Born Again

Born Again
By Andy Brown

She couldn’t believe she played the game
Honestly thinking he wasn’t the same
He smiled and there weren’t teeth but fangs
Can’t contrast white and white
But to everyone else she was fine
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

So one night, words lead to fists,
He said he couldn’t stand any of this
Why was he mad when he cheats?
He storms out and says “I
Don’t believe this.” But wasn’t he a different guy?
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

And then one night she began to drink
To her youth and to her defeat
From a bottle with skull and crossbones.
She woke up, day two, from a pain in her side
Forced to realize there was nowhere to hide
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

Things looked up since then
She had met a different guy again
Who was unlike the rest.
She figured that she would give a try
They hadn’t got anything to hide
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

Another night she had long since dread
With a pre-conceived notion in her head
That he wanted more than she could give
And they fought, they laughed, they cried
They stayed safe and together that night
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

She told him she had been down this road before
Two times and she couldn’t go one more
Life can be kind of cruel like that.
He looked away, then laughed and smiled
Unable to understand the pain inside
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

He held her and told her it would be alright
That she could take anything from him she liked
That he was going to make it all better for her
She pushed him away and told him she denied
She wasn’t innocent despite
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

She’s moved on since then
But he’s back where he began
Square one wasn’t that far.
He’s on his way home for the night
But she still has will to fight
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes.

