%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes.  I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
  |
 28 ⛅The crocuses have been out for awhile. Trees are beginning to bud. Which flowers will burst forth next? I'll be eating smothered pork today... unless I leave it in the fridge and eat bologna instead. I'm having difficulty keeping track of the date and day of the week. Lack of routines will do that. There is scene at the end of 55:15 that haunts me. Jarunee's father has Alzheimers. She asks Bomb to look after him when she dies. She dies. He does. We see the old man lying on the bed uncovered. Bomb comes in and puts a blanket over him. That small act of kindness says a lot. Last week I was deathly ill. Tonight I'm fine; but, living alone has its complications. Who will look in on me? 42°F at 9 a.m. (or 3 in the morning in Thai as 6-12 is morning; the hours are divided into four parts). Coffee. And toast. In Thailand it may be 'donuts'. In Costa Rica, gallo pinto (a mix of rice and beans). In Norway, fish and cheese. 100 Micro: "A double date goes slightly awry when two girls begin to fall for each other’s boyfriends." Easy-peasy. While Porn (blessing) and Noinae (a fruit) are arguing/concerned/dreaming, their boyfriends are caught stealing a kiss in the restroom... or some such silliness! "Are they..." "kissing?" "..." "Yep." Eight: I want to continue the 8/6/7/5/6/4/5/3 with 4/2/3/1/2/_. The last couplet would read 'slashed to' ______. 63 degrees at 3 p.m. (or 3 in the afternoon in Thai). Mild, pleasant, did not wear a coat. Cottage cheese with gifted pears. Making rigatoni... for tomorrow. I'll be using red sauce and that's better after it sets for a day. I'm thinking of adding tuna and/or cheese before I eat it. I'm in a do-nothing mood. My experience with this is that I pay later.  29  Spending most of the day inside although I did get out. Dalton and Laxmi fattened me up with chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting. Met Michael, the new chef, who is working on including vegetarian items on the Sr. Ctr. menu. Willie saw a man die this afternoon when she was shopping. She came back to the center to vent and de-stress. Apparent heart-attack. My supper: rice with garam marsala, mushrooms and pork. I am both properly hydrated and caffeinated today. Finished. Verdent: "Until the rains come"  Taboo: "Emerald treasure " Personify: "Ghost of tissues past" 1st Chapter: "A map to Hellenbach" 4 Children: "A Big Flashy Fun Rainbow Ball " Limerick: "Honeybuns" and "Ah... David (blush) [2 Limericks]" Panda: "Naw Ruz 179 [179.1]" Think about it: "McCarthy Forever!" Julia McCarthy was my mother's father's mother's mother from Ireland. The Irish rootlet shows up in our DNA. What is touching about what I wrote is that when I first sketched it at the beginning of March my mother, age 99, was still alive. She died March 15th, two months short of 100. I could only add the picture of McCarthy's Pub, but I have other photos of Dingle: sailboats, sheep, fish and mushy peas at Harrington's, graveyard, church... did I mention hillsides of sheep? White on green. Way too stressed out.   30 *cold*30°F at 8. Cold but clear and will warm up. Never went out and now poor internet connection.  Have one day more to finish up. I spent over 3 hours trying to buy airplane tickets. I may be gone April 17th - May 23rd. How I tolerate traveling will determine what I do the next two years. Details to come.  31  45°F 7°C in Missoula at 2 p.m. Windy, threat of rain. Dull, dreary. Great conversation with Angie, Jay and Billie Jo though. I told them my news. Now to finish those limericks... Done.  Pacing it... No bread in the house so I ate tortillas and now heating up beefy mushroom soup with pasta stars. I barely finished my contests. Missed one, but I ran out of time as usual and internet connection has been truly crappy. I have two immediate issues: phone and glasses. Also must figure out how to get covid test if I need one for Portugal. I'll need a ride, but the shuttle should be running. If not, a taxi. Flight is at 6:45 a.m. so I need to be there by 5:30. Small airport.  32 ⛅Bad internet again.  Went to see friends after 'watching' the World Cup draw. Costa Rica will face Germany and Spain if they get past New Zealand. They're surging, but November is a long ways away. And although they took out Italy 8 years ago, don't expect another upset of that caliber. I need to do research and booking for my upcoming trip. I need reliable internet because my nerves get shot otherwise. As far as recording thoughts in this blog... they are useful to me but totally ignored by WdC. 5694-5644 = 50 views in March. Comments? Katya, Lyn and Sarah = 3.  Great chat with Laxmi today about her upcoming Santiago walk, and three cruises (Sept-Nov) and about my trip to Portugal. John's plant died after 16 years. He said I could have the pot. I wonder how my plants will deal with the upcoming neglect. I haven't told them yet. It's Saturday morning in Maha Sarakham. 66/62 and rain. Odd for April. It's supposed to be 90/70, humid, dusty, dry. Strong North-east winds too. I'm considering June/July for Thailand and/or November. I did remember to buy food today. (Fish!) I didn't overbuy and I might give in and eat at the Senior Center for $5/meal the 11th-15th in preparation for cleaning out my fridge before my trip.  A2 Daily Dordle #0067 5&4/7 ⬜🟩⬜⬜⬜ 🟨🟨⬜🟩⬜ 🟩⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜🟨⬜ ⬜⬜⬜🟨⬜ 🟨⬜🟨⬜⬜ 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ zaratustra.itch.io/dordle hapax/prank Not as hard as you may think. (rainy/hotel/dumps) The 'p' was critical. 35 degrees at 10:10 and dark. And  I have to work on the computer today so I want to go to Butterfly Herbs; but, it's cold and later it will be blustery. I seem to have lost my touch when it comes to writing. Not that that should ever stop a person. I'll write about my trip if nothing else. Writings fall into three categories: Won: 3rd  "Until the rains come" Verdent March 1st  "Emerald treasure " Taboo March3rd "A Big Flashy Fun Rainbow Ball " 4 Children MarchKinda... "Green ink" Bearbit April (5-way 2nd place)HM "A map to Hellenbach" 1st ChapterPending: Panda: "Naw Ruz 179 [179.1]" Think about it: "McCarthy Forever!" Did not place: "Mad Fashion Designer [year162.ff]" Senior March"Smoke" Shadows&Light March"Ghost of tissues past" Personify March"Honeybuns" and "Ah... David (blush) [2 Limericks]" LimerickI responded to Hooves re "The Gilded Age": "I looked it up. I don't have cable so I may never get to see it. I'm not fascinated by upper-class melodramas so I may skip it. It's interesting how little I have in common with folks here at WdC or in general. I watch Thai TV series but don't follow K-Pop. And... don't ask about music. I'm still stuck in the 70s and 80s , even though I do watch some talent shows.Glad you have found a show you enjoy.  " KU vs NC on Monday night. I'm a Jayhawk. Found a Jayhawk to download.I'm still looking for an emoji. Trip is coming together. Stressed over getting back as I have a 6 a.m. flight on a Monday. One place has a bus at 4:13 that will get me there in time. But details... A3  Fog... lifting. No morning wisdom before coffee. No wisdom after coffee either. Look elsewhere for the answer. Internet is so unreliable that it's 'dangerous' to use. I can't depend on it to save or reload. Singapore is expensive but not so bad if I only stay there for 4 days like I did once in Paris. It would be a good option if flights to/from Bangkok have a long layover. |
