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Chapter Five Requiem Eternum



(Rowan’s note) I have to interject because it was pretty embarrassing to read about my Father’s love life. Apparently it was a good one( or an eventful one), and I figured since I was a result of that, that it’s not so bad.


Also, while he certainly had his lovers, the loves were few and her waxed extensively about each. So I’ll try to construct a chapter for each, and his… escapades.


I’m also fairly confident at this point the intended method was to listen to a song while the reader commences with this chapter. I remember him writing a lot and having headphones blaring in his ears. I always wondered how he could concentrate on what he was writing. I suppose he already had the story in his head.


The notes contained with this chapter are vague, at best, but it appears my Father was drinking quite heavily and listening to a variety of music while he did so. I’m not entirely sure if he wished the reader to listen during the read, but if the reader does wish to do so he did include the names of some of the songs. They are as follows: Estranged by Guns N Roses, Desperado by the Eagles, and Hummingbird by B.B. King. Excuse the interruption, and enjoy the rest.










Sincerely,






Rowan Lynch






This fucking song…. It had haunted me for sometime. The piano. I’ve always been a fan of piano.. Hang on crescendo…
In truth it is such a sad song. One of revenge. Vengeful loving. Who needs that in their life?
“I jumped into the river, too many times to make it home.. I’m out here on my own, and drifting all alone…” too true Axl.



Ah yes, love. I suppose this is the chapter of my life where I intimate my failings and you, the reader, will have drawn the simplest conclusions which I had not seen. I suppose being in this life, and in this body has its’ drawbacks. I can’t always just pull myself out, and enter into the third party perspective. Where to begin within the world of Lamoure…


One idea is that it could be split into a threesome. Mind, body, and heart. My mind had always been a steel trap, even when I was stoned. My body was at times rock solid, but as of late I hadn’t really cared much about its’ upkeep. Seriously, why bother? It’s going to die. A like metaphor is that you’re given one car to use, you don’t get to pick it, some are given SUVs some Mustangs, but… if you’re given a mustang do you use it like it’s supposed to be used? Well I did. I’ve used the shit out of this mustang, and I’ve beaten this body down. My heart… I’d say my heart is my weakest link. My mind is cold and calculating. I know your buttons because I’ve studied you and you never even realized it. Actually, watching Hannibal Lecter in action in Silence of the Lambs (not the eating parts but the mind fucking parts) was kind of scary. I was thinking… niiiice! I’d so love to be able to just tear any fucker up like that! (again the mind fucking parts not the eating parts) And so I have. I’ve made hard men sit there and weep. I’ve made harder folk not weep right then and there, but I know they went home and did so over a bottle of something. I’ve been called a cold heartless prick bastard, and that was before it all got going. Some call it being aloof. The anonymous astrologers do anyways. It goes along with being Aquarian they told me. My opinion on the matter is that… I don’t give a fuck. I don’t really care what little thing is bothering you. I don’t care because … well. I’m heartless I suppose. Which is ironic because my heart is my weak point. Having a military type mind (ala Sun Tzu) I probe myself for weakness all the time. If others think it’s uncomfortable being under my microscope, I laugh. Try being ME under my microscope! And they think I’m heartless and cold to them! HA!



I suppose in my realm, love and lust (lack of a better word) go hand in hand. From the earliest crushes of my youth to the wives I’ve had. Though it wasn’t always about sex. Sex is fun, and had taken on a sort of spirituality as of late, but that’s not the whole of the story. It was more about knowing someone. Knowing that I wasn’t all that alone here. That someone cared enough to desire to be with me. Not for the face I was given, nor the body I was given, nor even the penis I was given. But the whole of me! Imagine that! I’ve always been poor, so getting together because I had money was never a concern… I’d been a stripper so I always saw through the people that would look upon this body, and into these eyes with the hungry look of desire. I see it still. I saw it the other day. Man, some of the shit I’d done while stripping. I laugh to myself because it makes for humorous tales.

Why yes, I did mount a woman’s chair and beat her on the head with my dick while her husband sat there and stuffed more twenties in my G-string!
Why yes I did allow them to take me home, and yes I did completely understand why she would want another. Poor bastard. I didn’t know they made them that small.


