Typos

I woke up and my bed was surrounded by angry typos. They yelled at me in a chorus of voices. I don't understand, I said. "You created us, gave us hope we would be part of brilliant writing and seconds later replaced us with someone else. What do we do now? Float aimlessly in the ether? Play cards? This is humiliating. You are a sadist. We have no meaning or purpose. Damn you!"
I closed my eyes and pretended it was a dream. Some of them were weeping. What alternative did I have? Every word must be perfect. That is the rule. I identify with typo flaws, but writers must persist in presenting accuracy. I am awash in guilt. I did what I had to do.

Blog Blockers

This is my 1200 post on this blog, so I thought listing the ten toughest things about writing a blog was apropos.
1.Blogging after a big meal full of carbs
2.Blogging while the stupid dog upstairs is barking for his life.
3. Blogging about something embarrassing like being unable to spell apropos.
4. Falling back on a lame list when you're lacking ideas.
5.Blogging about a subject you know nothing about, like blogging itself.
6. Trying to come up with funny material women will like.
7. Convincing people your blog is only the tip of your talent.
8. Limiting yourself to a word count because a little of you goes a long way.
9. Understanding they will not make a movie based on your blog.
10.Not allowing comments, which can destroy your confidence and cause stomach acid.

Worm Hole

I was in a pet shop looking for a snarky parrot that would insult my guests. I got to the lizard section, felt dizzy and passed out. I woke up in the same spot, but it was a different store. This was a Poet Shop. Poets for sale. I hasd passed through a worm hole. I hate  when that happens.
Poets were encased in glass cubicles with names underneath. Beth--Charming and friendly. Sarah-contemplative. Clary-Emotional. Shafik--mysterious. Joe-Naked and challenging. I surmised Joe could be snarky and was so close to buying him when I fell unconscious again. I woke up back in the pet shop surrounded by noise and smells.
The proprietor said I was out of his sight and was clueless about a worm hole in his store. I plan on revisiting this place. Next time I'll bring more money.

No Credit Cards Accepted

I had a terrific lunch with a woman friend at a place she recommended, a 75 year old establishment with old time decor and bins of candy and a whole list of ice cream flavors.
We had an excellent conversation covering many topics. I pride myself on being a good listener. We are well versed in local and national politics. She was even a Mets fan, so we could talk baseball. A fine lunch.
The bill came, I took out my credit card and asked the waitress if I give it to her or bring it up front. She replied up front, and, oh, by the way, we don't take credit or debit cards.
Now it's one thing to go with charming old time decor and offer free ice cream with every meal, but this is 2016. People pay with their phone apps for God sake.  I had two bucks on me.
There was no sign in the window indicating no credit cards. My partner knew that and didn't give me a heads up. I would have gone to an ATM machine.
After she paid I promised next time we meet it's on me. She was very gracious--being 83 does that. But these  people have to wake up and get with the times. Suppose it had been a whole family?

Writers Retreat

What goes on at these things? I know people who've done them and seem to have a good experience, but how much actual writing gets done? Three day retreats mean you will see others in the morning before they shower in their footie pajamas.
I just can't envision myself writing for more than two hours a day. Then I will need to leave and do a power walk or explore the area. I suppose there is much small talk during these things. That is not my strength. If someone begins telling jokes and it comes to my turn, I don't know many jokes or funny stories. I'm basically a serious guy who snores a bit and that may present a separate problem
What if all age groups are at this retreat? Will the younger ones actually speak to the fossils? Will the fossils launch into long diatribes against post modernists? Will there be ping pong and darts? Who chooses the food? What if there's a power outage in winter and writers have to huddle for warmth?
Writers do not huddle well.
No, I think I'll pass on the retreat schedule, stay holed up in my room and create my masterpiece. In my footie pajamas.

Five Bucks

I found a folded up five dollar bill on the ground while power walking. If I had been jogging as in years past I would have sped right past it. Some part of me, I'm embarrassed to admit, wished it were a twenty. There's always a moment after you scoop it up when you want to look around to see if anyone is in the area and might have dropped it. A few weeks before at the Post Office I noticed an elderly woman drop money in the lobby as she was filling out a form. I immediately brought it to her attention.
I'd like to think if I see it get dropped I'll do the right thing.
I used the $5 to pay for a load of laundry. If I were lacking in ethics I would have bought drugs or booze.
Why don't people just use a wallet? Maybe it was a jogger who needed it to buy cold water and now became dehydrated and faint. Now I feel guilty.

