, not how IT wants me to live.
That being said, I will be taking the easy way out here shortly and making my exit stage left and heading back to alaska to work again on the Discovery. I know, I know, it's a step backwards you're saying , and I agree with you, but I also know that we are broke and this is the best/easiest way for me to cultivate a new and better relationship with a potential employer and to make some serious change. I need to get out of the hole, and this provides a quick and easy out,although I do miss softball season and the chance to compete for the starting shortstop job at 42. DAMN.
But, with all the ease and fortuitous fast cash you see coming my way, the Sam/Matt show may still be stuck in the same place in the fall as they are now. But, you forget that the new PROACTIVE Matt is not going to let that happen because he has many new ideas, promotions, and thoughts that will allow him to continue living with this wonderful woman and push through the dreary monotony of regular nine to five jobs and find himself something that will satisfy his thirsty curiosity for the new and the strange and the highly addictive.
You will see, because I will be a better boy, more creative friend, a better listener, a more conservative shopper, a less radical air guitar player and a definitely sounder sleeper.
To which I sound off and bid everyone a good night and a good night to everyone.

Ten minutes
Is this seat taken?...
Asked the stunningly beautiful redhead with her hands full. It was already the bottom of the third so I figured on having the empty seat next to me to hold the random detritus you bring and then somehow collect during a ballgame. Hat, jacket, beet,binoculars,half eaten bag of peanuts, program would all eventually spend some time in that seat. But not now, as beauty incarnate eyed me and my seat lasciviously. She had dark glasses covering what I imagine to be green eyes, but I could feel their intensity through the polarized lens. In one hand was a souvenir mug with expensive cheap beer while the other hand held a foot long with the works and a bun not big enough. The end of the dog pointed skyward lewdly and I couldn't help the smile starting to cross my face. She sidled by me, her breasts inches from my chest drawing my attention, however briefly, away from the game for the first time but not the last today. She sat down, said her name was Lindsey and that it was nice to meet me. I stammered a hello and quickly cracked a few peanuts to shove in my mouth while I looked for my composure. The ballgame quickly became secondary as we got the pleasantries out of the way and began to move into the realm of potential. It was 5-0 in the seventh when I asked her if she wanted to leave, beat the crowds and find a real drink.

another ten minutes
If today had a color...
It would be broken, a palette of stains neither bright nor dull. The sky morphed from blue to grey to white to black to pink, purple and red without so much as a sound. The forest reflected the light onto mossy trunks of brown, layers of green, the occasional burst of pink and the mottled tans of leafless branches. The streets were a washed out gray, the color of old dishwater too long standing, begging to be drained. Each day's color is a reflection of attitude from one person's perspective. I like to think that the brighter colors are reserved for those days when the sex was outstanding before heading off to work, or the bagel was exceptional, or the coffee barista flashed a smile that could have melted a glacier. Those are highlighter yellow, orange, neon green or pink days while at the other end of the spectrum lie those days when the alarm fails to go off, the bus is late, or you forgot to brush your teeth before heading out the door. Those days it's best to have a dark blue, purple, forest green or even brown to color the day with. I have found no days colored black or white, because we live in technicolor and nothing is that easy.

Ten minutes
You want me to do what?
I stared at him in disbelief, not because of what he was asking me to do, but because I was the newest member of this clique and I barely knew these guys. And they didn't know me except for what little I had told them in the mock interview I did, which barely concealed my laughter and lies as I sat at one end of a long table in a seedy downtown bar while the four of them sat across from me throwing shots back and questions forward. I have always been an avid liar, able to pour my imagination onto my tongue, liberating the most vivid aspects of my tortured mind. My face remained blank as I took my time studying them, not questioning their seriousness but their audacity in believing I would do what they wanted me to do. It wasn't out of the ordinary, nor violent, grotesque or dangerous. It was a game to them, I a mere pawn, and this bar would turn into the game board if I nodded my head. Cigarette smoke rose into my streaked eyes and I turned away to feast my eyes on the sexy unknowing bartender who was just about to participate in a bizarre ritual de lo habitual that I realized later this band of elfin hooligans had propagated over and over again through out the city.


