BB Grey–musings

“Life, it’s falling, stumbling, leaving marks…“

Life is a series of snippets—like 30-second commercials selling us narratives about ourselves, to ourselves, and to others.

Saturday, Rainless. The day hung heavy with the promise of rain, yielding only sweat. I had been to Los Angeles, left a message, texted early, and answered your call with silence the night before. Your wordlessness stretched into unspoken reasons, none of them good, leaving me to my loneliness.

The day would slide into tomorrow, then Tuesday when I’d see my kids. They would fill me momentarily, only to empty me again. I’d watch them, vibrant and alive, their laughter a mirror of my own past—a time when I moved with the precision of a Swiss watch, each moment a calculated step towards something solid.

Now, I am a counterfeit—a Rolex from a Hong Kong market. My pace erratic: too fast, then too slow, mocking true precision. Doing time. You are where you are, and that’s okay. To claim otherwise would make a liar of me.

You’ll call when I’m deep in my own peace, and I’ll wish I had taken that chance again. I once loved the thrill of the win, the belief in the next big score. That’s how we arrived here. Life is a series of stumbles and falls, leaving us bruised, bleeding. We cling to what little we’ve got—like a thin thread holding a star to its own dark end.

THE COMMERCIAL

**Newsreel**

SATURDAY, SWEAT, NOT RAIN… …

Camera pans over Los Angeles streets, the air thick with the promise of a storm that never breaks…

**The Voice**

*I left a message, you hear? Dialed up, texted too, but your silence, it’s got reasons…they ain’t good.*

**Camera**

Tracks the man, solitary in his car, driving back, the road a gray ribbon unspooling.

**The Voice**

*Tomorrow’ll be Tuesday, and there’s my kids. They fill me, sure, but the empty returns. Their joy, it’s like watching old films of myself, ticking like a Swiss watch, precise, hopeful.*

**Newsreel**

FILM CLIP OF A MAN, YOUNGER, MOVING WITH PURPOSE…

…Cut to the man now, his reflection in the windshield, a face like a counterfeit bill…

**The Voice**

*Now I’m just a fake, like some Rolex from a Hong Kong market, time’s off, too fast, then drags…*

**Camera**

The city’s edges blurring as the man moves from one point to another, a life on pause, waiting for the call.

**The Voice**

*You’re where you are and that’s the truth. I’ll bet you’ll ring when quiet’s got me, and I’ll rue my peace, missing the gamble…*

**Newsreel**

FLASHES OF PAST GLORIES, WINNINGS, LOSES…

**The Voice**

*That’s how we’ve come to this. Life, it’s falling, stumbling, leaving marks…*

**Camera**

Zooms out, the man, a speck in the vastness, holding onto life’s thread, just barely, against the swallowing dark.