From my Cell

 

I could make out the distant telephone
lines, but not much else.

I had years to wonder who was talking
to who and about what.

Maybe one of them was my lawyer
with a Plan B.

Remote

 

What are the odds that this
will turn out to be anything?

A Good Mix

 

        I tend to work best with a blend of outside light and indoor light.  I haven’t noticed any change in light speed, like one reaching my page before the other.  The rays seem to keep pace with each other, which is nice.  And I like the fact that light doesn’t make a sound, you know, like lightning sometimes does.  This blend of light is completely silent.  I think it’s the same kind they used back when they were making silent movies.

 

 

Space Available

 

Stopping again to put gas in the car got me thinking about other things, other than gas, that run out.  My office stapler runs out of staples, just as the tape dispenser can run out of tape.  A pen can run out of ink and children can run out of a burning house.  Water runs out of a faucet but doesn’t necessarily run out. Angry ball players run out of a dugout while a teacher can run out of patience.  A diver can run out of air and an airline can run out of peanuts.

There are, of course, a bazillion other things, but I have run out of time.  By the way, I’m proud of myself for not mentioning noses.

 

 

Writing was my Trigger

 

The horse seemed much larger when I stood right next to it.  In fact, it made me quite nervous just knowing if it suddenly moves in some unexpected way, it would knock me right over.  The other thing was, I had no clue what it was thinking.  It was just looking, swatting at flies with its tail and smelling horse-like.

How is it, this thing was given hooves and not claws, like a bear or lion?  And no pointy teeth.  Now how is that a thing?  I’m starting to see why these are not indoor pets.

Okay, you see what’s happened here?  I sat down to write but had no idea what topic I wanted to write about.  This is how gibberish happens.  I remember doing the same thing back in school.  I’d be given a story problem and soon discover that I’d wandered completely off the reservation.  I’d have paragraphs and paragraphs about some construction worker hanging by his beltloop off the edge of someone’s roof, when all I had to determine was how many apples Susan had left.

I should have known something was wrong when the rest of the class was out on the playground at recess and I was still writing.

Come to think of it, horses like apples.  Now how is it a horse discovered an apple hanging from a tree and thought, maybe I should eat that…

There, Their and They're

 

I stepped outside yesterday to fill the water dish.   Most of the neighborhood critters usually stop by for a drink.  As I poured fresh water into the bowl, the crows were yelling at me.  I went ahead and assumed they were thanking me.

I tried to understand how it is they communicate with each other when it all sounds the same.  Caw! Caw!  I can’t detect any deviation, no inflections or change in pitch or volume.  Every yell sounds exactly the same.  How strange is that?

The Bats at Dusk

 

With their short wings and pointy ears

they zip through the evening sky

chasing tasty insects,

rarely flying straight

 

So different from birds

no song do they have

too many to count

the numbers they bring

 

The bats at dusk

Nature’s vacuum in the sky

cleaning the carpet of insects

overhead

Chalk Dust

 

Cleaning the blackboard was like getting a do-over, but even a brand-new day has a little chalk residue on it. Things leftover from yesterday seem to occupy tiny spots in my mind.  They’re unplugged but remain illuminated.  Perhaps stray current flowing from my conscience causes them to stay on the board, like fragments of a sentence or a fraction of some formula that hasn’t been completely erased.

I don’t know if I have ever had a completely blank slate.  I expect if I did, I’d want to quickly fill it with something, otherwise I’d start seeing myself as lazy.

Then again, maybe I am lazy.  I can’t say that I’m really motivated to go and do something grand.  There isn’t much I get excited about, or anything I care to go and see.

For the most part, my mental excursions keep me occupied.  In case you haven’t noticed, I write odd bits and put them here.  It’s only now and then that I run across a thought that leads me down a dark alley.  Like this morning I was thinking that, until we are visited by aliens, we’ll remain at the top of the food chain.  That particular thought sent me to places best left to people like Stephen King.  I'll just hold my breath and slap these erasers together. 

 

 

 

Code Blue

 

No matter if you’re waiting for a bus or awaiting trial, there’s something to be said for a good cup of coffee.

Depending on circumstances, our standards change.  A 10-cent hot cup of coffee, dispensed in a paper cup from a machine can be just as comforting as some $9.00 foam, whip, razzle-dazzle with the image of a fern on the top. 

Consider the factory worker, whose only option is the 10-cent coffee machine.  Surrounded by noise, annoying bosses and seemingly endless night shifts, the heat transferred through that paper cup is enough to take their mind off of their situation long enough to picture some tropical destination, where the warmth of the sun drowns out everything else.