It's the New Year. Get use to seeing [179.xxx] on what I write this year.  That said, I need to make sure everything I wrote this past year is posted. I wrote over 380 pieces in 178. My goal this year will be the usual: 365, hopefully 400. My new pretty (doesn't stay that way) black notebook (Book 67) starts on page 5237. The last two years were dismal with unacceptable gaps and only 62 pages [178] and 64 pages [177]. It should be 60 pages/season or 240+/year. My journal-letter to a friend started in 2003. My first meal today was mac & tuna. As good a way to start the day as any. Naw Ruz started last evening, but don't ask me what I ate. I mentioned a couple sad events last blog, and a few more over the past year; but, I have no reason to mention them again. What is sad is that nobody read nor commented. I don't want to post my blah blah life on Newsfeed. I have blogs for that and facebook (if I so choose; I haven't). I do not believe spring is here until the daffodils bloom. We wait.  22 Saw Willie and Phil and shared my sad news. Laxmi was glad that I did. Lay in wait for the wild sourdough baguette. I caught one.  Nabbed a pat of butter as well. Wrote my micro 100: "Micro 100 #18 Boostered [179.3] 100 words" It was sunny earlier. Still a mild 56 degrees. It may not get below freezing this week. Can you say daffodils? Crocuses in full bloom. I felt a bit chilled earlier so I'm conflicted as to whether I should crack open the window. It's warm enough outside. The question is me...  23 Messaged Gervic. Hope his situation resolves itself soon. I saw the pics of his family house destroyed by the typhoon (Odette) that hit north of Dumaguete. All gone. His family is scrounging money to pay his hospital bill. Otherwise, calm night. Saint Regis remembered I have never stayed in Lake Placid, a misnomer encased in snow and ice, a place to drive though on the way to better vistas, calm cool nights. Spitfire, placid, hoped-for breeze, summer ease, bluegills caught, Sunfish sailing, a dingy's ride through golden lilies, a lake remembered for 50 years. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.4] (23.mars.2022) 70 degrees! Nice music, sunshine. Saw Hunter and others. No glasses... well... at least not mine! To Waltz re tigers and cats: "If calico provides camouflage than it's of use. Leaf litter, dappled shade? Marble countertops are a baker's wet dream. For most anything else a chop-block and a crock-pot will do. Cats will be cats. No need to stoop so low as being canine, or even worse, assinine like humans. "Gasoline: $4.09/gallon.  24  Up early but lazy. Saw my mother's obit posted by my sister. Did Wordle (easy) and Dordle (very difficult). Messages from friends. Took shower. Should put on clothes. Sat with Angie and Billie Jo. Sat with Kathy C, Willie and Laxmi. At home again, sat with Birgit. Late lunch: ate a bologna sandwich and cottage cheese with pears. Now rice with spice. Still no oomph. 59 degrees outside at 5 p.m. The last minute frenzy to finish contests begins... tomorrow. Sorry. Still no oomph.  25 40 degrees this morning. Should climb into the spring-like 60s. I can keep my windows open for the next week. Got the good news that Gervic is out of hospital but Grace will soon go in. Living among the dying or Living among the dead? So many folks my age seem to be dead. Oh... they still walk around like zombies... I'm amazed at the Circus of White Men seeking to surround Ketanji Brown Jackson like the Land Sharks they are. 250 years... and they still afraid of an intelligent woman. Maybe there's a story there somewhere. Espagueti con albondigas... Lxami me lo regalo. Dreary weak sun but mild. Went to clinic. Still no glasses. Every place I've checked had glasses in their lost & found. Just not mine. So... I'm at Butterfly Herbs drowning my sorrows with a chocolate malt. Took a 4 hour evening nap. I'm fuzzy headed.  26 ⛅Got Wordle in 3. May be difficult word for some but my mind was working this morning. Will I clean today? (Very little...) Baked chocolate cake, substituting mayo for an egg and oil, adding cinnamon, spices, and a dash of lemon. Very ... out-of-it? A week ago I became very ill. Nothing like that, solo una pereza (ennui). Decided to not go out. I told Stik re work-relationships: "Where were you 20 years ago when I needed this advice? I won't say which rule I broke but it was a mess. Coworkers interfered because they did not approve. This also happened in a non-work situation. There are reasons why I refuse to go back and why I cut most of my ties to people from that time. I grew up among very prejudiced and bigoted people who also believed in one-and-done=you're-shunned." 27 ⛅Supposed to be warm today. Already 58 degrees at noon. Breakfast is chocolate cake  and coffee  I must 1. token clean and 2. token work on contests. I say token as neither will be finished. I'm on edge today and when my nerves are fragile I'm easily overwhelmed. To Gemini re Sundays: The conservative attitude of Americans becomes evident when one travels. Portugal doesn't close on Sundays; the churches are open and are seldom empty during the week. Americans like to work hard, party hard and pray hard. American tourists, missionaries and partiers were the scourge around the globe until wealthy Russians and Chinese replaced them. Ah... Sundays. My father sitting in sunshine reading the Sunday paper. Kansas Jayhawks won 76-50. I remember 2008. Working on contests... Crunch time. Remember: "Poetry Contest and Inspiration" ... done. Chose an old poem: "Green ink" . Wordle: 'nymph' (in 5) makes me 22/22 with an average just under 4. Thai notes: Soi (Thai: ซอย [sɔ̄ːj]) is the term used in Thailand for a side-street branching off a major street (thanon, Thai: ถนน). An alley is called a trok (Thai: ตรอก). Breakfast donuts: (ปาท่องโก๋) pa thong ko. "Thai people like to eat these crullers with sweetened condensed milk, coffee, or dipping custard, Sangkhaya (สังขยา). They are also served with Chinese congee, jok (โจ๊ก)." |
| 44 degrees at 12:44 a.m. Tuesday the Ides of March. I posted 3 pieces. Two poems; one micro. I worked on others. It's time for bed. Don mentioned that he sleeps well. One piece of advice was to drink water before going to bed. Not milk, water. I drank tea but I should drink more water. One grumpy observation. It matters little what I've done over the past 2 years. Not on-line nor IRL. I am prone to think that folks are avoiding ME. That may be true... but I suspect that people are just plain avoiding people. At least poetry month is coming up. Maybe I'll travel?  Still rainy, 46 degrees, gloomy. I did the daily Wordle in 3. Daily Dordle was not so easy, but I got it in 7&5. I used rainy/hotel as my first two words... which is amusing considering I live in an old hotel. These two words have all the vowels except u. Plus h,r,t,l,n are common consonants. I've used heist/bayou but h,s,t,b isn't as strong. Arakun the Twisted Raccoon gave me good advice a while back. My 'free' Dordle is at 87% after 150 tries. That's as good as it gets. Dordle is much harder than Wordle. Double letters are problematic. Like, I couldn't 'see' floss or fifty. I'm proud of pooch/viola in 3/4. I guess our janitor was in hospital for his gall-bladder, but I just saw him. Van has lived here 44 years. Birgit comes from Lubeck and Dan-dan from Fuzhou. I really miss Bri and Travis. And Nick... miss him so much. I did knock on the doorand say hello to Billie Jo this morning. This place is not as lively nor friendly like it once was. 13 of 30 rooms are Airbnb and that doesn't help. I do talk to Tristan, Jay, Mica, Alishka, Peter, Dirk, Julian, Dylan, Angela when I see them.  I told Katya the Poet in "Dew Drop Inn" :I'm starched; it's the Ides of March! I'm stoked to see this smiling post. Such a thrill come every April. I'm already ready to roast. So much for non-sensical rhyme... It was time to remind everyone. I used a couple poems I wrote in April 2017 as contest entries this week. So... I'm bitem-bound and need to unclutter and house-clean if I want to bitemize my poems this year.   36 degrees and snow-mist at 11:06. The sky was white a while back. 16th... I wanted to wear green and orange today and tomorrow but I may settle for bundling up. Wednesday is my shopping day but I may wait. Tomorrow is supposed to be nice. I don't feel well. I look worse. First place for "Unrestrained" I know it needs stengthening, but Darleen likes dark. I suspect there were slim pickings this round.   Sunset is ordered and will deliver. I'm defrosting my refrigerator cube. One is guaranteed... the other isn't promised. Bought cinnamon bread. Remembered to pick up mayo... barely. Hot dogs were much cheaper than bologna. Why? The 17th. I think of Cindy Wright. Which brings up memories of Kevin. I'm grateful they were part of my life. I wish they still were. A cold sunny 30°F out 'there' at 09:44. It will warm up. I had my toasted cinnamon bread and coffee. One more coffee and I'll cut myself off.   