Pinpoint Guidance

Dex prided himself on being able to guide vehicles into spaces and around tight quarters without mishap. He had been a certified Guider for over a decade without a single issue of one vehicle touching another. Sometimes in heavy traffic areas, he was called out of bed by police to help direct traffic.
He would be walking along and spot a new or nervous driver trying to fit into a tight space. Without hesitation, Dex took control, using deft hand and arm gestures and calling out instructions in a firm, but calm voice. He always made certain to compliment the driver afterwards, building their confidence.
Dex had a purpose when he awoke every day.
But then came that horrible week in which it seemed he'd lost his touch. Three slight fender touches on backing into a spot, all on his watch. Cameras caught it all and now he was being called before the Council of Pinpoint Guidance to discuss his actions. There was a chance he would lose certification and be banned from guiding vehicles, essentially demoted to helping kids adjust their hand brakes.
Maybe he should have his eyes checked. Guider's were allowed glasses. Or, horrors, maybe he was succumbing to pressure. He couldn't bluff them--it was all on camera.
The hardest truth was there were only seconds to decide whether a driver could continue backing and cutting the wheel, or pulling up and angling it again. The young kids just certified didn't hesitate. That was Dex a decade ago. Now he was the nervous one.

Air Spray

I had a coupon for $1.50 off of $5.00 worth of air spray at CVS. When I got there I saw all air sprays were marked down from $2.19 to 99 cents. So I got six cans for $5.94 minus the discount coupon, which came to $4.54! I was overjoyed driving home. That works out to about 75 cents a can.
But when I got home and tried to find space for them, there was none available. I would have to use toilet paper at an incredible rate. You can only eat so much eggs and beans.
I sprayed all my rooms and myself without making a dent in my stash. It could take months to use up all this air spray unless something dies in my refrigerator motor.
Can I come over and spray your rooms? Your dog? You? Just asking.

Wounded Air Conditioner

My AC is dying a slow death. Puddles of water appear on my floor. The filter is falling apart right on the rug I placed under it to sop up the water. It still blows cool, but I know it's just a matter of time.
My super says the same thing happened to his. So he knows how to solve the problem. I hope he doesn't send me to Home Depot for a new filter. I know I'll return with the wrong one.
My brother says maybe the pan needed to be emptied. What pan? I'm here 14 years and no one ever mentioned a pan. I'm a writer. We don't know about these things.
This is just like when the ceiling fan went and I had to get a motor. There is nothing worse than lying in bed sweating because of a washed up AC. Because it's built in, I can't just replace it.
Sometimes being an adult stinks.

That Damn Rock

Sisyphus meets with a contractor.
That damn rock. I push and push and just when it looks like I am about to reach the top, I lose my footing or grip and slide back down to the bottom. I need help. My back is killing me.
You should have come to me sooner.
I was stubborn. My stupid male pride over came my sensible self. Can you supply a few guys to help?
Sure. How much can you pay?
I have three goats. You can have two of them.
That's a start. How about your first born?
I wasn't prepared to sacrifice that much.
Do you or do you not want that rock pushed up the hill?
Can't we just pulverize it so the pieces are smaller?
Absolutely. That would all the goats, your first born and your wife.
I need to think this through.
Fine. Get back to us. You look in a lot of pain. I'll give you the name of my chiropractor.
What is that?
Let's just say you'll hear lots of bones cracking.

Josef Pommel

George the Gymnast was terrific on the rings, parallel bars, vault and floor exercises. But the pommel horse, created by Josef Pommel in 1903 in Poland, was his Waterloo.His hands got mixed on switches and his hips didn't swivel fast enough.  Josef had to be a sadist.
Came the Olympics, with millions watching. He felt nerves as he approached the apparatus. Dead silence. Every eye on him. Coaches and teammates praying he would get through this. He mounted the horse.
Suddenly he awoke to find himself atop his startled wife in bed.
"Get the hell off me, Willis. It's too early for that crap. I have to make breakfast. And stick your Johnson back where it belongs. Every Olympics, the same thing with you."
Willis sighed. Good thing his weakness wasn't the vault. They just repainted all the walls.

Chickens and Turtles

Are you or are you not a chicken?
I was brought up by turtles. I identify as turtle.
Where is your shell?
I don't need one to be accepted in the turtle family.
It's against the law to impersonate a turtle.
Do not put me in a box. I will not be limited or defined.
What are you attracted to--roosters or turtles?
Neither. I like lizards.
You lack the equipment to copulate with lizards.
That wasn't the question.
You lust after something you have no hope of obtaining.
Millions of men feel the same about Jennifer Lawrence.
Were you hatched in this country?
I can neither confirm nor deny.
You want turtle benefits. This is fraud.
Don't brow beat me.
You're a chicken. You don't have a brow.
They also claimed chickens can't smile. What am I doing this moment?

