A Flickering Life

 

Living now at the far end of the spectrum, I’m noticing more and more names I’ve known and the actors I have enjoyed are now dead, never to return.  That seems so final.   People who have become famous by being up on the big screen, I somehow expect to always be there, and not only that, but to continue making more movies.

We know the person they were pretending to be.  Mr. Smith, when he went to Washington, and Henry Fonda, as he struggled with the other jury members, and Fezzik helping everyone up the cliffs of insanity are all gone.  That doesn’t seem fair. 

I’m thinking good actors should get a hall pass.  Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan should be allowed to stay the age they are, at the height of their success, and never be required to move on.  

OK, now that I’ve said that out loud, it sounds a little selfish.  Maybe a life of pretending to be someone else isn’t that much fun.  You can’t say what you want, you’ve got to follow the script.

Maybe that’s the part of the big picture I’m missing.  Maybe following the script is the big, overall plan.  We are supposed to lose actors and run out of popcorn.  The screen is designed to go dark.  I guess I just need to get over it.

 

 

 

 

 

     ZC

 

 

 

In My Opinion

 

There is life taking place just outside of my window.  Storm clouds are forming, the wind is blowing the tree branches around and although I can’t feel it, I expect the temperature is changing a bit. 

I think it is interesting how the wild turkeys trotting across my yard seem oblivious to it all.  Or maybe they’re not.  It could be they are on their way to their shelter, but I only see this portion of their trip.  I don’t have all the information needed to make such a statement.  

That’s the aspect of so-called influencers that most concerns me.  Are the followers really getting all they need to know?  I understand that in a world of this many people, there will be X-number of followers.  That’s the fuel that keeps politicians going.  But in general, knowledge today has become so distorted and manipulated that the mentality of the influencers comes into question.

Who or what is actually leading the pack?  I would need much more information before I could answer that one.

 

 

 

 

ZC

 

 

 

Self-examination

 

Whenever I stop for a moment and analyze this blog, I find the most prevalent aspect is its diversity.  You never know what the topic or subject will be.  I’ve always thought that the Element of Surprise should be on the periodic table.

 

zc

Public Service Announcement

 

I’ve known many bobble-heads in my time, although it isn’t appropriate to point them out.  My definition of a bobble-head is a person who agrees with and nods yes to everything their boss says, no matter how utterly ridicules it is.

They tend to drive me nuts.  Attempting to curry favor or get ahead by other means than ability and knowledge.  To me, they are the slime on the surface of the pond, the weeds in the garden, or the politicians in the crowd.

What would you like to hear? Whatever you just said, I agree.  Yes, good idea Boss. 

There needs to be a section on every job application specifically designed to weed out the bobble-heads.  It could only be in the best interest of the company.  There is an old saying that if you have two employees who think alike, one of them is not needed.

 

 

 

ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no defense

 

Mightier than the sword 

"Wooden Fish - Come on Down"

 

So many people are excited to be on a television game show that an over-flow room was created to hold them all.

I noticed we have our own version of an over-flow room at the back of the house.  It has several things waiting to once again join the on-stage activity of the household.   They sit quietly, just waiting, hoping to be called next.

 

 

          zc

Monsters are Real

To the animal kingdom, we are the monsters.  We are the ones killing for sport, we are the ones destroying the atmosphere, the lakes and rivers.  To each other, we smile as a greeting, the animals see us showing our teeth, which is to them a sign of aggression.  We hunt deer from up in the trees and build duck blinds to shoot at passing ducks, which is another form of hiding under the bed, to grab them as they saunter on by. 

We construct arenas to battle each other.  It is not the animal kingdom creating  noise pollution, starting fires or hunting things to extinction.  Only the monsters engage in that behavior.  We alter the weather patterns by covering the surface of the planet with cement and only after do we consider the consequences.  We build massive housing projects, knowing there isn’t available water to support it. 

We allow technology to take the lead, following blindly wherever it takes us, giving our houses and cars control over what happens next, never once considering that in the evolution of monsters technology could be next.

ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Treadwell Collection

 

There is a small area on the bottom of my shoe, in front of the heel but not actually touching the ground.  I don’t know if there is a name for this space, but I can tell you, it is here where I get the ideas for this Blog.  Never the big headlines, but just the crumbs that have slipped past the dustpan, or held tight as the streetsweeper swooshed by.

All sorts of strange things are collected in that space.  I just need to sort through them once I get home.   They tend to gather there as I walk around.  Ideas from the city, smells from the farms I happen to pass, and bits of old assignments whenever I happen to pass the local school. 

Sometimes, although not often, I’ll pick up a sound, or maybe just a fragment of a tune.  I’ll be scraping the various items off of my shoe and suddenly a melody will pop into my head.  It has to be from my shoe.  That’s the only thing I’m working on at the time.

 

 

           zc

 

After Closing

 

The jukebox had fallen silent and was no longer lit.  One person was stacking the chairs upside-down on the tables, while another swept the floor along the front of the bar.  A lone billfold lay beneath the brass rail, where boots had rested throughout the evening.

Sandy pulled it out away from the bar with the broom and tossed it onto the bar.  “Someone, no doubt, will be coming back for this.”  

Wanda stopped wiping down the bar and picked up the wallet.  Without looking inside, she tossed it behind her, next to the cash register.

“Aren’t you even going to look to see whose it is?” Sandy asked.

“Don’t care.” Came Wanda’s reply, and she went back to cleaning up.

Just then a knock came frantically on the front door.

Sandy looked up at Wanda and said, “Guess who?”

Wanda gave Sandy a stern look and said, “Don’t open it.”

Looking very confused Sandy said, “It’s probably the wallet guy.  Don’t you want to give it back?” 

In a low voice Wanda said, as she moved out closer to Sandy, “It’s a scam.  They leave a fake wallet behind so they can get back in after closing time and then rob the place.”

“How do you know it is a fake?  You never even looked in it.”

Wanda took Sandy’s broom and laid it against one of the tables.  “If I’m wrong, we end up with a very annoyed customer who may or may not come back.  But if I’m right – we get robbed.”

“Should we call the police?” Sandy whispered.

“No, not yet.  So far there hasn’t been a crime.  But if they keep banging on the door, then yes.”

The two women stood quietly and waited.  There was nothing.  Then someone was trying the doorknob.

“Are you sure it’s locked?” Wanda asked.

Sandy looked panicked and quickly felt her apron pocket for the keys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snippets

 

The intent of the fire was to keep us warm, but it was too small and way too close to the tracks.  The last train that came past blew it out.  Now only smoldering logs are left smoking up our clothes.

I never did clean off my boots.  They stand at the back door, snitching to anyone who’ll listen, that I played hooky today.

 

The closeness of the pelican made me more nervous than I was letting on.  I felt like taking a step back and slowly raising my camera to snap his picture, but I thought that any movement might make the bird even more antsy than me, and that wouldn’t turn out well for either of us.

 

 There must be something to it.  That old saying that a watched pot never boils.  I know, because when I’m standing there watching it and waiting, it seems to take forever.  But here’s the thing… I turn on the coffee maker and it makes all it’s little noises and then ZAP, my coffee is ready.  The only thing I can figure is that the guts of the coffee maker are on the inside, where they can’t be watched.  Therefore, not subjected to the Don’t Watch Rule.

 

 15 Rules to Live by:

1.    Count your change.

2.  Don’t interrupt someone when they’re speaking.

3.  Trust your instincts.

4.  Always be kind and choose the high road.

5.   Do what you say you’re going to do.

6.  Lead by example.

7.   Listen more than you speak.

8.  Deal off the top.

9.  Do it just because it’s the right thing to do.

10.        Feed the birds.

11.           Respect other’s opinions.

12.         Keep on the side of good.

13.         Be generous to yourself and others.

14.         Help those who need it.

15.          Admit when you’re wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 zc

 

A Simple Request

 

Please don’t assume that because I look different than you, I don’t have feelings, that words don’t hurt me.  Don’t always exclude me from your activities.  I’m very aware of what’s going on and you may not think so, but I do have skills.  I just need to be given a chance.  The only thing I ask is that when we’re at a company picnic, or any outdoor event, just watch the traffic for me when I cross the road.

