That was the dream.
Two hundred and forty seasons;
Oh life, you can be cruel!
That was the dream.
Two hundred and forty seasons;
Oh life, you can be cruel!
At the stroke of one,
Park bench and sun,
With other musicians.
I’d dislike the change,
It must rearrange.
In the cool blue,
You and I will play,
Until we prune up,
And plump away.
I love your chatter,
I love your hair.
I will shed a tear,
Even when you’re not in despair.
How fun are these reads?! Thank You, Stevie for holding this fun sporting event every month. 😀
Wow, I’m getting quite a lot of interest in my monthly competition now, with the result that I’ve had a few more entries – 16 this month! Do take some time to read all the wonderful stories I’ve been sent. As usual it’s been hard to pick out a winner and runner up.
This month I’m picking out Phil Huston’s story ‘La Soiree Dansante’ as the winner:
It reminds me of a scene in one of my favourite films, ‘The Full Monty’. Here’s your laurel to add to your story, Phil. Let me know if you’d like it added to the free anthology I’ll publish later this year:
And the runner-up is Tallis Steelyard’s ‘Snail Wrestling‘ – a most original story!
Tallis Steelyard: https://tallissteelyard.wordpress.com/2018/02/26/snail-wrestling/
Here’s your laurel, Jim:
Here are links to all the other lovely stories that were submitted. I’ve had to print Colin Guest’s…
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You see what I mean? Everyday, every single day, I work like this. Most of the clicking on the mouse-pad is done by this guy. When my fingers are typing, he thinks it’s a game of “pin the finger”, and he keeps on jabbing at my fast-moving hands. I push him off and seat him to the big empty couch, but before I plop back down on mine, he’s there again!
I have had pets since before I was born. Rescues, adopted, you name it. I have seen birthing, like this guy’s, and it hasn’t horrified or grossed me out in the least. I have had pets pass on sadly, but that has never stopped me from bringing home another one. I have never bought one, they have all been rescued or adopted. And cats, they just show up. This guy is the third generation and I have the fourth generation – a litter of three brownies fast asleep in their little nest in the spare bedroom. When their mom is not around, they cuddle up with my son, who has declared himself as their foster-mom. My husband loves babies, and he is a big man. He misses having a tiny baby boy who’d giggle in his lap, so now he treats those three kittens like human babies, rocking them, swaddling them, and washing their bum-bums. He lays down on the floor with them, making arm-mazes for them to jump through, which is hilarious to watch. The kittens really have taken a shining to my son as their foster-mom; they keep climbing on his head and look for something to suckle on. (LMAO!)
And as far as I am concerned, all the cats and dogs think of me as their buddy who likes to play in the mud and chase cars and mice. They shamelessly wake me up in the middle of the night if one of them has the munchies, they fart in my direction to let me know that they need to go out, they keep licking me, even the cats, like I have nothing better to do than rub their bellies and they knock on the door, any godforsaken time of the day. They are like those beepers at the exit of a super-market; any bag of grocery, any boxes from Amazon and any packages in the post, has to go past them. They smell out their foods and demand a tasting right then and there. So to sum it up, they treat me like a door-mat.
Having said that, I agree with the gazillion pet-owners: pets are real good stress-busters. Ever wondered why that cat on YouTube is famous? Stress-buster! Why, just over the weekend, I was really down in the dumps, and I got this guy seen in the picture to brush his teeth. What fun that was! Their teeth are razor-sharp, not to mention the wolverine-like claws. And we jostled for a good half an hour but managed to brush his teeth. (Don’t freak out, I used a super-soft baby toothbrush and no toothpaste; we were just monkeying around!) At the end of it, he was super-annoyed with me and I had forgotten the blues. He did avenge this episode by farting in my face just now though.
I just wanted to drop by and say to all the pet-owners, you people are doing a tremendous job. If not for you, these loving furry friends would be fighting for survival. Keep loving, keep cherishing!
Oh, headsplits and splinters, go away.
Nasty litle tricks you play.
