With wire bail
A glass insulator
One whelk shell
Some wicker furniture
A screened veranda
To catch the breeze
Cool drinks, close friends
Add pleasant conversations
Mix ingredients well
DAILY POST: THE MIRROR CRACK’D
You wake up one morning to a world without mirrors. How does your life–from your everyday routine to your perception of yourself change?
Mirrors shouldn’t matter
It’s what you feel inside
That really matters–right?
So what if my “edgy”
Teenage rock anthems
Play overhead at the mall?
So what if when I frown
My wrinkled eyelids droop
Like a friendly basset hound?
So what if the only time
My double chins don’t show
Is when I stand upside down?
Mirrors don’t matter much to me
I don’t need to be reminded
I’m no longer seventeen
From here to the end
I’m doing the best
With what I have left
I don’t worry about the rest
Dark thoughts followed
Close by my side all day
Control was an illusion
Things were out of control
So much broken beyond repair
Theorists, social engineers
Weren’t enough to stop the flow
Like a coin–every issue had two sides
Presumption of innocence was still sacred
Name-calling just an excuse
For closed minds to not listen
It was the same scarlet letter
Hung around someone’s neck
Whether deserved, or not
Whatever the solution was
My nightmare–will imposed by force
On the unwilling, continued
Waiting for the
Think about it
Could be wrong
Resistance to change
Give because you want to
Not, because you have to
Giving, when unexpected
Expecting nothing in return
Makes life meaningful
Hate knows no color
No one’s born
In their heart
Chapeaus, lids, caps
Snap brim, no brim
Are you serious–hats
Wild, wacky, wondrous
Fedora, Panama, pillbox hats
With/without chin straps, ear flaps
Flowers, ribbons, or bows
What’s up with that–hats
With little birds
In cuckoo clocks
Porkpie, bowler, beret
Jaunty, sporty, or formal hats
Whether whimsical, party
Or downright insane
You may have guessed
That I like hats!
It was still dark. The street lights went out one by one. This past week was productive from this writer’s point of view.
After being stored away for more than a year, a topic finally came together. Does anyone else have the same problem? I come up with catchy topics and titles, then have trouble fleshing out stories.
Sometimes I’m like a nightmarish version of Johnny Carson as “Karnak” the magnificent. The nightmare–I have punch lines without jokes. I’m steak without the sizzle.
On my morning walk, summer heat was back with a vengeance. I thought about how self-serving and ludicrous opinions could be. Since the advent of social media, everyone’s an expert on everything.
Opinions of the moment grow into gigantic incestuous snowballs. Hundreds, or even thousands, of Facebook/Twitter likes don’t make a quorum–certainly not a mandate. That’s not to say that social media isn’t influential.
All of that aside, I prefer the humorous, the semi-serious, to self-aggrandizing diatribes. Why can’t we like things for what they are? Some like dogs, some hate cats–and the other way around. What’s wrong with liking both?
A disheveled Yorkie dragging a leash startled me. The little male dog didn’t want to be caught, but he liked my dog, Maggie. I used that to my advantage and stepped on the leash.
The reluctant Yorkie was named “Chewy.” From a friendly nearby neighbor, I learned that Chewy lived with his family, down the street, around the corner.
Chewy looked vaguely familiar. Had we met before? Sometimes cruel people dumped unwanted dogs and cats. With a little detective work, Chewy was reunited with his pet parents. As it turned out, Chewy hadn’t been on the lam for very long.
In tiny Murvale, Nebraska, today is “Everything is Everything Day.”
When asked for more specifics at a press conference, Mayor Floyd Mason replied, “It means–everything is everything for everybody everywhere.”
“It’s Friday, August 22nd, time to celebrate. Within confines of the law–of course.”
“It’s our all-inclusive holiday. Perhaps the only one in the world?”
“Yes, you said all of that before, but what exactly does it mean?” A reporter from CNN asked.
“Who was famous for saying, I’m a victim of circumstance?” Mayor Mason asked.
“Curly Joe from the Three Stooges,” the reporter answered.
“That was Curly’s catch-all phrase–before Moe smacked him on the head.”
“There are a lot of serious things going on in the world that are beyond our control. We good citizens of Murvale are not victims of circumstance–nor do we ever intend to be.”
“You outsiders, from the media, may see us as an ordinary Midwestern town full of ordinary individuals. That’s not who we are at all.”
“We are who we want to be. There are not a lot of people who can say that. We like who and what we are. In fact, I’m going to suggest we’re beyond ordinary–we’re extraordinary!”
“That’s what we’re celebrating today. The fact that we can be ourselves in extraordinary ways.”
“Exactly how do you celebrate–Mr. Mayor?” Asked a reporter from the LA Times.
“It’s an individual decision–there’s no pressure. If you want–exercise. Have a picnic in the park. Throw a Frisbee; play golf. Lie in a hammock. Take a nap. Plant some flowers. Do something nice for someone–that has its own rewards. Do nothing–if that’s what you want to do.”
“The town voted for a gigantic water balloon fight. If any of you are so inclined–come, join the festivities, 2 PM, at the city park pavilion.”
“Have fun–because, today is Everything is Everything Day! Be extraordinary!”
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