A little piece of heaven
light body, sweet to the tongue, devine features crafted by a loving hand
a feast for the eye, a meal for the Soul
a little piece of heaven
meant to be devoured without mercy
in one or two bites.
I used to catch a bus to work
around the corner from where I lived.
One Tuesdays and Wednesday Agatha was there, she’d bring her own simple canvas camping stool to sit on while she waited for the bus and sometimes she smoked and said nothing and sometimes she would tell me about her husband:
He drinks to much.
He smokes to much.
His health is bad.
He talks to much.
He could be wicked mean.
When she married him her family wrote her off and her son refuses to speak to her.
She didn’t seem to be terribly bothered by the fact her family wasn’t in her life.
He used to be good looking but now, Agatha said about her husband. He’s sort of desiccated looking and she wonders how much longer he can actually live for.
His liver and kidneys are bad and his lungs aren’t in good shape either.
Can’t be easy, she said, for his body and soul to keep together like that. Eventually she would mused the entire works was bound to break down.
She didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that her husband didn’t sound like he was longed for this world.
Once I said I was sorry for her troubles. It sounded like she had lost and was losing more then anyone should have to bear.
When the bus pulled up Agatha would toss her cigarette into the gutter, fold up her chair and said, before we got on the bus ” I think that when you lose something, it’s probably better if you don’t go looking for it. It’s like when an animal gets sick or hurt and wanders off and you go looking for it and when you find it, it practically rips your head off and then it kicks the bucket right there in front of you.
When something wants to be lost and die that bad. Let it, Agatha told me.
I see your point, I told her. I’ll keep it in mind.
Then we got on our bus and started our day.
Word of The Day Challenge: Grandiloquent
A mouth full of fancy words
seasoned with cigarettes and wine
when she parts her lips and speaks
see how high they fly!
I want to be just like her
I want to sound fancy too
bombastic, isn’t she fantastic
a force of nature
a midwestern tornado
toddling through life
on aged feet
gigantic platform shoes
Melanie B Cee’s Prompt: Share Your World 8-3-2020
What will finally break the Internet? Do you believe it can be broken at all?
If we find life- any kind of life on another planet or Moon, that will break the internet and if it doesn’t my last shred of hope for humanity will be gone because that news will be BIG.
What are some ‘red flags’ to watch out for in daily life? (take it as you want)
When someone says to me, ‘ you should walk Fox News so you can hear both sides of the issue I know that I have find a way to gracefully end the conversation or my finger will end up in somebody’s eye. The struggle is real.
What’s the silliest thing someone has argued with you about?
There are too many to count. But once my friend called me to give her a ride home- it was really late and she had made her boyfriend pull over and let her out of the car because they had got into a huge, lung busting arugment about who was a bigger whore…
Prince or Madonna.
I thought it was funny then and I still think it’s funny.
What’s the strangest thing you’ve found lying on the ground / side of the road?
I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I found an embalming syringe. It was old and not in great shape but I kept it in a coffee can and I think it’s still in my storage room somewhere.
Fandango’s Dog Days of August #3: Monday
I don’t hate Mondays
I don’t even hate Sundays- the way I used to because they were so BORING when I was a kid.
When I was a kid there were no malls, no cable tv , no internet and the only bright spot on Sundays where going to my Dad’s parent’s house for dinner.
Which in itself was pretty boring until on of the adults got bored so they started to tell stories about whatever tickled their fancy and that was influenced by how much they had been drinking because
we were ALL bored on Sundays.
I remember my Grandmother told this story about a relative of ours who was name- Lorna Doone Godfrey and she was getting to the part about how Lorna passed away my Aunt piped up, ” She ran through the streets yelling, ” I’m a cookie I’m a cookie? “
For the first time EVER I actually saw my family struck speechless and then get on someone for popping out a smart aleck line because that was the point to some of these conversations.
I didn’t see what everyone was so upset. I loved Lorna Doone cookies. When I said as much I was invited to leave the table until I could behave.
It was a weird moment and it stuck with me for years.
It wasn’t until I traced my family tree over the winter that I learned that Lorna and three of her children died in a house fire. Her oldest was away to college any my Great Uncle was away on business so they were spared.
At the time the cookie story made the rounds, they had been dead for maybe 20 years so it wasn’t ancient history- but I do wonder what made my Aunt toss that line in.
Was she drunk? Did she not like her cousins and Aunt? Or was it just to good of a line let go of?
I guess I’ll never know. Most of the adults at the table that day have passed on and my Mom spent all of her time at these dinners ignoring all of us so when she says, ” I don’t know what you’re talking about ” its true.
Like I said, I don’t hate Mondays because sometimes I hate Sundays even more but like them or hate them something interesting can happen so why write them off?
I mean, on that Sunday I learned that Lorna Doone Was Not A Cookie.
