Goals & Mayonnaise

 

The whole idea of having a goal came up at the end of the book, Trout Fishing in America, by Richard Brautigan.

It was always his goal to write a book that ended with the word mayonnaise.

He was successful.

It was in that book I found

 The Cleveland Wrecking Yard.
 

It is a wonderful little story that has stuck with me for years.

 

The photographs in it are not by F. Stop Fitzgerald.

 

I believe it was Henry David Thoreau's goal to improve upon the nick of time.

 

 

   
It's always been my goal to use F. Stop Fitzgerald somewhere in my blog.

Ta Daaaa


 

 

 

 

 

Triple Espresso

To fluff or scrunch

A difference makes

For dreams aren’t far behind

 

Like shadows left

Behind a day

For someone else to find

 

To toss or turn

Through sleepless nights

And wake unrested still

 

While asking more of coffee

Than coffee ever will

 

In Memory of Puff

 

Rust in Peace

 

 



Restaurant Reviews

I seem to recall that restaurants would have a letter in their front window letting the general public know how they were rated by the Health Department. 

Supposedly an “A” in the window signified that the kitchen was found to be clean and the minimum health standards had been met.  If there was a “B”, it meant issues needed to be resolved.

Then, some years later, the European symbols came into favor and the letters were no longer used.

The following picture is of a symbol we saw in the front window of Larry’s House of Fish-N-Fins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Appropriate Measures

 

It was a security system of sorts with an exterior mounted camera and a monitor box connected to the television which was inside the house.  Somehow the camera would see things, like it was an eye or something and then – just by thinking of what it was looking at would mentally send the image to the television.  It seemed somewhat magical.

 

The installation of the outside mounted camera required a sturdy ladder, an electric drill, a Phillips screwdriver (not the big one), and a standard household broom.  The standard household broom is what I wanted to tell you about. You see, after picking out the perfect spot to mount the camera, which by the way was up under the eves, in the corner, facing over that way, I noticed I was not the first person to think this a perfect location. 

 

A spider had built himself a lovely ranch-style home.  It had a tremendous view and appeared to be well constructed.  This is where the standard household broom comes in.   Although I was brought up to share, and to get along,  I could just picture this spider, perhaps sometime in the near future, adding room additions to his ranch-style house with the great view, and in so doing would construct his walls right in front of the camera, whose ability to see through walls may be questionable.  It was an once of prevention sort of thing.

 

Using the standard household broom I removed the spider’s well constructed, ranch-style home with the amazing view, along with Mr. Spider himself.  Now I understand that to some of you this may seem like a rather harsh and aggressive act, after having been raised to share and to get along.  I really did feel bad, but just maybe, had Mr. Spider invested in his own security system he would have seen me coming and taken appropriate measures.  …I’m just saying.

 

 

The Right Packaging for the Product

Everyone knew the product was important, it was key; but getting it to its destination in perfect condition – that was the challenge.  

 

They all worked hard to come up with an idea.  They made packaging sketches with diagrams and specifications.  They made proposals that showed exacting dimensions, including costs and materials, all the while insuring their design was pleasing to the eye. 

 

It was an exciting time.  These were not the best and the brightest who had been tasked with this assignment, they were simply a handful of people who shared a love for packaging. 

 

Everyone was given the same standards; durable, visually pleasing, resistant to moisture; they were to give function and form equal weight, all the while maintaining preservation of the product inside.  If the product did not get to it’s destination in pristine condition then what was the point?  

Although the vote was unanimous for the final design, no one stepped forward to test it. 

 

 

The design decision that day must have been the right one for never in history has a single complaint ever come back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every Day is Casual Friday

 

            This blog has nothing to do with farmers growing kidney beans in the shape of swimming pools, or geologists cultivating clusters of crystals in the shape of chandeliers. 

            This blog is simply a window into my hobby.  I play with words instead of squishing nervous worms onto pointy hooks and catching slimy fish I don’t eat.

            I develop sentences as opposed to football plays.  At the end of the day I require no ointments, bandages or physical therapy. 

            The downside to my activity is a noticeable absence of sunlight and fresh air and a lack of interaction with cohorts.  The upside is office rules; I haven’t posted any so I am free to take breaks at any time and as often as needed.  I am allowed to consume refreshing beverages while waiting for Spell-Check to examine my creations, and after a reasonable amount of time has passed I get to explore the comments section at the end of every post where viewers like you leave thoughts on what you just read.  

