Category Archives: Daily Post

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Devil # 3

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Helpless.” Helplessness: that dull, sick feeling of not being the one at the reins. When did you last feel like that –- and what did you do about it?

Okay, I was going to give this prompt a “miss” and went to the new prompt generator I’ve been using for the past few days.  I hit the button and was served up the two-word prompt: “Ill Devil”.  At first I read this as #3 Devil, and I must admit, I got a chill, because what I immediately thought about when I read the prompt was the third time I was in a near-death situation where I felt totally helpless.  What are the chances, I thought, that these two prompts would line up?  This must be something I’m meant to write about.  But then reason stepped in and I realized this prompt always gave an adjective and a noun.  What they probably meant by the prompt was ill Devil. (Changing the capital to a small “i” clarified the prompt.) But then I realized that ill devil described the occurrence I am trying not to talk about as much as #3 devil did, so I guess, prodded on twice by fate or coincidence or synchronicity, I will try.

I have written to a similar prompt twice in 2015, so probably most of you who read my blog have chanced upon one of those posts, but when I wrote to a similar prompt in June of 2014, I wrote a different piece and since I had few of my present-day readers then, I’ll mention that THIS is what I wrote.  It may not be obvious that the topic given in today’s prompt was what I was really talking about then, however, because it was a poem where I actually stood to one side of what I was really remembering and wrote about the subject as an onlooker rather than a participant.  I only alluded to the real subject, which is what I’m going to attempt to write about today. That real subject is Ted Bundy and how otherwise respectable women sometimes fall prey to such predators.  Okay, deep breath. I’m going to tell to the world something I have actually told to very few people. Yes, this is a true story.

Devil # 3

Nineteen seventy-something. In the bar with friends.
When you are in your twenties, the partying never ends.
It was rodeo season  and the big one was in town.
As one by one they ordered drinks, I couldn’t turn them down.
We were a rather rowdy bunch of teachers in our prime
Devoted in the classroom, but wild on our own time.

The bar was crowded hip to hip, the music barely heard
over the loud cacophony of laugh and shouted word.
It was my turn to buy a round. I struggled towards the bar.
My polite “Excuse me’s!” really hadn’t gotten me too far
when a guy appeared in front of me and moved the crowd aside
as though he had appointed himself to be my guide.

As I returned with eight full drinks, again he stemmed the tide
by walking close in front of  me and spreading elbows wide.
He smiled and then departed, back to the teeming mass.
Impressive that he had not even tried to make a pass!
My friends all wondered who he was. I said I had no clue.
Tall and dark and ivy-league, he vanished from our view.

This story happened long ago. Some details I’ve forgotten,
and any memories he retains, you’ll learn were ill-begotten.
I think we danced a dance or two. I know we talked awhile.
I liked his fine intelligence, his low-key polite style.
At three o’clock the barman’s bell commenced it’s clanging chime
and I made off to find my friends, for it was closing time.

Two lines of men had split the bar, lined up back to back.
Their hands locked and their arms spread wide–they moved into the pack.
One line moved east, the other west, forcing one and all
Either out the front door or towards the back door hall.
I was forced out the back way–out into the alley.
My friends and I had made no plans of where we were to rally

and so I walked around the block, sure that was where they waited,
but there was no one there at all–the crowd had soon abated.
I went back to the alleyway to see if they were there.
but all was dark and still, and soon I began to fear
that both carloads of friends had thought I was with the other.
I had no recourse but to walk, though I prayed for another.

I combed my mind to try to think of anyone at all
living in this part of town where I could go to call
a friend to come and get me and furnish me a ride
for 3 a.m. was not a time to be alone outside.
There were no outside phone booths and I lived so far away
I simply had to rouse someone, but what was I to say?

But since I had no other choice I thought I’d check once more
if any single soul was waiting at the bar’s front door.
And as I left the alley to be off to see,
I saw a new familiar face looking back at me.
It was my dancing partner, his face split in a grin.
It seems that he was going to save me once again.

He had asked me earlier if needed a ride,
but I had told him wisely that I had friends inside
and so I thought he’d left, but I could see he was still there.
Yet, ride home with a stranger?  Did I really dare?
And yet I had no other choice, abandoned as I was.
And so I said I guess that yes, I would, simply because

I knew there was just one of him and I was young and strong.
And he seemed kind, polite and gentle.  What could go so wrong?
His car was just a block away. Our walk was short and brief.
And when he pointed out his car, I felt a great relief.
For it was a convertible–and easy to escape
If I detected the first signs of robbery or rape!