Deluded, hallucinating, is that you?
The water’s too cold.
And the sunlight’s too harsh.
The noises that sink in beautifully are a din.
Nimble fingers, shaking.
The wait’s over.
The dance of the devils,
The sway of the wild.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel.
It will wait till eternity.
Wrinkles in time.
Footprints in sand.
The lily in the pond.
The patter of the rain.
Illusions on a caravan,
In a desert of delusions,
The lure of the mirage.
Calling out, not there.
A madman and his whims,
A million stories of the sea
A flashlight and a path,
The sounds of the night.
Silhouetted and soft,
The jewels strewn across.
The water in the sun.
The black got blacker,
The air got thicker.
The tall towers passed.
Against the shadows dark.
Swaying, sashaying, dancing in its evil glory.
Enigmatic, sunken story.
Barely whispering, signalling.
Flying on wings, not there.
Singing in tunes, not fair.
Standalone in a crowd.
Making its father proud.
A foliage, undamaged.
Two pairs of eyes.
A sand dune.
And a full moon.
You are the ones,
That FBI and Interpol should recruit,
For interrogating criminal minds!
You deal with snotty monsters,
With the innocuous rants;
All fifteen of them loaded,
With sugar-coated bombs.
You kiss the boo-boos away,
You hug them when they throw up,
You sing to them, and read to them,
Like a mom and dad would dream of.
You make them dance,
You make them prance;
At your voice, they form a queue,
At your command, they are a view!
These four-year olds are tough,
As tough as they can be.
And therefore I say,
You should handle the guilty.
You wield a power unfathomable,
That no parent ever can.
For loving and hardening at the same time,
Seems very very tough.
Those charged guilty,
Of unimaginable crimes,
Aren’t they the same as,
A child acting up as a prime?
The child is innocent,
The grown-up is not,
But you, as a teacher,
Can notice the point!
** A BIG SHOUTOUT to all the TEACHERS.. You people are doing the most noble work in the world! (Started out as a prose and ended up with this, four beers down.. LOL)
They came, they went.
A night owl,
A bat hanging,
Screeched from the bough.
In dark robes,
Weilding a scythe,
A faceless figure,
Glided in the night.
Roaring and thundering,
He beckoned the sleeping,
To worship him and bring,
The blood of the weakling.
Stranger thoughts were never thought,
Scarier tidings were never brought,
The seasons changed from winter to bright,
And yet this monster would not slide.
Tired of waiting and wanting,
He moaned a hideous whisper,
Left atop a shrine that was pointing,
To neither heaven or hell’s emperor.
Cried he, not from the hunger,
But from his weakened surrender.
Back to the forest, he glided,
Until the new man was knighted.
**Before I begin the not-so-small talk, let me tell you this- these thoughts occurred to me in the morning cool, while walking past the breezy canopied streets. So, if they are scattered or offensive, my sincere apologies**
I recently read on someone’s blog that nobody pays for Apple Music anymore, it’s the time of podcasts. I don’t know if the blog was very old, or if I am very old, but I still pay for Apple Music, because they keep my playlist as it is, without throttling it with their suggestions. I like the sequence my playlist has been following for years. Sure, there’s more added every now and then, but I do not shuffle. It’s a routine. Imagine Dragon had finally made it to my playlist with Levitate. I am still not buying the “You are my shooting star” nonsense. I mean, come on! A 6 feet tall hunk who can sing and play the guitar would have shooting stars all over the place. But anyway, I figured I don’t want to be one of those frumpy oldies who only lobbies for Hank Williams and Willie Nelson, so I took to the “new-age” music so I could discuss the now-trending-later-classics with my son. 30 years from now, Justin Bieber and Charli XCX would be classic, right? So I like to know what’s going on and some of them are really good. But what is with the EDM, Trance, House and all of those (for want of a better word) thumping, beatboxing, raving, eclectic music scene going on, I do not know and don’t care to know. I may be wrong here, but you must have a temporarily comatose cerebral cortex to enjoy and dance to that. I only hope my son doesn’t take to that.
