The Nail

A few days ago I was outside playing fetch with my dog and we got into a friendly game of ” drop it what does drop it mean?” When all of the sudden one of my acrylic nails popped off.

I was looking at my now naked nail and ugly finger ( my hands, yuck they are UGLY ) when this thought popped into my head.

” You know Anita, if they all popped off you could play the guitar again.”

After we went in ( I lost at the game of drop it, what does drop it mean)  I pulled my guitar out of the closet, took it from it’s case and tuned it’s dull yet ok strings. Here’s the funny part. I gave this to myself 6 years ago after not playing guitar for over 15 years and then put it away.

I was surprised I could tune it by ear. It was a surprise.

Then I tried to find the rest of my gear.

Most of it was gone, I gave it to my brother and my Amp is a Vox Super Beatle that can NO WAY be used where I live now because that baby is LOUD.

So I went on line and ordered a little practice amp and all that stuff you need if you want to play.

Plus I bought headphones.

Awesome.

Then I went to work at taking off the rest of my nails- not so awesome. But I did it and managed to not hurt myself. I tell a lie. It did hurt. Oh well.

I am ready to go back to playing the guitar- without a doubt that impulsive little thought was the best decision ( coupled with taking my writing seriously ) I’ve made in years

and it came to me out of nowhere all because I broke a nail.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

My beautiful Ibanez.

I’ve always used Boomer strings-no reason.  Strings are pretty much all the same as far as I’m concerned, but I bought these because of those Millennial Snowflakes who decided I’m a World Destroying Bernie Bot Hater – an ignorant  Boomer who stumbles around with the help of a walker and I take loads of medication so I won’t die 

It’s a derogatory  term when it comes out of their tender littler mouths.

So yeah.

Boom.

Eff you snow flakes.

 

This is my dog and my guitar- toss in my writing and that is my world now.

I know- awesome, right?

Something New

Most of the time all I see on this street are Seattle Bike riders zipping down the sidewalk instead of the bike lanes that they refuse to use because- you know they just don’t want too and I see a lot of people on their phones  and commuters rushing to the buses and the train  and sometimes I see something neat like this:

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I thought it was a nice change, but of course it’s gone because it got in the way of

the righteous bike riders

and people who need a clear path to walk on because they’re on their phones and they’re distracted and why should they watch where they are going

and commuters who don’t want to be here any longer then they have to.

It was a change, like I said and a nice one.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Stephen King Was Right

Facebook, oh Facebook… really?

The picture below, which I posted on my FB wall, shows up in books and magazines- and probably has for ages with little butt hurt as far as I know.

Of course the post as a whole is critical of Twitler aka Trump aka King of Walmart shoppers, Fake Christians and Gun Humpers everywhere.

So Facebook did it’s small part to direct the conversation away from the obvious comparisons made in the post between the words and deeds of Twitler and to protect the cocoon of self righteousness that Twitler’s supporters have wrapped themselves in.

FB stepped up and did their MAGA duty.

Hoozah.

So what happened?

Well  TWO YEARS after the fact FB banned my post.

By banning it the idea is Facebook is, as FB messaged me by way of explanation, they are  UPHOLDING COUMMUNITY STANDARDS BY PREVENTING OFFLINE HARM

In the mean time though:

In January, Facebook announced that it will continue to allow the spread of false political advertisements through its channels, preferring to allow Facebook users to suss out the facts for themselves.

So to wrap it up, Facebook just protected the interwebs and ” the community”

from me .

Now on to post and the message FB sent me.

Horror Writer Stephen King Has Quit Facebook: Here’s Why You Should Too

The Shell

SFC PROMPT: Inside the Seashell

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I used to be afraid

of getting my face wet

I was afraid of Ladybugs and falling down the stairs and forgetting

how to get home

even though I didn’t want to be there.

I used to be afraid of

giving the wrong answers to questions like how do you do, what street is that on

can you give me the directions?

I used to be afraid of being alone and left to the rats and the dust and cobwebs full of dead and dying bugs.

And then one day someone said to me,

” You have a tough shell, you can face anything, take anything, beat anything back! You are so amazing!”

Sure I thought, bang it on my tombstone- not that it matters, I doubt you’d mourn my death. I won’t mourn yours.

Besides, shells are not tough.

They are shaped and carved by the world around them

and they are so very

fragile.

Bells

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

I have bells on one of my doors so I can hear if people are coming into my work area- it’s a necessity because upon occasion we have wanderers who come into the building and it’s a good way to know if someone has found their way in uninvited.

Today I found out that one my co-workers decided he doesn’t like the bell system ( even though we have them  upstairs in his work area too ) and today I caught him opening and closing the door so that the bells didn’t  jingle.

Plus as he told me, he doesn’t like it when they rattle and ring.

I told him they’re there for a reason.

So about an hour goes by and a lady with mental health issues went up to his counter and asked him if he wanted a girlfriend and offered to show him her breasts and after he turned her down  she grabbed the bells off of the door and threw them at him.

Jingle Jingle Jingle.

I don’t know why this chain events made me laugh, but it did.

In fact, I’m still laughing about it.

Photo by Prakash Magar on Pexels.com

Without A Map To Guide Me

I keep losing my way,

it runs off without me

and I can’t keep up

because

my way

is

angry, vicious, blind in one eye

but somehow it manages to

shake me, lose me, elude me

when I need it the most.

My way is lost but it doesn’t care

I do.

I’m sorry I have lost my way.