 

Thanks

 

 

             zc

The Side-car

 

For years it has festered, yet I understand it is in the past and there is nothing to be done.  So how do I not let it bother me?  If I put it out of my mind, where does it go? Where are the things I’m not thinking about?  They don’t simply dissolve.  They do not disintegrate or grow old and wither away, because if I wanted to, I could recall them and they would fester all over again. 

I believe the key here is the sidecar.  These issues each have a sidecar attached.  The issue can be put to bed, but sitting in the sidecar is emotion.  It is that emotion that allows the festering.  The trick is to view the issue but ignore the emotion attached to it.

 

zc

 

 

Pool of Knowledge

 

There is a deep end, and I personally have never touched the bottom.  It is both vast and far-reaching.  Although absent of water, it can take your breath away.  There are buoys and markers identifying specific areas of understanding, such as math, geography and science.  There are other swimmers, whose names line the walls, and a history that has been pre-factchecked.  Just beware, the lifeguards are mannequins with artificial intelligence.

 

 

 

zc

No Alarm clock Needed

 

I notice the crows always have their mouths open.  When they fly their feet hang down, as if the landing gear has already been lowered.  Seat backs and tray tables are never an issue.  They are always ready, no matter what. 

Travelers unconcerned with luggage or passport photos.  Border crossings – not a problem.  They are very skilled fliers.  Arieal maneuvers that would make the Blue Angles jealous.  Flawless landings and take-offs, achieving cruising speed in seconds. 

Why they insist on announcing their arrival every morning when I’m trying to sleep in, I’ll never know.

 

 

zc

 

 

An Investment of Issues

 

There are a great number of things you get when you purchase an old wooden boat.  Number one, you get the likelihood of problems.  You get an aroma you can’t quite put your finger on, and a slipperiness that doesn’t seem to scrub off.  But on the plus side, you have the possibility of adventure, unrelenting motion and amazing sunsets.

And be prepared,  the seagulls may recognize this boat as one always returning loaded with fish.  AH!  That's the smell. 

 

 

zc

Playing with Perspective

 

If I Were An Impulse

         If I were an impulse, I could slip into this blog and ride along to every computer, tablet, and iPhone it wandered into. I could visit you — the person who summoned me up with a click. You’re the one who chose Zobostic, after all, so I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind the company. I’d try not to arrive at dinner time. That might be awkward. But seeing where you are in the world would be fun.

        This computer shows me countries and view counts, but it stops there. I only see the footprints, it tells me nothing about the things you see when you look around. Are you in an apartment or a house? Sitting on a park bench? At work in a cubicle? Do you ride a bicycle or drive a car? And if you do have a car, is it like mine — full of cookie crumbs, potato‑chip bits, or books and homework not yet turned in. (Not that I’m always munching on cookies.)

        Do you keep any of these posts? Do you have a favorite? If I did show up at dinner time, what would we be having? Do you live in a city or on a farm? And if it’s a farm, do you tend animals or crops?

        There is so much this computer doesn’t tell me. It only clicks off the number of views. Hardly conversation worthy.

        But if I were an impulse, I’d slip through the screen anyway — just to see where you are when you read these words, and what kind of world they land in.

        zc

Never mind, it wouldn’t work

After having some time to think about it, my traveling through this computer, riding on this Blog to visit you would never work.  I would show up as nothing more than an electronic blip.  Something you thought you saw but now aren’t sure.  Within the smallest part of a second, I’d be off someplace else.  We wouldn’t have time to chat or eat cookies or anything.  Not much of a visit when you think about it.

