Monday, April 17, 2017

Spice Rack Intrigue

I have been closely monitoring my spice rack. Real men do have spice racks.
I am convinced my spices are secretly mingling at night while I sleep, attempting to create a new, dangerous spice designed to rob me of my cognitive processes. Real men have those too.
I think this has already begun. I sense tumeric is the ring leader.
When I tried to explain this to a fellow writer, he rolled his eyes and looked out the window. A woman came over to our table, hearing my rant, and said she believed me. She was sure her baby stroller was rejecting her child. She also believed recently departed Don Rickles was trapped in the Cloud. I ranted that Al Gore created the Dark Web.  She said her plumber had switched the hot and cold valves so she would burn her hands.
We exchanged phone numbers. Our first date is this Saturday. By this time my writer friend had switched tables.

Apology Letter

458 people who never believed in me signed an apology letter.  They admitted they had underestimated me. Most felt I would wind up in janitorial work or become a squeegee guy at an intersection.
But I became a renowned flash fiction master, in the process, hob nobbing with the rich and famous, a man who makes entrances to charity balls and VIP parties with women named Danielle, Veronica, and Monique on his arm.
They were not prepared for my success. As a child I threw up and whined. As a kid I was always last in potato sack races. My adolescence consisted of big guys giving me atomic wedgies. In college, I joined a fraternity and none of the guys would exchange the secret handshakes with me. As an adult, I bounced from job to job--door knob installer, curtain rod measure person, ball bearing salesman, navel lint remover, etc.
One day I saw a group of odd looking people enter the library. I followed them into a room. Writers.
I burst into tears. I'm so lonely, I sobbed. Can I join you?
May I join you, the leader corrected me.
The rest is history.
I folded the apology letter and stuffed it beneath my insulated underwear. Too little, too late.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Blinded

I'm blinded by my blinds, long, dirty, cracked strips that just hang there in disgrace. Wood blinds in my kitchen embarrass them. Those are Old West, Jeff Bridges blinds. If I have a guest ,they have to pass my living room before hitting the kitchen. I've already lost their respect.
My contractor won't change the blinds unless I have more work for him. So I will have him paint the place, install a new toilet, and buff the floor. It will cost me about $1800 to get those damn blinds up.
I would do it myself except that is not my strength. My strength is thinking up goofy stuff.
I did set up my micro and set the clock on my stove. I suppose I'll have to clean the windows after the new blinds are up. When does responsibility ever end?

Hockey Puck

Help! I'm stuck on this ship. I hate being in the Navy. Get me off. I belong on land.

Oh, shut up, you hockey puck. Go puke your brains overboard. Make yourself at home. Drool. I can't be bothered. I got stomach cramps. The elastic on my underwear snapped. Did you just burp in my face? I'm trying to explain something and he barfs up salmon. Get a grip. This is the Navy. We don't shoot, we drown them. My girlfriend is back home lying in bed moaning she needs a foot rub. That's my life. Don't look at me like that, swabbie. In case you didn't know it, I do standup on the side and I'm the entertainment on this hellhole.
     My back is killing. Does anybody give a damn? Three more years left on this ship. God, that beef stew I had for lunch is coming up. Get me napkins! Sinatra wouldn't put up with this crap.
RIP  Don Rickles.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Possibilities

A blank page is so full of possibility. Anything can happen on that sheet. On my notebook I can doodle in the margins while waiting for my creativity to kick in.
My stupid dog has no possibility to be a watch dog. Doesn't even bark at strangers. Freeloader. I named it Bubba because it looked tough. Mistake.
My wife is another story. A perfectly fine housewife married to an intellectual. Me. I try expanding her vocabulary to no avail. I gave her a list of 250 classic novels to read. So far, she only gotten through Little Women. Limited possibility there.
I understand she has to cook and clean and take care of five kids. But you can't spare an hour to educate yourself? I even invite her into my library. Sometimes.
Back to me. I will fill this empty page with insights as soon as I have my coffee, make a few calls, check some ball scores and doodle a bit more, freeing my mind to expound on whatever.

A Perfect Storm

I have a leaky valve in my kitchen under the sink which prevents me from using my dishwasher. The plumber said he needs the main valve to be shut off before he can replace it. The super says he can only do that between ten and two pm. He needs a day notice to let the other residents know..
I need to use my dish washer or the hoses will rot even though I only use a few dishes and bowls. I had to clean out my cabinets after water flooded them. I lost four rolls of paper towels. I suppose next to getting bombed by drones this is minor. You'd think a guy with a BA degree could change a valve,
At least I figured out how to set the clock on my stove, which is electric and the first time it began clicking when I turned it on I ran out of the condo.
Why don't salesmen tell you these things?

Monday, March 27, 2017

Song to Song

Song to Song is Terrance Mallick's new film. Everyone should see one of his movies sometime. This one is like nothing else out there. lots of odd scenes, beautiful scenes, sensual scenes. A meandering story, many characters searching for love and freedom from their hum drum lives.
Ryan Gosling, Michael Fassbinder, Rooney Mara and Natalie Portman star. Supporting characters are as attractive. At two hours it felt a bit long. I especially enjoyed Mara's wide ranging performance. Many closeups. Lots of graceful movement among them, almost like a long dance.
Takes place during the Austin music fest. Patti Smith and Iggy of the Stooges have cameos.
It's not an easy film to follow as characters come and go. The idea of power through manipulation is central. Who can you trust. There were three people in this early afternoon showing and two left halfway through.