I have a CVS plastic discount card attached to my keyring. I walk in, head right for the coupon machine and scan my card. Strange noises come from the machine and me, as I rub my hands together, waiting for the coupons to slid out.
But sometimes I have already exhausted my allotted quota for that week and a very sad message appears on the screen. I stifle a sob, stagger out the door, knowing my day is ruined.
But most of the time I grab my coupons, combine them with email offers and Sunday paper coupons. Then I attack the store.
Wheat Thin crackers $1.99. Blue Diamond almonds half price! Tuna, 88 cents, pickles and olives, buy one, get one free. $3 off vitamins. Eye drops, nose spray to clear my mind, garbage bags, anti acids, cereal, hand lotion, deodorant, cranberry bags, protein bars, diet milk shakes, bandages, on and on.
My bags are full, my life is full. I am a proud CVS slut, a coupon slattern who cannot wait to get home and put all this stuff away. Then it is on to Walgreens, Rite Aid and Target.
I need more space for all this toothpaste.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Live Long and Prosper
I'll be honest. I want to outlive every writer I know. When a writer dies I make a fist and whisper, one more down. Harsh? Perhaps. Writing is very competitive. I must keep publishing, must create. If I come across a dead writer's book on a shelf, I will bring it to the store owner and point out how pointless it is to stock books from deceased authors who can no longer do book signings, as opposed to me, living and breathing and ready to market the crap out of my work.
And what does it mean to prosper? Mother Teresa prospered spiritually by living among lepers. Donald Trump buys buildings, Hugh Hefner seduces women, grandparents observe extended family around holidays. The guy working the taco truck pulls in a small fortune.
The concept of prospering is so amorphous.
Meanwhile, I wait for Harper Lee to croak.
And what does it mean to prosper? Mother Teresa prospered spiritually by living among lepers. Donald Trump buys buildings, Hugh Hefner seduces women, grandparents observe extended family around holidays. The guy working the taco truck pulls in a small fortune.
The concept of prospering is so amorphous.
Meanwhile, I wait for Harper Lee to croak.
Ducks and Swans
Doctor, may I ask how this works?
You talk, I listen.
Okay. Where should I start?
At the beginning.
Fine. Ever since I can remember, I've been attracted to water fowl. Even as a young boy. Ducks, geese, swans. As a teen, I would sneak out at night to the pond and try to capture one. The ducks swam away too fast. Geese traveled in packs and protected each other. Swans hardly ever appeared. I grew frustrated.
How did that manifest itself?
I purchased videos of water fowl, locked myself in my room and spent hours watching them, all the while pleasuring myself. Oh, the shame.
Mr. Finley, you are 32 years old, with your whole life ahead of you. We will come up with a strategy to deal with these inappropriate impulses. Perhaps shock treatment. The incident that led to your arrest had to be traumatic.
You have no idea, doctor. Have you ever actually caressed a fully developed swan? The sheer ecstasy.
May I ask what your feelings are toward turkeys, chickens and roosters?
Oh please. What kind of sicko do you think I am?
You talk, I listen.
Okay. Where should I start?
At the beginning.
Fine. Ever since I can remember, I've been attracted to water fowl. Even as a young boy. Ducks, geese, swans. As a teen, I would sneak out at night to the pond and try to capture one. The ducks swam away too fast. Geese traveled in packs and protected each other. Swans hardly ever appeared. I grew frustrated.
How did that manifest itself?
I purchased videos of water fowl, locked myself in my room and spent hours watching them, all the while pleasuring myself. Oh, the shame.
Mr. Finley, you are 32 years old, with your whole life ahead of you. We will come up with a strategy to deal with these inappropriate impulses. Perhaps shock treatment. The incident that led to your arrest had to be traumatic.
You have no idea, doctor. Have you ever actually caressed a fully developed swan? The sheer ecstasy.
May I ask what your feelings are toward turkeys, chickens and roosters?
Oh please. What kind of sicko do you think I am?
Monday, February 16, 2015
We Own the Night
They are invisible during the day. But at night...