I'm drinking Ethiopian.Time for a shower and dressing myself in orange and green. Wordle... I can do it. 12 in a row; average 4.0. Took me 4 yesterday for 'cater' and 4 today. Dordle is doubly hard; but, 6&3 yesterday for 'pecan' and 'adore'. How I saw 'adore' so quickly I don't know. I fell up the stairs (at the top). No harm done but it's a bit troubling. Found a pan for meatloaf/banana-bread/cake. It fits nicely into my toaster oven. I showed off my green and gold today, so that's making me happy. Over 50 degrees. I can go to the post office, bank and cafe tomorrow. It's supposed to stay mostly nice for a week. The 18th. Cold, raw It's 51 degrees but it feels much colder.1. Got to post office. Picked up check my sister sent. 2. Went to bank to deposit said check. Saw Val. 3. Went to Health Dept. Tomorrow is walk vaxx. 10-14. So, I did accomplish something. Sunny Saturday. Up early because I HAD to get my covid booster shot. I had lots of concerns but Cathy walked me through it. Got Moderna after my initial J&J. She said I need to drink lots of water and eat. I quiped whether a milkshake would count. I just finished off my pastel green shake at Butterfly Herbs. Folks here made my day. I chatted with a mother and daughter about Salish, Thai, Ukraine/Russia (they also have that ethnicity!). Messes up my fast a bit. Since fasting isn't really about not eating (it's NOT about losing weight) I will continue with other aspects of it and drink lots of water. The New Year cometh. Monday. Donna Freedman: "My own frugal mantra is this: I save where I can so I can spend where I want. Along with my frugal brethren, I make informed choices about my money and my life." I called my sister. Everyone is fine but my mother died March 15th. (1922-2022)  40 degrees, a bit of sun. I was very sick overnight. Haven't been that sick in ages. Up every half hour to pee and drink water; was wobbly, could barely walk, fainting; chills and fevers; body ached. Why? I had gotten the booster (Moderna). I even left the door unlocked so I could be checked on if necessary. 5661 |
| Day 18, say it out loud, eighteen of the War in Ukaine. It's misty-moisty, kinda-cloudy, cold in Western Montana; but sunny and 68°F in Las Vegas where Prosperous Snow celebrating and Lyn's a Witchy Woman reside. Partly cloudy and 47°F in Newark-on-Trent Scarlett. It's forecast to reach 83° later today (Monday) in Harare, Zimbabwe zwisis and 93° in Bengaluru, Karnakata, India THANKFUL SONALI Now What? and a pleasant 81° in Perth, Australia Sumojo. Winnipeg however... 16°F. DoXx, The Renegade Monkey and Brother Nature can relate. Apparently GERVIC 🐉 WDC Dragon Vale will look out the hospital window at a warm wet day in Dumaguete, Negros Oriental, Philippines while he recovers from covid. He's 30. As he has said, "If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door." If you haunt WDC you have an opportunity to make friends around the world. But... Ukraine... do we have any members from there or living there? Yes, I've met Ukainians and have known Ukrainian Americans since childhood; but, right now? I wonder about the young men I met at a hostel in Sofia, Bulgaria. 3 out of 4 are the perfect age for cannon fodder. We aren't connected on facebook, but if we were... It's 28°F and light snow falling on the dead and soon-to-be dead in Kyiv. "Make us as waves of the sea, as flowers of the garden, united, agreed through the bounties of Thy love... ...make all mankind as stars shining from the same height of glory, as perfect fruits growing upon Thy tree of life" —‘Abdu’l-Bahá 5659 |
| Tysdag, den 8 mars. I finished 50 dordles with a 84% success rate. Best was 4/3 for grill/about. It's quite addictive. It's snowing. We could get inches before this is over and could get down to 5 degrees in a couple days. Made lasagna. Turkey, cheese, marinara sauce. I may have over eaten this evening. My aunt died in North Carolina February 6th. Dorothy Margaret Deuel Murray (1929-2022).  “It’s 3 a.m. and your children are safe and asleep, but there’s a phone in the White House and it’s ringing.” There’s clearly been a terrible international incident. The narrator asks, “Who do you want answering the phone?” Hillary ad against Obama but still a valid question. Personally, I'd rather have JRB than DJT. 11:37 More snow, blustery 25 degrees. Saw a picture of my mother from last year. I was shocked. I last saw her when she was 93. Called my sister. No answer. Busy? My anxiety rises.  Comment to Stik: I feel like I'm using people, a feeling that prompts me to withdraw a lot. I need to buy a phone, glasses, get a booster shot. All in places close to each other... but not close to me. I can take a bus... but the weather has made me hesitant and... I forget. I should call 'friends' but see your comment above. Joyce died; Travis is in Pennsylvania; Laxmi is in Mexico; Bri moved to Bozeman. I withdraw a lot. Don't ask about health issues... My aunt just died and she was the only one who made an effort to keep in touch. My mother is 99. New friends? Sure! When I travel, but locally that's not happening. And I do need new younger friends. Today I just wanted to scream. To Nikola on Wednesday the 9th: 14°F at 09:55. Sunny, breezy. Cold stretch for a week. Spring delayed. I need to decide whether I walk to the grocery store today. If not, tomorrow or Friday. My big news is that I managed to hack at my blue hubbard squash I bought in October. Those monsters are hard!  Sliding towards 0. Very cold outside. Earlier, bought groceries. Not much but cheese and potted meat were still on sale. Gasoline now 3.99/gallon. Entemann died. I really loved his pastries when I lived back East. The squash is cooked. Lots of squash. Got to speak to my mother today. It's time to let go. I asked Willie about becoming an orphan at our advanced age. She said she realized that she is no longer a daughter. She also mentioned abandonment issues. Nice long chat with Alishka today. Yep. I need that phone a.s.a.p. Also need to ask someone for a ride. I cannot continue disconnected for much longer.  Still eating up the squash. The cake/pie turned out fine but more still needs to be consumed. Mentioned to Brian: "I can't bring up memories like this... although I should try. So much blends together and makes little sense. Perhaps that's the point. I was just trying to go unnoticed. Bland, beige, blond, boring defined my existence." Comment to Charity: "I have mixed feelings about traveling and being busy again. I may need to beg for a ride to get some things done beforehand. Warmer weather after today = bus is possible. I'm not used to 'hiring' people. My blue-collar roots = do it yourself or do without. My sister is sending me money from my mother (now 99). I'm not used to that either. She suggests hearing aids. I'm thinking new teeth. I know I need to adjust to a new reality. But that's what you're doing with family, income, work... constantly adjusting. Wish I were that flexible." March 12. Warm. 58 degrees. Went for a walk. Opened windows. Not much energy though. Feeling weak. A comment I didn't post to Stik: "We are not a very churched community here. Oklahoma was though and scripture trumped everything. Oklahoma is 1/3 Baptists. Internet note on Southern Baptists: "Together, these congregations teach that the Bible contains no errors and that personal acceptance of Jesus Christ is the only way to salvation." If there is only one acceptable path and your guidance is infallible then anyone who questions that may face opposition. Scientists and teachers tend to ask questions and few scientists believe they are infallible. They are demonized."  March 13. 39 degrees and misty moisty. "All turns to mud" Took me two hours to realise the ckock change. There's no need to change the clocks. I have made 13 trinkets. An assessment update from (January 11): 1. Easily collected. A total of 645 (644). 121 (120) Lanterns (Taiwan) NCYVWJLR 118 (118) Monkees (Taiwan) HCKWTVGW 124 (124) Umbrellas (Japan) YHQSSXPL 124 (124) Man at Work (Slovakia) MNWQKMYW 158 (158) Moon (Hungary) LZJXQNGJ 2. Attached to a blog. A total of 186 (174). 65 (63) Porto (Portugal) 23 (20) Out of the book (Sweden) 18 (17) Blue butterfly and me (Costa Rica) 17 (16) Bees on a rose (Norway) 17 (17) Volcano (Costa Rica) 18 (17) Boat houses on the fjord (Norway) 28 (24) Cat (Taiwan) 3. To be given out. 42 (42) Vultures clean up messes (Costa Rica) A total of 873 (860).  da 14thPi Day... but I didn't go buy pie. 50 degrees or so, mild, cloudy. I sat at the Senior Center and worked on editing and submitting two old poems: "Smoke" and "Fangs" from May, 2017. Deadlines shatter my nerves. Also wrote "Micro 100 #17 Chance encounter [178.379]" for 100 words. |