Book Club Faking

One of my book clubs assigned Richard Russo's Bridge of Sighs, a 528 page journey. I was 50 pages in when I realized I had already read it years before. A decision had to be made. I wasn't going to reread this thing, but I wanted to contribute to the discussion. So I will read only 100 pages and comment on those as though I read the whole thing.
I wonder how many others in the group will do the same. There's always one person who reads every page and I'm sure she'll ask the group how they liked the ending. There will be an awkward silence. We will look at each other, knowing we're all phonies. I'll shrug and make a bland comment. Or, better, I'll excuse myself early before they get that far.
Book groups can be dangerous territory.

Computer Death

My Toshiba laptop is dying a slow, torturous death. Very slow response. Task Window is blocking bac kround tasks. Secure Connection Failed. Try Again.
I try and try and the circle goes round and round and nothing happens. Why don't they create computers that can talk and explain their problem. Sometimes I take out the battery and wait a few seconds before replacing it and I get results.
I'm also getting Battery System messages. I never take it off the wire and use just the battery. Now I'm told that's bad. Staples wants $160 to remove viruses, but McAfee tells me I have none. Staples says that service is useless, but I've already paid for it.
So the thing sits on my kitchen table with a little white dot on the bottom teasing me to open it and go through the same nonsense. I have an 8 year old hp laptop that is my lifesaver. Except when it freezes and I have to tap the thing below the keyboard until it unfreezes.

Short Story Development

Here I go again, starting another short story. I know my central character well because I've used her in eight other stories. I've already introduced two new characters in the first few pages. I'm not sure how many others will pop up or whether I'll return to some as the plot progresses. I have a general idea of what the narrative is. But interaction among the characters is more important than solving the mystery in my work.
It really is exciting to write long hand in my notebook, rarely knowing what my next sentence will be. Yes, it's a high wire act I enjoy and when it's done in it's raw state I'm already  forming ideas on how to tweak it to make it better.
Writing is scary at times, joyous and frustrating at others. Anyway, it keeps me off the streets.

Counter Clockwise

Everyone with a brain knows you walk around a path counter clockwise. This goes for tracks and parks and anything involving a circular shape. Yet there's always a stubborn few qho go against the grain and cause potential problems.
They see I'm in my lane, head down, reading my book and barge right up to me walking in the wrong direction. It's worse with the rude bikers. Naturally if there's a collision they will blame me for walking with my head down. Excuse me for multi tasking.
I guess in China people walk clockwise. I'll bet no one dares go theb opposite way. I'm sure all exercise walkers are monitored.
Am I just a cranky old guy looking for trouble? If I run into some kid on a scooter and I get hurt, there will be legal action.

Swim Suits

When you see people you know in swim suits it can be frightening. At a recent pool party I was encouraged to show up with a suit, but declined. My slight paunch is not something I wish to display. Compared to me, some of the prodigious flab I saw made me resemble an Olympic swimmer.
I give them credit for having the courage to belly whop in front of an audience. They had fun. I have nothing against fun. But I have to eat afterwards with those images. I just sat under an umbrella talking politics and medical issues. Then I ate two turkey burgers.
But I can never look at these people in the same way.

Fish Shirt

I have a shirt covered with fish illustrations. Not many men can rock a shirt like that. I wear this shirt with shorts covered with palm tree illustrations. Deal with it.
I wore this to a Neil Diamond tribute concert and fit right in. Sometimes I spill things on my shirts and curse myself. Maybe it is subliminal. Maybe I am secretly self destructive. It's not like I'm a pig. Sometimes you just eat too fast.
I place this fish shirt right at the top of my shirt ratings. Yes, I rate my clothes. I need challenges. Be grateful I don't rate yours. You dress like a vinyl salesman. Just stating the obvious.

Lost Giant

No one wants to give me directions because of my size. They flee, that's what they do. I have a deep scary voice, but speak perfect English if I could just get someone to listen.
Sometimes I trample people by accident and all hell breaks lose. No calm discussion, only accusations.
Hitchhiking is a dead end. Unless it's a large flatbed, no one will pick me up. Police basically threaten to zap me with a taser, which means aiming for my balls.
I tried scanning the city to get my bearings, but all these streets look alike. I must live in a field somewhere. I'm too big for parks.
I could really help this city if given a chance. Construction, demolition, police work. I could hang huge ads from telephone poles.
Why doesn't anyone see my potential? And why won't one person tell me how to get to Wilmore Street, so I can get home?