Good to know.
Putting my Feet In The Dirt Writing #2 : Delights and Deliciousness
Once I pulled a bird- I think it was a sparrow, out of my cat’s mouth.
I had seen Blitzer leap out of my Cherry Tree and snatch the bird midflight out of the air and I watched them land on the ground, they were almost at my feet.
Blitzer looked up at me, his eyes were almost closed, he was purring so loud his body shook and his tail was swooshing from side to side, gently in the grass.
I reached down and pushed gently on either side of Blitzer’s jaws and he opened his mouth and the bird flew away.
We both watched it escape-because Blitzer’s eyes were wide open, mine certainly were.
I think the sky was blue that day and it was full of screaming crows.
Then Blitzer got up, rubbed his head against my calf and then he curled his tail around my ankle in a gesture my Son’s used to call a ” tail kiss ” and sauntered off into my herb garden…
where no doubt, he waited for another sparrow to fly by and this time I wouldn’t be there to coax his mouth open to free it and spoil his fun.
On the other hand, I guessed then and I’m sure now that I didn’t spoil all of Blitzer fun because it wasn’t the eating part of pulling down small animals that Blitzer found satisfying and delicious
It was the hunt that he found delightful.
Word of the Day Challenge: Racism
I grew up in a suburban town just north of Seattle and lived in the same house for almost 20 years.
I went to the same schools as the rest of the neighborhood kids and worked at the Mall with my friends when we were in high school and we partied and hung out at the same places.
When I was older got married and had a family of my own, I became involved in local politics and the Democratic Party.
In these efforts I was working with my neighbors or reaching out to my neighbors in the same County I had grown up in.
I was your typical Suburan Gen X’er whose kids played soccer and sometimes we went to Seattle for concerts and I went to my friends and neighbors barbeques and we went power walking around the same lakes.
I was your typical suburban housewife doing the typical suburban things.
One Summer I was working with a group of activists on a human rights event when one of my friends turns to me during the part when we do reach out into the various communities- and I was drawing a blank because I wasn’t sure how I could contribute to that when my Uber Progressive friend says- and WOW is she excited- ” and you can do reach out into the Asian Community, right Anita?”
” Well…” I was at a loss because at that point my Uber Progressive Friend- who I had went to Highschool with, we car pooled at one point we were working at the Mall at the same time and used to catch the bus together-
my friend who could tell you the same story about our shared suburban experience was some how under the impression that I had this secret life where I snuck off and was a member of ‘ The Asian Community’.
” It’s a pretty big Community ” I said.
” Sure. But you’re part of it right? “
And I guessed at this point I realized my friend- and as the years went one I ran into this over and over again- didn’t really see me as a part of the Community I grew up in, that I participated in, the community where I raised my kids and learned how to drive and took music lessons and egged my first house and graduated from high school and got kissed for the first time and watched my parents grow old in.
To them I really was part of another Community.
They had nothing against it- or me but at the end of the day I had never really been a part of their community.
Racism can be as brutal as someone putting their knee to your neck or it be as light and airy as latte art.
And it doesn’t matter what ‘community’ people think you belong to.
In the end, after experiencing racism you don’t feel like you belong anywhere.
Pick a book you have read and answer
the following questions:
Challenge accepted- the book I have chosen is…
1. Why did you pick the book?
I read it when I was about 12 years old. At that time, I had been writing for almost 2 years, looking back I know I was reaching for my ‘ voice ‘. This book was my key. It was my creative roadmap.
2. What did you think about the book?
Loved it. It was written for young adults and even though it touched on suicide, a dead girl being robbed, the opening and closing graves, a house of ill repute and a wide assortment of unsavory chracters- it did it with a light yet powerful touch and it did it with humor. I strive to do that in my writing to this day.
3. What do you know about the author?
Not much. I know had been a teacher, he was from Illinois. It was info I got off of the book jackets. But I never looked for more about him. I’m not sure why. I did read all of his books and I was sad to hear he died a few years ago.
4. What’s the most memorable scene?
There’s a scene where a local man goes crazy and spends all day and into the evening ( he only had one hand, he lost the other when he was working for the railroad ) cutting at the posts that held the trolley tracks up that crossed over a ravine.
Then he set them on fire.
The Ghost warns the main character about the fire and Alexander stops the Trolley before it crosses the ravine.
The Conductor, who is super angry, insists Alexander go look at the ‘damage’ with him and says if Alexander is messing with him he’s going to pay for it. So they and the curious passengers make their way to the creek bed to inspect the posts and before they get down there, the the Crazy guy steals the Street Car.
The Crazy man races it across the tracks, by then the flames have engulfed the posts and are starting to burn at the tracks too and the Man- Amory I believe his name was, goes crashing down into the ravine and the blazing the fire below.
He rang the bell all the way down.