A Boy Named Joshie

A Boy Named Joshie
By Andy Brown

Please, please, come in. Sit down. Would you care for a drink? No? How about something to eat? My wife is in the midst of making these just absolutely wonderful crab cakes. They are to die for. We have those with a little red wine, it really brings out the flavor. How’s work been? I hear we’ll be having a visit from the president of the company soon. Everyone’s minding their “p’s” and “q’s” for this one. Hmm, I wonder how we’ll do. How are the kids? They doing alright in school? That’s great to hear. As for mine, well one’s a real troublemaker, but we got him under control. He’s just at that age when he’s acting out. Actually I have this really interesting story I’d love to tell you about. Please, sit. Let’s get some more wine.
---
There were people everywhere. They were running back and forth. From where the boy and the old man were sitting, they could only catch snippets of conversations: “Honey, do you have the tickets?”, “Where’s the nearest ATM?”, “Diet coke, please.”
“Figures,” the old man sitting next to him huffed, “Another bunch of crazy kids being stupid. When I was there age you had two options, you either fought in ‘Nam or you were arrested doing otherwise.”
He turned the page of his newspaper. The boy’s eyes caught the front page, it read: “Three students killed in college shooting.”
They sat there, the two, amongst the bustle of the crowds. “Flight 97 is ready for boarding,” a ghostly voice said. Strange men and women dressed in nice business suits were running through the halls. One of the strange woman’s suitcase opened, causing a litter of clothing to jump onto the floor. Atop these was a set of pink panties. She quickly attacked the pile of clothes, blushing and spitting curses under her breath. The other people just stared at her as they passed. The boy didn’t think anyone actually noticed the pair of underwear, other than the woman. She was all embarrassed. She closed her bag and quickly ran down the hall to catch up with the other dressed-up men and women.
The boy turned to the old man, “I can touch my eye, wanna see?”
Before the old man could say anything, the boy pulled at his bottom eyelid and proceeded to poke at his eyeball. The man cringed in disgust and pulled his paper up over his face.
“Flight 97 is now leaving.”
The boy sat there for a moment, then began humming a song. His head was rocking back and forth and he was steadily drumming a beat on his leg.
“Look, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to read the news,” the man huffed again.
“Why do people read the news?” the boy asked, tilting his head, still drumming on his leg.
“To understand what’s happening in the world,” the man responded.
“Why are people so interested in what’s going on in the world? They have plenty going on at home.”
“Son, it’s our duty as Americans to understand what’s wrong with the world and how we can fix it.”
“Why do we have to fix it? Why don’t we spend our time fixing our own problems instead of everybody else’s problems?”
The man put down his newspaper. He inhaled for a brief moment, as though he was about to say something, but decided not to. He thought for a moment.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions. You have a name, boy?”
“Yup, it’s Joshua Fletcher Robertson, but I like Joshie.”
“Alright, Joshie, my name is Walter Green. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You want to see me touch my eye again?”
---
As you may have guessed, Joshie is our hero of the story. But we’re a little to far ahead of ourselves right now, let’s take a step back in time.
---
“Crash!”
Joshie’s eight year old hands brought together a Superman and a Batman action figure with such force that it made a loud noise.
“Joshie, stop all that nonsense. I’m trying to concentrate,” his old mother crooned.
The sun was low in the sky. Its golden-orange waves shone in through the windows. The small, square house was not unlike the others in the neighborhood. Each small, square house was perfectly spaced apart from the previous small, square house. Each lot was the same size, each with its own mailbox and its own shrubbery up the walkway.
Joshie sat in a small, square room hammering away at his toys. His mother was in the other room bent over a pot of boiling water. She was muttering something under her breath. Her blonde hair looked red in the sun. There was a mellow drone of a television in the background. From what Joshie could hear, it sounded like an old woman giving instructions to make something. His mother was desperately trying to keep up with the old woman.
There was a gentle breeze outside that caused a set of wind chimes somewhere in the neighborhood to jingle. A few birds quickly scurried from place to place in the middle of the street when suddenly a small car zoomed in. The sound of the little engine caused the birds to quickly take off. The little car zipped into the driveway of the small, square house.
“Daddy’s home!”
There they were, the three, sitting at the dinner table. It was silent. A long, rectangular table caused Joshie’s mother to sit at one end, and his father to sit at the other. Joshie was left to sit in between the two of them.
“How was work, dear?”
The scrawny man at the other end of the table shot up out of his seat. He grabbed his napkin off of his lap and threw it down on the table. He threw it with such force that his neck tie flew up over his shoulder. He huffed and his face began to turn red.
“You want to know how work went? I’ll tell you how work went. My boss, the fucking retard that he is, hired a new idiot to be my partner. The damn motherfucker doesn’t even know how to run Microsoft goddamn Excel. He’s such a fucking loser! The both of them can just go to hell for all I care.”
Joshie sat in between his mother and his father, at the long rectangular table in the small square house. He was looking down into his plate as though he would see something change if he stared long enough. He was pushing the peas on his plate back and forth.
“And then, you know what the motherfucker was saying? What he was saying was he was talking about how fucking great his goddamn kid was. Playing in soccer games and winning trophies and all that shit. And then he asked if I had any kids and I said I did but he’s too much of a dumb ass to win any trophies.”
“Honey, please keep your voice down. Don’t yell in front of Joshie.”
---
Of course, things didn’t get better for Joshie and his family. Countless nights he would be kept up late at night by the sounds of a poor woman and a monster.
---
The boy left the old man and boarded his plane. Before the boy left, he showed the man that he could touch his eye, again. The man didn’t look away this time, he laughed instead.
Joshie sat quietly on the plane. He had his headphones in his ears and he was dancing. Loud techno music blared out. A woman with a baby sat next to him. The baby was fast asleep, the woman, however, looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. The boy was pretending he was playing the drums. He held his hands as though there were sticks in them and began swinging wildly at the air.
“Hey,” the woman said, “HEY!” she was hitting his arm, trying to get his attention.
Joshie looked at her and smiled and proceeded to continue air-drumming. The woman pulled one of his ear buds out and looked at him sternly.
“Can’t you see that my child is slee--” the baby began crying. “Great, thanks a lot.”
People sitting all around them began complaining. There were a few soft “pings” of buttons on the ceiling. Joshie looked at the woman, puzzled, and pulled his headphones out of his ears.
“What’s all the commotion?”
The lady looked at him sourly, “you woke my child up! Now he’ll never get back to sleep.”
Joshie proceeded to look at the baby. The baby stopped crying. Joshie began pulling at his face and his cheeks. He made an assortment of funny faces and noises. The baby smiled and laughed. The woman just sat in sheer amazement. Joshie put his headphones back on and began air-drumming, yet again. The baby watched quietly and smiled. His hands reached out for Joshie and Joshie smiled. The baby laughed and then tucked his head back into his mother’s breast, and within minutes, fell back asleep.
---