That same coffee machine, against the wall in the hospital waiting room can perform similar magic.

It’s only when the paper cup drops at an angle, sending coffee around the tilted cup and down the drain that we’re snapped back to the harsh reality that sometimes things go wrong.

 

A Penny for your Thoughts

 

Seems a rather cheap price for a peek behind the curtain.  I believe the only reason society works is because our thoughts are not out loud. 

Imagine for a moment that everyone could hear everything you were thinking.  What a different world that would be.

There wouldn’t be any bank robbers, or government peace talks.  The number of sales in women’s clothing stores would drop considerably.  Many shoppers in hardware stores would continually be insulted by the staff.

Lawyers and contractors would have the hardest time of all.

And just maybe, that is how life is in the spirit world.  When thinking is all you have left, you have no choice but to be honest.  Isn’t that what muting our thoughts does for us?  It allows us to be dishonest, forcing others to purchase our thoughts.

The Grand Finale

 

It makes a difference.

When your feet and hands are tied and you’re stuffed into a trunk, the important thing to ask is…

Is this the trunk of a car or a magician’s trunk up on stage?

There are many situations we try to escape from, some more difficult than others.

There are soft-spoken gentlemen in expensive suits that will tell your survivors they need to upgrade to the stainless-steel box, with its silk interior and guaranteed moisture barrier.

Escape here is imperative.  That box is thousands and thousands of dollars and does the exact same thing the eight-hundred-dollar box does.  It gets buried with your remains inside.

Depending on your belief system, you’ll either never know the difference, or your spirit will be inside listening very hard to hear the word “Abracadabra.”

 

 

Attention to Detail

 

Here, the artist thought to add a wall switch, and shadows -
adding a perfect touch of realism.

Quick Reflexes

 

So I reached out just in time
to grab the camera
as it came floating by.

It happened in Birmingham, Michigan

 

Once upon a time there was a great race between a Volkswagen Beetle and a skateboard.  It was a downhill race.  The Beetle was not allowed to use its motor, it had to rely on gravity and simply roll downhill.  The person on the skateboard was not allowed to push with their foot.  They could only stand, balanced as they too rolled down hill.

The entire village turned out to see this race.  People lined both sides of the street, cheering for their favorite. Little children held balloons, adults had their favorite beverages, in brown paper bags, there were folding chairs and banners, politicians and free donuts, supplied by Marty’s Donut Shop.  The high school marching band stood ready at the bottom of the hill.  Just as soon as there was a clear winner they would begin to play.

The local newspaper had a reporter present as well as a photographer.  This was to be on the front page in the morning, and it was.  There was indeed a photograph, and many quoted comments about the winner.  The band, however, was never sure if they should start playing or not, for you see, the clear winner was a runaway donut, which had been dropped by little Debra Lemke.  It rolled with great speed, passing both the car and skateboard and even took flight as it crossed the finish line.

Sadly, a true story.

What they don't tell you

         I noticed that once I retired the inter-office memos stopped coming.  No longer do I receive urgent messages announcing anything.  If there are any changes to the way things are done, it shall remain secret.  Suddenly I am out of the loop.  It’s very much like when I left grade school.  No one is passing me notes anymore.  If I am supposed to meet someone out on the playground, I haven’t been told about it.

People do a lot of things to prepare for retirement.  They save up their money, they reduce expenses and maybe even adjust where they end up living.  Why live in the city if you’re not working there anymore?   It is quite a transition.  In fact, some people require counseling to help them make the adjustment.  Never, however, do they tell you about the memos.

Okay, Mr. Corwin, your pension will start on this date, your medical coverage will continue until here.  Now, you need to turn in your keys to the office and return the parking pass. 

“What about office memos?”

I’m sorry, but those will stop as of today.

"But I wasn't prepared for that.  I'm not ready.

How will I know what’s going on, what if there are changes to the way things are done?  What about…”

I’m really very sorry, but all of that goes away.

Toss it in here

 

They exist in many places, so why not here?  Simply consider this a junk drawer.  The Internet’s literary junk drawer.  It is full of odd bits, strange ideas and random thoughts.  It is now and has always been completely unorganized.  There are stories, finished as well as unfinished.  Things left hanging, with vague promises that I’ll return to complete them one day.  In fact, some I have but you never went back to check.