So back to the business of talking music – I have a morning routine, I walk- earphones and walking shoes and all. (No Fitbit, no!) and during the hour-long walk, I listen to my playlist. I cannot walk without someone blaring in my ears. It’s like a lullaby for walking. And when you go on a routine walk in a routine place, you develop acquaintances. Most of them are just (‘morning!) acquaintances and thank God for those. Some are “smile and nod” ones, which are still okay. But then some are just that make me go, “Man! That b**** is going to want to talk”. So I start preparing for the calamity: you know, put your head down, look the other way as if you have just spotted a blue jay, look at your palms as if you got a boo-boo, pretend your shoe laces are undone, suddenly change the direction you are walking in. And I go through all this trouble, just so I don’t have to stop listening to Bobby Womack. I can easily press pause and unplug, but I don’t want to because when Bobby Womack is singing, you’d want to listen. So, over comes the acquaintance and starts asking weird-a** questions like “How are you? Long time no see? Nice weather, isn’t it? Did the son leave for school? Where is the husband? How is the husband? Why don’t you come to the park? Are you collecting clothes again for donation? When are we ordering those brownies again? Are you going somewhere for the holidays? Were you bathing your cat last evening?” These are actual questions I have encountered. Now you see my fury?! The answers to all the above are as below:
All of these are fairly obvious answers, aren’t they? Rhetorical! But folks still feel the need to make small talk. I irritate a lady who is pregnant (and she’s not due until the summers) by saying, “Any day now, huh?” every time I see her. She is the only one victimized by my small talk. I do not know how to talk small. I can talk big, but even then, I get tongue-tied and sweaty-palmed and words rush out faster than thoughts. So I end up making a fool of myself. Bose and air-pods and the likes came up with noise-cancelling headphones for a reason. When you see someone wearing those, it is a billboard saying, “Do Not Disturb”. Similarly, if you spot someone wearing Crocs, it is a billboard saying, “Do Not Give Fashion Advice”.
So, to sum up, let me ask you this: If you were walking at the beach and saw someone in their swimming gear, soaking up the sun by their beach umbrella, having a sip of something cold, would you walk up to them and kick sand in their faces? I know one would feel tempted, but would you do that, really? As a society, we must refrain from acting out on our instincts, otherwise the world would go helter-skelter. So next time, you see someone enjoying the alone-time, stay away and do not stop for a chat. They just might be packing heat.
Now that I have your attention, let me tell you this. I was going to title this one simply, “Trusty Pants”. But then I saw this hilarious quote on someone’s t-shirt this morning and realised this is perfect for what I am about to share. You see, about six years ago, my thirty-odd year search for the perfect pair of pants ended. I don’t know if others go through this, but there’s either a pants-tent or a sagging bottom or a waist that just wont stay at the waist, or there’s pants riding up or down, wedgie-like; button-fly, zippers, elastic bands, drawstring; absolutely nothing works. So much so, that I almost switched to skirts. Who in their right mind is going to shave or wax or laser or thread or bleach or whatever their legs for skirts EVERY SINGLE DAY?! Hence, pants! I had tried all kinds of fabric too! Jeans and linens and cottons and canvas and wooden bark and polyester and lycra and anything that is wearable and not tearable. every single pair ended up in the Goodwill basket.
Then, I came across these fabulous pair. Simple black. Nothing to them. Just a simple pair of pants. And they hugged me. And I hugged them. We went EVERYWHERE together since we first met. Birthday parties, soirées, picnics, out-of-town trips, movies, funerals, weddings(Yup, hold your gasping!), baby showers, house-warmings, morning walks, evening walks, park visits, shopping, you name it. Now the fashion police would severely reprimand me and throw me in jail for this, but let me tell you this. I have had two issues in life: Learning how to play chess (I still don’t know) and finding the perfect pair of pants. So when you find something you have struggled to find all your life, you stick to it. Why, just this morning I wore them for a walk and I would wear them again when I go to pick my son up from school, and to the dreaded PTA. Say what you must, I am sticking to them. And one more thing, you know how black gathers lint very easily? No? (Yes, I’ve thrown them in the washing machine inside out; Yes, I’ve tried washing them separately; Yes, I have cleaned out the lint filter; Yes, I have used special detergent.) Well, anyway, mine is all covered in lint and I just carry on about assuming people would think that’s how they are designed, like a derelict fashion style. I like to think it adds character. I am done with the lint roller. It just makes them more linty.
