Anything but, "The Notebook"

Anything But, “The Notebook.”

By, Not a Fatalist

It was 1946. The sun was shining and my toe felt the radiance. The passage of time was long since my feet had seen a Summer. My eyes looked dreary. But inside, I knew there was a tiny glow. Like when a campfire goes out. Everyone else is asleep and doesn’t notice. You do though, you wait and watch, and take little wagers on which ember will endure the last flame before transforming into smoke. Perhaps, I am the only one that wants to know? But this ember, it would never turn to ash. It was getting brighter. As I looked up, I thought perhaps my pupils are very tiny, and there was nothing but blue. As soon as I noticed, a cloud appeared. “You would, G-d.” And I laughed. I wouldn’t say it was a deep breath. It felt like the front of my mid-section was vertical strings and a new kind of soft thick air, product unknown, was holding them upright. But still, it was a breath. I was alive. I am still, alive.

It was 1984. I was reading a journal entry my mother had written in 1946. There was no exact date, but she may have been pregnant with me. I knew people said she was no longer with us. But I never took it like they took it. I think she flew to a far-off land, or transcended time. In no way would she ever die. Laughable. She never even said the word, Goodbye. She always said, “See You Later.” “Until we meet, again.” It had been 12 years to the day. I pulled the spiral notebook from my back pocket. Most of my jeans were worn from the structure in exactly the same way. I wondered if I lost some fat, if the imprint would change. The acid wash had a small tear where the corner was and I had to remember to stop putting quarters in there for the laundry. Then, I thought about what she said when she handed it to me. She said, “The cover of this book is black. But the pages inside…they can be anything.” I tried to tell people not to judge me by my cover, but they seldom listened. I was thinking maybe I would open the book. I never had. It appeared like the pages were white and blank from the outside. It could just be the edges. I like the center piece of brownies. The edges are always a little too cooked and hard. As if they were locked in jail and when released, still stayed confined. But the middle pieces, they are free. They are rough and do not apologize. They are loose and leave crumbs, so you don’t get lost. What if She wrote something inside the notebook? What if there were photos taped inside, or drawings of Christmas, her cat? What if it was the “Book of Mormon”? I still haven’t read that. What if there were leaves pressed inside or my DNA from baby hairs. What if the pages were really white? And what if they were blank? Would they be reborn, filled with spirit, soul, life, and love, if I added a few words? Or would they always wish they could be like the cover of darkness? It was the part, unabashedly out in the open. The pages, they always hide. What if the cover was the best part, Afterall? I thought about opening the book that day.

Present Day-I had just won a writing contest where the prize was $20,000. Twenty Thousand Smackaronies!!!!! My phone was blowin' up wanting my poetry. I was officially finally, The Shiz! I was feeling a lil' guilt though. As technically, I did not write the damn thing. But it was soooo good!! And if I ever do find out who wrote it, I will give them the friggin money. Well, some, I have student loans and I should get like 15 percent manager fee or something. But when I think of this win, I feel two more smiles. And when I do, it is like a wildfire of smiles. Don’t ask me why, because with stuff like this, no one believes me anyway. But we (the collective of Moi & Who the F Knows), WON!!!! And I may never know who left me this tiny black notebook, wrapped in a brown bag with twine as a bow, under my Christmas tree. I have lived alone for years. Not alone, there are felines and God. But I doubt either of them would write, “Anything…” And why would the writing be so small, as if an ant wrote it? I almost did not open it, because who knew how it got there, and like what if it was some Time-Space Continuum, Quantum Physics, mojo thingy, black hole that sucked me into the vortex from whereat it came? Or like, “Anything…”?, I mean, I am no, thing?! N0t that I am nothing. What if it was some new fangled way Death, was callin’ folks “home”? Yeah, nice try, D-dog! I am an Eternal Lifer! Maybe now that I won the 20 grand, The Dali Llama will reach out and tell me what it means. It kinda sounded like something my mom, a hybrid, Jew for Jesus would write...Lol. Or like it was written FOR Jesus. But there are two kitties here, so I had to open it, jic…well you know…curiosity... And glory day, I opened the thunder!!! The story…the story beneath this tattered, grey, possibly a fade from black, covered notebook, that looked like it had been through a World War. Ya know what, story aside, the colors! Maybe there was Quantum Physics in there? I tried to add writing the colors. So yeah, if you saw some color, that was all me. No one ever read my stuff before. Ever since I won, it’s like humanity took off the blinders and started reading my actual words. I mean someone bought one of my poems that I wrote like in 1984 or something...Lol. It was about birds. Go figure. Lol. So yeah, maybe the true author is MY manager and they only get 15 percent of the $20,000? Hmmm. But oh yeah, The Story. I think the $20,000, just bought the rights to, By Anonymous. And me? Well, I have always said about myself, as the late Sam Christiansen told me it was one of my essences, “Don’t judge this book by its cover.” True Story. Yeah, I like that, “Don’t Judge This Book by its Author.” By Ariel Baker and God Knows Who the F Else. Well, maybe I will leave the “F” out. Or let the editors take it out. Spread the wealth, right? If ya give them that, they may leave the rest alone. Yeah, I like that, “Alone, Like Me.” By Ariel Baker and (ok I am clearly not completely alone, as I couldn’t have written what you did not read). But seriously, the story…how on Earth did those numbers 1-9-4-6, Lol. Sorry I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my green tea smoothie (clear throat). How? It still makes me think how the 1946, add up to the 20,000? And then that happened to be the winning prize? The prize that We won! That’s wild, man. COME ON.