He opened up the door for me. I got in the front seat.
But as he started up the car, my heart skipped a beat.
For from the bushes, two more men emerged and jumped inside–
one man in the backseat, the other at my side!
He pulled out into the street, though I protested so.
I didn’t really want a ride, so please, just let me go!

(And here I have to beg off and say I’ll finish this story tomorrow.  Right now my heart is pumping and my head throbbing as though I’m re-enacting this whole tale physically as well as mentally.  I’m totally exhausted.  Why I decided to write this in rhyme I don’t know. Perhaps I thought it would be easier, or more fun or more lighthearted, but there is simply no way to write this from any other frame of mind but the terror I felt that night. So, sorry, but I will resume tomorrow. You all know that I’m here telling the story, so be assured that the worst didn’t happen…but the story is by no means over, so join me tomorrow for the rest.  I, for one, could really use a drink, but it is only 1:40 in the afternoon so I’ll find some other means of escape.)

To see the conclusion of this poem, go HERE.

If you’d like to try out Jennifer’s new prompt generator, go HERE.

Fantastic Finish: JNW’s New Prompt Generator and Latitude Schmatitude

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                                                         Fantastic FinishDSC08827                                          My Art Studio, nee Novelty Owing Ongoing

Last night I wrote my first prompt making use of Jennifer Nichole Wells’ new Prompt Generator. What the site does is issue you a two-word phrase consisting of an adjective and a noun. This then becomes the subject of your post. (Mine for today was Fantastic Finish). If you don’t like the prompt, just hit the button again as many times as you wish before you come to one that jiggles your creative button.

She has launched her site at a good time—when those of us who are relatively longtime daily bloggers are being met with repeat after repeat on the WordPress prompt site. At first I just tried to alter the prompt a bit or to take a different slant. Then I started making a pingback to the earlier post or posts and choosing a completely different prompt, but the problem is that I’ve done most of their alternate prompts as well.

I’ve been told that WordPress establishes the prompts mainly for beginning bloggers as a way to motivate them, but this is a bit like turning your back on long-established and proven customers in hopes of winning the tourist trade. Good for a season perhaps, but how many go away is evidenced by the number of times I click on a site that is on the WordPress post page and find the blog has been closed or is nonexistent. Either the blogger is not clear about how to pingback or they have already closed down and fled!

Another thing I have noticed is a big increase in the number of people who just say they don’t want to answer the prompt, who spend their entire blog making excuses for not writing to the prompt or who merely publish one or two line pat answers. It is becoming hard to find a blog I really want to read except in my Readers section. This is a shame, because I am always on the lookout for new really excellent blogs to read that are within my realm of interest; and I miss not being able to cull them out of the WordPress site. Well, new thinking called for. I think my fresh modus operandi will be to investigate the blogs that people I am following are following.

As I hit Jennifer’s prompt button time after time—out of curiosity rather than dissatisfaction with the prompts, I was struck by the similarity of the word combinations to the new system based on words that has been proposed to replace the old numbers-based latitude and longitude. The system divides the surface of the planet into 57 trillion three-by-three meter squares and assigns a unique sequence of three random words to label that area. The purpose in changing the system, as stated by Smithsonian Magazine, is to “replace the impossible-to-remember strings of numbers that comprise our geographical coordinate system—“ with an easier-to-remember string of three words.

For the superstitious, it might be a matter of finding the exact correct nine square meters of their property or house that best describes them. My own art studio has been assigned the title “novelty owing ongoing.” Seems appropriate, somehow. My house, on the other hand, is “straddles blocking easel.” Is this a way of pointing out that all too often home repairs and maintenance gobble up precious time better spent on art? Sounds appropriate in Mexico!

For those of you talented in assigning names (I am not) I want to be clear that it is not a matter of naming your own little corner of the world. All of the word assignments have already been made. If you are curious about what three-word-labels have been assigned to your house and property, you can go HERE to find out. Choose your favorite group of three from the list (remember that since the labels are given for 9 square meter areas, that you will have more than one set for your house) and perhaps you’d like to post the three words you’ve chosen in the comments page on my blog along with a pingback to your post telling why those three words do or do not describe you. You might want to use a number of your assigned trios as prompts on different days! It would be fun.

To read more, go here: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/plan-replace-geographic-coordinates-earth-unique-strings-three-words-180949946/#eZWdfVSPWLqrE3df.99

And as for the title of my today’s blog, “Fantastic Finish?” As person after person says they are giving up the WordPress prompts, perhaps as you run over the finish line, you can consider it as the starting line for a new prompt system—either Jennifer’s new prompt generator or your own personal three-word-prompts as assigned by those who have labeled your world for you. Whatever you choose, I hope you’ll keep on blogging. We’ve become accustomed to your space!!!!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/break-the-silence/

Life Piles Up

You know that this can happen. It’s silly asking why
the books and papers pile up from desktops towards the sky.
You do not dare to open the window that’s nearby
lest the papers blow away to flutter yon and nigh.