So there you have it. I have openly proclaimed my love for the trusty pants. And to think I live with someone who is on some highly elitist Jeans-squads! In fact, just yesterday at lunch, when my pants soaked up the second helping of tapenade (apart from many other drips like salsa, spaghetti sauce, juices, you know, anything spillable), I was reminded to wear something classier when out in public. And I said, “Do they clone pants yet?”
You must have gathered by now that I don’t care about clothes. I am trying to care, but someone has to convince me that clothes are important. I wear hand-me-downs from the one fashionista I live with, because nudist colonies are not very much in vogue. I have a rebuttal for everything a fashion/styling guru would have to say. Sure! I know the names, Givenchy and Dior and Chanel and Versace and Valentino and all of them classics. But would I walk down a red carpet in one of their shimmering creations? No. Mainly because there’s not going to be a red carpet event for me. And even if there is going to be one, you can bet your bottom dollar, you’d see me in my linty black pants. Because, my genes wears those!
Walked in the drizzle,
With a heavy heart.
Stifling the groan,
The groan of sadness.
Stopped by a store,
Bought a cheap wine.
Asked for a cork screw,
Popped the bottle open.
Made a call, sat on the ledge.
Chugging and talking to a fantasy.
Heartbroken and inebriated,
Recipe for disaster.
Oh, the monsters, you are funny.
Y’all spread happiness,
Y’all spread sadness.
The lines are getting blurred,
Confusion reigns, very strange!
Six degrees of separation,
Disliked the theory now.
It was better in the clouds,
The candle wanted to burn on,
A woosh, a whiff, a whisper,
And the flame is gone!
Do you have a plan?
No, she said.
Do you have the money?
No, she said.
Do you have the ladder?
No, she said.
Do you have the paint?
No, she said.
Do you want to do this?
Yes, she said.
How would you do it?
And pondered some more.
While he nodded his head in disgust.
How about I kick you, she said.
And she kicked hard.
And then she did it all.
The confused glare.
Pouring out of,
Your tobacco stained lips,
Your alcohol tongue.
Breathless in the heat,
Ridiculous in the sun,
Swearing at every turn!
What is your goddamn problem?
That stupid green thing,
Guiding you to madness?
Or the voices in your head,
Saying, “turn back”?
You can’t decide,
I can’t let go.
What a conundrum!
Let’s just kick the dust,
Wait for it to settle.
A hundred years gone by,
Still can’t make decisions.
It’s not very hard,
It’s not very easy.
Sometimes, you and I,
We will make sense.
Other times, we will not.
Who cares? You did.
A little too much.
Practicality, screw that.
You spat and regretted,
I sucked up and moved on.
Images, they linger.
Dreams, they conquer.
Ludicrous power on,
My imagination you had.
What a way to say goodbye,
If it wasn’t for you,
I’d probably die.
Don’t make any sense,
Try and understand.
Sometimes the rain,
It brings a lot of pain.
Some of this may rhyme,
Some of this may not.
It stays between us,
Just us and thus.
Once upon a time, I lived under a rock. When I decided to rock out, I was faced with a lot of unfamiliarity. I didn’t know things. So I made this list of questions that popped in my head and researched and found these simple answers:
What is Easy Listening? – When your ears have to do no work, the music seeps in the brain.
What is Continental Food? – Food derived from the continents.
What is Country Music? – Music from, get this, not countries, but pastoral settings.
What is Comfort Food? – Food that makes you fat, so in essence, DELICIOUS!