| Toosday again. March is rainging down upon us mere mortals. It's a slippery wet world that will soon turn to mud. Montana sucks during Mud Season. My mind has been dulled by fighting with the internet. Perhaps I have snacked on too much cheese? It's 00:22 and I'm drowsy. Only 48 views and 7 comments in February. Not even 2 views/day. Why bother? Posted today in various contests: "They call the wind Mariah" "Hope on the run" "Unrestrained" "Gala Intergalactica " "Mad Fashion Designer [year162.ff]" "You were never my valentine " "In the garden " I had great difficulty with internet connections. Almost missed deadlines. I wrote on the Newsfeed: March is being ushered in by rain and fog with possible flakes later this week. Gloomy out there. Inside however... I already wrote something for "Verdant Poetry Contest" . The Verdent Contest isn't difficult; it doesn't have a long list of rules; it would be nice to see at least 10 entries. With a theme of spring and renewal I thought of the March-April-May season in places like Costa Rica (especially Guanacaste) and Thailand (think Isaan) Kansas (think the Flint Hills) where fields are burnt off, the land is parched, the heat is rising and we all wait for the rains (not floods) and pray that we don't have a drought. Others will think tulips and nature's babies. Plenty to work on. My March contest goal will be to write as many poems or stories by the Ides, then edit, spell check, count words, rewrite (or trash). The 15th gives enough time to start over again, Starling  . Then to post when ready or by the 28th as this month I had written to quite a few contests figuring I could edit and post on the last day. Alack, poor internet led to a personal meltdown. I did get everything posted but I shudder at what mistakes I didn't have time to correct. I would ask that those running contests do a last minute check to catch any almost-late entries. Over the years I've had entries that were entered on-time but weren't read (perhaps not seen). If "closed" means that you will stop reading at "midnight" then please make that obvious (in big red letters) and make the posting deadline before then. I propose that midnight is fine as it's easy. Then read and judge in a timely matter. If it took me time (a day, a month) to write something then I can patiently wait for results. We writers need to respect the work done by contest owners and judges but it is a courtesy to respect our offerings as well. I scored lasagna and two maple bars at the Senior Center!  For some reason I don't feel hungry.I don't write limericks "Lucky Limerick Contest" so... There once was a lady named Alice who lived in a white marble palace with fine art to impress like young David's broad chest; she lamented over his phallus. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.375a] (1.mars.2022) And it's companion poem: There once was a valet named Dallas who worked in a white marble palace with fine art to impress like young David's broad chest; he lamented over Dave's phallus. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.375b] (1.mars.2022) Perhaps "he sobbed over David's wee phallus" would be better? I think LGBTQI+ can be written at the E level. There once was a lady named Bunny who lived with her bestest friend Honey; they made cookies to bake, oat muffins and cheesecake; together each new day dawned sunny. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.375c] (1.mars.2022) I responded to an email from Rhymer Reisen: I really don't think the Quills reflect my work. I cringed when I was nominated. My first thought was... Really? The poetry book nomination makes some sense though. That p-log has over 105,000 views. But these days nobody reads and comments. I could do a piece on poetry. LGBTQI+ genre is not welcomed here at WdC and it's problematic when choosing an audience. Only so much can be approached with metaphor and double entendres. The *ick* factor turns off American Christians en masse.
I wanted to comment... but thought better of it: "Me too. I'll be 70 this year and I'm starting to have mental slippage. Minor things, but still... You're not the only one to miss an entry that came in just before the deadline. It's happened to me before. The worse? When there's no communication. I've seen contests close with no explanation. Just 'poof'. March 2nd: 45 degrees and very damp. It wants to snow but can't. But on the mountaintops?Biscuits with gravy and a killer supersize donut. I think I overate. March 3rd: Damp. I did get to sit with Angie and Billie Jo, took the garbage out, met with Nancy, Ginny and others at St. Paul. Shopped. March Forth: Sunny, 42 degrees. Will not get warm today but the winds will hold off till evening. The river is running free and although it may get down to 1 degree next week winter is losing its hold. We usually get a "sun-bump" around the 15th and that helps. Spring will arrive a bit late however. A note left at QotD regarding clutter/neat: Utter clutter. Not to be confused with an udder mudder. Cows shouldn't be brought into the kitchen.  When I was in Costa Rica 10 years ago I lived as a quasi minimalist. I kept everything clean. Swept. Mopped. Now? At home? Don't ask nor look too close. The Dust is Ancient. That said... I don't leave a mess when I travel. March 5th; It's Kathleen's birthday today. We met when we were 13... oh so long ago. At our age it's a question of whether we're still breathing. I am trying to fast. Normally that would mean no food or water sunrise to sunset; but, I'm doing the best I can. I wake up, eat, then abstain. Better than nothing. I'm also trying to sit with myself daily and 'introspect'. Also better than nothing. There's been a whole lot of nothing in my life. New contest:
Mundy the Seventh: 1. Keep trying to make weekly goals. 2. Try to remember them and assess by Sunday. 3. 4. Consolidate items. Delete about 10 a.s.a.p. 5. Write to current contests and remember deadlines. 6. Call my sister. Also... been doing dordle. I have a winnning streak of 16. 21/24. Clue: choose two words that cover all the vowels to start (for wordle; for dordle I recommend three). One present dordle list: bland, wiper, ghost, mucky (great/doily will do for wordle). Don't forget double letters. Last winner was 'sassy'. Remember 'y'. Know common (and rare) consonant combinations with 'l', 'r', 'n'. I won (barely) with 'kneed'; luckily I haven't come across 'gnome' or worse 'vivid'. 'h' changes the sound... if you're audial instead of visual; as in 'sh', 'th', 'ch', 'ph', (or not... in infrequent: rh, gh, kh, zh, nh); don't forget 'wh'. 's' forms clusters at the beginning and end of words. In dordle you must guess one word correctly by step 6 as there are two words. 5644 |