Joshie woke up one morning and there were police cars outside of his home. The lights flashed blue and red through the windows. He arose out of his bed and slowly started down the hall. There were people everywhere. They were moving and pushing each other. There was a flash from a camera. He overheard snippets of conversations: “Died not but an hour ago,” “See the marks on the neck here? Strangulation,” “Yes, sir. Right away.”
Joshie looked confusingly around. There were an unusual amount of people piled into his parent’s bedroom.
“Joshie?”
He wheeled around to see an old woman.
“Granny!’
Her hands quickly swept him up and pulled him tight. His head was devoured by the woman’s saggy breasts. He tried to push away, but she pulled harder. She picked him up and took him outside.
“Granny, what’s happening? Where’s mommy?”
---
The airplane landed and Joshie stood in the middle of the Brooklyn airport. He looked around. Flashing lights blinded him. He pulled off his backpack and pulled out a small, square piece of paper. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Dear son, I have left. I don’t love your mother anymore. The life I was living was a lie. There so much left for me to do, and I’m still so young. I can’t be tied down. One day you’ll understand.”
---
“What’s the news, doctor?”
His grandmother sat in the waiting room, Joshie sat in the office. The doctor stood between the two.
“His mother’s death has taken a great toll on him. He’s having trouble maturing mentally. He still has the mindset of an eight year old. This is primarily due to the trauma the death of his mother and the leaving of his father brought him. He’ll be this way for quite some time. There’s not much we can do for him, he’ll just have to get past it himself.”
Joshie sat in the doctor’s office, all alone. He held his scuffed Superman action figure in his hand. He was pretending it was flying through the air. It was a strange sight, seeing an eleven year old boy acting as though he was eight. He had grown so much that he could pass for fifteen or sixteen. His long hair covered over his eyes. He was dressed in a green “Lucky Charms” shirt with a long sleeve shirt underneath. His blue jeans were dirty and grass stained.
---
He brushed a few crumbs off of his nice, clean pants. He folded up the tin foil with the words “Burger King” all over it. He stood up from the cold, hard, plastic seat and walked to the trash can. Joshie reached into his pocket and produced the small note once more. He reread the last line: “If one day you want to see me again, I live on first street in Brooklyn.”
---
“Hey there! What’s your name?”
Joshie sat in a tiny, hard, plastic chair. He was surrounded by many small children. They were all whispering amongst themselves.
“Joshie”
“Joshie? That’s a nice name.”
The sun shone in through the windows. It was early in the morning and the birds were chirping. The room smelled of paint and chalk dust. On the board were the words “Mrs. Jay’s fourth grade class.”
There was a low hum outside and Joshie’s grandmother walked out of the car. She stepped into the school through the large swinging doors. The school smelt of vomit and old textbooks. She walked down the hallway. Each step seemed to take her away from her destination. She stood in the doorway of the principle’s office.
“Please, come in. Sit down.”
Joshie’s grandmother sat across from a short, fat man in a suit. He smiled. The room was decorated with pictures of the man and his children. There was an apple on his desk. A file cabinet behind him was littered with cards. Birthday cards, holiday cards, and “get well soon” cards.
“We understand Joshie’s condition, and we’re willing to make the accommodations for him. But we’re afraid that he just doesn’t meet the requirements to move on to the grade level appropriate for his age. He’ll just have to repeat the fourth grade again.”
---
Joshie stepped into the taxi cab outside the airport. He had no luggage with him, and the driver found this to be very odd.
“Where’ll be, buddy?”
“152 Main Street, please.”
The car zipped down the road and on to the highway. It was quiet inside the cab, aside from the low hum of the engine. The radio was on and there were faded sounds of the news playing through the speakers.
“Hey, aren’t you kind of young to be traveling alone?”
“I’m fifteen and I’m running away from home.”
“C’mon kid, you cant run away from home. Here, where do you live, I’ll take you back.”
“I live in California.”
“Well that ain’t gonna work then. You got a name or something?”
“Yeah…it’s Joshua Fletcher Robertson, but you can call me Joshie.”
“Joshie, huh. You got a pretty unique middle name, kid. Where’s that come from?”
“I don’t know. It’s a family name. It’s like an arrow, you know, like the feathers on the back are called ‘fletching’. Ever seen an arrow fly in slow motion? It doesn’t fly straight. Well, it does, but it wobbles all over the place. Weird, huh?”
“You’re a strange kid, you know that?”
The cab driver turned around when he said that, but Joshie wasn’t paying attention. He was humming loudly and rocking back and forth in his seat.
“Hey, kid, you listening to me?”
---
His grandmother sat on the floor of her kitchen in her small, rectangular house. She was crying heavily. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. In her hands she held a napkin with scribbling on it.
“Dear Granny,” it read. It was written in crayon. “I’m going out for a wile. I will be bak very soon. Im taking my moneys that I have saved from my piggy bank. I love you very vry much. (heart), Joshie.” Underneath that were the words, “P.S. Don’t forget to feed Rover. P.P.S I love you.” And underneath that was the drawing of two stick figures holding hands.
---
Joshie stood before the door of a small house. On the door were the numbers “152”. He rang the doorbell once.
“Go away,” a voice from the inside yelled.
He rang again.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
The voice grew louder and louder until the door opened and the voice was matched with a body.
“Oh my God, Joshie! Joshie, what are you doing here?”
“You told me in your note, if I ever wanted to see you again, I could. So here I am.”
“And here you are, my son. What can I do for you?”
“It’s not what I can do for you, its what I can do for mommy.”
As he said this he brought his hand up by his head and threw it forward. His fist met his father’s face.
---
And that was the story of a boy named Joshie. Wild, isn’t it? What some kids will do nowadays. Oh, well, it’s almost time for dinner. Did you enjoy your wine? It’s a rare red wine, 1876. Amazing isn’t it?
“Joshua, dinner’s ready.”
Come, that’s our call. So, tell me about you. How are the little ones?