 

 

 

 

 

Please stay behind the rope

 

There should be a gallery for the written word

Printed and framed with spelling all checked

Signed at the bottom by the author

Security guards standing by

 

Punctuation verified by professors

If rhymes, they should roll off the tongue

Subject matter should stand out

Unique but not obscure

Worthy to hang across from the Mona Lisa

 

Visitors speak only in hushed tones

Non-glare glass over acid-free paper

Secured to the wall by a single nail

Level to within .0001 of an inch

 

Temperature controlled – of course

No music – no fluorescent lighting

If carpet – not shag

No gum chewing within 5.4  yards

No flash photography 

Any and all sneezing must be done before
        entering.

 

Extremely Remote

 

Of all the remote possibilities, this one took me by surprise.  Everything was coordinated with the program I was watching.  If it were an action film, the chair responded with the appropriate movements.  Driving up hill, the seat made you feel like you were actually going uphill.  There were settings that went along with every action on the screen.  How it knew, I haven’t a clue, but it was amazing.

 

 

    zc 

The Painter sees Light & Shadows

 

Everyone sees the world differently.  Animals utilize their senses even more than we use our vision.  Native Americans saw the movement of food sources rather than seeing everything as just scenery.   Impressions are adjusted according to seasons and times, just as importance varies according to needs.

It’s the same world but a little different to each of us, all depending upon the situation.  It is a different story to everyone, no matter city or country, two can stand side-by-side and yet experience different things at the same time. 

To some, a bronze statue in the park is a representation of someone who has accomplished something significant in their life.  To a deer it is just one more thing to avoid when running.  To the bird it is a place to rest for a few minutes before moving on.  To the artist it is a reflection of their skill.  To the tiny insects just beneath it, it is shelter. To the photographer, it reflects the light just right in the afternoon or casts an eerie shadow at dawn.  To the exhausted jogger, stopping to catch their breath, it is cold and hard but great for leaning against.

 

 

 

 

 zc

 

 

Rise & Shine

 

To all you early risers, and I know you are because I am up very early and I can see the number of visitors to my Blog change as I sit here.  So, I know a few of you are checking to see what is new.  What did this guy write yesterday?  Anything of interest, anything Blog worthy? 

I can tell you this, just moments ago I watched a squirrel leap from quite a distance and grab onto a tree trunk.  I don’t know why, but that made me think that animals don’t wear pelts.  Yes, they all have them on, but they’re not a pelt until they are removed from the animal.

I find that aspect of it disgusting, so I won’t dwell on that, but try to consider other things that don’t become something until they are somehow changed.

Like pocket change can become bus fare.  Snow can easily become slush.  A car can become a liability.  Thinking about those people in New York city, where public transportation is readily available, as opposed to parking spaces.  And according to almost every television show, any household object can become a blunt object, and then evolve into exhibit A. 

All of this, of course, could be a side-effect of being an early riser.  Leaving my brain running but not in any particular gear, can result in it jumping from pelts to parking spots, or a bust of Martha Washington becoming a murder weapon.

Not that I recommend sleeping in.  I know that is something I have never mastered.  The minute I am awake, this keyboard starts calling me.  "Hey Zobostic, I see you over there.  Don't try to pretend you're still sleeping.  Come on - write something.  You know you want to."

zc

 

 

From the Far Side of my Pillow

 

I don’t know if there is a word for this.  I know it isn’t telepathy, but here’s the thing: I woke up knowing exactly what the surface of this planet was.  I also can’t tell what planet it was, but it wasn’t one of our standard well-known planets.

The ground was comprised of dirt but not granular.  It was powdery but without being dusty.  There was gravity, however, when I picked up a handful of dirt and poured it out of my hand, it didn’t fall to the surface but simply stayed suspended right where I poured it.

There were rocks but they were of a sponge-like quality. They were neither solid nor heavy, but they had the appearance of our rocks.  It was all very strange, and I haven’t even told you the strange part yet. 

The only way I know to describe this is like the entire atmosphere was playing a single note on a clarinet.  It wasn’t loud but obviously there.  It was smooth and went on uninterrupted the entire time I was there.  It was actually kind of soothing. 

The air quality was fine but felt like it was carbonated.  Breathing in and out tickled.  

 

 

 zc