| Father, dear father... (June 24, 2021) 1. Father, forgive me. For hours I have tried cleaning up the blood you spilled to no avail. 2. Sister, go get Father. Mother Thomas just chopped off her finger. 3. Sonny and Sissy, Mommy and ... Father. No one dared call him Daddy or Dad. 4. Father McKenzie recited the rosary by the coffin. No one had come to the funeral. 5. "Is that God or your father at the door!" "Both ______, it's Don Corleone." 6. He had mothered his sister and fathered his brother. Now ___, who would hold him through the night? 7. His seed was spread throughout the galaxy. He was father-of-millions. 8. "Heavenly Father, we beseech thee to show us a sign." The bomb explosion left only pieces of flesh. 9. "Why do you laugh?" "I fathered three sons, none of them as cocky as my daughter Annie." If you could choose, which prompt would you write to? 1. one vote. 4. three votes. Psalm 109:8 T-shirt Controversy Poll Psalm 109:8 42 votes, 1208 views. November 20, 2009. 8 Let his days be few; and let another take his office. 9 Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow. 10 Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places. 11 Let the extortioner catch all that he hath; and let the strangers spoil his labour. 12 Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children. Note: This is the King James Version. Pick whichever version you prefer. There have been T-shirts printed with the message: Pray for Obama: Psalms 109:8. What does this mean? (link to my blog entry: "Psalm 109:8 and Exodus 22:18" )What does this mean to YOU? It is a terrorist act calling for his assasination. 11 Votes 26.2% This is a prayer AGAINST Obama. 9 Votes 21.4% I don't ever want to see one. 7 Votes 16.7% Obama as a president needs our prayers. 5 Votes 11.9% You Americans are crazy. 4 Votes 9.5% Obama should be replaced as soon as possible. 3 Votes 7.1% It is a patriotic act calling for a return to sanity. 2 Votes 4.8% I want to wear one myself. 1 Vote 2.4% This is a prayer FOR Obama. 0 Votes 0.0% Once in a basement...a long way down... June 17, 2021. 67 views, 23 votes. Can you write a prompt? What is best? Suspense dangling, strong emotions, something unexpected, a thought unfinished, a vivid image? I was given the phrase 'bargain basement bin' once in Tulsa and in 20 minutes wrote "'bargain basement bin'" . The task given to me is to write a prompt based on basement (not cellar). At least I know what one is; although, I grew up in a home without one. Without further ado: 6 vote 1. In the back of the basement a closet, behind old tools a hidden door, on the other side of the door a passage way... and a distant light wavering. 1 vote 2. When the basement flooded Floyd lost his man cave and his manhood. He cried like the little boy who watched his playhouse burn down. 2 vote 3. Below the basement parking lot a sub-basement, below the sub-basement... "How many levels does this go down? It seems to be getting hotter." 1 vote 4. "Let's go downstairs where it's cooler." Mike and his friends continued their session of D&D in the basement until the ground shook and the house caved in. 4 vote 5. Kai hid behind the jar of pickled beets while Mork hung from a thread. A plaintive meow came from a box in the basement corner. 2 vote 6. No one ever entered the basement. A monster lived there. And as long as no one bothered him, Noel didn't bother to moan. 4 vote 7. I was visiting Italy and sticking my nose into everything. "This basement seems ancient", I whispered to myself. "That's because we're catacombs and you're stepping on my finger." 1 vote 8. "Abase not myself?" I let out a maniacal laugh. Chained to the basement wall it was all I could manage as a window squeaked open. 2 vote 9. Susan and Kelly wandered from basement to basement. They had been banished from the attics by Miss McEnany, the Headless Head Ghost. Which would inspire you to write? Winner: #1 with 6 votes out of 23. 1. In the back of the basement a closet, behind old tools a hidden door, on the other side of the door... 6 Votes 26.1% 5. Kai hid behind the jar of pickled beets... A plaintive meow came from a box in the basement corner. 4 Votes 17.4% 7. I was visiting Italy and sticking my nose into everything. "This basement seems ancient", ... 4 Votes 17.4% 3. Below the basement parking lot a sub-basement, below the sub-basement... "How many levels does... 2 Votes 8.7% 6. No one ever entered the basement. A monster lived there. And as long as no one bothered him, Noel didn't... 2 Votes 8.7% 9. Susan and Kelly wandered from basement to basement. They had been banished from the attics by Miss ... 2 Votes 8.7% 2. When the basement flooded Floyd lost his man cave and his manhood. He cried like the little boy who watched ... 1 Vote 4.3% 4. "Let's go downstairs where it's cooler." They continued their session of D&D in the basement... 1 Vote 4.3% 8. "Abase not myself?" I let out a maniacal laugh. Chained to the basement wall it was all I could... 1 Vote 4.3% Oh, Hummingbird! Sing it. Your task is to write to the prompt: hummingbird. Which story would you tell? 1. Dumbo came in to have his ears adjusted. They were stuck in reverse. "Can you make them go in all directions? I want to hover like a hummingbird." 2. At the Dawn of Understanding you visit us and give us hope. Enjoy the nectar of the day. Oh Hummingbird, don't fly away. 2 votes 3. A shimmer streaked across the yard from a patch of hollyhocks to poke its beak into a trumpet flower vining over the backyard gate. Patches meowed. Is it you, Anna or is it Rufous? Ruby at the hummingbird feeder wants to know. 1 vote 4. "Yes, I impaled him. Yes, I sucked all the blood out of him." Interviewing Vlad's pet hummingbird was proving to be interesting. 1 vote 5. It happened at Hummingbird and Hollyhock. Spot and Tiger got into a spat... until Officer Pete the showed up and shooed them away. "Nothing to see here folks." He folded his irridescent wings to take notes. Anna, the local hummer, appeared to be in shock. Ruby was dead. 1 vote 6. Adam laughed. "I want to float like a hummingbird and sting like a bee." Mabel snorted. "You can start by getting your fat ass off the couch and bring me a..." 7. The vesper bells announced the hour as four o'clocks spread their frilly skirts, flashing red and gold at each client passing by. Fred kept watch. Louis, the local bad-ass saberwing, was sure to show up. 8. He embroidered each throat in ruby red, each wing in irridescent green. He had promised his sister a shawl of one hundred hummingbirds. They twittered too late, too late, too late. 4 votes 9. Ruby Lee told Ruby Mae that Ruby Grace had gone missing... and the hollyhocks too! The Hummingbird Society was shocked. They called Inspector Rufous James to investigate. So... which would you choose? #8 wins with 4 votes out of 9. |
| The light streaming in [177.315] (276 words) Jan 19, 21. Dead is dead. Sandra felt worse than dead. Donell was on his way to the corner store. She couldn't stop him. Her nightmares were about to take on flesh. Her hands shook. She needed her meds. And quick. That's why she'd sent Donell. Such a reasonable request. Then she heard a distant screech and crash. She'd forgotten her sister's curse. "If I can't have him neither can you." Monique had spat out the words along with a stream of pistachio ice cream before storming out. Sandra's best blouse was still splotched with green, if you looked real close. She'd forgotten how Monique had a knack for being right. She put her hands together as if they could console one another. Like in prayer she thought. "Oh God, protect Donell." She spoke in a whisper. Music floated in through the window... "And I can see your little bouncing ball ,And I found love with no sense at all." ...and faded away. Honeyhoney knew what she felt. She and Donell had taken a trip to Memphis... just last summer. He'd sang that song to her on the way. He should be back, she thought. He'll never come back, she thought. The door opened. "Donell?" It was Monique. "Car ran into a pole at the corner. Saw Donell. Here's your meds." "Donell?" "He's chatting up the new girl behind the counter." "You're just being mean." Monique cast her eyes down, "Donell... is a player," then turned around and left. Sandra popped one pill, drank some water, tried to calm herself as the bitterness dissolved on her tongue. Donell came through the door smiling. "Better?" "Much," she said, looking straight through him at the light streaming in. Blue Tower [177.180] (299 words) Aug 9, 20. The shapeshifter spoke: Everything was beautiful. I was beautiful. We even cleansed our memories to make them beautiful. Every morning was sunshine and unicorns if that's what we chose. I was bored. I didn't want memory-managers taking away the slightest pain. My heart wanted to feel it all. My associates thought I was silly to be locked into reality. Once I sat with a distantly related sister (she was centuries older than me) and watched moonbeams caress moonflowers on the Blue Tower. It looked lovely until a rogue cloud passed and lightning struck leaving an ugly black scar. My sister just smiled and said, "Now it has character". It's my fondest memory. After that I just changed forms willy-nilly. I became a lost 'flamingo' on frozen Pink Lake until