What is Sugar Rush? – Have a palmful or more of candies and wait.
What is Unfriend? – Facebook version of *blowing raspberries* at someone
What is Like? – Facebook version of paying attention to someone.
What is #metoo? – Me too was part of this altercation, man!
What is trending? – Everyone, except you, is talking about it.
Who owns the Internet? – Hmmm… Google? Amazon? Apple? I don’t know, I don’t.
What are cookies? – One kind can be eaten, others stay on your computer.
What is #hashtag? – ALT+35; symbol used to set something in motion on the internet.
What is Skrillex? – You’d be amazed, its a person!
What is Gender Fluid?– People, just being people.
What is Instagram, Spotify, Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, Pinterest, Tumblr, et al? – Any new made-up words you come across are an app, or a website or something to do with internet.
What is app? – An application, online application, like Candy Crush. Not the kind to apply for a loan or a grant. Although there are online application forms for loans and whatnot, but those are not called apps.
What are bots? – Laziness has taken over and “robots” are shortened to bots. A lot has been shortened. BRB, IMO, TTYL, YOLO, AFAIK, SOV, ROFL.. the list is looooong.
What are emoticons? – :-), ;-), :-(, :-B… they started like this and now there are emoticons for which there are no words.
Why these questions? – I really didn’t know! I Googled and got answers.
*** No offence to anyone. I’m just old. *grin face*
On a park bench,
In the afternoon,
Walking on Cars-
Advising to go back.
I’m going to keep this cursory, and at the same time, civil.
Oscars, they came, we saw. GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! The nonstop spiel, who wore what, the nods to diversity and inclusion, the #timesup, the Swarovski crystals, blah blah blah. Do we have to do this every year; talk about it so much?! I mean, like a bike lane, another Internet space needs to be created to vault all these opinions and news. It’s a show-watch it, don’t watch it, enjoy it, don’t enjoy it. WHATEVER! Move on! (By the by, I watched it, like every year, and enjoyed it. I know nothing about fashion. So, in my opinion, Rita Moreno pulled a super-cool stunt by wearing the same dress again. I’m surprised I didn’t hear a lot of “gasps!” from the fashion police for her “blasphemous” act of re-wearing a dress. And I noticed that glasses are becoming fashionable, a lot of them had them on, prescription or whatever. So, that’s cool.)
Alright.. moving on..
Women’s Day. I’d like to read in tomorrow’s paper that there’s going to be a Men’s Day also. Needing a “day” to celebrate womanhood defeats the purpose of feminism, doesn’t it? Forget equality, let’s oppress men instead. It’s their turn now to have a “day”. And for them to have a “day”, they need to be oppressed. So let’s start with men all over the world marching for freedom. Lets include men in the phoney-baloney speeches too. Let’s give men flowers. Let’s put them on a podium and clap for them. Why? Because it’s only right. Equality and all that. *eyeroll*
** My apologies to women, men, in-betweeners, fashion people, feminists, menists, florists, and Matt Damon, I ran out of time.
Hey Black Porsche!
Why do I see fumes from your rolled up windows?
Are you just baking in there?
Hey Blue Eyes!
Why do I see the mist in your sparkling iris?
Are you just irritated with the smog?
Hey tall drink!
Why do you look so gloomy?
Is the pink umbrella making you too cold?
Hey mighty eagle!
Why do you soar so low?
Is the prey you were after already dead?
Hey shining sun!
Why do you shine so bright?
Are you glaring at the sins of us morons?
Hey pretty bug!
Why do you wriggle in the jar?
Are you stifled in there without holes?
Many young people
Festival or wedding
Son on leash
Woke up with a headache.
Zombie-walk till coffee-pot.
Viewing the non-geek world through geek lenses. And sometimes vice versa.
See for yourself
"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay then it's not the end" - Ed Sheeran
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Une Cuisine Végétale pour les Fainéants et les Pressés, accessible aux Débutants. Simple, Légère, Rapide, souvent Sans Gluten et Epicée. "Vien bate karé ek moin"