MCP Update

Hey there. Sorry for such a long hiatus. MGJ and I have had our time sucked away by life. lol We still have some projects lined up that have been on the back burner that will be seeing some light soon. We also are going to finish up on our Sleep series as well. As soon as more info comes to play, we'll let you guys know. Many thanks!

Sleep: Night Four

By: M.G.J.


Ran out of paper, crap what will I use for my entry in my journal, so much I wanted to tell you today, guess I’ll just tell you now, write it on my skin with this X-acto knife. Ah feels so good, the sting, the warm blood running down my arm it’s almost soothing. So I lost my job today. Your asleep now so I can tell you, couldn’t bring myself to tell you earlier. Been there for fifteen years and this is how they repay my long hours and dedication. I always went in early to prepare. Always left late to make sure everything was ready for tomorrow. Think of all the long hours at home. All the long hours we spent together working on projects so that my delivery would be perfect, you were such a great help. I have shaped the lives of so many, influenced hundreds, reached out to more lives than any ordinary man, yet I am so unappreciated that I was let go. My students were my life, we’ve argued so many times about this, how I love them more than I love you. Its not that I love them more it’s just that…just that they need me.

I know you can hear me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not the man you married, the man you remember. Things have just been so damn hard. I mean just look I can’t even do something as easy as falling asleep. My mind wonders like a child who’s mind has been polluted by hours of non stop television watching, constantly needing to see something in motion, like Jose, he can’t sit still can’t focus, now I know how he must feel. Poor boy, who will work as hard as I did to try and help him learn to focus? I wish I could sleep, forget this life. Start anew, in a world like no other, a utopia, or heaven perhaps. But no I’m stuck here in San Lucifer, job less, soon to be collecting an unemployment check, and I can’t even bring myself to tell you. I am just like him, I see it now. You always told me I worked so hard that I was nothing like him but just look, we are the same man. I hate this God Awful life, this place. Just take a whiff of that smell. Death fills the air, that’s the only smell I can compare it to; a rotten body, saved by a necrophiliac waiting to have his way with this defenseless body.

I can hear sirens, there coming close; they come to stop outside my apartment, not unusual here probably a drug bust, after all they’re as accessible as candy from a gumball machine here. And yes of course they are always followed by the sound of a copter over head, lights beaming into my room, and the walls shaking causing dust to fill my room, and my sneezing, yet you lay motionless. “Ahhhhh!!! Abraham! Help me! Please…” That voice is it already 3:33. Should I go outside? The cops must hear her. But they wont do anything to help her they never do anything to help anyone, damn crooked cops. I feel like it’s my duty to help her, like she’s one of my students. I put on my boxer briefs, and run outside, scurry through the pitch black in search of the keeper of that voice; her screams calling to me like the song of a Siren luring unsuspecting pirates to crash into the reef. Will she too lead me to my demise? Mmmmm. Cherries on my lip, and the smell of Channel in the air...

Sleep: Night Three

By: M.G.J.

Up again, I think I’m beginning to grow accustomed to staying up at night after a hard days work. You’d think my body wouldn’t be able to take it, yet here I lay every night for weeks, and like every night before, I try to fall asleep with little success. Eyes wide open, mind aware of every last sound that reaches my ears, I can hear every last noise that surrounds me, even each individual hair that covers my body as it rustles on the sheets, the skin on my head as I toss and turn in bed not only makes a sound but also generates so much heat my head feels like it has been stuck inside an oven, or set ablaze on a streak as to warn the world they are entering the gates of hell. Here I lay thinking about everything and nothing; about fights, over due bills, pay cuts, whether I’ll even have a job next week. The lay offs are climbing pretty high up the seniority latter getting so close to me, I can hear them hiding in the brush, like a silent killer out on a night of hunting, and I’m the prey.

I remember simpler times, when I was younger, when all I had to worry about was whether you’d look my way. I remember staying up late at night thinking about you. Restless nights lost in thoughts. Did I always suffer through this insomnia? Had I ever fallen asleep? What is sleep? I remember grabbing hold of anything I could reach for, anything that could hold my thoughts, an old pen, broken pencil, and the paper I used to write notes in class, anything. I remember this helping me then. Could it help me now? And so, I reached for a pencil and the old napkin I used to wipe away the remains of tonight’s dinner, old sardines in a can, must have been in the covered for over 3 years. I begin to write everything I hear everything I think. I label it “Peering into the mirror.” Someday I won’t see you when I look into the mirror; I’ll be a better man than you. My eyes begin to grow heavy, this just might work.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” It’s that scream yet again for a third night. Who can it be? I can tell it’s the same scream so high pitched it could break glass, so young, so frail. Besides, the clock reads 3:33. It’s always 3:33. Dare I step outside into the pitch black? I open the wooden door, stand behind the metal door and contemplate whether or not to step outside. The copter over head blows a gust of wind into the room, sending that awful smell up my nose, so reeking, so spoiled, so rotten. The copter’s light shines directly in my eye like the light that leads to heaven, as I hear it once again, “Ahhhhh! Abraham. Help me!” What she knows my name? Mmmmm cherry lip balm…

Sleep: Night Two

By M.G.J.