            Casting out a line and waiting to pull up a large-mouth Comment is truly exciting.  Oh sure, some stink and some are great but way too small.  That’s to be expected.  The important thing is I’m having fun.  At years end I throw myself an office Christmas party, setting out trays of unused punctuation, plot lines and clever twists.  Trust me - it’s a real hoot.  

            So there you have it:  Zobostic Corwin Blogged down and slightly out of focus.

PS

I don’t work nights, weekends, holidays or anything identified as fast-paced.  

 

 

Just because you CAN do something...

 

 

 

Doesn't mean you Should.

 

 

 

 



It is quite a sophisticated system

 

It is only through the recent advancement in Nanotechnology that we have the ability to determine which germs actually have bad breath.

 

 

 

 

 

Snowshoes & Windsocks

I believe in the theory of close proximity.  I believe that standing or sitting close to another person facilitates to some degree a sort of mind reading capability. It is a psychic link that we all have, limited only by a willingness to be open and receptive, and this is important, there needs to be a total absence of garlic.

 

I believe no matter what skill level, or weight class, no boxer can lace up his own gloves.

 

I believe greed is the most unfortunate trait in humans and of course the rich have more.

 

Psychiatry exists in a world void of friends.

 

Any and all of my various beliefs may change at any moment.

 

Establishing and further cultivating a blog should be left to the non-professionals.

 

On bright, Sunny days my beliefs become more positive and upbeat.  On dismal, rain-filled days I tend to eat more soup.

 

When society eventually gets unplugged, children will plant more libraries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stargazers step in the most puddles

 

We were somewhere, or maybe somewhere else, I don't remember.  I do recall looking up and seeing the top of this building.  It caught my attention, not because things were looking ominous - weather wise, but something was off.  Obviously I could tell which way the wind was blowing, and I could certainly identify east from west;  but what was the deal with the arrow pointing straight up?  What was that all about?  Suddenly I became curious about the maker of the weathervane.  What were they trying to say?  Was there something I wasn't getting?  Was it simply an aesthetic, artsy kind of thing, or was it some deep philosophical comment on our insignificance in relation to the universe?  And what was the deal with those windows?  Just how fortified did they need to be?  The imagery of this whole thing gave me a feeling of impending doom.

 

Now - days later, sitting here writing about it I can see the humor in getting the ticket for jay-walking.  

 

 

 



The Adam's Family

 

 

 

 

 

Note found in a Passport

At this point I cannot determine my fate.  I have knowingly gotten myself into this situation and without proper resources my rescue seems unlikely. They have prepared dishes of their culture and have attempted to feed me, however, the food is quite foreign and I am not sure about the sanitary conditions.  I have no idea what is to become of me.  I am also not sure if I will ever understand my wife heading to the mall like that, just leaving me  alone here with her parents. 

 

 



Sring Theory

 

 

 

Think how far a kite could go...

 

 

 OK, maybe not as far as all this,

the theory being the weight of the string, even through stretched out,

would prevent the kite from crossing time zones -

unless of course it folded back on itself

returning to a time just before you began to fly it,

at which point weight would not have been a factor.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Learning by Example

 

Before children tell the truth, they should lean slightly forward, look the person right in the eye and say –

 

 “Off the record?”



 

Bits of Yesterday

She said she never sold entire sets of things or complete objects.  According to her - the things she sold had an intrinsic beauty.  They were things found in the broken pieces of yesterday.  Things that had gotten detached from what they once were she found to be more exciting, like scraps of time snagged on something and left there unnoticed for years, or pieces of someone's long-ago dream - perhaps in the light of day seeming just a little cracked.

She had a unique perspective and when you walked through her antique shop you could not only see it but you could feel it as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 I could be wrong but I believe when you leave her shop a small piece of you remains behind.

 

Going On Seven Years Now...

 

 

I'm just wondering how much longer.

 

 

 



The Smoking Crow

 

Picking at the carcass she holds it down with one foot

stretching her meal until a bite-sized piece snaps off

 

It is fresh but not that fresh

 

She watches the traffic - keen to spot those on cell phones - they are the most hazardous

 

Oblivious to life around them they jabber and swerve

No stranger to making last minute hops

she narrowly escapes a Toyota

 

Tugging for another bite she recalls yesterday -

a country road with little traffic

 

plenty of time to enjoy a meal


When she is done she will return to the porch rail
at the senior center and check for a smoldering cigarette in the ashtray 


she has yet to quit



 

 

 