My White Friends

My White Friends
By Andy Brown

The sun sets and day turns to night,
She reaches out and turns off the light.
Dive into a cabinet, grab a bottle of pills
Damned if you do

Hours past and night turns to day,
But she’s already awake.
Toss and turn, medicine’s a curse
Open a hand

She smiles a crooked smile,
And she walks in a semi-straight line
She hurts inside, but tells you she’s fine
Damned if you don’t

Diseases should be banned
Turn on the light
Close a hand
I’m just fine

Paradise

Paradise
By Andy Brown

Do I remember her? Of course I remember her, she sat behind me in a few of my classes. She was soft spoken but quick to yell “God bless you”. She had a little smile that would just knock you out and hands that could never hurt. Talk of the school was an understatement. Constantly involved in activities with Him, and a straight ‘A’ student. If eyes were ever set on anyone...

What happened to her? She’s an angel now, of course. Long since left us and flew far away, but her sunshine has darkened since then. She goes to a school far away from here. She walks in paradise with the snake, who’s welcoming grin bears teeth. The angel is nervous, she reaches out a hand and the snake has none to give her. A mouth that once spoke comforts to the angel now spits venom. She is confused; she looks at her hand and sees she holds the apple from the tree of knowledge. The sunshine fades and paradise is dark and aflame. How did this happen, she asks herself. You’re nothing, he tells her. The angel tries to fly away but her wings are clipped. She sits on the floor of her dorm room clutching a silver cross. Her sweet eyes, filled with tears, are looking for help. She’s lost. But a hand reaches out to her. She takes His hand and is lifted up. The hand destroys the snake and brings the light back into her life.

Where is she now? Paradise.

Final Essay

Im done with this class. Yay. Here's that piece of crap.

