Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Basement Bar (Blogophilia 12.10)

I have a number of characters that I have developed over the years. Kari Summers, Jerry Goldstein, Jeremy Allen: they all represent a piece of my personality. I’m going to pull one out of the vault I haven’t worked with in about 30 years: C. Hartridge Heath IV, Esq., Attorney to the Rich and Useless.
 
                         *************************************
 
“Glad to meet you on this beautiful Atlanta day. But you can’t tell it in this dank drunk tank. The name is Hartridge Heath, most everyone calls me Hart. Glad to meet you. As you can tell by the ‘esq.’ behind my name, I am a bar certified attorney. What kind of law, you ask? Any law that supports the American Pie way of life, Son. And don’t you forget it. Truth, justice and estate loop holes for the right folks, like me. My family tree comes with ties to Nobility! Why I can trace my lineage on my mothers’ side to William the Conqueror when he raped some local lass on his way through. At least that’s what the Parish directory said.”
 
“Why yes, Son, I have never left the south. Daddy sent me to military school when I was seven and stayed there until was time to go to Athens, and with a few strings pulled, did law school at Emory. Such a shame they let the liberals in there, I finally had to stop my contributions. Of course, ol’ Georgia has changed a lot, and not for the better.”
 
“Hey, Hope! Can I get another mint julep? And another martini for the young man, here.”
 
“I’m a stick in the mud, you say? Hush your mouth. My ancestors were always right, even when they weren’t. They were paid to leave Britain by the Crown, that meant something. Then we carved out the greatest agricultural economy anywhere. Slavery? Now, I admit they got too attached to it. And more than a few of the farms were lost when the Yankees invaded. That’s when my Great Great Great Grandfather Elias found there was more money in juggling words than worrying about cotton. You always got at least a fee, if not a cut of the crop, when you wrote the contract right.”
 
“This tradition continues as he fleeced all the Yankee carpetbaggers trying to pick up land for cheap. Elias realized money really was God. And it was a God you could work mostly to your advantage. His sons, Jackson and Bryant continued this trait when they moved into Savannah permanently and set up the firm. They cemented their place in society down there when Bryant, how to I put this delicately, had to marry Cecilia Hartridge. Now we have offices there, here and in Nashville. All cities with like minded clients interested in preserving our lineage from the savage threats we see on the outside. People with very old assets tied and ways.”
 
“Oh, I’m aware we are dinosaurs. And many think it is evil we still exist and will go to lengths to eliminate us from the world. What those fools don’t realize is they are just like us in most ways and you cannot separate the just from the unjust, or the good from the wicked. They stand together as black and white thread. When one thread breaks, the weaver will check the loom.
 
“What? That was too deep for you? Well, if you must, go on. I don’t have court today, or any clients to worry about, so I’ll just stay here in Hope’s Dungeon. Don’t like the sun anyway”
 
“Hope! Can I have another one? I’ll get you a check for the tab when I get back to the office.”
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Blogophilia 12.10-American Pie
Pic Guesses: Basement Bar (in blog)Hope’s Dungeon (in blog) dank (in blog), drunk tank (in blog), tavern, cabin, closet, storehouse, wine cellar, workshop. 
 
Hard Prompt is a paraphrase to fit the narrative.
 
You cannot separate the just from the unjust
And the good from the wicked; 
For they stand together
before the face of the Sun 
Even as the the black thread and the white
Are woven together.

And when the black thread breaks,  
The weaver shall look into the whole cloth
And he shall examine
The loom also.
 
Khalil Gibran- On Crime and Punishment-The Prophet. (c) 1923.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Bowsprit (Blogophilia 11.10)

There
Bobbing
On the dock
Golden sun shines
From a bowsprit view
To the wide harbor pass
Anyway the wind blows, I’m
Open to the sea.

Meet me, Captain Saint Lucifer
Darlin’ I’ll be there.
To buck the seas and drink the teas
Of dream lands far away.
Don’t stay at the bridge,
Let her go where she may.
As we meet
Our watery grave.

