Zobostic - Left 2 Write: September 2020

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

I'm Here - Under the Parsley

The above story is true.

It is in this format simply because I didn't feel

like retyping the whole thing.

I was driving along the Interstate, the Sun was
striking the side of this rather large roll of hay
and well... it was hard not to notice it.
I pulled over, got out of the car and climbed over
the fence.

Hey, finder's keepers.
As you can see, I took it and brought it home.
My wife couldn't believe my luck.
She was excited to see it. In fact -
she went an got a needle out of her sewing kit
and stuck it here.

I took the picture.

Left to Write

Actual Blog starts here.

Hello. I am Zobostic Corwin and I have been left here to write. As I do not know anything about you, some parts of this exposé may appear much more shallow than other areas. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if you could see clear to the bottom. It is there you will discover rocks, smaller creatures, sand and the occasional unknown. Those will be the things that are not even clear to me. None the less – they are there and at least are deserving of a mention.

Your day to day existence, your habits, personality and breakfast preferences – for me, are all at the deep end. I see none of that and won’t even hazard a guess. The fact that you are reading this suggests to me that we are at least in the same body of water.

I would guess that beyond this blog we share an appreciation for art, nature and random occurrences of punctuation. Scattered about within this blog are examples – both good and bad, aromas – some more pleasant than others, and of course colors so vibrant that the naked eye becomes embarrassed to look directly at them.

If you have viewed my profile, then you know that I am curious about the number of carry-ons you are allowed for time travel. I believe that to be a legitimate question. We all have stuff, and if we are to zap our future selves from the diving board clear over to the playground, shouldn’t we be able to have with us those things appropriate for swings and monkey bars?

You’re right, I can see I lost a few of you back there. The whole reason for this blog is to give my brain a place to play. My actual self, like you, has to remain here, do chores, be productive and for the most part, conform to society’s norms. My brain, however, is free to move about the cabin. I can mix metaphors that otherwise would never be seen together. I can hop onto a train of thought, not having a care in the world where it is headed.

I need not become so philosophical that I bog myself down in circular rhetoric. I can simply splash about in the galactic ocean of abstract thoughts, using nouns and verbs as my flotation devices, and should I ever get in too deep, I take comfort in always knowing where my towel is.

It's Okay to write back. Just dive in when you're ready.

Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Please Stand By

We seem to be stuck on 3

Not the life she had imagined

I know of this whale weathervane that no longer faces the wind. Her decisions no longer dictated by storms and past adventures are now only fading memories.

She need not hang on so tightly but learning that - took time. Retirement was a great adjustment. Alone, no longer a part of the many, her seas are calm. Cloud formations have lost their significance.

Now, simply an object to occasionally be noticed, dusted – she points outward in silence, all the while knowing inwardly that her destiny will be to float up on the shore of some distant garage sale.

Saturday, September 26, 2020

It happened in Michigan

We we're headed out to the beach to enjoy the tranquility without yesterday's strong winds.

As I got closer to the end of the driveway, just before getting to the road, we both heard a thud and felt the car hesitate, like we had just hit something.

I quickly stomped on the brake pedal and jammed it into park. My wife was yelling, asking me what we hit as I was getting out to investigate. Slowly I walked around to the front of the car.

My worst fears were confirmed. There, laying on its back, was a full-grown male mosquito. I could see one of its wings had been damaged and it was bleeding.

As I stared down at it I could see it grimace in pain, then it looked up at me, just waiting to see if I was going to finish it off. I couldn't - even though I wanted to. By this time my wife had gotten out and walked around to see for herself.

"Crap, I hope this didn't leave a dent."

Just then the wounded mosquito attempted to move its wings and kick it's feet, in order to right itself. We both jumped back. "Get in the car." We both scrambled back into the front seat.

"Lock your door." I then brought the shifter down into drive. "Hold on," I said, as we slowly drove over what felt like a large speedbump.

As long as I live, I'll never forget that horrific sound. Imagine a very ripe watermelon, coated with a layer of crunchy Dorito's, add in a brief, high-pitched squeal and you've got it.

We may require serious counseling after this.

Or, maybe just me.

Okay - imagine this...

You’ve graduated, you have your degree and a little money in your pocket.

You also have a great idea.

You share your idea with your best friend. He says, “Let’s draw it up, write a proposal and take it to a manufacturer.”

Now you’re excited.

A little time passes.

You and your friend take your drawings and business plan to a company.

They review it. It goes before a committee. Everything is explored, design, material cost, cost to manufacture, packaging, distribution, and advertising.

It gets approved.

Finally your big day comes.

You get the first one off the assembly line. You walk it over to the closest door and give it a try.

It works!

This is not an endorsement

Marilyn Merlot

Collecting Shells at a Beach in Mexico

Thursday, September 24, 2020

Lawn Bumps

My front lawn isn’t flat. It rolls a little this way and that. It almost looks like it is a blanket of grass covering something up; like maybe I could lift a corner and peek under it to see what’s under there. Possibly it’s an earth-sized mattress, with a tag on it that warns against removing the tag. No, that would be silly. It must be something important, otherwise why cover it up?

My backyard is flat. I don’t expect anything is under that. But the front yard, now that’s interesting. Maybe next week I’ll get a long, pokey stick and just give gentle, little pokes here and there. Of course, if something groans or moves, I’ll have a heart attack right there on the spot. Just thinking about that has already given me the creeps. Maybe I won’t poke it.

If I knew somebody from a hospital, they’d let be borrow their X-Ray machine. I could just roll it out onto the lawn, run an extension cord over to an outlet and then turn the thing on. ZAP! I’d have a picture of whatever it was. Not in color, mind you – but a black and white. And if whatever it is was laying on its side, I still may not be able to tell just from looking at the X-Ray what it is. I may need to hire an X-Ray Technician.

Seriously, who’s going to let me borrow their X-Ray machine? No one, that’s who. I’m going to need a Plan B.

I know that whatever is under the lawn is sharing the space with tree roots, earth worms, rocks and the not-so lucky coin I lost out there a couple years ago. It must have worked its way under the grass because in all this time I have never found it. Maybe some panicked prisoner running through the neighborhood accidently stepped on it with their big convict shoes, pressing it down into the layer just below grass level.

That’s it! A metal detector, that would do it. Not as pokey as a stick, and not as cumbersome as a borrowed X-Ray machine. Okay, next week I’ll go to the Buy More and get a metal detector. But if they don’t have it right there in the store I won’t order it. I know from experience it will never show up. They say they will order it, then after the delivery date has come and gone, they will tell me it’s on back-order. Weeks will pass. My beard will grow. I will either have to shave again or just let it grow. Once it starts to get too long, I’ll call Buy More Customer Service, because if I go back into the store they wouldn't recognize me. Anyway, after waiting on the phone an unreasonable amount of time listening to bad music, an employee will answer.

We will run through all the questions; when did you order it? Who did you talk to? What is the inventory number? By the way, what was it you ordered?

I will explain that it was the Excalibur 5000 Metal Detector, Model#2211, with Velcro straps, ergonomic grips and cup holder.

There will be a long silence on the phone. Finally, they’ll say,

“You’re not going to use this on lawn bumps, are you?”

I Promise

To stop wasting my time on this Blog

Maybe I'll start tomorrow.