Bogus Lies (and) Ordinary Greatness
I started, what I call, articlulate writing years and years ago. Some of it was free associate writing, automatic writing, or what ever you chose to call it. It was, and still is, a fun outlet for me. Some of it, no one has ever read before. A lot of it .... maybe nobody should...
Sunday, October 28, 2012
I Thought I would take a moment to answer a few Emails here.
(Keep in mind my email is static – I’m not always sure if the email response is to my Blog or my Website… or it’s just spam that I like to keep as personal mail just so I have think I have more than I really do.)
Question: How many words are in Moby Dick?
Answer: Well, I got to the end of the book and was at 212,002 when I hiccupped and lost my place… so maybe it’s just a little more than that. And no, don’t worry, I’ll never write anything that long. Just remember War and Peace is more than 550,000 words.
Q: How long have you been crazy?
A: I have never officially been diagnosed as being crazy. It’s just a place I sometimes like to go, especially in my writing. It’s a nice place to visit but I ….
Q: How much of this stuff is the truth you write?
A: What really is truth? All my writing is totally true – most of it is just based in an alternate reality that has nothing to do with this one.
Q: My husband is divorcing his wife – do I still have to have contact with her?
A: Huh? That doesn’t seem to make any sense. Let me think for a moment.
(One moment later…) The answer is no. I think if she’s divorcing, then she has to leave the harem.
Q: I went to your website and on your favorite page –the music – are you kidding me? It’s dizzying! What is really your favorite style or artist?
A: Well, actually you should be a little more dizzy. I really don’t have much Classical or Jazz there, and those are two areas of music that I have embraced in the past (as well as New Age and Spirituality).
But as far as my ultimate favorite style, it would have to be alternative. And my favorite group would be The Cure.
But I grew up on early Elton John and I still think he is the King( ), even if his more recent stuff feels so watered down.
Of course it goes without saying that the Beatles are the ultimate group and an influence on everything else.
Then groups like Supertramp, Alan Parsons, the Moody Blues, and Klaatu raised me to levels that made everyday life seem mundane by comparison. While, at times, Klaatu can be a bit campy – that is part of their fun and their message. I still think that Klaatu’s second album “Hope” is one of the best ever. Abby Road (Beatles), Captain Fantastic (Elton John), Wish (Cure), 1st Album (Jars of Clay), Crime of the Century (Supertramp) are some more off the top of my head. There are many I am leaving out…
Lately I’ve been listening to “Minus the Bear” from a recommendation from the great Alternative Press.
I believe that music is the backdrop to life…
Q: All your links! I never know what to click on or where they’re going. It drives me crazy! How about a better idea of where the links are and what’s going to come up when I click on something?
A: I love to be the driving force of your craziness. I just hope to provide a scenic journey.
\We all need to be a little more crazy/
If you want me to keep updating you on your questions here just keep sending me more Email.
Feel free to follow me, although I realize that you have to be nuts to follow a blind squirrel. (Maybe that’s why he never finds any nuts, because they’re always following behind him)
Monday, October 15, 2012
This is a rough continuation of last months piece...
What did one balloon say to the other balloon?
"The rising cost of living is killing me!"
Ha, Hal But inflation is no laughing matter. I can’t believe the way prices have been rising. Even yeast keeps going up and up.
Inflation is out of hand, I know. I was just into this discount store, which used to be a little dime store the last time I was there. I went to purchase some pens. Five or so years ago I bought ten pens in this same store, when it was a dime store.
We used to have dime stores, and now our “big discount” stores are dollar stores. That’s an inflation rate of 1000%!
So after running low on ink I took some money and entered the store expecting to buy more pens. But I couldn’t find that ten pen for a dollar special they had last time. And this time I was smart enough to bring a dollar and five cents, the five cents extra for tax, which I managed not to have the last time. Then I had gotten past by telling the counter girl I would bring the five cents next time. But this time I still ran into trouble again. My ten pens for a dollar special was nowhere to be found. So I looked around for six or so pens, anticipating paying fifty cents, hence enabling me to buy two sets. But the cheapest bargain I could find was one pen for fifty-three cents, and even these pens had ink seeping out their backs and were half out of ink. Subtract from this the half of the ink that always ends up on my hands and I would be getting a quarter of pen’s ink to put to use. This didn’t sound like a deal to me. So I went up to the stock boy, who was marking prices, and asked him about the ten pen special. I don’t know if I forgot to wipe the toothpaste off of my mouth that morning or what, because he just laughed at me. 1 was not in a humorous mood.
