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Showing posts from July, 2012

The latest from London

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“…we interrupt our program: ‘Macy*s Sweet Tweets for Olympic Feet’ for this special news bulletin.   Reporting from London is correspondent Mano Blanick.   Mano…” “Jack, it is pandemonium here on fashion forward Carnaby St.   A vending machine dispensing white Olympic  trainers for no cost has appeared overnight in front of the Office London shoe shop.   Secretaries and admins from all over the Financial District have flocked to the apparition.   It appears they are rebelling against the four inch heels demanded by their superiors.   Nearby Asian Nail salons have also shown a marked decrease it their business due to this outrage”.    “As the Ladies speculate on the pros and cons of no cost shoe shopping, their studs can be found drowning their financial sorrows at the Kingly Club.   There is a rumor that a local Black Widow is taking advantage of this situation, and there are dead bodies scattered throughout the area. The smart lads have started in at the Florists, looking

Harry in London (Blogophilia 23.5)

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Hey, Hidey and Howdy.  It’s Harry Handy, your randy dandy dead DJ reporting to you from the London Olympics.  Yes, Oldies fans, WOFT has deigned to send yours truly to haunt the ceremonies.  And weren’t those ceremonies haunting?  A thousand years of British history distilled into a three and half days…I mean hours...(it just seemed like days). I understand the American commentary left a bit to be desired.  They could have just hired me.  Now for you colonoscopy denizens, I have been dredging around the music crypt to find stuff that fits.  Since this is the Olympics, I was going to use Theme from Chariots of Fire , but I was beaten to the punch by Rowan Atkinson, the Cad.  He really should be run over by that three wheel car you know.   But I did find something that would fit for the swimming competition. Yeah, night swimming is a lot of fun.  When I was a much younger, good looking guy, I used to throw moon tan parties in my pool.  Swimsuits optional, of course

Asthma

The band is tightening Airway is getting narrower Diaphragm not pulsing As I become Breathless.

Ring (Blogophilia 22.5)

The image in the mirror beckons you What the French call Errance awaits Hair of honey flows downward Goth Girl transformed By her love saying Only: Ah, you Shouldn’t have The ring Shines

The Test (Blogophilia 21.5)

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Rain dripped into the bucket next to the door.   Carefully, he slipped the fuse through the hole. Capped pipes, fuses and wiring were stacked haphazardly on the table next to him.      It won’t be long now.   The memory of the house flashed in front of his eyes, which followed by the image of it burned down.      He was just fighting the monster under the bed.   Sandra, he called her, after his piano teacher.     She used beat his hands when he missed a note.   He could remember swinging the bat and hitting her and she was gone.   Then the muffled voices of the police.   Why they came with SWAT squad, he had no idea.   Everything else was a blur.   The leather restraints and drugs to calm him.   The electrodes as they hooked them on his head and the pain of the shock.     They would never give him anything for the pain.    They eventually let him loose.   But there was nowhere to go, just a revolving door between the street and jail.   It was all a big bullying game.   Th

Now

Another night Looking for things To express gratitude For living Came to the wrong place Here in the ether Is violence Depravity And everything against Thy fellow man. Maybe I need a change of scene.

Spiked

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Maggie was confused and alone.  Everything around her was spinning.  Steam rose from the pavement across the street.  Halos formed around the streetlights and they pulsed in her sight.   They were a curious design.  Copied from a 19 th century photograph, they became a symbol for a developer’s dream, to turn this former steel mill into a bustling urban center. It took 18 years, and the first two buildings opened to great fanfare.  The scene looked like the stage set for “Rent”.   But to Maggie, it had become a nightmare.   She was slumped against the apartment building.  All she could remember was dancing with that spiky red haired chick disco in Buckhead. The one that looked like it had been imported from ....Brazil.....she guessed.    Loud music and perfumed bodies surrounded her as the music pulsed and throbbed.  Boys as girls and girls as boys jumping and bumping with the beat.  Was it really a girl?  She felt a hand brushing against her shoulder.  Then everything

Random post. (Blogophilia 20.5)

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I can't think of a thing to say, so I will resort to a random post. Think of it as an exception to the rule. The hardest part of the prompts this week was the hospice nurse.  I really don't know why.  I have a sister and a niece who are both ICU RN's.  And one of my favorite characters, Kari Summers, is a "Death Angel".  And I have lost relatives to long term illness.  But I can't seem to make the connection in any meaningful way. Best line from the Lurhman piece: "Don't read beauty magazines.  They will only make you feel ugly."  Image shouldn't be everything, but it is. So, toss them out, get naked and smile at the mirror.  Somebody will like the view. I wonder if I should change careers.  That would be something that would scare me. My wife had QVC on over the weekend and they were have their Christmas in July sale.  As usual, there were some pretty cool gadgets on there.  But, the bank account is low and my kids are now both legal

Submision (Blogophilia 19.5)

She felt dirty when the call came. Like a stain on the carpet that wouldn’t clean up.   And it was his fault. A sack of potatoes looked back from the mirror while she thought this. She never had been very pretty, and she certainly wasn’t pretty now.   Drooping breasts against a beach ball stomach. She took a slug from the pint and the tears came. Cheap booze is a false economy . She had read that somewhere. The voice began its litany: “It’s time. Kill him and kill me. It is the only way to end it.”   Maybe another drink would help. No. The fever kept rising as she applied her makeup.   She selected the silve r corset, rigged it could be tightened without help. The carbon colored stockings, held   with silk garters, were a garden design and didn’t stand out. A maroon chambray top, long black skirt and simple three inch black pumps rounded it out.   She put on a couple of bracelets and a spray of Obsession.   Before she put on the top, she tucked the Taurus .380 i