Homage to the Sun

I am lifted toward the sun upon the petals of flowers
I am rebaptized by the dew on their soft curving leaves
I am comforted by moist grass
I become thoughtful as I traverse the gravel path
Leading to soil that nourishes gifts from Mother Nature

But I am also annoyed I don't have exact change for the bus
I sell my body on the street to get change
Months later I have an STD and needle marks from antibiotics

The flowers drink mightly from the rain drenched earth
I lie in bed running a fever, cursing gardens en masse
I pray some demented park ranger will run over the little flowers
Crush them into bird feed
I'm not crazy about birds either
Shut the blinds. Damn sun.

Peeping Tom

Peeping Toms have gone the way of beepers and meter readers. You need actual privacy for the term to make sense and our privacy vanished in the cloud years ago. When you live on the ground floor and have the body of a Greek god, you get your share of peepers. Women panting outside my window used to be a common occurrence. Now all they'd see is me unwrapping adult diapers.
Anyone living high up has better protection. It stands to reason that anyone athletic enough to climb walls is attractive enough to actually have real partners and wouldn't be Peeping Toms. Block watchers also decreased the number of these perps. I wish they had more stun guns available. I once nailed a guy in the bushes; knocked him out with one zap. Turns out he was only peeing.
Always demand to check a guy's trunk, ladies. A combination of binoculars, duct tape and clothesline is problematic. Thankfully women have more class. Or it could be more of them have cataracts.

Old Men at the Gym

10 Creepy Things Old Men Do at the Gym

Walk real slow
Gaze around at others
Sit on machines talking
Examine diagrams explaining exercise a long time
Drink from the same fountain as young members
Grunt for no reason
Dress and undress really slow while grunting
Carry towels to convince others they sweat
Don't even try to suck in paunch
Read on the cycle

Harvest

I wish I was as wise as I am now when I was a teen. Back then, when a spot of acne occurred I felt embarrassed to the point that I would immediately pop it in front of the mirror.
Now I would consider it part of my bodily harvest along with spit, gas, and various fluids and solids. I might even play connect the dots on my mirror using globs of pus. I would make a positive out of it. On Earth Day my hope is all acne challenged teens will see their affliction as an opportunity to create art in an ugly world, while communing with nature in the form of their own bodies.
Entire families could bond with pimple squeezing sessions before dinner.
Bless this earth, its inhabitants and our strange globules of pus.

Whither Hummus?

What happened? Only a few months ago I discovered hummus and couldn't stop writing about it, here and elsewhere. People got sick of me talking about this wonderful spread, mainly because I was about 600 years late.
Somehow, I lost track of my container in my own fridge. I think jealous grapes blocked it off. So I just grabbed the butter and began using that on my crackers. Months passed without missing it. One day I was walking through the market and saw the hummus section containing all brands and flavors. I smacked myself in the head. What was wrong with me?
I ran home and started emptying my fridge and sure enough, there it was pinned against the back wall--my hummus.
But what had happened in the interim? Did it become poisonous? Were tiny creatures living within the smooth texture? Should I contact EPA or a Swat team? How toxic can it be?
I concluded my best course of action was to carefully remove it, place it in a plastic bag and bring it to my writers group.Let them consume it and see what happens. That may sound cruel and heartless, but you haven't met these people.

Easing Into It

Art supply stores can be intimidating. Places like A.C. Moore and Michaels are bursting with color, fabric, wood, glass, scarves, feathers, all kinds of crafts do dads. Tiny canvas, humongous canvas, brushes of all sizes, books on creating every conceivable object, so many ways to put art on a surface, to construct and beautify and explore.
There are t-shirts, bags, caps, aprons, laundry bags, all waiting for decoration. Glass bowls and containers of all shapes screaming, color my insides. Just walking the aisles unleashes one's creative juices.
One should prepare for the overwhelming imbalance of women to men. The men's room at these places are the cleanest on this planet because hardly any men use them.
Best of all are the weekly coupons--40, 50, even 55% off. Spend $30, get $10 off. Accumulate 200 points on your plastic scan card and you get a $10 certificate. I got a $70 wood  three shelf bookcase for less than $20 using a couple of coupons.
Plus they stock two shades of magenta.
If more people knew about this there would be less violence in the world. Unless you and some woman spot the same wooden birdhouse and there's only one left.