I wish I had a simple life with time to do it all
so I could post a picture to prove it to y’all
that my house is super organized and tidy and pristine.
My life as orderly as tasks spewed out by a machine.

Unfortunately, nothing stays in its usual space.
A new thing starts before I’ve filed the old thing in its place.
Boxes from camp still stand in rows out in my garage,
while papers from last April’s trip slide down in a barrage.

I cannot find the cord and mike that belong to my amp.
Perhaps they’re buried deep within the boxes left from camp?
Or other boxes in my car from events even older?
I think perhaps dealing with life is more than I can shoulder.

Somehow I think that WordPress may have gotten word
about my loaded desktops. I know it sounds absurd,
but if you’re keeping track of prompts then surely you have noted
that lately this one topic is one on which they’ve doted!

I told you you just four days ago–I’ve cleaned off desk and table.
I promised I would clean the rest when I was free and able;
and so today I’m sorting books and papers and detritus,
but to this prompt I’d like to say, “WordPress, kindly bite us!”
IMG_3608Okay, the desk area in my bedroom that I promised to clear off the other day is a little bit better.  To check up on that by comparing to its state just four days ago when we had  a very similar prompt, go HERE.

IMG_3606In the meantime, the desk in my sala hasn’t piled up again–much. So please, WordPress–no more nagging.  I’m as organized as I’m going to get for awhile.  Okay to check up again in six months.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweeping Motions.” What’s messier right now — your bedroom or your computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state. (Note:  Okay, i must admit when I read “your computer’s desktop” I was thinking it meant the desktop my computer sits upon!  So, I may have misunderstood the prompt, but oh, well.)

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Although this is a picture of my childhood friend and me, it is used for illustrative purposes only. The poem is fictional and in no way describes either one of us.

Fidelity

“We’ve been friends since we were skinny!”
–Anonymous

Yes, we grew up friends and stood up at each others’ weddings.
She was there for all my break-ups. I was there for all her beddings.
And though she thinks I’m poorly dressed and I think she’s a snob
who only talks about her “things,” fashion and her job.
And though she lets her eyes stray, like she finds my talk is boring,
and puts polish on her fingernails  while mine are apple coring.

Though she prefers the opera while I like the Avett Brothers,
and dines on caviar while Burger King is more my druthers.
While she shops for Michael Kors, Yves Saint Laurent and Fendi,
Ross Dress for Less is where I shop for clothes that are less trendy.
She drives a new Mercedes while I drive a beat-up Chevy.
While she works out at her health spa, I have let myself get heavy.

Yet none of this has ever put our friendship in the skids.
I pat her little yappy dog. She puts up with my kids.
For though we’ve evolved differently,  she still is my best friend,
and the history between us means our bond will never end.
Though she lives in a mansion and my house is a dump,
Just one thing could divide us. That is–if she votes for Trump!!!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Delayed Contact.” How would you get along with your sibling(s), parent(s), or any other person you’ve known for a long time — if you only met them for the first time today?

The Prompt: Write a piece of fiction describing the incident that gave rise to the phrase, “third time’s the charm.”
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Charm School for Cinderella

Stir the pot round and round
until no essence can be found
of division between root and seed
between your wishes and the deed
that brought you here to my woods abode
for me to birth and coax and goad
fate to give you what you wish–
Prince Charming on a golden dish.

Throw this leaf to spin and bubble.
It removes your courting trouble.
Stir in this bleeding heart and mold
to wrest affection from the cold.
Now stir three times with unfaltering arm.
One time, two times, three time’s the charm!
And lest you find these arts disarming,
remember, the result is Charming!

 

 At Fourteen

There is a whole world out there and you’ll see it soon enough.
It is the world inside of you you’ll find especially rough.
Try to write about it, and try to tell the truth
about the things that happen that you find uncouth.

Write about what hurts you, and hurts that you have done–
all those shadows in you brought into the sun.
Ask those around you why they act in ways that might seem cruel
and try to live your own life by the golden rule.

Take chances and do not be cowed when you achieve less
than what you might have hoped for, and when you’re wrong, confess.
Don’t just do what your friends do. Don’t act before you think.
However strange the ones around you, try to find a link.

The world has enough meanness. Try not to add to it.
Try harder in environments where you seem not to fit.
People who are petty will cut you like a knife,
but the chances that you take will be what will make your life.

