It’s day four of NaPoWriMo, so here’s the next installment. I had a busy day doing stuff. I didn’t have much time to compose high minded, philosophical, or edgy poetry. You won’t be transported to an idyllic dreamscape. In fact, you may be dissappointed and un-follow me.
We will take that chance together.
So, without further adieu, I present, for your enjoyment/revulsion…Poem #4
numbers one through nine
arranged in columns and rows
I can hear you groaning, but come on, it was a little bit clever, wasn’t it?
I enjoy solving Sudoku puzzles, it forces my brain to concentrate on something other than the news. Anyway, it helps pass the time.
Well, it finally happened! I went bat s*#& crazy and exterminated the caterpillar that has been living under my nose for my whole adult life. It never metamorphosed, or even hinted at transforming into a full on, face dominating, “Dang, wouldja lookit that! You got quite a mustache goin’ on there, fella!”. Not that I wanted a big personal grooming nightmare growing in the middle of my face anyway. Besides, it was getting lonely without a beard to keep it company. Can’t grow one of those either.
So, I announced, “I’m gonna shave my mustache off!”
Rose: “You are not.?!”
Me: “Yes I am!”
Her: (incredulously) “When, right now, you’re not serious are you?!?”
Her: “Oh my God!” (giggles)
Me: “Whuttaya think?” (me with my finger covering my mustache)
Her: (more giggling and a little snort) “I’ve never seen you without one! I don’t know, you’re going to look weird!”
Me: (looking weird) “Already do.” (Ok, I didn’t say that, but a little embellishment never hurt a story)
Her: “Maddy’s going to freak!” (our daughter who once threatened to dis-own me if I shaved it off) (like she could, hmmph)
I turned my back on Rose’s continued giggling and good-natured (I think) ribbing, and did the deed.
A few minutes later I returned, my lip tingling from fresh air and razor burn. I went to give my bride of thirty years a smooch. She shrank away squealing and wouldn’t let me near her.
The giant snowbank in front of my store had slowly diminished over the past couple of weeks until it was but a wee speck of dirty ice lying amid dirty dead grass and dirty winter dirt. All that was needed was a quick raking and a little rain to clean it up and let the grass turn green again.
Instead, the wind came out of the north and this happened!
It’s pretty and all, but it could have waited until next winter. Say la vee, or however they spell it, I’m feeling phonetic right now! This too, shall soon pass and spring will return to the stage.
Budding, greening spring
peeping, calling, chirping sing
blooming flowering bling
That’s all I’ve got for now, I’ve been brain blocked and time crunched lately. Seems I’ll have a little more time on my hands for a while and will be getting back on the blog track.
Please take care of yourselves, mind and body. Reach out if you need a kind word or or an ear to listen. Be well.
So, I have this friend named Grace. She is part of the writing group that convenes weekly at the local Barnes and Noble. We call her ‘Giggles’, cause she does, a lot, and we love her so.
Says Grace; “My boyfriend broke up with me last night.”
Says I; “Are you alright? What happened?”
Said she; “We were up until 5am on Facebook and he said he thought we should end it. He was having a crisis and couldn’t deal.”
Then said I; “How do you feel about it?
And she replied; “Sad, a little confused and a little mad”
Me; “I’ll bet. Let’s write a scathing break-up poem about him!”
Her; Giggling, “Yes!”
What follows is the tragedy inspired chronicle of the end of a romance.
WARNING!!! Angst and ‘F’ bombs ahead!
And, Don’t mess with my friends!
It’s not you, it’s me
He said with self-deprecation
And heavy was his sigh
At least that’s what he wrote
In the text that he sent
Announcing the end of us
We can be friends
NO, WE CAN’T!
I’ll call you
See you around
WHAT AN ASSHOLE!
The next day, I saw him
And we nervously spoke
Was that a glint
Or a tear
In his crocodile eye
Either way, he’s toast!
Is there a chance
NO FUCKING WAY!
NO YOU’RE NOT!
It doesn’t have to be this way
A TEXT, A FUCKING TEXT!
I was a little scared
What the hell did you want
When you asked me out
I’m not here to waste my time
If you ever grow a set
And stop acting like a teen
Tim Blodgett 2/16/20
That was fun to write and Grace loved it. She doesn’t hate him so the ending is appropriate. Where there’s life, there’s hope. Boy is he lucky that she’s a nice person!