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Topic (Any way the wind blows): Colleen Keller Breuning
Song Lyric-”Meet me, Captain St. Lucifer
Pic guesses: Dream Land (in blog), Cave, Sanctuary, Isaiah, Sunrise, Sauron, Perch, Spirit.



Friday, May 5, 2017

YouTube musings...

Hey, Heidy and Howdy! It's your old buddy, Harry Handy floating along the Geritol trail. Over the years, people have asked me: "Harry! Is you life only moldy and oldie?" No, not really. I do wander what they refer to as "Socialist Media" from time to time to get ideas for good ol' WOFT.

Let me guide you oldsters in some of things available. Trolling along one day, I found a second generation Hippy couple walking the talk about being off the grid and out of the MAN'S grasp:


The wife, Esther is the daughter of Carla Emery who was one of the ultimate Hippy Chicks. She's got some interesting things to say


And then there is this youngster living the ultimate "Year Off Dream"


And when you select any of those, the YouTube algorithm sends you down the rabbit hole of crazier and crazier stuff.


Yep, clear out before the bombs come...Where have I heard that before?


A good reminder that no matter how the kaleidoscope changes, it all remains the same. Someone, somewhere wants to destroy your world and everything in it. With luck, we'll already be dead when it happens. If not, we'll still be dead.


Sleep tight, Ladies and Gents.

If you can. 

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Sunday Morning Haiku (Blogophilia 10.10)

Looking out window
To Sunday morning sunshine
Empty street below

Coal dust blankets cars
Delivery truck brings meat
To the starving ones

Man reads on voting 
Not intending to join
His lover in there

The secret to get
Ahead is getting started
With a coffee cup




Topic-Doris Emmett
Pic-Sallon Newlove
Pic Guesses-Streets cape Coal Dust (in blog), Delivery (in blog), Empty Street (in blog), Midtown, Sixth Ave., Diner, 

Saturday, April 29, 2017

Mile HIgh Club

Scanning the sites today, I find an article claiming about 10% of air travelers have had sex either in the airport or on the plane itself.

Getting Busy

Now, for several reasons, I rarely fly. But I guess I'm just not looking in the right direction when I go through the airport. All I see are exhausted drones dragging their belongs behind them trying to make the next flight.

Maybe I should go out more?

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Friday Night (Blogophilia 9.10)

The text comes in just as he comes in the store: "Working until 6." Damn it. He's early and she's late again. You would think he'd get used to it. Or she would quit agreeing to work over. Lord knows what the fuss would be if it were her waiting on him. Might as well get a cup of coffee and pick up a pizza. Won’t be time for much anything else for supper. 
 
As he approached the Starbucks stand, a chubby woman with wild curly hair and stained leggings stood at the counter. Another lost soul needing a shower to occupy his time. She asked repeatedly the difference between a Grande and Venti. Great. Her conversation seemed not so much with the Barista than with herself. Maybe they are sampling over in the cheese department. Better than waiting for this moron finish.
 
As he crossed over the aisle, he stopped to look at a rather large wine display. The manager had a sense of humor, putting "Menage a Trois" next to "Middle Sister". A bottle of "Josh" should be added, just for chuckles. A trashy novel could be written just from the labels. "Winery Row." Josh committing 19 crimes at Toasted Head trying to get Middle Sister away from that awful Mondalvi family, while Ernest and Julio woo...Wait, wasn't that"Falcon Crest"?
 
Nobody would get it. The ladies would look past that display and go "Oh, New Age is on sale. Let's get a that and some Havarti". Boom, the store just got another $25. It was all for the impulse buy, to separate you from the maximum amount of money. The way of the world. At least the world he was used to.
 
Nobody was at the cheese department, so with a sigh, he heads back to Starbucks and woman is gone. The barista's highlights are old and faded, but somehow she still smiled. Venti Pike's was ready and handed over with a knowing wink. He'd been doing this too long. At least the chair is open and the phone has a full charge. Candy crush to the rescue.
 
