Monday, January 27, 2014

Fear of Heights and the 32nd Floor

I fear heights. Not just real high heights but short heights too. A third or fourth step on a step ladder is just as fearful as climbing the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

It wasn’t always like this for me. I used to enjoy the occasional ferris wheel, but that was before I crawled out of my teens and into my twenties. Overnight it seemed to all change. One day I was height friendly and the next I was height fearful.

According to my past life consultant in one of my past lives I died at the age of twenty falling from a great height. 


Was I hiking along a cliff and accidentally slipped, or did someone push me? Who would’ve pushed me? A psycho lover? An angry mob? Was this in ancient times or modern times?

Did I fall from the top of building or did I leap? Was it suicide?  Was I being chased by a Zombie and leapt from the building hoping to land on the roof of the next building and misjudged my leaping abilities?

Why oh why did this happen to me and why oh why am I plagued with this fear? 

I love looking at beautiful vistas… not from being high up but on calendars and postcards.

Changing a ceiling lightbulb takes the normal person a minute or two. For me it’s climbing one step of the stepladder, coming down, climbing two steps and coming down, climbing three steps and reaching for the light fixture…  repeating until I’m steady enough to unscrew the old lightbulb and… after another few ups and downs… screwing in the new lightbulb.

Sometimes darkness is better than light.

Not long ago I worked on the 32nd floor and my office had one wall of floor to ceiling windows. It took me a long time to be able to stand close to those windows (never closer than two feet) and admire the beautiful Los Angeles cityscape that lay before me.

I positioned my desk facing away from the window. I told everyone it was for good Feng Shui, but I lied.

What would of happened if I ran into my office so fast that I forgot the depth of the room and ran straight into the window?

Daily I feared a wild windy wind would blow from deep within the bowels of Mother Nature and fly across the atmosphere with such magnificent force it would suck out the windows and take me with it flying flying falling falling plopping like a bag of bones against the concrete below. I imagined myself bouncing from car roof to car roof until every bone was broken and my brain - my gorgeous high IQ brain - splattered everywhere.


Hot Air Ballooning is totally out of the question.

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

A Dead Body Lawn Ornament

 I was walking around Santa Monica, CA the other night and being the ever observant fellow I am I noticed what appeared to be an outline of a dead body on someone’s front lawn.  Entranced by curiosity (and a little excitement) I hurried to get a closer look.

It wasn’t a real body (damn!) but a mold of an outline of a body.

I immediately remembered the time I saw a dead body in the combat zone of Boston late one night and watched the police office outline it’s rather bloated plump remains with chalk. What I was doing in the combat zone late night will forever remain a secret, but the image remains a defining moment in the timeline of my life.

Of course I began to think of a possible scenario of how this body got there and why.

I imagined a person was indeed killed in that very spot (late night of course) and the killer (the homeowner) dragged the body the few block to the ocean, tied a concrete block around its head, and dumped it over the pier.  Then as a sadist joke the homeowner (aka the killer) created the dead body lawn ornament as a memorial so every time he looks out his window he can fondly remember his criminal deed and smile triumphantly knowing the dead bastard will never be found.

In the warmer months I imagine it’s filled with water and koi fish, and in the cooler months empty and cold as warning to all passers by not to mess with the owner of the house. 

In an act of bold defiance and pure fearlessness I snuck onto the lawn and gently laid inside the mold of the dead body.  I fit perfectly. 

I was about to take a selfie with my cell phone when I noticed the curtains in the nearby window slowly part. A pair of steely eyes met mine and for a brief moment we shared an understanding, an acknowledgment of what happened in that very spot possibly not too long ago.  A thrilling chill ran up and down my spine.  I was connecting with a murderer.  I felt powerful.  I felt alive.  

Then I saw the barrel of a rifle pointing out the window. My adrenaline soared and I quickly bolted up and ran faster than I’ve ever run before. 


I want a lawn ornament just like that on my front yard.