Old Movies

Every Wednesday I watch free old movies at a library. There are about a dozen of us regulars. We don't know each others  names, but as soon as we arrive, old movie facts are tossed out. It can be specific info about the movie we are about to see, or general stuff on other flicks by that director or actor.
The woman who curates this chooses a theme for each month. Many are B&W noir films and, as a writer, I eat up that hard boiled dialogue. Joan Crawford, starred in The Damned Don't Cry today. Boy, can that dame stare. Davis, Bacall, Stanwyck, Bergman-- all of them wearing wide shoulders and pumps with black seamed stockings; tough, no nonsense women who go toe to toe with their leading men and usually end up paying for it.
Most of these gems never went past 100 minutes. We are a quiet group; no one talks during the film, unlike public theaters where people just gab away.
Yeah, every Wednesday I'm taken out of this life and times and transported to a more straight shooting, no spin world, where characters say what they mean and mean what they say. Except if they're double crossing someone.
You know, the hats were so much more elegant back then.

Moral Dilemma

I'm at the urinal in a supermarket and the guy in the stall, who sounds about 85, is having trouble UN-spooling the toilet paper. Don't anything work anymore, he grumbles. Question: should I knock and offer to help him? Sooner than I'd like to think, I might be in the same situation.
Thankfully, he got it going and finished his personal hygiene. I hate these decisions.
The other day outside the same store I found a perfectly good cylinder of the Original Pringles potato chips. I picked it up, stood there looking around for someone to step forward and claim it. Normally I would just take it, but this was Pringles. I'm sure the person who lost  it was stunned and heartbroken, maybe suicidal. But if I bring it to the courtesy counter odds are someone will just stick it under their coat. I mean, it's freakin' Pringles, not Wise or store brand and NOT pretzels. That would have been easy. No one cares about pretzels except guys in bars.
The cylinder is on top of my fridge and as days go by, the chances of my returning it decrease. Let me carry the guilt.

Absence of Presence

There are people who enter a room causing electricity throughout. Then there is me. I come into a room and everyone yawns. Even the pets. The furniture shrinks away; chairs mutter not here, sit over there.
I have no presence, no gravitas. Ironically, this helps me as a writer. I can be there watching and listening without garnering attention, making it easy for me to create stories and characters. Inside, I am a lava flow of creative juices. But on the outside I simply have no presence.
Imagine trying to create a character based on me. What is my core essence? Plaid shirts? A sensual lower lip? Hairy shoulders? I don't do karaoke or dance. I take no controversial stances. I even vomit quickly without fuss. Never once have I projectile vomited.
No, I'm someone who blends into the decor. But I'm always watching and listening.

High End

Every year my life coach, Ellen, sits down with me and helps me whittle down my list of friends. I'm not a snob, but do have expectations of these people, who must qualify as high end friends.
Right off, we eliminated Harry and his Velcro painting of Hillary Clinton. Louise's earrings were too ostentatious--out. Marge we kept because finally removed that Neil Diamond tattoo from her shoulder. The Fanucci twins were problematic. They voted Republican, but had a 36 D cup. We kept them.
Al was kind to me all year, yet his connection to Tupperware forced me to toss him out. I want my friends to be both accomplished and edgy. Like Augie, who claimed to have invented the Frisbee and rode around on a bike wearing a Batman costume.
Truthfully, I have only one Superhero as a friend--Elastic Man. But like rubber bands, his elasticity decreased over time to the point where his left arm just snapped off while battling an evil villain. Ellen said he had to go and I agreed.
So it went for two hours. At the very bottom of the list was Ellen's husband Steve. Certainly Steve stays on, I said. Ellen frowned. It pains me to inform you that Steve has removed you from his high end list, she said. He feels you did nothing interesting all year.
I sat there in shock. I realized he was right. I needed to get myself a nose ring. It's a start.

Well Wishing

This is the time of year for well wishing. You send out messages of support, hope and joy to people. You wish them continued success, renewed creativity, serene happiness for them and family.
This is all well and good when it comes to those who have been responsive in the past. You send them a message, they respond, life goes on.
But what about those who've ignored you all year? I mean seriously ignored you to the point where they never respond to anything. These are folks who, for some reason, have decided you are not worth their attention. It's not like there was an argument between you or you stole something from them. Getting inside their heads leads only to frustration--it's impossible. Evidently, some people get up in the morning deciding they will feel better about themselves if they snub a percentage of their acquaintances.
Should you continue to wish them a happy new year etc., hoping that they will comes to their senses and recognize you as someone worthy of their attention? Or should you just write them off as a loss and move on?
This year I'm leaning toward contacting a few and waiting. If they do not respond I'll toss in the towel on the rest of them. Frankly, based on their posts, they aren't all that interesting anyway. I will keep them on my social media pages in case something really great happens to me like a publishing deal. I want them to know about it. Boy, do I want it in their faces. I feel much better now.

My Secret

I love my Lycra workout shorts, but I must confess sometimes I wear them under my pants. It's that tight, sensual feeling on my nether regions I can't seem to resist. Walking around the gym, it's hard for me not to stop in front of a full length mirror and admire my quads, hamstrings and glutes.
I have another secret. Sometimes I stick tissue in the crotch to make me feel more secure surrounded by huge guys. And sometimes, in the process of exercising, the tissue pops out. Let's just say I've been warned by the gym manager.
My other secret is I steal coffee cups at people's homes during social events. Stick them right down my pants in between my underwear and the Lycra shorts while I'm in the bathroom. I've accumulated quite an array of cups. I have a trusting face and no one notices.
What can I say? I like living on the edge. Tomorrow I'm having breakfast at Waffle House. I doubt their metal detector will pick up a glass coffee cup.

Holly Jolly

I went to a library to hear Christmas Carols yesterday afternoon. They had lots of cookies, pastry and hot chocolate. Four adults dressed in red and white outfits bounced around, getting pumped up. One tuned his violin, another failed to tune her flute, which cost her later.
There were only a few of us in the audience, which was just fine. They were scheduled to begin at 2:30, supposedly standing outside. A couple complained it was too cold to the young woman who organized it. In short time it was switched indoors to a point near the Christmas tree. To me, this made sense. I settled in on a comfortable couch, drank my hot chocolate and appreciated retirement.
They were pretty decent; the singing was fine, choice of songs familiar, as you might expect. I enjoyed the violinist, but was dubious about the showy necklaces he wore. The other guy looked like Christopher Plummer and had Bill Medley's baratone.
The flute player realized her instrument wasn't tuned after several abortive tries to play something, but eventually that got resolved.
Then it happened. The grade school across the street let out at 3 and kids swarmed in and around us. Kids do not hesitate. If they want a space they take it. If they want most of your couch they take it. And if they want hot chocolate and cookies, boy do they take that. Thankfully, I'd already had two cups and four cookies before they attacked us.
I left at intermission. Too much holiday spirit upsets my stomach. I think I've outgrown kids.