There are scraps and notes, scribbled with phone numbers.  Whose number, I haven’t a clue.  What isn’t in here are scissors, Scotch tape, pens and unsharp pencils.  There are no business cards or address books, rubber bands or very old hard candies, cemented to their wrappings.  There is no broken-off part of something that goes to whatever, I forget, but don’t throw it away.

And should you be looking for proper grammatical advice, the speed at which someone can safely change tenses, or any how-to suggestions, you’ll want to check a different drawer.  This aren’t the place.  Here is where silly lives.  There are talking shoes and floating horses, awkward poetry and serious drivel.  I have kept advertising to a low hum and only wore my hat when needed.

 

Quando omni flunkus moritati

 

Where - oh where

 

Two name places usually have issues, like Terra Haute, Bocca Ratan, and Dee Troit.  It’s fine if you’re just passing through but for Heaven’s sake, don’t ever move there.  Also, places with too many letters in their name can be problematic, like Albuquerque.  You never want to run for office or ride a horse in that town.

Small European villages with cobblestone streets might look good in post cards but leave your high heels at home and never run while carrying carbonated beverages.  There’s a good reason everyone drinks wine.

Aroma plays an important part when deciding where to live.  Cool mountain air might smell clean and fresh but bring a jacket.  Places like Gary Indiana, Tacoma, Washington or Los Angeles, California oftentimes have an air quality designated as chewy, while garlic is the predominant odor throughout Italy.

See the reverse side of this post for a list of the ten best places to live.

 

 

How it Works

 

The internal workings of a compass are comprised partly of magic.  It is the minor electrical current flowing from a person’s body, into the compass that ignites its intuitive function.  Basically, it knows where you want to go.

Various compass manufacturers will coat the inside walls with a mixture of Depositnate and Ignorzit, preventing any outside interference from the vibrations formed by mother-in-law vocal cords, or Spousal pranksters.  (That's the magic part)

Smack-dab

 

Smack-dab is not a unit of measurement but is a physical location.   You’ll not see it marked on any map.  Either you know where it is because you’ve been there before or someone else has told you, but it is never written down.

You’ll not even find it along the murky bottom of the Internet.  It is an expression that has been on Earth longer than the cockroach and has spread as slowly and as silently as peanut butter across the country.

Given enough string and the proper coordinates, a person might come close to finding the center, but rarely will they end up smack-dab in the middle.

 

 

Magnification 51,000 times

 

I could hear all the dogs barking

 

The soap vendor sold this

by the pound.

Hospital Corners

 

A Poem of Sorts

 

A collection of things and ideas

assembled and fastened

with punctuation

presented as one

appreciated by few

potentially brilliant

 

Where would you like to go today?

 

“I think I’d like to walk along the trail, over by the river.”

We could do that but the last time we did, you complained about stepping on the stones and tripping over the tree roots.

“Then how about if we walk downtown?”

Don’t you remember stepping on that chewing gum?  You hated that.

“Oh, I remember.  Okay then, lets just go for a ride in the car.”

You said it was dark and stuffy down by the gas pedal, and you couldn’t see out of the window.

“Let’s just watch a movie on television.  You can use the foot stool and then we both can watch.”

Sounds fine to me.  Any movie in particular?

"How about, The Man with one Red Shoe?"

 

People in History

 

R. Gile, was the 17^th century scientist who discovered friction by noticing that only the bottom of his socks got holes in them.

Rita Book, known for her fight in the literary community to break stories up into pages, making them easier to organize and number.  Even today it is hard to find a book that doesn’t have pages.

Barb Wire, president of the Cattleman’s Association from 1863 to 1881.

Ada Klock, Children’s Storytime lady, was the first to establish a curfew for young adults in England.

 

 

inside the box

 

I remember, just vaguely, magic rocks and sea monkeys.  These were odd things sold to children, to put in fishbowls or aquariums.  I believe they were simply for entertainment.  If I recall, they were colorful and they magically moved.

Today, those children are in their 70’s and are being sold colorful packages of wrinkle creams.  There exists a seemingly endless supply of products designed to restore youth, get rid of aching joints and pump up your energy for 5 hours at a time.

There will always be snake oil and sea monkeys.  The old will remember their younger days in a positive light, while children can’t wait to grow up, drive a car and stay up late.  People only want equality in an upwardly direction, just as that person over there seems to have it all.

Why do we find it so hard to be content, to simply be happy and enjoy who we are and how we are.  It could be that those people who claim to have achieved self-actualization have learned to accept the fact that they themselves are colorful and are magically moving around.