The Best Laid Plans of Lennie and George
“The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley,” were the words written by Scottish poet Robert Burns. The idea behind the poem “To A Mouse” is that the difference between a man and a mouse is that the man will constantly question why things have to be the way they are. The mouse, however, will just continue to work. These same words drove John Steinbeck to write the award-winning novel Of Mice and Men. Though it is clear to the reader which of the characters represents the man, and which represents the mouse, it is even clearer which of their plans go “aft agley”.
At the beginning of the novel, the heroes live with an idealistic heaven that drives them to continue with their tedious work. They have a proverbial “American Dream” of living on a big farm and working for no one but themselves. They would get up in the mornings when they chose, and retire in the evenings when they chose. In their fantasy, no one persecutes Lennie for being mentally handicapped, or George for taking care of Lennie. They simply live together happily. Unfortunately, a mix of poverty and lack of jobs causes society to crush their dream.
Being in the Great Depression, there was a lack for industrial workers, so men often had to look into being field hands. This brought George and Lennie to the Salinas Valley in California. They were quick to find a job at a nearby ranch. At the farm, the heroes begin a continuous struggle to keep their dream alive. They encounter characters that push their beliefs to the limit: Curley, who would stop at nothing to bring Lennie down; Carlson, who was a depressing realist; and Slim, who delivered the burden of society by being the leader. Through their journeys they encounter death, disease, racism, and depression. Life on the farm is pitiful. The workers are in the fields early in the morning until late at night. Nothing drives them but their next paycheck and the thought of going into town to see a prostitute.
This did not hold true for George and Lennie, though. Through the midst of the depression, they managed to holdfast to their dreams. They even got the old man, Candy, to want to join in. Candy offers a portion of his saving to help the boys pay. It all seems as though everything is falling into place. Unfortunately, it all comes crashing down with the death of Curley’s wife. When the members of the farm find her dead and Lennie is to blame, they begin a manhunt. After some time running, they come across an already dead Lennie. George, having killed his best friend, walks away in shame. In the final scene, George asks Lennie to remember the dream. This helps George with what he is about to do, but it also helps Lennie, in that he will not feel pain in his final moments. With the boys envisioning paradise, it brings the novel to a close similar to the way it opened, the two fantasizing over what may never be.
Steinbeck most likely chose this way to end the novel similarly to the way he ended other scenes in the book. For instance, Candy’s dog was old and helped no one, and Candy had him put down, similarly to Lennie; or the way the novel began with the boys on the run and ended with the boys on the run. Perhaps what Steinbeck is trying to get at is that even though mice and men have plans, they will go “agley.” That no matter how hard they try, there will never be anything but more work.

My life soundtrack

So I saw that Harter had this and I just had to make one of my own (Damn this was hard):IF YOUR LIFE HAS A SOUNDTRACK WHAT WOULD BE THE SONG FOR:
Opening Credits: Anthem For the Underdog - 12 Stones
Waking Up: Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra
First Day At School: Basket Case - Green Day
Falling In Love: Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses
Losing Virginity: You Shook Me All Night - AC/DC
Fight Song: Headstrong - Trapt
Breaking Up: Interstate Love Song - Stone Temple Pilots
Prom: Drain You - Nirvana
Life: Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne
Mental Breakdown: Paint It Black - Rolling Stones
Driving: Big Empty - Stone Temple Pilots
Flashback: Doesn't Remind Me - Audioslave
Getting Back Together: Creep - Radiohead
Wedding: Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Birth of a Child: My Name is Jonas - Weezer
Final Battle: The Trooper - Iron Maiden
Death Scene: Burning Bright - Shinedown
Funeral Song: Afterlife - Avenged Sevenfold
End Credits: Be Yourself - Audioslave

Dear Allison

Dear Allison
By Andy Brown

The screen is black.

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, hey you! Haven’t heard from you in forever! We missed you at Christmas. Robert played some songs on the piano and we all sang along. It was a great time. Send us a postcard or something to let us know you’re still alive. Love you!

[Fade in from black]

The screen fades in to show a sunny fall afternoon. There are sounds of nature in the background.

[Int. room with desk]

The camera zooms in on a girls hand writing in a notebook.

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, hey… we haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything ok? You’re worrying us, Allison. Please come back home. We love you so much.

The camera shows the girl get up and stand before a window. The light silhouettes her and makes it hard for the audience to see what the girl looks like.

[Ext. walkway, park]

The screen changes from the cabin to a walkway outside. It is still sunny out. Camera follows Allison as she walks all by herself. She is looking at the ground.