Another night that I lay in bed staring up into a void, the glitter from the asbestoses filled ceiling sparkles like stars, reflecting light cast by the moon’s rays as they impale the blinds like a thousand small blades cutting into the skin, a surgeons tool, or the medium of psychopath. They paint a picture that tells a story, a space odyssey that takes me into the open space that I call my mind. It speaks of times when all was well. When we didn’t have to worry about not having enough for the rent, or whether we’d have food on the table. But with this dying economy, and past mistakes, how can I think of times now past? I see you lying beside me, remember our love, that night down by the railroad tracks, we were so in love then. They say all you need is love. How can you rest so peacefully? Can you not hear the sounds carried in the wind?

Can you not hear the wind rumbling in the distance, howling like two rabid wolves competing for the last bit of meat left on a rotting carcass? Can you not hear the screeching tires, the burning rubber, the hot lead that cuts through the air? Do you not wish to leave this wretched place? I hear the sirens in the distance, miles away yet they feel so close, they remind me like all else of the world that surrounds my tiny apartment, in this…Sinners Paradise. And once again like every night that damn clock. Tick TOCK Tick TOCK, beating like the pulse of a broken heart, dying for just one last ounce of a partners love. If only to reach into the chest and silence this life, could I have one nights rest? I begin to wonder why I have the clock in the first place. Ah yes, because its sound soothes you, helps you go to sleep. If you only realized its beating drives me to near insanity and back again, sets my mind in disarray. In my fascination with the sounds that enter my room all is silenced as that scream shrieks through my room like the night before, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Help!”

I jolt out of bed, the sound so close it hurts my ears. I forget what was on my mind; the worries fade, for I am safe behind these wooden walls unlike the owner of that voice, so painful, so lonely. If only I could help. I walk to the window peer through the blinds. All I see is dark, “Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Help m…..”Where is that voice coming from? As I try to make sense of what little is visible outside my window, a copter’s beam reflects off the glass showing me my reflection, or yours. I remember you robbed me of my soul sucked the life right out my eyes. You killed my mother with your selfish ways. I can never forgive you, wish I could forget yet every time I stare at my refection I see you. It is my living hell, a reminder of what you took from me, a reminder that I am just like you. I can smell Channel No. 5. It smells so real it makes me sneeze. I then wake to the taste of cherry lip balm, sweet, soft, wet…

Sleep: Night Two Coming Soon

Hey there. We didn't hear much in regards to our first installment of Sleep, a short story, but that's not going to discourage us from pressing on! We're in the works of getting Sleep: Night Two out by tomorrow. Keep you eyes out for that! Later.

Sleep: Night One Commentary

Hey there. Sleep, is our first entry into our short story outlet. As you can see from the post, the visuals that are implemented really plant a picture in your mind as the you read along. We've thought about putting an audio version, along with the written post, so that the full effects can be experienced. What would you suggest? Written only or a written and an audio version underneath to be played by at the reader's discretion? Let's us know what you think. Later.

Sleep: Night One

By. M.G.J.

Many nights I find myself lying in my bed staring into the black somber space, emptiness fills my heart. I can feel you to my side yet I feel so alone, like a newborn child left in a basket set to drift down a wayward stream. Like there is no one in the room except for a numb motionless body. I can not bear to move. I can not sleep; can not bring myself to fade away into a world of dreams; a world where everything is at peace, where together we lay, happily, like lovers often do. Here in this world there is no sin, here I can give you everything you deserve, everything you desire. Here life is perfect. I hear the windows rattle as the copter draws closer, till it passes over head rattling the windows so hard dust fills the room sending pressure up my nose forcing me to sneeze. I’m now reminded of that musty smell of the slums, like a corpse left out to rot. It all reminds me of this sinful town; I wish I could leave this place. I wish I could close my eyes and forget.

Bright light fills the room illuminating everything in site temporarily blinding me before my eyes focus on the walls forming before my feet. The light climbing up the wall like hell fires forming the shape of the room, rising up to the heavens. My eyes fixate on that symbol. Ah, I forgot there was a cross hanging on the wall, how lovely, with all that has happened we still find the strength to reach out for intangible beliefs. Another painful reminder of how much I hate who I am, who I’ve become. I haven’t slept in days, I reek of sweat, and these damn noises don’t help. The leaky faucet dripping every minute like the tears you shed when you cry yourself to sleep. The ticking of the clock is counting down the hours till the inedible end, growing louder and LOUDER. Tick TOCK Tick TOCK. Your breath so soft and peaceful like a baby after feasting off the comfort of the bosom, the rhythm of the night fills the air, a scream heard down the street, breaks me from my state of motionlessness

I pull the sheets off my naked skin and rise from my bed. Chills now run down my spine as my bear skin is greeted by the cold night. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!” there it is again, that scream, so hollow. Poor soul must not have made it inside before the sun set, or perhaps a street walker, who else would be stupid enough to prowl around at night? I glance down at your resting body, your breast so plump, nipples hardened by the dead cold. How could you sleep through the night? I make my way to the bathroom. Each step I take squeaking like the rats feeding off the molding crumbs the very food from which we feed. Damn Vermin. I finally make it the bathroom. The door shuts as I walk in. Is it the draft rushing in from the broken window? I flick the light, nothing. What more should I Expect from this shit hole. The only light the reflection of the moon piercing through the window resting on my face. I stare into the mirror and see my reflection. I look just like you, your splitting image. No matter how hard I try to wash it away I can not. For I am you, you are me. I hate you. I hate you. I must stare for hours, for I can smell the morning. I can smell wet hair. I then wake to the taste of cherry lip balm, sweat, soft, wet...