Vacation Plan

I addressed my family.
We are vacationing in Hudson County this year and that is final. I know you wanted the Olympics in Rio, but this is more educational.
I've done the research. New Jersey has many interesting sights, none more than this county. Let's list what we will see.
High level road construction
Exotic animals some might foolishly label rodents
Garish signs
Amazing potholes
Bergenline Avenue with its Dollar stores, accents and dialects.
Backed up sewers after heavy rain
Humans arguing over a parking space
Road rage like you can't imagine
Crying kids in crowded stores
Discount clothing stores featuring Third World mastery
Angry dogs chasing furious squirrels
Thousands of calories served in fast food outlets
An occasional bullet hole
Here and there, a tree or flower
It's be two weeks in another country so to speak. Get packing!

New Neighbors

They had small tails. I saw that right away. Six of them, four kids. There's chanting at night, not too loud. One night I saw them spread out across the front lawn, eating the grass. My wife thinks we should bring over chocolate layer cake. I say wait awhile. No car in the driveway. None of them seems to have a job.
Al, on the opposite side of their house, noticed nothing strange. He's been out of it since his wife left with a house painter.
I finally decided to march over there and introduce myself. I rang the bell and waited. The door opened slowly. A large head peered out. I said my name. Its voice was cavernous. 'What? No cake?'
We hit it off and now my kids play with theirs. Turns out they are GMOs. Genetically Modified Organisms. Our government is always playing those kind of tricks.

Dentist Roulette

Why do dentists hate me? Six dentists have dropped me in recent years. The reason they say is they no longer accept my insurance. I think something about me turns them off and that's just an excuse. I smell pretty good and my hair is combed. Maybe it's how I spit out into the cup.
I sit still for the x-rays and never flinch during cleanings. I ask sensible questions about gums and why are my teeth yellow. I am quiet in the waiting room and always pay on time.
The new dentist assigned to me put me on hold forever when I tried to make an appointment. The next time I got a voice message he wasn't in. I brush and floss every single day and use mouthwash. This remains a mystery. I think with the right equipment I can clean my own teeth.

Bus Driver

When did it become a requirement to thank the bus driver while getting off? Are these people volunteers? Aren't they getting paid to get us from one point to another?
I never used to thank the driver and we were both fine with that. If we get a bumpy ride should the driver apologize? Have we become that wishy washy as a society? I'll bet out west and down south they don't thanks drivers.
What I really hate is when I get off at the first stop, which means I've been on the bus exactly the six minutes it takes to get through the Lincoln Tunnel. If I am the only one getting off and don't thank the driver I fear another passenger will follow me off and attempt to do bodily harm.
I don't thank it's in their contract, this thanks business. I only portion out my appreciation to those who deserve it. Like someone who gives me their seat.

Humpty

It stood on the wall threatening to jump. EMS, police and firemen were trying to coax it down. A tranquilizer gun and net were brought in. So was Dr. Myron Kopec, a shrink specializing in suicide attempts. He needed to apply just the right tone.
Your name?
Humpty Dumpty.
I'm guessing you were teased at school.
I never went.
Are you depressed?
Yes. I learned I came from a chicken.
Is that so bad?
How would you feel?
I understand. What else?
I have a yolk that only becomes important when I'm fried.
We all must die.
Not like that. It said I caused bad cholesterol. What is that?
Debates rages on that one. You feel your life lacks meaning.
Brilliant deduction.
Suppose, if you come down, I offer you free Netflicks?
I have no legs to climb. Three drunk humans put me up here as a prank.
We'll get you down. Suppose I threw in The Egg Channel. Nothing but eggs, 24/7.
Would you? Would you??
I'm a man of my word.

Pesky Electrons

Leo's atoms worked just fine, except for pesky electrons that never did what they were told. Einstein predicted as much. 'Keep your electrons from getting bored or you've got trouble' he warned.
Strange things happened because of this imbalance. His nose ran with blue mucus, bubbles in his artichoke salad, he read bad poetry on public transportation. Numbness attacked his nether region, ants appeared in his soap dish,, the smoke alarm played Bach, it was impossible to peel a banana.
Leo asked his best friend Joe for advice. Joe said to whisper gently to his electrons, show them adult magazines, take them camping, let them understand how vital they are to one's environment.
Leo thanked him and wanted to believe this would work. Then Joe gave him one of his story collections and Leo realized Joe's electrons were those of a sociopath. 