Somewhere into the second game, a drift of a one way conversation worms into his consciousness. The voice is shaky.
 
"Yes...I've talked to the doctor and he won't extend my prescription...But nobody understands...It's a matter of life and death...Let me have that number and I'll call you back...It's a toll free call?...I hope I have enough time on my phone..." Click.
 
The woman's back is to him. She's strung out. Makes sense.
 
"Yes...I need this for my anxiety...No, you don't understand...I've got..Hold on, I've got another call...This is she...You'll front me four days?...Bless you...How long...See you then...Hello, I'll call you back..." 
 
Softly, she placed the phone on the table and turned toward him. In a squeaky voice, she said:
"Hello. I'm a writer."
 
A small smile ran across his face.
 
"Really? So, am I. Are you published?"
 
Her eyes went toward the floor.
 
"Not in a long time. Back then it was mostly scientific stuff. But I had an accident and with concussion I have constant anxiety. I have to have my meds just to exist."
 
"That's terrible." He said, taking a sip of the cooling cup and not mentioning his eavesdropping. "I suppose you've heard all the thick skull jokes."
 
She frowned at that.
 
"I think I'm paranoid. No. Not that, more complicated. Poetry and rhymes are always running through my head."
 
"That's a good thing, usually."
 
"No, it's not. I'm manipulated. They make me fall down for a thrill I hope they'll prop me up with some more pills. I'm going down to the Pharmacy to see."
 
The tune almost immediately began playing in his head. Funny how a song you haven’t heard in twenty years pops up so readily. With a shrug, he returned to his game, shoulders twitching to the imaginary beat.

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Topic-Toll Free Calling- Barbara Kausteklis
Pic Guesses-Pizza (in blog) paella, hot out of the oven, party, three meat, supreme, cheesy, paddle, dinner,

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Circus (Blogophilia 8.10)


Yeah, I thought about a story. Couldn’t really get a good idea.
 
Then I thought about writing about Easter and Holy Week. That had some possibilities, since the statement “He is risen” and copious amounts of incense brings back all the back-slid to prove they are still alive. In their day-to-day lives, Sunday morning church service is not an enormous priority. But either through guilt or fear, they find their way back on Easter. And as a church usher, I have to heard these feral cats here and there in such a way everything works smoothly, while the clergy on the altar run the show. 
 
I could write a bit on Tax Day. I’ve been an accountant all my career, and I can always count on two rings for that show, The first week in February and the seven days leading up to April 15. You would think with modern technology the process would be more organized. Nope. The first ring wants their money and they want in now! The second group don’t want to pay the money. But unless they are Donald Trump, they got to pay. File the extension and I’ll see you August 15.
 
Ultimately, the three ring circus that I can’t get rid of is Politics. Yes, that clown car of professional fence-sitters and moral trapeze artists promising the world while stealing your wallet. I, sadly, live in the 6th Congressional District of Georgia. As you may be aware, this is the seat held by Dr. Tom Price, who is now Secretary of Health and Human Services. One less of the old guard is a good thing in my opinion. But it does have consequences. 
 
This open seat has been like a dead gazelle on the Kenyan plains. Jackals, hyenas and other carrion eaters are flooding my email and tying up my phone. The television and social media have been the ringmaster for this dog an pony show. Vote for the Democrat (who only lives part time in Georgia and not even in the District). Vote for the Lady (who has a checkered past on holding office to full term). Vote for this gray haired guy (with the reputation of double dealing on the state level). Not to mention the 15 other candidates. PETA and Humane Society succeeded in shutting down Barnum and Bailey. Why can’t they do an expose on this tragedy? I haven’t had an uninterrupted dinner in weeks. 
 
Well, today is the election. There will probably be a runoff. But for at least a week or two, I might get some peace and quiet. 
 
And then we’ll do it again.

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Pic Guesses: Clown Car (in blog), Smiley, Snowmobile, Wash Me, Cold, Why I don’t live up north.