Other people’s rules pinch like a too-small shoe,
so don’t let other people dictate what you do.
Do not fear to step aside and go out on your own.
The fields that yield the sweetest crop are those that you have sown.

Post this advice up on your wall and read it now and then.
Use it as a means to reassess where you have been.
Then when you are older, and your life grows thin,
do what I am doing now. Consider it again.

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “From You to You.” Write a letter to your 14-year-old self. Tomorrow, write a letter to yourself in 20 years.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Simply the Best.” NASA is building a new Voyager spacecraft that will carry the best of modern human culture. What belongs onboard?

*A copy of the poem “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
*A recording of Townes Van Zandt’s “Snowin’ on Raton” performed by Gretchen Peters & Tom Russell
*A video of the birth of a child
*A video of children playing a nonviolent game
*A video of a sunrise and sunset
*The recipe for baking powder biscuits
*An Apple MacBook Air
*A pair of Crocs sandals
*A bottle of Bacardi Anejo Rum
*A glass jar of chocolate pudding plus a recipe for making it,
*A recipe for dark chocolate ice cream
*A book showing pictures of flowers
*The picture of a tree
*A satellite video of an entire revolution of Earth
*Pictures or videos of a representative sample of the animals on Earth
*Life-sized replicas of a human male and female and a video of their movements and speech
*A copy of the U.S. Constitution and Declaration of Independence
*A copy of the human bill of rights
*A video of a performance of Swan Lake
*A video of a performance of break dancing (Or whatever is current. Sheesh, am I out of it!)
*A video performance of “The Voice.”
*A sealed glass jar of seeds from flowers, grass, trees, vegetables and fruits.
*A pair of Levis
*A lock of human hair
*A jar of nonpolluted air
*A jar of water
*A solar panel
*A sampler of bills and coins from several nations
*A Credit Card
*A profile from OK Cupid
*An art book of famous paintings and sculpture
*A picture of mountains
*A home video of a family interacting
*A copy of the film “You’ve Got Mail”

I could go on forever with this, so I’m just going to stop.  I had lots of other things indicative of life on earth and then saw that it was supposed to reflect the “best” of modern culture, so I took out the jar of polluted air, the jar of petroleum, etc.  Interested to see what others have said and to see what i’ve left out!!

 

The Billionaire

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                                          The Billionaire

If I were to win a billion dollars, I’d open a cultural center in San Juan Cosala, the town I live in in Mexico.  It would include free art studios where anyone could come to paint, sculpt or learn computer graphics.  There would be a ceramics class, paper making, metal smithing–any art form that children or adults wish to learn, and I’d hire both local artists and artists from abroad who could come teach workshops to make the art experience fresh and expanding.

If there were any leftover money (ha!) I’d build a free hospital for local residents and for any children from Jalisco with birth defects or other debilitating conditions.

I would establish one hundred free college scholarships a year and hire the young people who availed themselves of these scholarships to come back and implement the changes in their village that they feel are necessary. I would also provide the funds so that all children could go to school and hire wonderful teachers who would stimulate them and make education a delightful opportunity.  It is true that Mexico has free schools, but also true that many children do not go to these free schools because they can’t afford uniforms, books and school supplies.

Then I’d buy a simple house with five bedrooms on the beach, use it myself for two months of the year  and loan it out to people from my village who could use a vacation or take children or adults away for art or writing workshops.

I know this is a very simplified version of huge projects that would take years of planning, but since this is a fantasy anyway,  I’m clicking my fingers and there.  It’s done!!!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “You’re a Winner!.”You’ve just won $1 billion dollars in the local lottery. You do not have to pay tax on your winnings. How will you spend the money?

Morrie’s New Adventure–Epilogue, Continued.

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IMG_1689Looks innocent, doesn’t he?

Morrie’s New Adventure–Epilogue, Continued.

(To see earlier episodes of the adventures of Morrie, go HERE and HERE.) When last we saw our furry fiend, uh, friend, there were three mysteries left unresolved:  why were the curtains tied up in a knot, why was the sewing machine now out in the hall, and what was in his mouth?  I just need to add three more elements to the mystery. IMG_1730

Why are the handmade dolls formerly hanging from the curtain rod now lying in a heap on an upper shelf?

IMG_1732Why is the CD player/radio Yolanda listens to while ironing
in the (former) guest bedroom now in the bathroom?

IMG_1725 and just what is this in the waste paper basket?