I’ve had a bit of a dry spell lately, sometimes you got it and sometimes you don’t.
Yesterday, February 7th, a spiteful stormy day dawned with freezing rain which turned to sleet midmorning, and finally changed to snow at 12:30. By 1:00, the roads were slick and dangerous. About the same time, the lights flickered, went out, and came back on. The pattern repeated itself several times until 5PM when the lights didn’t come back on. Hundreds of others are in the boat with me wondering when we’ll be rescued.
I went home, a quarter mile away, and got my trusty generator. Ya see, I had a bait tank full of, you guessed it, bait! With the power out and no aeration, they were gonna go belly up in a hurry. I fired it up and saved 40 to 50 pounds of minnows.
There was only one problem, the power didn’t come back on. One hour, two, five, midnight! Feed the generator every couple of hours, check the bait, it’s getting cold in here. 2AM, the wee hours, moon set 4:30 am, the cold hour before dawn, still no power. Did I mention that I spent the night at the store?
Dawn broke clear and cold and unbelievably gorgeous. My poor cameratography didn’t do it justice. No problem though, I’ll get a chance to try again tomorrow morning. As of this writing, 6:38 pm, 2/8/20, the power is still out and the estimated time of restoration is 11:00 pm Sunday night, 2/9/20…
IF we’re lucky!!!
Such is life in upstate New York, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
For the want of a bend, a cotter pin was lost.
For the want of a cotter pin, a retaining pin was lost.
For the want of a retaining pin, the gear shift linkage was lost.
For the want of the gear shift linkage, the transmission was lost
For want of the transmission, a school bus was lost.
and all for the want of a cotter pin.
My school bus, my school bus for a cotter pin!
And, so I sat on Rt. 32, yellow, obstructive and immovable with fifteen middle and high school students eager to get home. Thankfully, I was a mere five minutes from the school and a replacement bus was delivered post haste. A student revolt was forestalled, and the mechanics were able to manually shift the bus into gear and drive it back to the garage.
It’s very unusual for a bus to break down. They are meticulously maintained by crack technicians, but, because they are constructed with thousands of parts and pieces, s*#! happens sometimes. I find it amazing that a 29,600-pound behemoth can be laid low by a part that weighs a gram or two. Just goes to show, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. It’s always somethin’.
It always seems like I pay double for taking time off. Last weekend, I was at the Am-Jam Tattoo Expo in Syracuse, New York. Consequently, I had to play catch-up, on work and sleep and I neglected my blog, not that the world stopped turning or anything, but it was on my mind. Like it or not, I’m Baaaaack!
You all write a lot and I’m so far behind, I may not catch up. I’ll try though!
I’m working on another short story project that was ‘sposed to be a long story project. At last week’s writer’s workshop, our assignment was to bring the first page or few paragraphs of a story in progress for the others to critique. I’m writing a dark comedy about the extinction of the human species. It was agreed that in order to keep the pace and comic nature of the story, it would work better as a short 5000 to 10,000 word short story, or possibly as a novella. I’m not interested in trying to justify a scientifically plausible argument beyond positing the possibility that what happens, could happen. Ya just hafta go with it.
The story prompt was, ‘Write an apocalyptic story using an idea that you have never read or heard of’, or something like that. It took me about 3 seconds to come up with an idea. It’s taken me two years to get this far. I’ve got a solid idea though, and I want to finish it within a week or two. I don’t know if I’ll submit it for publishing or share it here, yet. If I share it here, most publishers won’t accept it as a submission.
Once it’s done, I may need beta readers…
Title: Service with a Smile (unless something better comes to mind)
♫And the cats shall inherit the earth♫ (to the tune of 2112)
Believe it or not, the tattoo Steve chose to be his first is the one pictured above! Who decides to get a full back tattoo for his first?????? Steve does!
He came to the Expo to have more detail added. I talked to him about it and he said he wanted to go for total coverage. No, he’s not crazy! He’s a nice guy and I appreciate him letting me take his picture and sharing it. Thanks Steve!
This tattoo won the Best Sleeve category. She declined to give her name but her tattoo is phenomenal! The tattoo artist did an incredible job.
The Expo started at noon today and goes till midnight. That’s a lot of talking and by the end, you’re face hurts from talking and smiling. Tomorrow, we’ll just frown and talk in one word sentences! Buah ha ha!