 

I’ll let you know if I get there.

 

 

A Rather Vowel Smell

 

Maybe about twice a year, after I empty all the wastebaskets around the house, I take them out to the driveway and scrub them with soap and water.

It occurred to me yesterday that I have never really cleaned out this electronic wastebasket here on my monitor.  All I’ve ever done is empty it.  So, yesterday, with rubber gloves and a hard bristle brush, I went to work cleaning it out.

Most things came out easily, although there were some half-baked ideas that were rather sticky and had begun to mold.  I ran across a few broken promises and sometimes y’s.

It was the silent letters that were the hardest to see, and several inklings were stuck to the bottom of the basket, along with about two pounds of old, crusty commas.  One incomplete sentence had gotten itself wedged along the upper edge, I tried to scra

Apparently, I was the bait.

 

Just below the surface is where my toes were wiggling.  The pond was a tad murky, so I couldn’t see very far down into the water.  The afternoon sun was baking me, but it felt good in comparison to the chill of the pond.  My legs were actually cold.

Jerry was sitting two spots away from me and watching his bobber.  He had yet to catch anything but seemed content just sitting there enjoying the day.  I pulled a piece of bread from my sandwich and tossed it onto the water.  We both watched it to see if there would be any takers.  That’s when I felt something large brush against my foot.  I quickly jerked both feet up and scooted further back onto the dock.

Jerry gave me an odd look and asked what the problem was.  “There is something very large in there.  It just rubbed against my foot.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I have no idea but I’m keeping my feet up here from now on.”

“Maybe it’s the Murky Pond Strangler.”

“You read too many horror stories.  Besides, who ever heard of strangling a foot?”

Shortly after that we packed up and headed home.  We never did find out what was in the pond.

What is it about me

 

What topics have I

perhaps overlooked,

where nothing was given

and nothing was tooked.

Where words that I made

live very content –

In shadows and light

In straightness and bent.

What message could be

of such great import

To interrupt laughing

with an occasional snort.

I think there is none

not my nature to preach

but to keep proper thoughts

just out of reach.

 

They all have just one

 

I try to avoid driving East in the morning, although I sometimes can’t help it.  There is a visor that flips down to block out the Sun, there is a thick post, which holds the windshield in place and is also filled with airbags, ready to explode.  In the center of it all, hangs a rearview mirror.  This leaves very little actual viewing space in which to see the road ahead, with all of its potential shenanigans.

But obstructed vision isn’t what I want to talk about today, it’s what’s in your rearview mirror.  Of course, automakers have filled our cars with computers, cameras, sensors and flashing lights to warn us of all the things that may not be reflected in your mirror.  But this hazard is one you can see.  It’s your friendly tailgater.

They are in a hurry, they believe you are going too slow and so they stay only inches from your bumper.  This elevates your stress level while reducing your possible reaction time.  They’re like little barnacles that have attached themselves to your Stingray or Barracuda.  Okay, ignore that part, I was just having fun with car names.

Anyway, the Blog lawyers tell me that I can’t offer up suggestions as what to do, all I’m allowed to suggest is to do your best to ignore them and believe that their stupidity and karma will send them hurtling over a cliff, landing in a fiery explosion, which burns off one eyebrow, making them recognizable as a tailgater. 

It's what ales us.

 

The racoons wash their food whenever there is water available, yet birds pull worms straight out of the dirt and swallow them.  My mother-in-law would cook the living daylights out of a grilled cheese sandwich.  If you didn’t know ahead of time what it was, you’d think she had ironed a charcoal briquette completely flat.

Food, in general, has evolved into a chemically processed substance that looks very close to what actual food once looked like, although they haven’t yet been able to duplicate the scent of a fresh tomato.

In the whirlwind of technological advancements, artificial intelligence and actual robots, we tend to ignore what ends up on our dinner plate.  There is, taking place, a slow evolution transforming what we eat into that which we shouldn’t.  It only serves to feed the medical community.

As always, opposing views welcome. 

RJM

 

Funny how the one thing you left was a picture of an empty boat.  It's almost like you knew you wouldn't be around.

 

 

Clue 14

 

Game Over

 

The edges of the dice were rounded and worn yet still tumbled as before.  They had seen the old man win and lose over the years, now however, things felt different.  His hands were somehow slower, and their age had bent and curved his fingers.  Pulling dollars from his wallet had become painful.

He had been on the downward side of the hill before, but this felt new, like a place he’s only heard about, and he didn’t really care for it.  He needed to start winning again.  He desperately needed to rebuild his financial cushion and finally leave the game for good.