IMG_1726 My old style phone that I use when the electricity goes out?  What is it doing there? All of these mysteries will be solved as you get a look at the scene that faced me when I opened Morrie’s door last night. (For those of you who haven’t seen earlier episodes, Morrie needed to be put in seclusion following surgery of a delicate nature that we won’t go into here.  Suffice it to say that the doctor suggested I keep him quiet and away from the other dogs, so I cleared out the guest room [more or less] and had an extra gate put up on the side of this room to afford him a small exercise area and  since he easily fits through the security bars, I left the door and screen cracked to let him in and out.)

Okay, back to our story. The time is early yesterday evening and yes, I was  blogging.  I heard a very loud BANG and surprise! It was coming from the direction of Morrie’s room.

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This is the scene that greeted me when I opened the door.

IMG_1708 The curtains were down.

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As was the very heavy copper rod that held them up.

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The dolls formerly hanging from the rod were in a  heap on the floor

IMG_1715 As was the telephone,

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Which, thanks to Morrie, I have now retired.
(You’ve already seen the final resting place for the phone.)

Eyeing the cord to the sewing machine and Yolanda’s radio/CD player, I knew they could only be next, so the boom box was relegated to the bathroom and as you know, the sewing machine was relegated to the hall.  And this is how the room’s contents shrunk by yet another third. IMG_1605

Are you sorry for this, Morrie?  Morrie?

Morrie seems to be heading for something, but I’m not sure what. Okay, Morrie, time out.  Want to come to bed with your mom for awhile and KEEP OUT OF TROUBLE?

IMG_1628 Okay, I know you didn’t mean to do it, so let’s have a little loving and then Mom needs to get back to work on her blog, okay? IMG_1619 You just stay down there and no more licking, okay?  You already licked all the lotion off my face and neck and hands..but I’m kind of squeamish, so no more licking?  okay?  We’ll play again after I get the blog posted! IMG_1627Uh, Morrie? I can’t see the computer with your head there, okay? Can you watch me from just a little further away?  Okay, just one more rub and then . . . IMG_1688Go lie a little further away, okay?  And stay there okay?  Are you okay with that, Morrie?  Feeling happy to be in bed with Mom?  Isn’t that enough, Morrie? IMG_1626Okay, boy, you’re getting a little too close for comfort again, and ooops!  There goes my computer, let me just grab it here, and. . .

IMG_1616Okay, fine.  Lick my feet for awhile. Just don’t come up here
and drool on my computer again, okay?

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And–here he is again!  Do you have any hint about why it is taking me two days to post this post?

Okay, Morrie, let’s go find you a toy! How about my rubber duck with a cowboy hat, Morrie?  What do you think about him?  Your toys all seem to be gone!

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Ah, you like him, huh, Morrie? That’s right.  Lick the duck!!!!

IMG_1690But, don’t eat him, okay, Morrie?

IMG_1685Did you hear what I said, Morrie? Do what my mother used to tell us to do with gum, and just hold him in your mouth!!

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Morrie!  Look what you’ve done!

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You’ve not only bitten off cowboy duck’s cowboy hat, you’ve chewed off his whole head! Where is it, Morrie? Oh my God!  Did you eat it?

IMG_1692Okay, Morrie, you’re looking kind of crazy, now. Calm down and give it here! Morrie! IMG_1693Morrie!  Don’t snap at your mother!!!  Give it here!!!

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Oh, poor rubber duckie.  Nothing left but his kerchief and vest!

IMG_1689So you feed bad about what, Morrie?  Because you killed the rubber duck
or because you didn’t get to finish him off?

Definitely, not innocent!!!

THE END????

I’m hoping these pictures are odd enough to qualify for Cee’s oddball challenge this week.  See her own and other oddballs HERE.

F

Re”tire”ment

When I was younger, my mind turned on a dime.
I did what I had to do in very little time.
But now that I am older, things don’t go so fast.
I’m not “spur-of-the-momentish” as I was in the past.

I don’t throw big parties as I did in former days,
for dealing with the details just puts me in a haze.
I can’t do many things at once without getting confused.
Now I simply write my blog while once I danced and boozed!

At first I felt ashamed of how my life is slowing down,
hating that I do not seek the company of town.
But then I noted patterns in nature around me
and saw that this is simply how our lives are meant to be.

Each thing in its season and each thing in its time
is how our lives are ordered—to accept this is sublime.
Why do I need to live my youth and middle age again?
Why not just accept that this is how my life has been

and go on to the next stage without sadness or regret—
going on to see just how much better life can get?
Yes, it is the pits to get arthritic, slow and hazy;
but we are compensated by excuses to be lazy!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Heat is On.” Do you thrive under pressure or crumble at the thought of it? Does your best stuff surface as the deadline approaches or do you need to iterate, day after day to achieve something you’re proud of? Tell us how you work best.