Another Ten minutes
I laughed so hard...
Spit flew out of my mouth, boogers dropped from my nose in runny bombs and I think my ears even popped. Everyday life is absurd and funny enough but when you throw an unsuspecting cat lazily preening itself on a sunny patch of driveway and an inquisitive old dog into the mix, the entire day, even the week, becomes lighter and more entertaining. We were returning from a morning stroll, nothing early but it was before noon and there was still a touch of chill in the air. Cherry blossom trees were blooming red and white all over the city and spreading the wonderful bouquet of spring down the street. I don't usually pay too much attention to Abby when she walks because she is old, smart and not likely to bother anyone or anything. But today, she ambled up this driveway in all honest dogness looking to sniff a little kitty, not scare the piss out of it. The striped tabby with the gently swishing tail had her back turned to the approaching Abby and therefore had no idea what was happening, so when she shot into the air vertically with a screech and all five appendages splayed, fear and laughter rushed over us respectively. A five foot standing vertical leap is almost impossible, but with the grace and ease of a practiced feline, this cat accomplished it and hit the ground in stride, disappearing as quickly as she could, leaving both Abby and in disbelief, and me in hysterics.

I just recently had this idea of writing a novel based on all of these little short tidbits of stories I've been writing over the past month. It makes perfect sense for the short attention span theatre of today's society...write little snippets of stories like these ten minute vignettes I'm doing, and let people's imagination run away with them, instead of having me be their guide. That being said...here are three more blasts of fiction, written in ten minute blocks...see where it takes you.

She opened her eyes...
To the glaring blue sky framed by the tall branches of a coastal redwood. She could feel the breeze, smell the salt on the air and taste dried blood on the edges of her mouth. Blinking once, then again, she sank into the stillness that was now and without moving her head, cast her eyes about. Sound seemed to be long way away, as if she were underwater but with the crystal clarity of squeegeed glass. Her body was scratchy lying clothesless on the droppings of this forest and she wasn't sure how to achieve movement. From an unfathomable distance, strength came walking into her transfixed vision and offered a helping hand. With only her mind moving, she took the familiar crutch and in a snow-glass blur felt the whole world fall out from under her. The leaves gave way to space, the treetops receded into the blue heavens and darkness began to close the area around her vision. A "what was happening" fear quickly turned to careless relaxation as falling through time and space was effortless and peaceful.

The room was empty...
When they burst through the door of the second story apartment. Looking for the greasespots that ripped them off, Tony and Angie had followed the two hippies in the their caustic meanderings for the past two days. They had continually returned to this non-descript building on East 23rd to re-stock, re-fuel, have sex, and douse more patchouli on themselves two or three times a day. Hippies are a weird sot, and as Tony had found out, they are as opportunistic as hungry rats when it comes to dope. Not always the peace, love and "let's just get along' vibe that they make themselves out to be, but more along the lines of the 'let's get something for nothing, work the system and take advantage of every free lunch out there. It's one thing to be a drug user, quite another to be a drug thief. If you can't afford it, don't use it, a simple mantra to Tony and Angie and the principal reason they were dealers and not washed up into the corners of society like high tide detritus. They trusted their clients and their clients trusted them creating a rare network of circular good will when it came to drugs. But this was different as they surveyed the despair in the broken room of people living like animals in the third world. The only thing moving scurried from under the bed to behind the sink. A plate of filth sat on a littered table decorated by childish drawings of a junkie higher than a peach pie on Sunday.

Did you drop this?...
I found it walking down the street just north of the park I usually see you in. I happened to be out watching the trees slowly come out of their winter hibernation, seeing the new moms with their spring packages all tucked into warmth, and the dogs loping idiotically behind. It looked lonely and cold, not exactly dressed for the weather and seemingly out of place here in the city. You have one of those kind faces with smiling eyes that I think fondly of when I see something in my imagination that belongs to you. I wonder if you know it's missing, if you think you just misplaced it or you have a hole in your day because you know, just know deep down in your soul, that it up and walked out on you. In that case, should I try and return it, or tuck it in with me, feed it, love it, nurture it and watch it grow into a beauty only the stars can imagine?
What do you do with a found broken heart?

