Emergency Exit Only - Alarm May Sound...

 

 

 

 

 

...like someone screaming.




From the back of the sock drawer

 

 

 

To the Birdbrain…

 

Trees are for holding up nests

 

Schools are for passing out tests

 

A yep is as good as a yes

 

More is far better than less

 

Winds always out of the West

 

Practice makes better the best

 

Children will not make a mess

 

Poets have everything rhyme.

 

___________   _______________

 

 I’m not a pessimist

 

I’ve just always chosen the wrong size glass.

 

 

You may already be a winner

 

 

 

 

 



The New App

 

 

 

June 22, 2013

 

Dear chalkboard manufacturers, school teachers and scientists from the 40’s.  As you may have noticed - the chalkboard has been replaced by the laptop computer.  Not entirely due to chalk dust but mostly because very few people could write in a straight line.

 

The good news is… we have developed an app that generates the same retched screeching sound when fingernails are dragged across the monitor.  

 

 

You’re Welcome

 

 

Zobostic Corwin



Like a Bumble Bee

 

 

 

 

In High School everyone just called him Larry

 

He was somewhat a klutz

 

Never really caught on to things –

 

few good grades –

 

and fewer friends.

 

 After graduation he worked in his Dad’s shoe store.

 

His Dad eventually fired him –

 

Not because he was bad with Customers

 

but because he always dressed just a little crazy.

 

In fact…

 

If this statue were in color you’d see

 

his knee-high socks are black & yellow stripes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and had anyone followed him into battle

 

he might have survived.

 

 

 

 

 



 



Humor in Latin

 

Diem



A Message From IKEA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



His Name is Cognac

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s usually someplace else -

 

 

doesn’t really have a home of his own –

 

You never want to reach down

to say hello-

 


 

trust me.


 



Her Name is Paris

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 She is wise

knows her way around town -

 

understands much more than you'd think

and speaks several languages -

(although not yours)

 

doesn't mind the rain

only eats behind the finest restaurants

 

 has a very bourgeois sense of humor

 

and is always just coming back

 

from somplace else -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Take it with you

 

Someone had left it on the table at the sidewalk café.  Nobody seemed to be showing any interest in it at all and the waitress who showed me to the table apparently didn’t even see the thing sitting there.  I found it all very odd that nobody had come running back to claim it or that someone from a neighboring table hadn’t simply reached over and taken it when nobody was looking.  I decided to ignore it as well and ordered a glass of wine.  The lunch menu was a little bit pricey but considering this was right downtown and for the moment, the popular spot to be - I quickly justified such an extravagance.  I told myself I deserved a treat and stopped looking at the prices.

Waiting for my lunch to arrive I began to notice how quickly the place was filling up. I’m sure the new arrivals noticed the thing and thought it was mine and that I was just leaving it there to show off. The question that soon popped into my head - what do I do when I get up to leave? Do I just walk away and leave it where I found it. Someone would surely yell out, letting me know that I’ve left it behind. Then again – maybe they wouldn’t. But if they did yell out what would I do? Would I pretend it was, in fact, mine and that I had just absentmindedly left it behind, then walk back and take it. I would feel like a thief. And what if it was simply a prank; someone pulling a stunt to see what people would do. I certainly don’t want to end up on some silly television show or on some news program.

 

         I wish I hadn’t sat here.  Why did she have to show me to this table?  I didn’t even feel very hungry now. I just wanted to go some place else.  I took a large sip of wine and tried to calm myself down.  I’ve done nothing wrong.  I haven’t even touched the thing.  I’ve done nothing but sit here ordering my lunch.  I have nothing to worry about, and besides, someone could still discover they no longer have it and come back here looking for it.  Certainly all I’d have to do then is nod at the thing indicating – there it is, right where you left it.

 

         When my lunch arrived I waited to see if the waitress would pick it up after setting my plate down.  She didn’t.  All she did was ask if I’d like more wine.  The first glass had me feeling a little mellow and so I said yes, although the moment she walked away I mentally kicked myself for ordering it.  I certainly didn’t need two glasses of wine.  My sandwich looked oversized for the plate and the small bowl of soup smelled great but looked way too hot to try.  I picked up half of the sandwich and bit into it.  An odd texture immediately stopped me half way into the bite.  I cautiously set the sandwich back onto the plate and lifted the top piece of bread and part of the lettuce.  It was a folded piece of paper.  I looked around to see if anyone was watching me and there didn’t seem to be so I carefully slid the paper out and unfolded it.  The hand written note said, Take it with you.