But to grade school I suppose is the first stop on the love train. Her name was Amy and she had closely cropped red hair. Nice big lips that she got picked on for, not in front of me because I‘d smack a motherfucker, but no doubt she uses to her advantage these days. I didn’t want to kiss her so much, or hold her hand. Just her attention. Her acknowledgement of me. I am here! I do exist! Yes I do like you! Yes I will check the box!


As I grew into the spiritual aspects of my youthful life, such things seemed to melt away. These desires took second place to that of service. Yet, the next door neighbor… I didn’t know her name. Carol maybe. She and her husband lived in the downstairs apartment of my next door neighbor’s house. There was a window that gave a full view of the couch, and she lay just watching TV, chillin’. The window was one of those small rectangular ones, and it lay just above ground level. It was also hidden from view by a huge bush. So I sat there. I watched her. She sat, in silken pajamas, dark curly hair flowed to her shoulders, and framed her well sculpted face. She laughed every now and then at whatever it was she was watching. She had pretty teeth. I wanted her to know I was there, because it was rude and kinda scary of me to be doing what I was doing. But I also didn’t want to get into trouble. So I went around the side, and knocked on the door, then bolted as quickly as I could to my hidden peek-a-boo spot. I continued this kind of weird game until I lost interest, not really I figured sooner or later I‘d get into trouble.


The end of junior high was no picnic for me. I didn’t like the popular girls, I liked a girl named Paula, and another named Danielle. Paula seemed to like me. She was of Italian decent, had a big nose, and also had the budding virginal body of a teenage girl. So, I had one girlfriend until high school, and that was in the sixth grade. I wouldn’t call her a girlfriend so much in the sexual boyfriend/girlfriend sense. She was my first date though. We went to see Spaceballs and almost didn’t get in because it was rated PG-13! The tubby bitch finally caved once she saw the anguish in my face I suppose. So, hand in hand, we partook of our first date in life. It was nice.


My first actual love I suppose was a girl named Brenda. This is a complicated issue because… we weren’t supposed to be in love. We were distantly related. Then again, so was FDR and Eleanor. So, while I did find her incredibly beautiful and great to be around; we played the role of cousins. We were the same age, and of somewhat like interests. Mostly we just liked being around the other. I lived on the North Shore of Boston, and she lived on the South Shore. A train ride away! We would often sleep over the other’s house, maintaining the distance the title cousin afforded and expected. Yet, lying just underneath was the love. The adoration. We would often spend time in the city itself, just walking around. We’d go to the malls in town and eat taco bell, go by Stairway to Heaven, which was an incredible record store that is longer there. I bought a back patch once that was Led Zeppelin’s Swan Song in full color. I sewed it onto a leather jacket of mine. I remember she’d met me at the train station in Downtown Crossing with some friends of hers. I got off the train, and she was there. I didn’t pay the rest much mind. I just was happy enough to see her. Likewise. But whatever it was they were discussing they understood as once I got there, looked at me, looked at her, and said,
“Ohhhh I got it. Giiiirll!!”
They poked her, and they went away. I was content with the results (she and I alone in a metropolis), and we went on our merry way.


We went to high school, and of course there were beautiful girls all about me. I sent one of those Valentines’ Day roses to a girl and didn’t get a thank you or so much as a smile. That kind of sucked.



My sophomore year was when I got a girlfriend, and that relationship lasted the entirety of high school. Her name was Susanna, and she was a year below me. Being on the football team, we’d often go to watch the girl’s volleyball team practice after our own practice was done. Mainly it was so we could watch the young titties bounce, and girls in spandex….well there’s not much better at that age. There was a little girl that all the guys were wowed over. A freshman at that! She could put BOTH legs behind her head! I watched, and smiled. She was indeed flexible.