Eight Minutes
Afraid to see his face...
By the time they had left the smoky confines of that downtown bar she was no longer sure of her desires. They had been eating and drinking since the light of day, and now, pushing three in the morning, and staggering into the rain soaked street she had only heard the horn and screech of brakes. His head had turned into the oncoming light only to be whiplashed over the hood and into the windshield. A scream aimed at silence rose from her throat and bounced down the street like a golf ball on a cart path. The car stopped, blinking angry red tail lights and a door opened spilling a teetering man onto the pavement. His head was bleeding as disbelief flooded over his body. She moved closer to the scene, afraid of everything, including the pile of humanity prone on the hood of the late model Lexus. Walking as though dreaming, the driver's voice came through as if in a fog mumbling something about drunks and their place in the world. Standing with the door in her hand, the cracked windshield had blood racing down it and his face with his closed eyes and shredded skin became unrecognizable.

Ten minutes
Distillation...
My lunch break was cut short due to the exploded juice in my bag. Goddamn eco-friendly non-toxic paper thin containers. Bring back the can and bottle. I'm all for saving the Earth and leaving the ice for the polar bears, but this green movement is over the top. Soaps that don't clean. Herbs that don't cure. Plastic that doesnt cling. Food that doesnt taste. Toothpaste that encourages cavities. Stain that doesnt stain. Gas that smells like french fries. It's a consuming world and we are at the top of the food chain looking down on the spotted owl, the wood frog, the bald eagle and the third world. We covet, we desire, want bigger better faster more and the future be damned. I don't have kids or brothers, sisters or family so, Yes I am a cynical self serving ego-centric thorn in the side of today's society. I don't care. I live my life my own way. I don't toss cigarettes out my window or trash the sidewalks but I do drive everywhere, eat tuna, smoke pot, spend money on frivolous non-renewable products, gamble and have been known to shoot a squirrel or two with a BB gun. It's not a crime to be ignorant nor is it as uncommon as you greenies may think as most people only do the right thing because of public perception. Well, FUCK THAT. We're not all angels and most of us don't desire to be. We are products of our own making, a factory rife with pollutants populating the world with would-be do-gooders with the devil on every shoulder.


Eight minutes
In my pocket...
Is the general flotsam and jetsam of any given day, but on every day ending in a "y" is cash and a tube of hemp lip balm. I'm addicted to both in the worst way. I feel utterly and completely naked without my folded bills in the left front pocket and lip goo over there on the right. If I'm wearing shorts, they cohabitate. If I'm swimming they stay home in the locker/car/backpack. They get along as well as two addictions can, being wholly independent of each other and existing in separate but overlapping universes. If it wasn't for my pants, they would have nothing whatsoever in common and might possibly jump ship and strike out on their own. My faith in them though is unwavering and steadfast. I will be less likely to leave the house without clothes on then I am to leave without my two friends. They are a part of me, a single line in the multiple page description of who I am, two small inanimate objects living in a pocket.

It's that time of the decade when we do battle with the networks about television coverage of the olympics, and I have to say, that this year's edition is about the worst I've ever seen. It's bad enough that we have to watch tape delayed coverage from across the globe when the events are held multiple time zones away, but why the three hour lapse in coverage when it's on the west coast of our very own country?
MONEY, my friends, pure and simple.
The olympics are about spirit, the brotherhood of humanity and the dreams of athletes worldwide. They are not about money, yet NBC has turned a premium sporting event into their own personal pinata, busting the coverage for the sake of gathering all the dollar bills they can that fall to the floor. I am as pro american as the next guy but when all I see from NBC is the good ol stars and stripes in competition I begin to wonder if I'm watching the nationals instead of the worldwide olympics. Rarely has so few countries been so poorly represented as at these games. We see lindsey, we see shaun and his boyz, we see apollo and his protege, we see the figure skaters likely to win gold, but do we see any other competitors in any detail? Nope, we get snippets of competition and unlikely stories told in sidelights, we get highlights from the 'rest of the field'. We get more commercials than the superbowl and for what? taped delayed coverage that if you had any interest at all in following you would be better off perusing the internet for scores and highlights.
It's a wonderful event that NBC prez Dick Ebersol said is going to lose money for his network. Well, I can't say I feel sorry for dick, because his worry is not my problem as all I want to see is some unbiased coverage of what is supposed to be the greatest stage in the world for its athletes. And what is Cris Collingsworth doing commentating snowboarding???? Does he know anything about the sport?
So much for biased commentating as NBC has working the biggest set of 'homers' this side of chicago and harry caray. I guess I'm cranky because we watch so little tv and what we do watch we like to be entertained by and not talked down to, or told who to root for, or be part of that great american machine that we are made out to be.
The olympics ARE fun to watch, but not on NBC.