 

         Now for sure I didn’t want to be sitting here.  Someone obviously knew about this and wanted me involved.  I wanted to get up and go into the kitchen and find whoever made my sandwich; at least look to see which person had a pen in their shirt pocket. No – that’s crazy.  Every waitress here has a pen in her apron; any one of them could have slipped that note into my lunch.  Why was this happening to me?  I suddenly felt deflated.  I slumped back into my chair and just stared at my lunch.  The noise of the café became a buzzing in my head, like some swarm of flies just waiting for me to stand up and walk away from the sandwich.

I tried to think of something else, what was I doing just before lunch? Where was I headed from here? Was someone waiting for me somewhere? Was that them tapping my shoulder? Who is it? I suddenly felt a hand pushing against my arm. “Sir? Are you okay?”

 
I opened my eyes. A waitress was leaning over looking at me. “Are you okay?”

I felt somewhat startled and embarrassed at the same time. I had fallen asleep right here at my table. Everyone was trying to be polite and not look at me but it wasn’t working; they had all stopped eating and were staring at me. The flies had stopped buzzing. “I’m fine – thank you.”


The waitress stepped back a little and I tried to assure the surrounding lunch guests that I was just fine. I smiled and nodded, as if thanking them for their concern. I moved my sandwich away and pulled the bowl of soup closer, wondering how long I had been sitting there asleep and if I had begun to snore? As I picked up the soup spoon the waitress asked, “Would you like to take it with you?”

It wasn’t until then that I noticed the afternoon light. It was way past the lunch hour. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was now 3:40 pm. I couldn’t believe it. I looked at the waitress and she could obviously read the disbelief on my face. “It's no problem, sir, I can reheat your soup if you’d like.” I brought the spoon up to my lips and tasted it. It was as cold as a mother-in-law's hug. I looked up at the waitress and said, “Maybe just a box for the sandwich.” She nodded and headed back in to the kitchen. I looked at my glass of wine. It was mostly gone. That’s what must have relaxed me so much, the two glasses of wine knocked me right out. I also notice that while I had been asleep no one had bothered to take the thing from the table. It still sat right where it had always been.

 It was at that moment that I remembered the note; the “Take it with you” note. Where was it? What had I done with it? I began checking my pockets, and looking around the edge of my plate. I didn’t find it. Had I dreamed it? When the waitress had asked if I wanted to take the soup with me, had I simply incorporated that into my dream? No. I remember the handwriting. It was real and I had it in my hand looking at it, but where was it now? I looked over at my sandwich. There, my teeth marks where I had almost bitten through but had stopped when I encountered the note. It had been real. I looked on the ground around my chair thinking that when I had fallen asleep the note fell from my hand.

That’s when I noticed the two pigeons under the empty table next to mine. One of them had the note in its beak and the other was chasing it around trying to snatch it away. There was no way I was getting it back now. I just kept watching the two birds until a busboy walked by and scooted one of the chairs in. Both birds flew off and I just watch as the one held tight to the note with the second one following close behind.

The waitress walked up with a packaged up container of fresh soup and a box for my sandwich. She set my bill on the table and smiled, picking up the first bowl of soup. “You’re not going to want this.” And she carried away the bowl of cold soup and my wine glass.   As I watch her walking away it was like watching the two pigeons disappearing down the street. That’s when I knew what I had to do. I gathered up the sandwich and, although it barely fit, I got it into the to-go box. I slipped the box down into the bag that held the container of soup and then pulled my wallet from my pocket. I paid – leaving a hefty tip lying there on top of the bill and as I stood up I crumpled the top of the bag so I could get a good grip, then I reached over and picked up the thing in my other hand.

  As I walked down the sidewalk, leaving the Café behind me, I felt good. I felt like I had gotten a great deal for my money and I felt rested.

 

        

 

 

 

...and never leave this friend behind.

 

 

 

 

Again I see you came to read the thoughts that wander through my head
 

and gaze at feelings in my heart, in hopes to see the things unsaid –
 

Who is this friend that visits me – who seems content to come and go
 

who smiles at the life I write - yet never says hello.
 