I couldn't feel my feet and decided a 'penguin' would be preferable. But I still feel my toes tingle when they get cold. I also became a rock at the edge of a lava lake just to bask in scorching heat. "On the Ice World?" By day, I looked like a stranded merchant trying to get away like so many others. When there was a party I was very ... popular. I shifted into whatever my fly-by clients wanted to taste that night. In return I tasted it all. I felt alive. "But now?" Now I need to go home. My world is beautiful. My people are beautiful. And because they have numbed themselves to any pain, shunned any discord, put on rose-tinted glasses (as you would say) they can't even see themselves. They have made a paradise and lost much in return. "What will you do?" I will share my joys and show them my scars. Like the Blue Tower taught me, I will teach them that character matters more. nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn A River of Thirst [177.171] (556 words) July 18, 20 Along the bank, under the cottonwood, head above water, the beaver languidly swims at dusk. There's no hurry. Winter seems so far away as cotton holds sway in the light breeze and swallows dip and dance with the raising midges. There's always a fresh branch to chew on. Ah ... but the heat. The river is losing its grip on the bank and the heron stalks the shallows. The osprey overhead has a clear view of fish trying to hide. Along the shore leaves and debris swirl in the eddies. And there sitting on some driftwood surrounded by stones and sand sits Jarom. Jarom decides it is time for dinner. He calls out to Noah and Hiram. They don't answer. He only has some hardtack. The water might be okay. It's not totally clear, that would be a sure sign of arsenic, and the beaver seems healthy. He doesn't like to eat beaver. And he can't gnaw cottonwood. He dips his tin cup in the river and drinks. Dips again and lets it settle. Time enough for tea later. He looks for the tea and finds it in a small pocket wrapped up and sealed in a thin tin. The others would worry whether he had performed the right rituals when he made his tea. He didn't care. They weren't here. But he wished they were. Every since he had been thrown out of his home they had been there for him. They called their encampment the Town of Lost Boys. Jarom moves into the dying glow of the sunset. He lights a small fire and hangs a lantern over the bank in hopes the midges are attracted to it and then ... maybe a fish ... if he were lucky. He lights another small fire in the sand surrounded by stones. It's dry and any fire could burn him out of his home of dry sticks. He would like some tea with his hardtack. He breaks it into pieces and sets them by the fire where he can see them. He looks up. The moon will shine later tonight if the clouds part. He grabs a stick and makes symbols in the sand to summon the moon. The heat stifles any urge to sing as the breeze dies with the light. He knows the songs, the melodies, the harmonies. He knew them all by age 8. They all did. Even those who didn't believe in them. Even those who had been found unworthy and kicked out. The elders believe that there is only so much of anything to go around and never enough. The Anointed Ones do not share with the unworthy. But the Lost Boys share ... sometimes. He wishes his friends were here but the water is boiling and it's time for tea. A thrashing in the river is a welcome sound. A fish has been caught in his snare. It's little but two bites are better than none. He starts the ritual of taking-a-life. He boils another cup of water to cook the fish. He's hungry. He spends the night alone, tossing and turning in his sweat, wakes up at the first glow of dawn. No hardtack. No fish. Enough tea for one cup. He heads back to town before the heat rises as the beaver swims by. He hopes Noah and Hiram will greet him. mmmmmmmmmm Half a loaf of bread [177.120] (289 words) July 5, 20. When I woke up Seraph sat there with half a loaf of bread. A crow was enjoying the rest. I went to steal it. Seraph softly said, "no". And gave me her half. "We all need to eat." She paused as winds howled through a tree that shook its leaves and littered the ground. "He hasn't been here for a week. I was worried. He brings me news of the outside world, while that maple blocks summer's blistering sun yet lets it enter come winter. I am grateful to them both." Seraph showed me trinkets, shiny things the crow had brought to pay for crumbs. One captured my eye. A key. "Yes, but it fits nothing here. If my friend is trying to give me hope, I thank him." I chewed in silence. Seraph laughed. "Slow down! We have plenty of time before they feed us again." "When is that?" "Who knows. I no longer care. Once they gave me a lump of coal. Another time some charcoal." I looked at drawings on the walls. "Yours?" "Some are. Some are the thoughts of others." "How long have you been here?" "So many seasons I can't recall. I was brought here one autumn. I somehow survived that winter." The storm outside quickened. "I'd open the window but it's far too windy. On calm mornings I hear birdsong. Some nights a nightingale. I wish I still had wings." Looking out I saw a hill town. I yearned to escape. I spent one week there. They fed us three times. And the crow came back twice. I left her with everything I had. A shawl, a comb, a couple stones. She lit up with glee and gave me this key to remember. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Will you save me this dance? [177.86] (300w) June 8, 20 Sara sashayed, singing "will you save me this dance for the rest of my life?" Kyle wept. He turned to Mira. "Can't she just drive a nail through my heart?" "Apparently she just did." Mira took Kyle into her arms. It was going to be a long voyage from Sirius. Not everyone would make it to their new home and by that time all those they had left behind would be dust blowing in the wind. "Can we take a walk," she whispered. They went through the garden. Rainbow lollipop trees were drooping like they did every year. They'd look like that for another month then all of a sudden they'd pop up straight and start to bloom in multicolored hues. Mira avoided their sickening sweet fragrance. Sara loved it. "Like a fly to garbage," she said. "What?" "Oh, sorry, just thinking out-loud. I know some will miss this place. I won't." "Can I ask a personal question?" "... sure ..." "Why did you refuse Prince Li?" "That pompous piece of shit? Gimme a break. He wanted my ass. Everyone does. But I'm not cheap. All his rubies couldn't entice me to share his bed." "He offered a crown." "I want to leave Kyle. I don't want to stay here and play among quartz-crystal-statues and trimmed have-a-berry bushes. I want to see a real place with real people." "A place like where you're going?" "Yes, I don't mind dirt, hard work and good people." "And me?" "You cry a lot but at least they're honest tears. Look, Kyle, Sara wants to stay here because this is all she knows. She's afraid to be afraid." "... I know ... that's why I booked my trip an hour ago." "... so ... you're going ... what if we hook up and have a kid? What'll we name him?" "Adam." Sunshine [82] (296 words) May 31, 20. Billie Jo sits there in her sunshiny yellow T shirt while rain pings the panes. It's springtime in Montana. She tells me she wants a burger, might go out to get one, even put shoes on her scabby bare-feet. She slowly heals from months of illness. To have more than a 5 minute conversation one must travel to her world. No one is sure whether that's on this planet. Today, I can't linger as a pot on the stove needs my attention. Sometimes we chat for longer. Other-times she barely says a word. It's been this way for years. The store beckons from a block away. Will Billie Jo venture out? Or wait until a meal is delivered to her door tomorrow. No sound comes from her tiny room. Not even a peep. No smells of cooking. I eat my meal of pork and rhubarb over rice, light some incense. I live next door. I worry when she doesn't look right, worry whether she has any food to eat. The owners are angels and check in on her when they know things aren't quite right or when no one has seen her for days. I'm not worried today. She looks and sounds fine. I