Lock Down

They say live without fear. Do not deviate from your normal routine. Be aware of everything. Wear sneakers in case you have to run away fast. Carry candy in case there is a lock down and you are stuck in a laundromat. Make sure your vest fits and your helmet is strong.
Walking is safer than public transportation. Do not try to explain this world to little kids. In fact, do not speak to kids. You might get arrested.
Cameras are your friend. Surveillance is all we have left.Your cell phone pulse is proof you are not breaking any laws, except if it's proven you attended an Adam Sandler movie. Once again, go over in your mind, the necessity of collateral damage in this war.
We need a stronger term than innocent victims.
Anybody under 25 has already seen more yellow tape than those of my generation.
Think about it--our biggest worry used to be The Mob.

Bocci Ball Scout

I am a professional bocci ball scout. I search parks seeking potential players for my new league, a sport that will break all attendance records. Whenever I hear loud cursing in Italian, I know bocci ball matches are close by. Most players are old, some really old. Moving carefully, each step measured, their approach and delivery remind one of creaky, ancient egrets or aging pandas for those overweight competitors.
     Some wear baseball caps, fedoras, flannel shirts, zip up wind breakers. No one wears a hoodie.
     No women are allowed to play. Some wives sit on benches, huddled together like shivering toads. They are not allowed to cheer or boo. Italian wives are here to suffer.
     I can tell right away who might be a bocci ball star. They have grace and class and refuse to pee in the bushes. They bathe regularly and get their teeth whitened. Maybe even learn some English.
     There are worse things than being a bocci ball scout. My league is starting to take shape. If I can find enough Hispanics it would create quite an ethnic rivalry. West Side Story all over again.
     From what I understand, the last eight Popes were avid bocci fans. Some even played. I'll bet there's video somewhere.

The Unexpected Cold

Something happens to the body when confronted with unexpected cold weather. Today it was rainy, windy and sharply cold. I thought I dressed appropriately, but I was wrong. Stupidly, I only wore one pair of socks. I wore no hood, no scarf. My pea coat wasn't warm enough. I did wear my heavy fur hat on this mid April day and felt no more foolish others wearing their winter gear.
I don't know how I made through thirty years carrying mail. It must be in my head now. Anything vaguely uncomfortable outside and I opt to stay home. Don't even go to Friday night football games. If it's winter and you're at a skating rink with lights and music and you're moving, the cold just isn't a factor. But coming off three 70 degree days, to be hit be this crushes the spirit. Okay, maybe not that bad. But I couldn't do my power walking today, which means I'll have to leave my warm house to hit the gym. What kind of loser spends Friday night at the gym? Evidently all kinds because the place is packed. First I will get under the covers and take a power nap.

Staples Rewards

I swear, this is an actual Staples read out from a receipt. I did not change a word.

"Starting 3/15/13, there will be a change to your ink recycling benefit. You will receive $2 back in rewards for each ink or toner cartridge recycled, up to your normal ink recycling limits, if you have spent at least $30 on ink and/or toner purchases made on the date of recycling are calculated toward minimum purchase requirement. Minimum purchase requirement net of coupons, taxes, and shipping charges. We will recycle additional cartridges, but rewards will only be used for 10 per calendar month per Base or Plus customer and 20 per calendar for Premier customer."

First, how do I know whether I'm a Base, Plus or Premier customer?
Second, where can I get the same drugs as the person who wrote this?
I am now afraid to enter Staples.

Fear of Pauses

Why do we abhor conversational pauses? Here we are, two intelligent, educated humans engaged in vibrant discourse. We have covered any number of subjects close to our hearts. We've been here sipping coffee a good thirty minutes.
So now we have this pause and we look around or stare at the table, scratch ourselves. We hope to spot someone we know, invite them over, have them fill this void. Maybe flash vacation photos or family stuff. We can oh and aah and that will kill another ten minutes. If I had a family, that's what I'd do.
All conversations are chess games. Some moves take longer than others. Being quiet is not the same as being boring. But, hey, it should be okay to be dull some of the time, maybe as high as 20% of our day. I've gone through entire days without saying something original or interesting. People still talk to me. Not enthusiastically, I must say, but they don't completely ignore me.
To end the pause, I introduce a new topic--food particles collecting inside my microwave. How does this happen when I cover everything? Great. You've picked up on that topic, which will get us another five minutes. I've already come up with another subject--adult diapers. If that disgusts you, maybe you should think of something. We still have fifteen minutes left to complete a solid hour of fascinating conversation. I shouldn't have to do all the heavy lifting. You have a degree from Seton Hall.
And if I shift in my seat it doesn't mean I'm actually wearing an adult diaper. My butt could be itchy.