One Brick Short

I’ve often thought that if I had standard house building bricks it would be fun to see how high I could stack them.  Just a single brick sitting on a perfectly flat surface and then a second brick placed on top of the first brick, edges lined up square so if you were looking at it from the top down all you’d see is one brick.  Then, of course, I’d carefully place the third brick, and so on.  In the absence of wind it would seem that I should be able to stack them extremely high.  The challenge being me; how would I elevate myself in order to keep stacking the bricks?  I’m guessing scaffolding would be required at the beginning.  Later, perhaps, a large crane hoisting me up long enough to place the next brick on top, then lowering me down to retrieve a brick and then hoisting me up again.  This could become quite expensive, depending upon the cost of the crane, the crane operator and the seemingly endless supply of bricks.   At some point the weight of all the stacked bricks might crush the bottom brick, causing the entire stack to topple. Or maybe it wouldn’t be the bottom brick to give out but simply the weakest brick in the stack, sort of like the weakest link in a chain.  For the purposes of my mental ramblings, however, let’s assume there to be no weak bricks and therefore no toppling.  Once I exceeded the reach of the massive crane I might consider the use of a remote control drone.  Then, after reaching the distance where the remote control drone no longer works I would employ the use of a windless helicopter.  I like the idea of a windless helicopter, although I don’t believe they have been invented yet, so I would put up a sign next to my stack of bricks saying that the project was on hold until a windless helicopter could be invented.  Hopefully this break in the action would allow me to have a rest from brick stacking, and besides, no one is really paying me to do this, and I should have worn gloves.  Yikes.  OK, so I’ve been thinking, maybe I should have dug a very deep hole with a small platform and pulley system.  That would have allowed me to start my stack, not at the Earth’s surface, but much, much lower.  Then, when appropriate, like now – when I’ve nothing to do but wait for the helicopter designers to do their thing, I could be raising the stack, bringing the platform up, even with the Earth’s surface, making my stack of bricks that much higher.  Now I wish I had thought of that before I started this whole thing.  Okay, I’m back now.  The windless helicopter has been invented and I have petitioned the Government for its use, explaining my project in full and in triplicate.  They sent out their inspectors and I ended up with several more Government forms to fill out.  While I was waiting for their decision, OSHA showed up and said that my brick stacking project was unsafe.  They had charts and official-looking drawings showing the potential hazardous zones, and the inevitable fragment patterns that would follow any collapse.  They wanted me to build a containment area, complete with warning signs, some in color, most quite graphic, and in several languages.  They further indicated that should my stack of bricks extend into a flight path I would have to put a flashing red warning light on the upper most brick.  The power source for the light was not discussed; however they did say a hefty fine would be assessed should it go out.  I should mention here that the media has not been missing during all of this; in fact, through their reporting of my project several private investors have come forward, as well as a few wannabe sponsors.  So far I have not entertained any offers; however, I have not yet heard what the hourly rate is going to be for the windless helicopter should they decide to let me use it.   There was one mystery company that offered me the use of what they referred to as, A Self-Illuminated Brick that I might use for the top.  It glows bright red and will never die out.  They did also mention that when handling it I should most definitely wear gloves.

 

I am still awaiting a decision on the use of the helicopter.

 

 

Just in case you were wondering...

All you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right kind of people.

No offence to my last place of employment.

 

 



Junkyard

Junkyard is a friend of mine

he writes me every day

tries to sell me curios

no shipping need I pay

 

He tries to sell me Tupperware

delivered to my door

and advertises nose strips

for all of those who snore

 

He tries to sell me tailored suits

a shirt right off the rack

and should I add the promo code

I'll get some money back

 

Electronics is no problem

he’s a warehouse without walls

with tech support just overseas

he takes 800 calls

 

My credit card is all he needs

he’ll help me get my start

just look it up and drag it round

then add it to my cart

 

The only thing he doesn't sell

and I get a little tense

is the thing I’ve needed most of all

a little common sense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vocal Cord DNA

 

 

 



A Writer of Wrongs

 

 

 

 

Wrong place at the wrong time.

 

 

 

I thought I had one more but I was mistaken.

 

                                                                                   wrong.

 

 

 

 

 



The Curvature of the Earth

 

It's not what you thought.

 

 



Hatchet Men

It was, of course, a business decision to bring in the area Manager from Terra Haute, with his business shoes all polished.  We anticipated a soft hat and trench coat, dapper but not over done; his degrees framed and tucked under one arm.  We surely would be assembled, like some military review, and then, right after the formal pleasantries, one by one we’d be called into an intimidating, mahogany office with various artificial plants here and there; no wait – they’re real.  Of course, no area Manager would have artificial plant-life festooning their intimidating office space.  What was I thinking?