What he hadn’t considered was his old pocket watch informing him his time was up.

Take 2

 

Why is one peanut not enough?  What is there that tells this Crow, I better take two, while I’m here.

Is it that he knows the other Crows will swoop in and grab them if he doesn’t?

Is he just picking up an extra for a friend?

Maybe he is just really, really hungry.

Are Crows not good at sharing?

Is this behavior limited to Crows?

How many little boys, when presented with a plate of cookies, would take more than one?

Maybe, in the animal kingdom, this particular Crow is a politician.

 

 

Parsley, Bows and Paint

 

Making something look appealing helps to sell it.  A colorful bow on a Christmas package suggests there  might be a really good present inside.  An amazing paint job on a car tends to give it personality and style.  You can just picture it in your driveway.

It's best not to look too deep at the steak on your dinner plate.  Knowing too much, on how it came to be could destroy your appetite.  Instead, focus on that sprig of parsley at the edge of the plate.  Isn’t that a lovely contrast to the mashed potatoes?

All too often the things on the other side of the amazing paint are rusted and broken, or design flaws yet to be discovered or recalled.   That is why car dealerships employ Lot Boys.  He is a minimum wage kid who’s job is to wash all the cars on the lot.  To keep them looking good, make the tires look new and the glass sparkle.

The parsley used by the medical profession is caring.  “We care about you.”  You get first-rate personal attention at our hospital.  You deserve the best.  Our state-of-the-art equipment… blah, blah, blah.  But look beyond the parsley, check under the hood, pay attention to the facial expression on the person at the front desk.  Are they smiling?  Do they have a little parsley in their teeth?

 

 

Mental Winds

 

I have hiked this trail many times, enough that I recognize a few of the tree roots crossing the path ahead of me.  I am quite familiar with the sounds as I make my way up this slight incline.  There is the sharp call of the Blue Jay, the chatter of the squirrel and the distant coo of the Dove.

What’s failing me at the moment is whether I go left or right at this fork.  It is so darn frustrating, for I know if I pick wrong too many times I’ll get locked out.  As soon as that happens, I end up answering more things I don’t remember and then trying to prove I’m not a robot.

No, I don’t recall my first pet’s maiden name.  Wilson Junior High comes to mind, or Lincoln Nebraska, I don’t remember.  I should have tucked some artificial intelligence into my backpack.  Maybe that would explain why I am on this journey. 

Maybe these hikers in the orange vests will remember where I am.  Now they’re telling me they have been searching for me for a few days.  How can that be?  When did I come out here, and where did I park?  “Yes, thank you.  I’d like some water.”

 

Shutter speed

 

Without knowing what this thing was thinking, I couldn’t really spend a whole lot of time adjusting camera settings.  It was simply a snap and run situation.

It did, however, remind me of a time when I was trying to learn sign language.  My intent was to be able to communicate with deaf people. What I discovered was that I had no frame of reference with respect to their level of intelligence.

In the hearing world, the moment someone starts speaking, you know a great deal about them.  Not so, with the deaf.  Sign language has no indicators as to the amount of education or life experience a person has had.  I didn't know if I was communicating with a college professor or a politician. Testing the waters can prove awkward.

I am sure I came off as a complete dolt to several people.  Hopefully some of my stupidity was attributed to me not being familiar with most of the signs and not at all being fast in signing to begin with.

The animal now standing in front of me could either be thinking about knocking me down, or possibly just admiring my camera choice.  Not really believing it was camera choice, I decided to just click the picture and quickly depart.  For all I know, the thing could have been deaf, and here I am going on about auto-focus and composition.

 

People - They're fun to watch.

 

Nature protected the nut by putting a shell around it, but then it gave birds pointy beaks and squirrels sharp teeth.  That seems a system designed to fail.

To make up for it, the bird only has three pointy toes in which to hold the nut while it pokes at it, and the squirrel has only a short-term memory, so where it has hidden the nut is anyone’s guess.

I believe our sole purpose for being here is entertainment.  God has tossed us all into the same box.  Some are different colors, many speak a different language, there are completely random degrees of intelligence, honesty and caring.  Some have been given sickness, inflictions of some kind and arrogance.  Over the entire box, greed has been sprinkled, and to ensure everything stays mixed, he has added confusion and misunderstandings.

I think that if I were a God, ruling over an entire universe, I too would gather up a box of mixed nuts just to keep myself entertained.