Jenny:
Allison!

Allison doesn’t look up.

Jenny:
Allison! Wait up!

She runs up and walks beside Allison. Allison doesn’t acknowledge her.

Jenny:
Hey silly! What’s up?

Allison:
Nothing…

Jenny:
I had to tell you as soon as I heard: Miss Beth is going to bring us a cat! I’m so excited! I love kitties and I haven’t held one since…well, I’m so excited.

Allison:
Do you ever talk to Robert?

Jenny:
Robert? You know he’s been dead for years now…

Allison:
I know…I miss him

Jenny:
I know you do…I know

[Fade to black]

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, Robert’s grown so big! Another year and he’ll be taller than you! He’s doing so good in school. He brought home his report card and he was so excited. He made all ‘A’s! We’re so proud of him. There’s another thing though…his teacher called. She says that he’s having trouble making friends. She thinks he has autism…she gave us the name of a really great child psychiatrist. Pray for him.

[Fade in from black]
[Ext. outside log cabin]

The screen fades in to show a bright summer day. Two girls are running and playing in a large open field and there is a boy sitting at the edge of the porch, looking down.

Girl 1:
I’m going to get you!

The girls run and laugh and play and the boy remains seated without looking up.

Allison:
Robert! Why don’t you come play with us?

Robert remains seated. A car pulls up and a man dressed up pulls a box out of the back seat.

Allison:
Daddy! You’re home! What’s that?

The man bends over with the box and shows the children that insides is a group of kittens.

Father:
I found these little guys on the side of the road. Who would want to get rid of them?

The girls laugh and play with the kittens, but Robert remains seated and looking away. The man approaches with a kitten in hand.

Father:
Robert, do you want to see the kittens? I brought them home for you.

The man hands a kitten to Robert. Robert looks up and smiles. His face lights up and he silently plays with the kitten. He makes no sound.

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, there’s something wrong with Robert. He just stays in his room all the time. He doesn’t talk to anyone. We’re afraid its getting worse. All he does all day is write. He just sits in his room and…and writes. He wont come down for dinner, or anything. We’re worried. We found his journal one day and…you should see the things he writes. We’re worried he’s going to hurt somebody….we’re worried he’s going to hurt himself.

The camera changes to show a grown, 17 or 18 year old Robert seated on his bed, petting a full grown cat. He has in his lap a composition book and a pen in hand. He looks out the window and then writes something in his journal. He pets the cat, then writes something. There’s a knock at the door. Enters his parents. They sit at the edge of the bed.

Mother:
Robert…Robert, there’s something we need to talk about…

Robert looks at her and says nothing.

Father:
Son, we need to talk about…

[Fade to black]
[Fade in from black]

The screen shows the older Robert in the room by himself. It is just a few hours later, night time outside. You see Robert reach into his bedside table and withdraw a handgun. The screen goes black and there is a gunshot.

[Fade to black]

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, we…we had to move out…we had to get away from the memories. We hope you’re enjoying your new life…the doctors are really great out there…we…we love yo--

[Fade in from black]
[Int. Bedroom]

The scene is dark and you see Allison jerk awake in her bed. She rolls over.

[Int. Large visiting room, psychiatric ward]

There are many people of all ages walking around and talking to one another. In the middle of the room sits Allison with a composition book in her arms. A door opens and enters Miss Beth with a cat in her hands. All the people flock over to see the cat, Allison remains seated without looking up.

Woman:
Oh lookie at the kitty. How cute…

Man:
I WANT TO SEE THE KITTY.

Miss Beth approaches Allison.

Beth:
Allison, don’t you want to see the kitty?

Allison turns away.

Beth:
Allison, I brought him over for you…I found him on the side of the road…His name is Robert…

Allison quickly shakes her head and Miss Beth walks away. Allison quickly opens her composition book and begins writing.

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, I miss the way things used to be. Back when it was you and me and Robert. So much has changed…I don’t like change. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You’ve changed…Allison…Allison…pl

ease come home…
The camera zooms in on Allison’s hand as she writes. It zooms in on the page.

Girl (VO):
Please…Love, Allison.

[Fade to black]
[End]