One by one we’d be summoned to see the hatchet man.  That’s what they call them you know, hatchet men, called in for no other reason than to thin the herds.  Obviously it was a task too distasteful for John, who had gotten to know us as humans, been to our homes, and shared birthday cake.  No one who has shared birthday cake would bother to polish their shoes for such an occasion as this. 

As I stood there listening, feeling isolated and intimidated this area Manager spoke to me using business words, also highly polished.  We’d gotten too big, he said.  We’d over-grown the standard model and after some time his words blurred into some Terra Haute dialect, so foreign even the fichus began to question whether or not these were really words.  I found myself becoming quite irritated standing there listening to this hired monotone speaking of us as if we were no more than blips upon his graph.  Get to the bottom line, I screamed at him, to myself of course.  He had no clue I had begun to berate him in my head.  I was mentally snickering at his business attire and began having fun making snide silent comments about the very generic artwork strategically suspended from hidden nails.

I suddenly noticed a gap.  He had stopped talking and was now staring at me.  Had there been a question?   Did I miss the bottom line?  After all this… really?

Not to worry.  He was just catching his breathe.  Rejuvenated after his much needed gulp of oxygen he fell back into his verbal cadence, sighting by-laws and presidents.  I went quickly back into my mental fog, retreating as fast as possible from this Terra Hooten. 

Nothing any of us could have done would have prevented them from splitting us up. Our Scout Troop, that day, was divided into different districts.   Bobbie ended up in District 5.  We still saw each other at school and rode the same bus and shared each other’s birthday cake.  We just no longer attended the same Cub Scout meetings.

We were bummed.

 

 

“Perhaps it’s the chauffeur’s hat.”

 

 

To know where we are helps us

find our way back -

and keeps us from running

a muck,

 

Road maps and bookmarks

a compass and stars -

bread crumbs are not

just for luck,

 

We name every planet we spot in the sky

and number the acts

in a play,

 

On the horizon we keep a close eye

and exit stage left -

as they say,

 

I’m so very lost
there’s a pain in my heart -

 adrift all alone
out to sea,

  

I've forgotten my line
don't know where to start -
 

They’ll be no moving on

to act three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Highfalutin

  but only if your falutin count is above 700

 

 

 

Zobostic - Unplugged

What did Buddha say to the Hotdog Vendor?

 

 

 

"Make me one with everything."





Zobostic – at the speed of Write

 

 

Within the vast expanse that is the galaxy of my cognitive ability, I have discovered my thoughts to be neither vast nor expansive.  In fact, just a few light beers ago I came up with the following;

Cremation is not a right -

but something you must urn.

I believe it was that particular thought that caused me to examine my relationship with the English language.  To date, I have toyed with it, batted it about as if it were nothing more than something to be battered about.  But now, sober and alert, I can see the error of my ways.

My commitment to you is this:  Never again shall I dangle a participle; I will allow all verbs the action they deserve, and I'll treat proper nouns properly. (Some of them anyway)

Of course I may slip back into my old ways now and again.  I’m only human.  But I will give it my best, for this is my blog and it deserves nothing less. 

I leave it here, tucked towards the back of this cyberspace drawer, next to Gideon’s, to be read whenever you’re feeling a lack of silliness.  Pick it up, thumb through it.  Select anything at random and there you’ll be.

Respectfully

Your Pal

Zobostic Corwin

 

 

 

 

Never Trust an Atom

  They make up everything.

Submitted by: Sally S.

Global Legacy

What if, years after some massive disaster has wiped out all traces of every civilization on the planet, there is finally a visit from intelligent life from a distant galaxy, and all they find buried in the rubble is this?

 

 

Artist Attendite




Remnants

Window shades and eyelids

New mowed grass and rugs

Recalling things that I did

My memory has bugs

 

Technology and footwear

Blender drinks we sip

An App to find a plumber

Cannot stop a drip

 

Bygone actor photos

Like folks we never met

Set my mind to thinking

Of lines I can’t forget

 

Bookshelves filled with jackets

A winter sport for sure

Hemmingway & Charlotte’s Web

Get tangled in the blur

 

Age, it has caught up with me

My race completely run

Like window shades & eyelids

Blocking out the Sun

 

Beneath the Marble Headstone

In a field - back by the fence

My dialog continues

Though not in present tense

 

 

 

 

zc