In my anger I finally found a decent pen for a buck and stormed up to the checkout line. I placed the pen down and handed my dollar and five cents to the lady, somewhat older than the girl who was here last time, I would guess by about five or so years.
She reached out for my money, gazing deeply into my eyes, and for a minute I thought it was love at first sight when she said, "Haven't I seen you before?"
I got all choked up, but before I could say something witty like, "Um… no, I don't think so, I usually dress with my shades pulled down," she barked out "That'll be One dollar and seven cents!"
I handed her my dollar and nickel, not fully in control of my senses. I was busy contemplating what style wedding ring she would prefer, as her voice rang in my head, and I did not hear the words, just the melody.
"You’re two cents short," she said as I started to come back to reality.
I managed a muffled, "Wha ... " as the ring for her finger seemed to be growing in size.
She looked somewhat upset. "That's One dollar and seven cents — seven cents tax, and you only gave me One Dollar and five cents!" she spat out, her enunciation very clear even through her spittle. “I need another two cents.”
I could see the ring I planned to give her in my dreams WAS growing. It was taking the shape of a noose and coming for my head, I knew that only quick talking and a little luck could save me now.
"Bu… But I don't… " I stammered in my most suave turn of phrase, as my hands dug deep into my empty pockets, feeling only the lint there. I prayed for a lot of luck.
"Wait a minute... " she said with an air of recognition, "Now I remember. Five years ago you were short five cents on a pack of ten pens special."
She reached over the cash register and pushed buttons for what seemed to be an eternity. "That'll be seven more cents please." she smiled.
I carefully reached my hand up to the counter…
"And you can't get away this time by saying you'll bring the money tomorrow because today is my last day ... " she rambled on…
...1 grabbed hold of the pen with trembling fingers and took off in a full sprint for the exit. I ran through three security guards and a cop in the street as a crazed lady screamed bloody murder behind me.
"Stop thief! Help! Police! A robbery, help!” she wailed on.
I gave the policeman a straight-arm as I headed out the door, kicking the gun from his hand as he pulled it from his belt. I shoved the pen into my pocket and ran off down the street. People were chasing and hollering, dogs were barking and sirens were wailing as I made a clean get-a-way.
I never stopped running until I was into my house and safe from pursuers. I plopped down on the nearest chair and pulled out my "hot" pen. I had paid A dollar and five cents for a pen that had let-loose during the chase, and now my pocket was stained with wet ink. Well, black goes with anything. Good thing it wasn’t a blue pen. Even the drops that fell upon my white pants really don’t look too bad.
This was a pen that I had risked life and limb for as I ran from the law in a narrow escape. I made it, but the pen didn't.
And to think now I had to go back to that store to demand a refund for the defective pen.
I tried the pen anyways and it at least writes (as you can see), though most of its insides are still in my pocket.
So not knowing how long this pen will last will force me to keep my hands clean and save and scrape until I can gather together enough money to be able to go back to that store to purchase another pen (the lady did say it was her last day). So I keep my fingers crossed, hoping the pen will hold out, and I'll make my articles as short as possible to try to save ink. So I would end it here ... but I still have so much to say. The story goes on, how I wish it did end here.
I went to bed that night dreaming of murderers and car thieves. I hardly was able to get any sleep what with all that running.
And it wasn't until late this morning, after I was up for over an hour, that I finally got fully awoke when I opened up my mail. I found a letter from "that" store with a credit card in it.
A pamphlet also came with the letter, describing all the great uses of my new "Super Card" and ways to spend more money with it.
The smile faded, rather quickly, from my face when a small piece of paper fell from the envelope. As I bent to pick it up I could see that it was a bill.
Yes, seven cents was charged to my account. But then I noticed the total due at the bottom and that smile that left me before came back… upside down.
"There must be some mistake!" I thought aloud.
I waited for an answer, but didn’t know what to say…
I owed three dollars and fifty-eight cents! I went for my coat, psyching myself up to go back to that store to demand an explanation for that extra three dollars and fifty-one cents.
Then I noticed that the total did add up to three dollars and fifty-eight cents! It was a good thing I had noticed this before I marched back down to that store and made a fool of myself.
Sure, they were only charging me seven cents from the other day. But then there is the tax on that seven cents, which brings the total up to eight cents. The other three dollars and fifty cents is for the service charge.
A credit to be yours,
Now I don't have to worry about having the correct change when I go to that store. I can always charge my pens.