The volleyball team had a tournament in the same town that Brenda lived in. So I called her to tell her I’d be at the gymnasium, and she should come hang out. While I was waiting on Brenda to show, Susanna and I started talking. It went from there. I lost my virginity to her on the balcony of our school’s amphitheater. I felt bad because it must have hurt her like hell. I didn’t realize at this point in life, that I had a rather large penis. Even at that age I could fit into a Magnum condom. Not that we used them, but I tried one on to see what it was like. I tried to jerk off, and felt nothing. I figured what the hell is the point of having sex if you can’t feel it. The dangers versus the pleasures I suppose. I opted for the latter. So, I didn’t grow a fondness for the things…ever.


We did the usual boyfriend/girlfriend things I suppose. Went to dances and made out, went to the movies and made out. Waited on her Dad to pick her up from school…. And made out.
We were one of the school’s established couples I suppose. Alex and Sue. Always together, and always ridiculously in love.


We fought a lot, and in youthful anger I yelled at her. I beat up a lot of guys that would dare to even look at her. All the while, Brenda and I continued our cousins charade. I enjoyed the both of them immensely. I’d have to say those were some of the happier years of my life, especially considering what had followed thereafter. I was in love with two girls that were also in love with me. Life could not get much better yeah?


Senior year halfway through there came a point where we were supposed to have take the SAT by. This was in January to be precise. I was under the impression that if I hadn’t taken it by then I was basically screwed with getting into College that year. Knowing damn full well that if I were to go to college now would be the best time and I didn’t want to “get a job and go to work” quite yet. In short, I wouldn’t make it a year to get into College. One night, while playing basketball at the Y, I was talking with my bud Mikey and he’d reminded me that his Dad was a Marine and that it was a good thing. We had been watching the film Navy Seals a lot at that point, and being able to see myself being able to do such feats, I was down.
“Fuck it.”
I believe was the exact conclusion I drew. A kid that was on his way to Parris Island in a few months was going to be on our team and thus had heard our conversation. I wanted to tell him, initially, that he should keep his fucking ears to himself, but let him continue instead. In retrospect I should’ve boxed his ears for him.


So we did it. Together we said “Fuck it”. My best friend and I had joined the United States Marine Corps, together. We were to be in the same platoon in boot camp. The rest should go according to schedule, and barring any flaws, we’d have been in the same platoon straight through boot camp and MCT (Marine Combat Training) at SOI (School of Infantry).


Boot camp went smoothly enough. We had a mess duty week where I was in charge of the trash. My station was on the back docks of the Third Battalion’s Chow Hall. I got to pick two helpers. I’d coordinate when the trash needed replacing and send the guys in. Of course trying to lead form the front I was pulling cans also. We had worked out hookups with other departments. The bakery was a very good one to have. One thing held me back I feel. I never got one letter from Susanna. I did grow distraught over this and asked my Senior DI how I could get a phone call home. His reply was that I must make every opponent I had in the next days boxing matches bleed. The set included someone from your own platoon. I got the fuck up. Dopey and redneck as hell. Dude had big ears that only stuck out more because his head was bald as a baby’s ass. Sincerely, he looked like Dopey from Snow White. We fought, and I didn’t want to fight one in my platoon. I wanted to fight, them; not us. Strange is the spell cast of illusions. I got my call. I called her, not them, her. I wanted to know if she was ok, the urgency of me needing one piece of mail, a fuck off letter would’ve been better than nothing.


And that basically encapsulates the whole of my love life. No shit. We have this thing for a little while, and… your…gone. It’s cold. I laugh looking back at my love life because I’ve been told I’m the heartless, cold bastard.


Those were observations, not the ravings of ire.
Love though?
Love is cold, inevitably. For we have hopes of an everlasting, yet no proof. Thusly since nothing stays or can stay,(PONYBOY!!!) love must then not live forever etc. They should say I’ll love you as long as I can. Few, if any, can and most can’t. The nature of the beast I suppose.


I got back home from boot camp, and was an instant pussy magnet. I had the shit falling out of my pockets. I never made it back to another platoon with Mikey. I got recruiter’s assistance which meant a few more weeks home, while he went to SOI. My job was to walk around the local mall. I recruited no one for the Marines. For myself, I got a few leads. Nothing really panned out, though I got to see the Pats play.