Sometimes they move as one. Roving above
They dip to a point just above you
You try to grasp us and fail
Transfixed, you follow them through the shadows
The child in you wondering how
The light in their tail guides you
Look daddy! What is that?
That, honey, is a firefly
It flies through the city lighting even the darkest streets
No one knows where they go at sunrise
Will they ever burn out?
Sometimes they move as one. Roving above
They dip to a point just above you
You try to grasp us and fail
Transfixed, you follow them through the shadows
The child in you wondering how
The light in their tail guides you
Look daddy! What is that?
That, honey, is a firefly
It flies through the city lighting even the darkest streets
No one knows where they go at sunrise
Will they ever burn out?
A Quiet Evil
Meditation is a quiet evil, giving us false hope we can control our emotions. As soon as we close our eyes and fold our hands a car horn sounds or a child screams or we fart. Then we have to start over.
I don't understand the concept of gathering ones self. Are your pancreas on the other side of the room?
Meditation accomplishes nothing. While I'm re tiling the bathroom you're sitting in a lotus position humming.
Yes, we need something to calm our frazzled nerves. What about porn and Frisbee?
It is annoying when people zone out on line and you have to push them forward. Or if they meditate on the porcelain throne while you're waiting. If all God did was meditate we'd still be in the Dark Ages.
I prefer listening to Hendrix until I reach a fugue state, which is different from meditating. You can burp and it won't be considered cheating.
I don't understand the concept of gathering ones self. Are your pancreas on the other side of the room?
Meditation accomplishes nothing. While I'm re tiling the bathroom you're sitting in a lotus position humming.
Yes, we need something to calm our frazzled nerves. What about porn and Frisbee?
It is annoying when people zone out on line and you have to push them forward. Or if they meditate on the porcelain throne while you're waiting. If all God did was meditate we'd still be in the Dark Ages.
I prefer listening to Hendrix until I reach a fugue state, which is different from meditating. You can burp and it won't be considered cheating.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Hammer
This is humiliating. Someone painted me pink. Whoever heard of a pink hammer. I am supposed to stand for strength and reliability. I look like Truman Capote's hammer.
Stop whining. You could be me--a simple screwdriver no one bothers with. Which of us in this display window will people be attracted to, huh?
I don't like those kind of lascivious looks.
I didn't realize hammers had that kind of volabulary.
I didn't until some sadist painted me pink. My whole image is shot.
Would you rather be a pliers?
Don't get smart. What manly man will buy me?
Perhaps a fashionable lady will take you home.
Here's the question--can I still hammer like before?
Of course you can. I'll bet with more panache.
I didn't know screw drivers could use words like that.
Look, someone is crossing the street and coming over. Posture, posture.
I feel so debased, so naked. I would have accepted Payne Gray. But pink??
Stop whining. You could be me--a simple screwdriver no one bothers with. Which of us in this display window will people be attracted to, huh?
I don't like those kind of lascivious looks.
I didn't realize hammers had that kind of volabulary.
I didn't until some sadist painted me pink. My whole image is shot.
Would you rather be a pliers?
Don't get smart. What manly man will buy me?
Perhaps a fashionable lady will take you home.
Here's the question--can I still hammer like before?
Of course you can. I'll bet with more panache.
I didn't know screw drivers could use words like that.
Look, someone is crossing the street and coming over. Posture, posture.
I feel so debased, so naked. I would have accepted Payne Gray. But pink??
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Idea House
When I began constructing my Idea House I gave myself two months. It was located behind my living quarters. I had the tools, space and know how.
Back round--I was having difficulty keeping my ideas organized. They were drifting to parts of the house I never went or hiding between towels, under furniture, in closets. They were no good to me if I couldn't access them.
Several were behind the wallpaper. I lost my temper and decided to take action. Thus the Idea House.
I was encouraged by Carl, my neighbor, who had built a Funny Anecdote shed in his yard. Carl was full of stories, the life of the party.
I was done in late spring. I carried three full cartons of ideas to my new addition, placed them on the wood floor and left to get a beer or two.