don't question her right to live here, to live on her own, to somehow cope with a world I don't share. Many don't seem to share mine. We're alike in that way. Now I get up and go past her empty seat by the window. The yellow globe has finally peeked out to cast shadows on warm green hills, flicker off trembling poplar leaves, sparkle on Brennan's Wave where kayaks brave rapids. But earlier today Billie Jo sat there, gazing out the window, coffee cup in hand, wearing her own sunshine, smiling. Let sleeping dogs lie [177.67] (299 words) May 5, 20. Pooch was grey-whiskered and Fluffy thought she was a dog. They slept curled up together. I looked at the two. "Let sleeping dogs lie," was all I said. Did Sheila know what I meant? The tunnel of light I had seen after my 'accident' had lead to nowhere. I still resented having to come back, angry at Sheila for bringing me back. It was long past time to let go. Oh to fly! everyone shouts in glee. I had. The sudden stop had left me broken. The white lies I told her had to stop. "I can't. It doesn't function." I'd told her how-many-times? But it wasn't true. I stopped her hands from wandering. "I don't want to make love to you." "I know." "I'm angry that you wouldn't let me die." Sheila answered softly. "I know." A salty runnel of tears etched her mascara. I shouted loud enough to wake up Pooch, "THEN WHY!" Pooch whimpered and Fluffy uncurled and came over to rub against Sheila. We four sat there in silence.The open window let in the music of spring. A neighbor mowing. Another washing a car. A child screaming all holy-hell. "I wanted you to face the truth." "What truth," I grimaced. "Most of you died that day. I could only bring a small piece back." "Why did you bother?" "We all live in denial." "Of what?" "You wanted to go long before your 'flight'. I wanted you to stay." The ice-cream truck went by singing it's ding-ding-ding. Sheila and Fluffy played with a string. Me and Pooch watched as a fly buzzed around us, landing on my nose. "You won." "No, I lost. I can't make you want me no matter how much I try." Sheila winced. "I'm still a loser." Then I began to cry. © Copyright 2020 Kåre Enga in Montana 🇺🇦 The Pink Lady [177.66] (299 words) May 2, 20 Valerie banged on a drum and shouted, "I'm going to be a star in a rock band some day." Marcus clapped. It was good to see her so enthusiastic. She made everyone smile, even with a broom stick and a bucket. She did have rhythm. Everyone set in a circle. Some moved to the beat. Some sang. Lucy got up to dance to her own inner song. A few just blinked their eyes ... a good sign of a very good day. Valerie had a way of brightening everyone's day. They called her The Pink Lady. It was the only color she wore. Try to get her to wear something else? Fools were born every day! Marcus laughed at that thought. "What you laughing about," Lucy asked ... in a moment of lucidity. "The color pink," he answered, but Lucy was already twirling to a new beat. As Valerie always said, "Got to mix it up." Drumming was her life-vein. When some complained about the racket, Marcus just handed them ear-plugs. When Valerie wanted to perform there was no stopping her. The drumming stopped and then he heard sobbing. Her stick had broken. Marcus went to get another but according to Valerie the fun was over. Until next time. Marcus volunteered as often as he could. Aides were often worn out and when someone got ill? Everyone got ill. But today was a good day. A very good day. He went to wheel Valerie "home". "Why do you bother?" she asked every time. Marcus smiled but said nothing. Valerie had been his fiancee until that day ... The sky was aglow, an uncommon shade of pink. Valerie had been distracted, drove smack into a tree. Once she had been a rock-star, now she was a star of the nursing-home, still banging away. © Copyright 2020 Kåre Enga in Montana 🇺🇦 Ascent of Seth [177.55] (285 words) April, 28, 20. A merman grows legs. A prince hates his princess ... and begs to turn back into a frog. I'm not like that. I don't seem to change. I can only wash away the dirt that sullies me; chisel in hand, remove hard stone to reveal the softness hidden somewhere inside me. My name is legion, legend, myth. Call me Casanova, if you please. My name is Seth. Every morning I gaze in wonder at the bright light flickering over the surface of my lover-of-the-night's cooling corpse. I wish. I wish they weren't sobralias, pale, fragile, fragrant flowers-of-one-day. And I wish I could change, but I can't. I dispose of the empty husks before breakfast. I no longer remember how many nor their names. Then I take a shower, cold water trickling over my face, cleansing my body but not the spirit of what lurks in forbidden crevices. I drink scalding coffee as I push against the urge to immerse myself in grief. I slowly butter my toast. After a night of feasting I'm seldom hungry. Yet, I do have a conscience, perhaps small, perhaps lacking in some respects. For months I lock my doors so no one can find me. But they always do, like moths to a candle. If they only knew how bright they burn in my flame. If I could control this slow ascent from deep depression that becomes a longing, a mania of blood-lust, a night's explosive release, maybe then I could avoid the morning after's deep regret. If I could chisel away to my core, could I find the cure? Would anyone care? And would anything be left of Seth. Would I weep away like a candle, wash away like water. © Copyright 2020 Kåre Enga in Montana 🇺🇦 Once in Melilla [177...] (297 words) Apr 8, 20. Mussels gripped the old pier. The old sailor sat there watching. Neither moved. There were no more trips. No more sailing. He'd come home to die. But his granddaughter wouldn't let him. She wanted to hear tales of other lands, of fish that got away, of the time when a storm nearly tossed him off the ship. "A tale a day," she emboldened him as she boiled percebes*. He was just earning his keep. He didn't bother mentioning his exploits in various ports. Once he nearly told her about Filipa. She'd scolded him for days. How dare he not tell her ... everything! Tonight it would be the same. A meal with a small glass of port. And then the telling. "Once upon a time..." No, not that. Never that. Belinha was no child; she was thirty. Imagine that. Filipa had been younger. And her brother Filipe younger still. What a tangle that had been! He loved them both. They both loved him. When they figured that out ... oh the sparks. "Once in upon a time in Melilla ... there was this foolish young man ... " He went home, took off his raincoat and hung it on a peg. He heard two voices laughing in the kitchen. Someone was helping Belinha. Maybe he could wiggle his way out of telling a tale tonight. He scooted the calico cat off their favorite chair. No good that would do him. She just jumped back up to curl in his lap. At least SHE didn't demand stories. He nearly drifted off. Then Belinha strode in with an old man in a beard, "Felipe was telling me about the time you spent with his family 40 years ago in Melilla." He gasped as he took one look into those eyes. The game was up. * percebes = goose-neck barnacles. Face on a stamp [177.17] (248 words) Apr 3, 20. I no longer remember what you wrote in the letter. It was your face on the stamp that shocked me. Cool, debonair, laughing. That's not the way I remembered you. The hours of watching you get drunk; the hours of looking after you while you got un-drunk. The days wasted. You even needed help with your buttons after you peed. I remember that. And trying to get you in and out of bed without wrenching my back. No apology could possibly make up for the time I spent with you. No letter could make it all right. What did you write? But here was your face staring at me. As if I was suppose to caress it, as if it was supposed to make me smile. As if I should be happy that you somehow straightened out your life ... without me. The 'without me' part I got over long ago. Life got much better after you dumped me. It was a Tuesday, wasn't it? I should've been wiser and dumped you first long before. I never realized how fresh a place could smell without spilled beer and pissed on clothes. How much time I'd suddenly have for myself. It was post marked Chicago. The envelope was standard, white. You never had good hand writing. My name was typed. There was a return address, somewhere in Indiana. Ah ... now I remember ... I dropped it in the toilet, then sent it back unopened after I let it dry, 'address unknown'. |
