Friday, September 19, 2014

Hip Pain

Don't know where it came from.
can't walk, stand or sit.
can't drive.
can't type.
can't think straight.
can't throw out garbage.
can't depend on meds.
can only watch TV.
life comes to a dead stop.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Poets on the Roof

We had a meeting about the poets on our roof. We had no idea how they got up there. This is our apartment building and they had no business ruining our quiet with shouting and arguments. Maybe they were just loud readers, but that's not the point. Trespassers can not be tolerated.
Sometimes one will stand at the edge and toss down poems. Egoists. Just creating more paper trash.They order pizza and the delivery guy keeps ringing my bell late at night. He has to find his way up there without dropping the pizza and then curses loudly on the way out because the cheap bastards never tip.
I was elected to speak to them. I somehow found their secret stairs to the roof and when I opened the trap door I was confronted by raggedy, wild looking men and women who demanded to know if I was a poet. I told them I delivered mail and had to get up early. One raised his cane and I thought he'd strike me, but he began ranting in his stentorian voice. I had no idea what he was talking about. I threatened legal action and they laughed. No one arrests poets, I was informed.
We finally reached a compromise. No loud arguments, no late night pizza deliveries, and no dancing. I just threw that one in. Only haiku poets dance, I was told.
I wished they'd find some basement, but they are all infested with musicians.
I need to stop here. My drum circle is meeting on the lawn.

What I Did for Love

When I saw her the first time I was smitten. Her rich, full cheeks, beautiful body, quick movements. This was all wrong, but I couldn't stay away from her. I am a builder and my work became shoddy thinking of her. I found myself at an emotional crossroad.
I had been seeing someone and it was assumed we would take vows. But there wasn't the same excitement with her as with my new obsession. She was dedicated to her work, but seemed more fun loving. I finally got up the nerve to ask her to meet me at the lake. We were alone and I told her everything. I especially noted how vibrant her full cheeks were.
She did something surprising. She reached into her cheek pouch and pulled out a nut and offered it to me. I was overcome with joy. She liked me!
Of course, I realized both cheeks were full of nuts, but that didn't matter. She gushed over the size and strength of my tail and I knew we were destined to be together. She also loved my buck teeth.
I've left behind my old life, my former love, my beaver community. Yes, I've joined the squirrel society, but not without distrust and tension among the elders. I vow to learn the art of storing nuts in my cheeks. So far, it's been slow going. I keep gagging.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Fighting the Cranky

I am fighting not to become a cranky old man. You know, the guy grousing in the express line about slow cashiers. The guy arguing over the phone about a $2 increase in his bill. The one who takes up a whole park bench for no good reason. The relative you hate to invite.
My battle is compounded by the fact that I look like a cranky old man. I frown at nothing, mumble to myself, look away in disgust. I cross the street if I see teens coming. I yell at other drivers and make obscene gestures. If I'm on a bus, I hate waiting for other passengers to climb aboard.
I curse large parking lots and people who don't speak perfect English. I stare at myself in the mirror and force smiles. I try hard to chuckle to no avail. I have begun hunching over and lurching instead of striding. I believe no one and distrust everyone.
This is not how I want to spend my golden years. Just because I feel I've earned the right to grouse and spread bad vibes doesn't mean I should.
I vow not to growl, get furious, be demanding, put people in their place and offer unsolicited opinions. And I promise not to take it out on society if I have a difficult bowel movement.
God, smiling takes a lot out of me.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Blank Paper

Think about this. You have a slew of blank paper in your printer and none of them has a clue why. Perhaps the top sheet is a leader, gregarious, popular with the others.
Suddenly a human hits a button and that paper is SUCKED into the printer. After some excruciating seconds it emerges out the other end covered with pictures, symbols, and weird marks in color and black and white.
Its entire identity has changed; it has lost contact with the others as blank sheets. One by one they slide in and their whole world changes. They are unrecognizable to each other, placed in some strange order that is supposed to make sense.
If the human prints on both sides the anxiety and confusion only increases. You have an emotionally damaged, unbalanced series of sheets carrying the entire responsibility of communicating your thoughts and imagination.
The cruelty here is palpable. Somewhere there must be a support group or organization campaigning for saving blank sheets in their original pure form.
Scribbling on napkins? Please. Let's not misplace priorities.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Secrecy of Cantaloupe

Cantaloupe lies there challenging you. There is no way you can outsmart it. By sheer luck you cut it open at just the peak of ripeness. Most times you either cut too soon or too late when it's too mushy, mocking you with its mush. Cantaloupe is a cruel sleight of hand, sneaky fruit, unlike a veggie we call cucumber. Cucumber makes it clear if you don't consume it in six hours it will begin decaying. In twelve hours it becomes inedible. This is the deal veggie and human agree on.
Pineapples and avocados are also inscrutable. Examine the outer surface for hours and you will never determine if it can be swallowed. Tomatoes beg to be swallowed, especially plum and cherry. Eat me now, my life in this vegetable bin is intolerable!
I have placed my cantaloupe in a pot on the stove. It is now six days I've been watching it, occasionally pressing it with my thumb and index finger, seeking clues. I have determined that it is time to take my knife and address my melon. I have been told by dieticians honeydew and watermelon have too much sugar. By eliminating them from my diet I have knowingly placed all my melon ecstasy onto the cantaloupe. Hey, life isn't fair. If it were, French fries would have been replaced by sweet potato fries decades ago.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Humiliation Protocol

The NFL has a concussion protocol system where, if a player gets hit in the head and seems woozy, they perform a series of tests and he is automatically out for a certain time until cleared by the doctor.
I think someone should create a Humiliation Protocol. If a person gets humiliated, I mean seriously embarrassed in front of others, he or she should be removed from society for a flexible period. At least a week. Humiliation experts would then sit the person down and question them. What were you thinking? Do you really believe the things you said? Are you aware how truly dumb you sounded?
If it was something involving a physical act, hopefully there's a video somewhere that shows exactly how stupid the behavior was. The target should be forced to watch said video over and over and explain their actions. Questions like, what made you think cliff diving wearing headphones was a good idea?
Emotionally it may take weeks for the humiliated one to move past the embarrassment. You shouldn't let him back into social situations until you're certain he or she has learned from the past.
Force them to sit in the corner and watch others converse normally until they get the idea. In some cases, entire demonstrative, impulsive families will have to be given a time out. Like that Italian family down the street with their continuous dramas.