Next day I wanted to begin a new story, so I entered the place. I was confronted by screaming, angry ideas. Where is the rug? Not enough ventilation. Too dark, no view, a bad smell. No Netflix. No candy machine. On and on.
I slammed the door and walked over to Carl's. We spent the morning in his Anecdote shed--him spinning tales and me sporadically chuckling.
I could still hear whining coming from my yard. Somebody needs to slap around the creative muse.
Back round--I was having difficulty keeping my ideas organized. They were drifting to parts of the house I never went or hiding between towels, under furniture, in closets. They were no good to me if I couldn't access them.
Several were behind the wallpaper. I lost my temper and decided to take action. Thus the Idea House.
I was encouraged by Carl, my neighbor, who had built a Funny Anecdote shed in his yard. Carl was full of stories, the life of the party.
I was done in late spring. I carried three full cartons of ideas to my new addition, placed them on the wood floor and left to get a beer or two.
Next day I wanted to begin a new story, so I entered the place. I was confronted by screaming, angry ideas. Where is the rug? Not enough ventilation. Too dark, no view, a bad smell. No Netflix. No candy machine. On and on.
I slammed the door and walked over to Carl's. We spent the morning in his Anecdote shed--him spinning tales and me sporadically chuckling.
I could still hear whining coming from my yard. Somebody needs to slap around the creative muse.
Constant Craving
Last year it was hummus. I couldn't get enough of it. I put it on bread, rolls, crackers, people's forearms. I went from market to market seeking illegal imported hummus, wound up in a dark alley exchanging money for North African concoctions.
Then suddenly I lost my taste for it. Who knows why? There was a void that cherry tomatoes, yams, and squash couldn't fill. I became jittery and quick tempered.
All the while the solution was right in front of me.
Avocados.
Those pear shaped green demons. I barely got home with a bag before tearing off the skin and gobbling down half a dozen. I was an avocado pig. I had a problem.
One day I was standing on the cashier line holding three full bags of them when two uniformed officers pulled me into a back room. The Guacamole Police. I had exceeded the state's monthly allotment. We were shipping them to Ohio where there was an avocado shortage. I was put on probation.
My friends are happy. They had gotten sick of having guacamole licked off their fingers.
Then suddenly I lost my taste for it. Who knows why? There was a void that cherry tomatoes, yams, and squash couldn't fill. I became jittery and quick tempered.
All the while the solution was right in front of me.
Avocados.
Those pear shaped green demons. I barely got home with a bag before tearing off the skin and gobbling down half a dozen. I was an avocado pig. I had a problem.
One day I was standing on the cashier line holding three full bags of them when two uniformed officers pulled me into a back room. The Guacamole Police. I had exceeded the state's monthly allotment. We were shipping them to Ohio where there was an avocado shortage. I was put on probation.
My friends are happy. They had gotten sick of having guacamole licked off their fingers.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Assigning Blame
I am not one to duck responsibility, but this time I'm assigning blame for my wardrobe choices to my former consultant Yusef. Too many snarky remarks from friends about my Eurotrash look. Too much suede and leather.
My image should be casual elegance. Clooney, Grant, Pierce Brosnan. See this ensemble? My plaid wool shirt jacket effectively sets off my gray zip up sweater, which in turn matches my gray corduroy slacks. Of course my sneakers are white and gray.
No bling, no tattoos, no nose ring. no hipster hat. Plain white underwear. Trust me on that.
My clothes say I'm the guy you can share secrets, have a drink with.
No, you can't touch my corduroy. My casual elegance is to be admired from afar.
My image should be casual elegance. Clooney, Grant, Pierce Brosnan. See this ensemble? My plaid wool shirt jacket effectively sets off my gray zip up sweater, which in turn matches my gray corduroy slacks. Of course my sneakers are white and gray.
No bling, no tattoos, no nose ring. no hipster hat. Plain white underwear. Trust me on that.
My clothes say I'm the guy you can share secrets, have a drink with.
No, you can't touch my corduroy. My casual elegance is to be admired from afar.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)