| ...or Two sday as Annette wrote it. 22.02.2022. Since 22 is my favorite number I'm happy. Not thrilled because it's 1°F -17°C. And windy. At least it's sunny. I stand by my statement that there could be a war by the weekend. As my friend Laxmi stated, "Any spark will set it off." The only good news at this point is that the Russian people aren't keen on wars. Neither are the Germans or Japanese. WW2 might have something to do with that.  Made pasta with funa tish... because I could. Eating some before I head out. Hula. We watched a university group dancing hula. Very nicely done. Talked to one dancer who stood out. It seemed like she was born to it. And she was! Her mother dances. She learned as a child. She also does ballet and volleyball.  I'm at Le Petit Outre. They have fresh (many times warm) sourdough baguettes at 2 p.m. I scored a pat of butter so I'm full now. Time to head home. It's bitter cold out but I'm only one block away.  I have no TV but I may have to stop keeping track of the news, not because I don't care but because I care too much. I can do nothing to help Ukraina or those I met from there or my friends who have heart-connections to that place. I feel my anxiety rising, my wheels start to spin. My heart goes out to the Ukranians and Russians who will see their loved ones come back in body bags.🇺🇦 It's that time of the month when I'm supposed to focus on finishing contests. No interest tonight. It's 23:13. But tomorrow is another bitter cold day... hopefully with sunshine. 🇹🇭 🇨🇷 10:11 on the 23rd and waking up with coffee from 🇪🇹. I'm still dreaming of 🇹🇭 not 🇨🇷. Yes, the flags colors are similar albeit reversed. No one goes to Chaiyaphum. 1 million people live in this rural province off the tourist track. When I stay in Khon Kaen I might have a chance to visit. The park Pa Hin Ngam (Thai: ป่าหินงาม) is known for its stones and the Siam tulip (Curcuma alismatifolia), called "Dok Kra Jiao" (ดอกกระเจียว) in Thai. The dok kra jiao is a type of ginger like the antorcha roja of Costa Rica. It's color is more orchid than violet and used as cut flowers. Blooms during the rainy season (July). I'm  . Not a good sign. It's a bone-chilling 3°F but sunny and the winds have calmed down. 11:01. OMBH: Oh my bleating heart... it got into double digits today! I did go shopping but didn't see much to buy. Even basics are becoming expensive. Butter? Don't ask. I sat with George, Laxmi and Phil. Told Laxmi that March 2nd could be a date to keep in mind if Trump & Trucker's insurrection part deux does anything stupid on March 1st (before/during/after President Biden's "State of the Union" address). The situation worldwide is dangerous. Ask me why I'm nervous and depressed. 4 years of toxic-Trump, 2 years of go-nowhere-covid and now this. The world has never been totally safe for me but the last 5 years have been a bitch. ** Image ID #2267445 Unavailable ** Thor's day. Got my Angie fix. Saw Billie Jo. Spoke to Kirk. Apparently I wasn't the only one having problems getting in the other day. The door was frozen. Americans are slowly waking up to the realization that Ukraine actually exists and that it matters. No blood-lust for war here, but... it's a war. I hope the Russians get a glimpse of the bodies and faces of their dead youth that they have sacrificed. That may help sway opinion. War is unpredictable and Putin should know that. One major mishap and Americans will be begging to blow him away. We are deeply divided but wars tend to unite or forever split people apart. We are still fighting the Confederacy here in the U.S. And DJT doesn't know when to stfu. Freya's dag. Did get to see Laxmi briefly (twice), Hunter, Phil, Willie, Doug (his 84th birthday). No mail. Temps moderating. No urge to write. Need to write. Tick-tock. Had my fire&ice milkshake. It was fairly mild today. Still 34 degrees at 5 o'clock. Spoke to Lundy, Ian and Cathy Mae. There's a BrewFest by the old depot, near where I live. It should thankfully be over by the time I walk home. Saw Bri last night. She's visiting from Bozeman and brought me a donut.  Donuts and milkshakes. I've probably exceeded my sugar limit. 28 de febrero I'm purging since I'mat my limit for items. Making copies of some things. Coming across old ancient ramblings. I was a better writer way back when. Need to edit and open. "93 små dikt ORIGINAL" llllllllllllllll  lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll |
| As I responded to Lyn: I found a friend.  : I lost a friend. :It still hurts at times so I try not to think about him. : But his name comes to mind. His name escapes my lips. I found a friend until I lost him.  4/4/14/6/6/9 True. (1974-2003) I wrote to today's prompt and then 'colored it' in shades of green. Don't think it turned out well; but, my opinion doesn't count for much. Dappled Day Dawning \\\\\\\The||frisky////breeze||played| |with//the|leaves//leaving\\patterns of///dark-green|||and///green-gold ||sprinkled///across||||////||the//////// ////lawn//////// //////\\\The//young|||||sapling//joined//\\in||swaying///// ||in//a//////dance/// And//me?\\\I//////sat//there/mesmerized/entranced, \\a\\\chameleon,\\changing//colors —from—/////||\\\\\this||||to||||that\\\\\. © 2022 Kåre Enga [178.369] (17.februar.2022) For
Dappled Day Dawning The frisky breeze played with the leaves leaving patterns of dark-green and green-gold sprinkled across the lawn. The young sapling joined in swaying in a dance. And me? I sat there mesmerized, entranced a chameleon changing colors —from— this to that. "Dappled Day Dawning [369]" Ate two chocolate-cherry cordials.  Drinking more coffee, black at the moment. Day after Angie (February 18th) Found out that the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival starts tonight. "The film lineup includes 50 features and 95 short documentary films including 50 World Premieres and 21 North American Premieres. A pass to 5 films = $40. I can get a virtual pass (on-line access)for $100. I've enjoyed it in the past. Do I go? Watch? On-line is only worth it if I watch 12 sessions. That's a lot of watching imho. Then again... the temps are plunging Sunday night and hi/low will be 19/-7 for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. SPAGHETTI with meat sauce Scored a lunch, a coffee. Sat with Willie, Laxmi, Patrick, Phil. I was reminded that I talk too much... There's very little news when I don't venture out. Sorry. I finished the first part (of 4) of Blood is not the water by local writer Mara Panich (from Indiana). It was hard for me to hear her voice. Maybe if I asked her to read one of her poems? Whatever. I did like "Blood is Not the Water" and a couple other poems. Very different writing style from mine. Saturday: I ran into Stephanie and Max. They are part of the Film Festival in town. Max's story is one of transformation from plans to attack a mosque to becoming a Muslim. There's hope.  I commented to Patricia: I should seriously consider moving to Europe before I'm too old. Transportation is an issue in the US. As for what I consider 'insanity'... that's curable but pandemic at this moment in history. Florida and Texas seem to have severe cases of the 'hates'. Naples never shows up on my list of places to move to. Tampa Bay does but Cincinnati would be better. What/who am I willing to give my life for? Written about that a few times.  I made some weekly goals:1. I will finish the entries I started for February contests. 2. I will blog once/week whether I feel like it or not. 3. I will call family whether they answer or not. 4. I will get out in spite of sub-zero weather (just not today). 5. I will make a to-do list for travelling. Have you heard of the Latin Bridge in Sarajevo? I've been there. It's where WW1 started. Remember this when the UN meets in an emergency session. The chance of a full-scale war by the weekend is no longer unthinkable. 5624 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
. That's good, right? Or did you just list those checked? 