Upon my arrival in the South things were a lot different than they had ever been before. Since I had Susanna the girls in high school left me alone for the most part. Though I found out later that a lot of them had the hots for me. Thus is life.
I had some money on me, and a job that I had to do all the week, but come the weekends… it was on. Hotel parties, trashing the rooms, drinking everything in sight. It was a good time.


There was a bar in town called the Thunderbird. I met a chick there and we went at it. Nothing much came of that. Some more ass, that’s about it. She got out of the Corps, and I moved on.
The bar was the important piece of information there. It was rumored to have the highest HIV infection rate. I thought this was bullshit, or at the least a holdover from the 80’s. I mean, how the hell does one calculate that? Show your ID at the door and your test results? I tacked it up to propaganda, and went anyway.


I saw a lot of good bands, nailed a lot of fine women, won a lot of wet boxers competitions, drank more booze than a person should in a lifetime, and met my first wife there.


I went to my job school in the same area. I’d been writing to Brenda steadily, and the façade was still up. She was trying to hook me up with her friend who was incredibly beautiful. Angela was her name. A typical Florida girl I suppose, if that’s even a type. Regardless she was gorgeous. I had managed to convince Brenda to join the Corps as well. After she’d graduated from Parris Island I went to visit her in Florida. We went to the beach, and later to a club. I saw the family, and enjoyed seeing them again very much. Her Mom and I had a kind of special bond. She was a sweet lady on the interior, but her exterior was one of a South Bostonian. In other words, don’t fuck with her. She always treated me like gold though. She was hard on Brenda, more so than her siblings, partially because I think she saw the amount of potential in her. As things turned out I think we’re all glad she did.


Me, Brenda, and Angela went to the beach. While there she and I were goofing around, and Angela mentioned that we should just go out with each other because it seemed like we were already anyways. We did the usual look at the other, and then the fake ass “Naaasstyyy” line. The story in the back of our heads was different though, let me tell you. The club was fun. I got to dance with Brenda for the first time. She wore a tight body length one piece skirt and her combat boots. Her big eyes, and her incredible body… it was just too damn much. Later that night we all went home. Angela spent the night, and we slept in the same bed. I never made a move. Didn’t even spoon! Not that I didn’t want to it was just that… I don’t know. It didn’t seem right. I said my goodbyes, and went back to the base.


A few phone calls later and Brenda had mentioned that our parents had spoken and “wouldn’t it just be a hoot if Alex and Brenda got together…”
She let it hang like that, and I could feel her smiling (as I was) at the possibility. I’d always thought about it, I just figured she never did. Her next words told another story.
“sooo. Whaddaya think?”
“About what? You and me?”
She sniffed out a giggle through her nose, and said, “yeah”
“ Uhm….(very long silence) well we’ve never bullshat each other so why start now right?”
“right”
“I’d always thought about it, I mean Brenda. You’re beautiful! You’re incredibly intelligent, you’re awesome! You‘re …perfect.”
“Sooo that’s a yes?”
“Wait… did you just ask me out?”
She laughed aloud this time, “yeah I did.”






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Comments

The following comments are for "Chapter Five (Requiem Eternum)"
by Robert Walker

Chapter 5
This was terrific. Grit and transparent thought are always a ggod read. Hiding our thoughts (as a man) is a thing we do - out of fear? Revealing a man's thoughts and motivations is a tough sell. If we tell the truth, in this feminized society, we are derided. The honesty in this piece is compelling and revealing.if you keep it up, as you're going, it will be a textbook for women to see men as they are, rather than some self-deluded, idealized, feminized version of a man.(I think to their gain - in our differences is the treasure found ) This is a well-written treat. Thank you very much for sharing it.

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: July 13, 2009 )

Men are from Mars...
Thank you some more Jon for commenting. The entirety of this piece (requiem eternum) is half fiction. Up until a certain point it's completely true. I may have not remembered exactly what was said, but the gist is the important piece of the puzzle. The difficulty for me isn't so much the honesty part, but translating what I felt, all the how's and why's; and trying to explain it so the reader can make sense of it all. I hope you enjoy the next as much as you did this one, but I do fear boring the reader to death with tales of my love life. lol though it has been eventful...
Thanks again brother,
RW

( Posted by: robert walker [Member] On: July 15, 2009 )





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