I’d like to know what draws you near - like skittish fawn or frightened bird
 

Scattered seeds within my blog - flower into tasty words
 

On distance shore I have a friend, perhaps who’ll share a glass of wine
 

who'll bring exotic cheese to try –

 

 



Uncharted Territory

 

There are many unexplored areas of my brain.  I have accidently wandered into a few of them on occasion, resulting in some of the things you’ve seen on this blog.

 

In the upcoming weeks I’m planning an excursion deep into the right hemisphere.  I’m not sure at all what I should bring with me; obviously a flashlight, some of those free hospital booties and maybe a couple of long Q-Tips.  You never know; I may get all the way to the outer reaches and if I do I’d like to push some of that ear wax out from the inside.

I really don’t believe I’ll require any pocket change or snacks but in case I’m wrong I’ll bring along a little food for thought.  Of course should I stumble upon anything enlightening or previously unheard of, I’ll jot down some notes so I’ll have something to report when I return.

Most of my friends don’t think I can pull this off.  They’ve known me for several years and all agree that I’ve never before been in my right mind.

 

This will be mostly an exploratory mission with not much of a budget and apparently somewhat low expectations, however, everyone tells me that the right hemisphere of the brain is the creative part and that’s what I hope to tap into. 

Last year I ventured into the left hemisphere and found it to be extremely organized.  Everything was neatly arranged.  Thoughts were separated according to category, complexity and originality.  Each was hanging from a pegboard.  Not only were they all labeled but it looked as if they had been spray painted, so an exact silhouette of their shape remained on the board showing exactly where each one belonged.  There wasn’t a stray thought in the place.

I haven’t yet figured out how to find my way back out once I’m in there.  I’m really hoping something will just come to me.

 

 

 

Maybe I should sit with a bright lamp next to my right ear.

Left to Write

 

It is the unspoken character flaw within us all.  It causes us to believe that good will always triumph over evil - that spaghetti will taste better on the second day and that Hollywood can produce a movie that does not involve a gun. 

But the sad truth to life is that the worst songs are always the longest, the nasty, inconsiderate boss will not suddenly grow a personality or develop a sense of humor, and the car salesman was not only lying but thanks to you has sent his family on another Hawaiian vacation.

Our culture is devolving at an insane rate of speed.  We have stripped away any hope of getting truthful and accurate news reporting.  We have lowered the bar on education, on what is considered acceptable behavior and of course on handrails for short people.  We walk around believing someone is actually in charge of all this when in fact it's a free-for-all.

In short – our cultural immune system has kicked in.  We have turned into the very complacent things that, not long ago, would disgust and annoy us.  We have come to accept that manufacturers will always sacrifice quality for schedule, politicians are in it for themselves and the majority of our food has been altered by harmful chemicals yet we do nothing. 

I do not write this just to highlight the negatives but rather to simply fill this page that just moments ago lay blank.   I thought I had explained that in the title of the blog;

Zobostic – Left to Write.

The only thing worse than a poorly constructed sentence or bridge is a blank page.  I walk around, sometimes down an old country road, sometimes around the mall and I look at life.  Occasionally - subconsciously I'll dig into my pocket for a mint or Lifesaver and discover a small fragment of a thought.  It might even be disguised as a piece of lint, perhaps a little fuzzy, but there it will be.  This fuzzy little thought and I just have to write it down.  It's what I do.

I'll take it out, look at it and try to see where it fits in; is it broken off from some larger thought, or has it just hatched on its own?  You know - an entirely new idea.  Those, by the way, are very rare.  Maybe it wasn't in my pocket at all, maybe it attached itself to my sock like some thistle and unbeknownst to me, I've got this barnacle of an idea that I'm carrying around the mall - people staring at me...   Stop that!

Anyway, after I've gathered up several of these, I sort through them trying to come up with something that could actually be something but usually isn’t. 

It is just my hobby and you are one of a handful of people who have stumbled upon this site and are now reading it.  I, of course am already off doing something else.  I will be back however as this is where I write things - so don’t for a minute think that I’m gone for good.  Good has nothing to do with it.  In fact, no good could ever come of this as it really isn’t all that good to begin with.

 

 

 

Zobostic Corwin

 

 

and now that I've just read it myself - when I do get back I think I'll delete it.








...yes, I heard you.  You said, "Good!"