Anyway, Madison got a lot of positive feedback on her artwork and made a lot of connections with potential customers and other artists. She learned a lot from the other side of the table as a vendor.
The photo is by: Mark Garlick/Science Photo Library/Getty Images
I was feeling a little wibbly wobbly, so I took a little time off. I’ve got a submission deadline coming up, it’s been busy at work, and, you know, Christmas ‘n stuff. I’ve been trying to keep up with those of you that I follow and exploring for new people to follow (D+ or maybe C+ with the curve factored in effort). What has stuck out to me is ‘Time’, as a theme or component of so many of your posts and, quite a few articles exploring time theory.
Maybe I’m just noticing it more because of the coming holiday and new year. I tend to get a little pensive at this time of year, and sometimes find it hard to stay out of the ditches and weeds that line my road. I always get through, sometimes a little dented and scratched, but whole and ready for new challenges.
Could be that it’s because I’m getting older. Every time I would complain that I was bored and there wasn’t anything fun to do, my mother would tell me to get out of the house and find something to do. She told me ‘time would pass by faster as I got older so don’t waste time complaining’, or something along those lines. A typical parent thing to say, I thought.
Seems she was right.
I figured that I’d have some fun and twist my mind around time. It took longer than I thought it would!
Time is a timely topic.
We spend our time worrying about time all of the time;
too much time,
not enough time,
is it the right time,
time to stay,
time to go,
Is this just a waste of time,
time well spent?
Is time ours to keep?
are we living on borrowed time,
or is there time aplenty?
Can we give time or steal time?
Is time ours to lend?
Is your time
and my time
the same time
sometimes,or all of the time?
Time and again we say;
time is precious,
time is short,
time wasted is
Forever is a very long time indeed.
But wait, time out!
If time is eternal
then time is infinite.
There's an abundance of time,
we are awash in time,
there's no shortage of time,
time has no end.
Does this mean time had a beginning
or has time always been?
I think it's time
we take the time,
if time is ours to take,
to understand that the time
we spend living our own lifetime
is but a tick
of cosmic time.
Will we ever know the true nature of time?
Is time a universal constant?
Is time a manifestation of our consciousness?
Did time begin when we became aware?
Will time end when we are no longer,
or will time march on?
Do we live in a now of time,
or on a time continuum,
soaring through time
on the arrow of time.
Look at the time
It's time for me to fly!
Instead I'll take my own sweet time
and row, row, row, my boat gently down the stream
merrily, merrily, merrily, taking time to dream.
The only thing we worry about more is the weather!
There are many unresolved questions floating in the aether.
Intelligent design or Random chance? Captain Kirk or Captain Picard? Hamburger or Hot Dog? Ketchup or Catsup? Up or Down?
It was the last quandary listed that was the subject at the bus garage yesterday. There are two restrooms for us to use as needed. Both are spacious, single occupancy affairs that are used by all. Both are treated quite well by the considerate staff. A debate arose over the post use position of the seat, up or down. The opinion held by the ladies was overwhelmingly in favor of the down position. The gentleman were less opinionated about the position of the seat and as all of them are married, generally agreed with the ladies and didn’t offer any real convincing arguments in opposition. I wisely kept my mouth shut. My mind, however, played out the debate. It went something like this.
Gentlemen: We put the seat up so we don’t foul it, we dislike dirty seats as much as you.
Ladies: That’s all well and good, just put it back down after you’re done. We don’t want to sit on the cold (and dirty) porcelain.
Note: My wife uses this same argument on the rare occasions that I forget to put the seat down at home. Usually the language is more coarse.
Gentlemen: Sometimes we forget, besides, you’ve got two good hands, you can put it down. By the way, who doesn’t check the seat before sitting?
Ladies: A mostly nonpublishable response concerning the accuracy of short barrels and small bores that basically says,’Take better aim buster and clean up after yourself!’
Another note: I totally agree with that with the ladies here!
Gentlemen: Hey, we’re just trying to show a little respect, pardon us for being considerate.
As you can see, the gentlemen lost after the first round and signed their death warrant in the second. I guess men are no good at debates. Still the question remains for you to ponder, Up or Down?
And now for another.I call this;
Dead or Alive
No one thought to ask Schrodinger's cat how it felt about the damn box
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