Masques for Every Day Wear: “Or, Thoughts and Letters of the Partially Hinged”

By Martin Regan Dove

Life damages everyone. Childhood trauma persisting for decades, love which wasn’t, choices, mistakes…consequences. This is all intertwined with the joy, friendship, and contentment, which is also life.
Masques, is a photo album made up of snapshots of prose. It is sad, sometimes cynical, wry with a dollop of wisdom, and a testament to the life of the author. A life which is not greatly different than all lives, in that everyone experiences these emotions.
This book hi-lights insecurities and confidence; the wonder of friendship and the grief of love lost, all juxtaposed over every day living. It shows how broken hearts mend if you allow them to. It promotes a philosophy of kindness, in a world where kindness is encouraged, but often times not followed.
It is hope in darkness. It is human.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728365664

Martin Regan Dove

Martin Regan Dove is an author, comedian, and somewhat horrible actor. He does several things to support said vices. In lieu of praise, please send him scotch.

Book preview

Masques For

Every Day Wear

"Or, Thoughts and Letters of

the partially hinged"

MARTIN REGAN DOVE

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©

2020 Martin Regan Dove. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/27/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-6567-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-6566-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Foreword

Beware

Lies Disguised

Sigh

Afternoons and Rain

To Repeat

A Calamity of Hearts

The Serpent

The Devil

A Lesson On Hatred: How Can One Hate Both The Spider And The Fly?

Empty Sentiments And Hollow Promises

Consequences

Beware A Lack of Mercy, Empathy, and Compassion

The Imperative of The Peer Group

Manifestor of Destinies

The Only True Sin Is Bad Manners

Got To Get Your Zen On, Daddy-O

I Blame It On A Lack of Polka Music

War…I Wasn’t There

Bad Coffee And Sirens

Dark Mountain Of The Past

It’s All About The Rhythm

Losing Things

The Moth

The Soliloquy Of Russ

The Lesson

A Cessna 172 And The Hand Of G/D

Dark Opportunities

A Darkness Over The Sun

Crosses, Stars, And Incense

Kindness

A Madding Crowd

Shimmers

Simon

Salon

Dinner At Simon’s

Shabbat, One Friday In July

Alice On The Wall; Over By The Piano

Joel

The Day Simon Left

Shadows On The Wall

The Face Of Hashem

A Famine In The…

Lady Justice

Mea Culpa (The Song We Sing To Ourselves)

A State Of Vanity

A Letter To The Rabbi

Life And…

Late In The Night

The Tanned Cynic

Peddlers Village

Memories

Life

Puddles And Oceans

Finding

Age And Reflection

Beef Stew

Bloody Cat

The Poem I Should Have Written, And Now Can’t Finish

Everyone Talks

The Girl In Scotland

Final Thoughts

Special thanks (again) to Bubba Bradley for the cover art

For Simon

"The mask which concealed the visage was

made so nearly to resemble the countenance of

a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must

have had difficulty in detecting the cheat."

Edgar Allen Poe

(The Masque of the Red Death)

Foreword

Hello again. I’m very glad you are back. If this is your first time, welcome. Writing is the most solitary of the arts, and if to find one person to read and enjoy ones musings is a joy; then anyone after that is bliss. I am sat at my desk right now, a glass of red wine within easy reach, the cat is wandering about the apartment, as cats are wont to do. He occasionally deigns to come over and rub against my leg in search of a pat, or in Merlin’s case, more than likely a treat (he is very predictable).

I am in Nashville Tennessee, and should I open the sliding glass door leading to the deck, I would hear a cacophony of nocturnal insects. And through the window I spy a full moon. I am attempting to organize this book in such a way I hope you enjoy it. But as mentioned in the title, Thoughts and letters of the partially hinged, it is a mish-mash of things. I am a scribbler at best, who fishes for words which might reflect emotions in such a way as to illuminate them upon the page. At worst, a hack whose ego requires a word count.

The title of the book is Masques for Everyday Wear. For I think being human is to wear masks of every sort. How we dress. How we present ourselves depending upon the circumstance, and company; is very telling of who we are. While at home with the cat, I often wear one of my collection of Batman and Superman t-shirts; but you would be hard pressed to catch me in public without a sports jacket. Does this make me dishonest? I don’t know. A mask is something one wears to hide; to hide themselves behind a façade. This façade may be a smile, or I suppose even, a grimace. But it is hiding none the less.

My counsel, if sought, is simple: whatever you are hiding, always retain kindness and honesty, no matter the masque. This book is a collection of observations gleaned from my personal experiences and life in general. There is a great deal of poetry, a thought of G/D here and there, and a letter or two I enjoyed writing so much, I wanted to share with you and the world.

Life is an emotional ride I tell you. I would like to say it is all good and well and a bowl full of strawberry ice cream on a hot day; but that would not be entirely honest would it? So what follows, chapter by chapter, verse by verse, are little circular pieces cut from my soul. Wow, that sounded a bit much, didn’t it? But I don’t know how else to describe it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and maybe even, some of it will make you smile, because for you and you alone, I take off my masque.

Martin Regan Dove

July 8, 2017

Nashville Tennessee

…dreams are

gained and lost

Beware

How exhausting

This masquerade;

The parade of faces,

Hiding the soul

Until,

No one knows you

Other than you.

And you have nothing and no one…

Only a collection of masks

Hanging in your emotional boudoir;

…mocking you.

Lies Disguised

People aren’t glamorous.

The television and the movie screen,

Are a lie,

People are mean and petty and self absorbed,

They are tiresome in their selfishness,

They prey on each other for their own needs,

They expose themselves when caught in their terrible deeds.

There are smiles never reaching eyes,

The eyes, that pane of fleshly glass covering the soul,

Even they,

Can be wily and dishonest,

Hiding need and desire,

Hiding the Con;

Whether long or short.

But to be human is to know,

It is all about scale and degree,

Everyone has a price.

It could be gold, it could be warmth,

It could be company, shared with a cold and lonely soul,

Hell; it could be a cup of coffee,

Given the right day.

There is little integrity in this world with us humans,

It is a pretty word: integrity.

It has a divine meaning I think,

But in the end,

We all bend,

The little white lie, the concession,

The time…we looked the other way.

The Rabbi at my synagogue one time did a conversion ceremony,

For a young man who was dressed somewhere between,

A Brooklyn Hassid; and a Pennsylvanian Amish,

He stood at the bema,

To denounce all religions other than Judaism,

And Rabbi Flip covered the man with the white, blue striped tallis,

Adding his name to the book of life;

So says the Rabbi.

I wonder of this book the Rabbi mentioned,

Does it hold only our names?

Or is it more detailed?

Does it catalogue our loves?

Our deceptions?

The betrayals we wrestle with in the dead of night?

Or like the Rabbi says,

Just our names,

In the Book of Life?

I don’t know.

Did you know? That tiny sentence:

I don’t know

Is nearly impossible to utter,

By the average human,

Whether he or she does,

Or does not know,

The subject at all,

Because often times hubris,

Is the brittle glue holding us together.

People are not glamorous,

But for tiny, tiny moments,

Having nothing to do with how,

They are dressed;

What jewelry they have on, or what house they live in,

They are glamorous when:

They look into your eyes, into your pain, and proclaim…

The Truth.

Whatever that truth might be,

Unadorned,