5. How did the book make you feel?
Like I wanted to go to New Orleans the way Alexander, his Uncle and his friend Blossom did and write a spooky story- and eventually I did. I went for Halloween about 10 years ago and did just that.
6. How do you feel about the way the story was told?
It was like having someone sit next to me and tell me about ‘this thing that happened to them when they were you. Reading a spooky story is great. Hearing someone tell you one is even better.
7. Which parts of the book stood out to you?
When Alexander’s soon to be friend ( Blossom and I use the word ‘friend’ lightly because at this point he doesn’t like her ) chooses to ride in the baggage car with the skeletal remains of the Ghost Girl ( Inez ) because she tells Alexander she knows what it’s like to be alone
I also like the part where Alexander’s Uncle tells a story about the suicide of the Captain who built the house Alexander’s family lives in. It happened in the sitting parlor where they are sitting and Alexander’s Mom is entertaining one of the town’s most socially prominent people. He even points to the spot where he hung himself
8. Which specific parts of the protagonist can you relate to?
Alexander belongs to two different worlds and he doesn’t feel comfortable in either one.
9. Which character did you relate to the most?
10. Share a line or passage from the book:
There’s a scene where Alexander’s Mother and her cousin and Alexander’s sister are complimenting each other on how fine they look and I think comparing themselves to a royal figure and they say” You look like (?) only younger” etc and then Alexander says to his Dad that he looks ‘miserable’ and Alexander’s Dad says ” So do you, but younger.”
11. What did you think about the ending?
I liked it because in the end Alexander is sad to lose the Ghost Girl ( and her dog ) and talks about how his Uncle died shortly after their adventures, so it seems like he has lost everything important to him, but his adventure made him wiser and less afraid of the world and more a part of it too.
12. Is the story plot driven or character driven?
13. If the book was made into a movie, what changes or decisions would you hope for?
Pecks makes it clear that Blossom and her Mom were exotic looking- in the movies and book covers she’s your typical midwestern looking girl. Peck goes into great detail about what the characters look like so I was surprised to see this changed. I’d change it back.
14. How did the book change you?
I can’t say that it did, but I did learn a lot about writing from it.
15. If the book is part of a series, how does it stand on its own?
All of the books about Alexander and Blossom are stand alone. When you do read them together it’s like running into friend on accident and you end up having a very enjoyable visit.
Books in the series:
Word Of The Day: Conversation
I don’t have a lot of friends on Facebook- in addition to that I don’t get a lot of likes or comments unless I post pictures of my dog ( and I don’t get enough of those as far as I’m concerned because my dog is PAWESOME ) oh and if I do that thing where I post pictures of my food- those get a lot of’ likes’ and I still haven’t figured out why that happens, I mean it’s just food on a plate and most of the time I it’s microwaved, but whatever.
I do get drama sometimes. Every once and awhile one of my ‘friends’ torch my posts because I hate Trump and I didn’t like Bernie Sanders- and when I pointed out that both Trump and Bernie’s supporters flame me with the same kinds insults and blinding hatred, that would light my feed up.
Then I put those Trump Supporters and Bernie Supporters in time out and all they see are links to my blog posts. I sort of enjoy doing that but wish I could tell them they’re in Time Out together because I’d bet they’d try to kill each other- you know the way Betta fish do when they as much see each other in separate tanks or their own reflections.
But the one thing I do enjoy about Facebook- is finding the cover picture and profile picture.
I’m proud of my recent effort.
It features New Zealand’s Swim Reaper floating in a pool telling you to stay at home so that you don’t accidently kill somebody with the Coronavirus.
I feel like I did something worthwhile with this particular post- I’m not sure who would find it so except for me and my dog ( like I said he is the BEST ) but does it matter when it comes to FB
I think FB posts are like Graffiti For Your Mind- as soon as you put something up, someone else comes along and jams something right on top of it and on it goes.
It’s all white noise.
So I try to make my wall fun, but to be honest most of the time when I look at Facebook I feel like I’m sitting next to some obnoxious motor mouth that I can’t pretend to ignore and they just won’t shut the hell up.
He told her
it was fate
that they were meant to be together
it was Fate that brought them together
it didn’t matter who got hurt, what
was lost, how long it would take to feel the glory
of what they should have had
what they were entitled too have
She told him
it was Fate
that they shared that kiss in the open
for all the world to see
no matter what anybody thought!
To Hell with them all! She cried
as he gave her his earing
and she gave him her charm,
they should have had this life
they were entitled to this life
It was Fate! She roared with passion.
One day, Fate watched them both
from her place in the tree
outside of their window
with her murder of crows
fluttering and resting on the branches below her feet.
Fate titled her head and watched his heart stop
Fate watched her trip over his body and sail down the stairs
as she ran for the phone to never ask for help
and Fate said:
” Now THAT was me. ‘