Guilty Naps

There are planned naps and there are naps that just come upon you and there's nothing you can do about it. This often happens after a big meal when you plop down in your favorite chair, intending to finally finish Tristan Shandy and by the third paragraph you're out cold.
I succumbed to a guilt nap after supper, got nothing done for two hours and now I'm going to have to scramble to catch up.
Three things to do after an unplanned nap. Have a cookie. It won't ease your guilt, but it'll make you feel good. Post a blog. You'll feel productive, though it's short and inconsequential. You can tell friends you did some serious writing. Go out and exercise walk. Have another cookie first.
We can only do so much in one day. Time is our most important possession. Worry about only what you can control. If you've lost two hours, consider it God's gift of rest. Listen to your body. Your body will inform you if you are being lazy. Think of more cliches.
You know, that nap refreshed me. I'm going to Dunkin for some coffee and serious productive thinking. And if I'm awake at 3am because of this sneak attack nap, I have plenty of interesting stuff to occupy my mind. Besides, I need to catch up on my scratching.

Coaches

I never played high school or college sports. I have witnessed coaches behavior as a fan attending those games. I don't condone what Rutgers hoops coach Mike Rice was doing to his players. I understand why they didn't retaliate, except by transferring out. On the high school level, depending on how popular the sport is, coaches can get away with things that would get a classroom teacher fired or suspended. Being fiery is necessary for achievement, keeping your job and maintaining parental support. What I see and hear in the stands too often are parents who have lost all perspective and see winning as the only goal. Their levels of disgust with coaches can explode into a movement to fire these people. In most cases they still have teaching jobs to fall back on.
College coaches do not have that safety net. They are also paid enormous sums because sports brings in lots more revenue than other college activities like theater and dance. Add in the media gushing over successful coaches and all the face time and endorsements they receive, and it's easy to see how they can view themselves as untouchable.
As a substitute, one day I was assigned to replace a HS gym teacher. I did nothing but blow the whistle when it was time for the kids to shower. But I did witness a confrontation between a student and male gym teacher that came close to physical contact. I reported nothing, but couldn't wait to get away from that school and that confrontational atmosphere. Ugly is an understatement.

Guidelines

One of my writing groups has a two page limit on readings because of time constraints and the number of writers. This has been repeated on numerous occasions and we all abide by it. Well, not exactly. Toward the end of the last session, one woman announced she was reading her short story--the entire thing, which was over two pages. The facilitator, a nice fellow, should have stepped in and reminded her that there was a two page limit. He didn't, so she read the whole thing, which wasn't really a fiction piece, but a personal essay about a medical problem. She also blasted her ex husband for not being sympathetic enough.
The content is secondary to the fact that this woman willfully ignored the guidelines. Now that a precedent has been set, what's to prevent others from doing the same?
Because of her selective hearing, another writer was prevented from reading and getting feedback. It's amazing to me how often people look to bypass the rules and guidelines. What are they accomplishing? And I'd really like to hear her husband's side of the story. As one member said, two things that turn off others are showing vacation photos and whining about your medical problems.

Easter Egg Hunt

Lee Marvin, Jack Palance and Charles Bronson led teams A, B, and C. Doris Day led team D. Ms. Day, rather than forcing her kids to train, simply hummed and told charming stories. The other three screamed commands as their troops barged through a series of calisthenics. They winnowed out the weakest, who ran crying to their parents, who in turn pleaded with Ms. Day to take the rejects. She did without hesitation. As a result, teams A, B, and C consisted of 12 hardened kids and she had 321 whining babies.
Because all the Beverly Hills property nearby was perfectly landscaped, there was no place to hide the eggs. So they paid overweight people from LA to participate and allow eggs to be hidden on their bodies.
Eventually the hunt had to be called off after three of Marvin's kids pinned one woman to the sidewalk and frantically searched her entire person. Unfortunately, she just happened to be an overweight crossing guard and not involved. No one was declared a winner, but Ms. Day invited everyone over to her place for milk and cookies. I was only eight years old and the excitement caused me to throw up on her lawn. Soon after, she retired from movies. I feel so responsible.

Business as Usual

When the asteroid hit I was meditating
Fire all around me
Screams, sirens, smoke and debris
Sobbing and wailing
I repeated my secret mantra
As my roof caved in

Soothing sounds floated from me
Mixing with bullhorn shouts from outside
I moved as if sleepwalking
Calming every nerve
I am my own universe
There is Oneness within me

Neighbors covered in blood and ashes
Staggering in the street
Let the All Powerful Pulse protect you
Come meditate with me
Let us move from yoga position to position
Embrace our mutual spirituality
Come flow with me

The first shot hit me in the shoulder
The second blew off my kneecap
The warm contentment was replaced by screaming
I had reached the next stage of awareness
Severe pain
Followed by vomiting
I told myself this dust was my dust
I can learn from all this coughing
And enter the next realm