Ladder

A little more to the left, his wife instructed.
I can't get any more left, Bernie Sanders replied. He was trying to hang a photo of FDR for 20 minutes and his arms hurt. Now the ladder began wobbling.
Hold the ladder, he said. I'm in the l\kitchen getting you cold water, she replied.
Did I ask for water? Do I look dehydrated? Water is not the solution to this country's problems. 36% of people cannot afford ladders. 23% cannot afford nails.
Bernie, you have to move on. She won, you lost.
He gritted his teeth and declared, I should have pointed my finger more and shouted louder. No one can out decibel that woman.
He finally got the FDR photo straight. Bless that man, he muttered.
His loving wife looked up and said, For a 74 year old man, Bernie, you still have a nice tush.

Paramedics

I fear paramedics. I know we need them, but what if they snap and go berserk? Forced CPR, enemas, mouth to mouth, intravenous. Checking blood pressure, open your mouth, tongue depressors, elevate the legs, stabilize the neck, administer liquids.
Check their eyes next time they're called. That wild look of dictators. The way they swarm over fallen strangers. Who really knows what's in those bags? What goes on once they strap you down and funnel you into the ambulance? Are any of them vetted? Even those dark blue uniforms scare you.
What if you just have a momentary blackout and find yourself pummeled with CPR and have your ribs broken? Do they have scalpels? How many carry emotional baggage? Divorce? Gambling problems? What is paramedic humor like? Do they peek at your genitals?
See what I mean? Scary stuff.

Coupon Animals

The Coupon Animals from Bed, Bath & Beyond have sent me another 20% off coupon. No let up. What am I supposed to do with these things? How many wash clothes and towels can I use? I have three oscillating fans and four humidifiers. Nine pillows, 18 blankets, five mattress covers,six quilts, 25 cleaning agents, four floppy hats, three plungers, nine laundry bags.
I feel like I'm not doing my part unless I buy them. How can our economy recover unless we, as a society, buy more toilet brushes and drain cleaners? Plus, the people are so friendly there and the AC is powerful. I have been tempted to explore Big Lots, but my conscience blocks such traitorous behavior.
Well, maybe I could use another toilet cover and shower mat. I know they only have my best interests as a priority. I guess animals is pretty harsh. This makes twenty eight accumulated BB&B coupons. And I thought I was keeping up.

The Dancer

Orson was a professional dancer with some of the top acts. His fiance left him because she thought he was cheating with a famous female singer. Crushed, he decided to start a new life elsewhere.
His new place was on the third floor and his landlord was nice enough to help him bring things upstairs. He gave him $20.
Orson went to a club that night to try to forget. The others formed a circle around him as he flashed his best moves. He had too much to drink. Walking home he decided to take the shortcut his landlord suggested. Halfway across a long field, it began to rain hard. He cursed his life.
Behind him, he heard a sound and whirled. His landlord stood there holding a gun. Evidently, he had seen Orson's jewels and Rolex.No one will miss you, he said. Orson was not going to die in a mud puddle.
"Wait", he begged. "You can have the jewels and watch, plus I'll toss in free dance lessons."
The landlord dropped his arm to his side.
"Can I wear Lycra?" he asked, hopefully.

Missing Dog

The dog upstairs, whose constant barking was driving me nuts, has vanished. It is so quiet now. Every time I open the door I expect to hear yapping. Instead, the hall is silent. I wonder if they went on vacation and left the dog with someone. No one is emptying their mailbox. Maybe other owners got fed up and kidnapped the entire family while I was out. Stashed them and the dog in an abandoned warehouse.
I'm not going to say I miss the noise. But this silence is growing eerie. If I smell something putrid coming from upstairs I'm calling the police. This happens in Hitchcock movies all the time.

Writing Groups

The main purpose of a writing group is to propel its participants forward, give them the confidence and courage to send their work out for publication. Rejection is part of the process of becoming a writer. If you fear it to the extent that you never finish anything, or put it aside when done, that lack of courage will doom you.
If someone is telling you they are working on a project and months pass, that is a red flag. That person is afraid to let go, afraid to see if the people in the business who make decisions will reject their work. If you keep telling yourself you are a writer without testing the waters, you are delusional A writing group filled with people like this becomes a failure.
In fact, many join these groups to be around people. They have limited writing skills, but just sitting around a table, sipping a latte, discussing aspects of writing does not equate to being a successful writer. The quality of the group suffers and real writers leave.