A.G.E's Joint

The sun began to reflect off the laptop screen.   Jeremy shifted to the left to be more comfortable.   It had been a long night. Trilling yellow warblers became noticeable to him as he glanced at the piles of written notes. Notes to go with notes. Thirty or forty pieces of 8”X 11” lined notebook paper grouped by research type, each with a web notation where the information came from.  Bomb recipes and triggering devices had taken up most of the time.   Should they be 18” or 24”?   He had already settled on the 1-1/2” as being the best diameter, with PVC pipe being the easiest to work with.   He guessed the best thing to do would be build a few and test them at the farm.   After all, that was why he went out there, right? He decided to purchase most of the equipment at two local hardware stores, rather than at Home Depot.   The surveillance systems they used weren’t all that extensive.   Pipes would be purchased at one store and the end caps and glue at the other. 

When I woke up this morning, my Facebook brought up a story about how a model posted a totally un-retouched photograph of herself in a bikini.  She was a pretty lady. Nice face and good proportions, even with no make up I would consider to be an asset on my arm. The big scream was she was considered a "plus" model at a size 10.  Folks, a size 10 is a NORMAL woman. One with real curves, like she's supposed to have.  (I'll stop for a moment so you can pop the popcorn for the comments this) I'm sorry. I'm a male chauvinist pig. Make into bacon if you wish, but I would much rather have a woman of substance around me. They are happier and more fun to be around.  Who cares if they don't look like the latest flavor of the month from the Hollywood image machine. Small, Tall, Thin,Fat... Who cares? When I got home, there was another article about one who is trying to escape her image. Jeannette McCurdy was the second lead in ICarly. She was as close to

Set on a side street off I-85, Graves Apartments were a remnant from an earlier time.   Scattered along either side of sun faded broken parking lot, the brick buildings were a legacy of a better time. The ghosts of professional singles past echoed amongst the remnants of the pool. And the tennis courts belied the history of future Yuppies having one night stands and exchanging Quaaludes and other tokens of love.   A past replaced by absentee owners and undocumented residents.   The peeling paint and leaking gutters spoke to the reality of quick weed deals and foreign gangs. All the tags were in black paint, with no artistry whatsoever. Just groups of cats marking their territories. Two dark women in the Laundromat quietly sorted through their clothes, while the chubby Jamaican kid practiced his skateboard tricks outside. Neon light reflected in perverse rainbows from the puddles as the small man made his way down the hill. The rain had let up, but Ma Ngyuen didn’t

Smiling face, secure In your  illusion of success. Lake Wobegon transformed. Nice House, Nice Spouse, Kids excelling in all they do. Crack of humanity Is beginning to show At the edge Of your aura Survival instinct Hard wired Takes over. Crack grows, Visible to those who see. And it's final end, Remains A lesson to us all.

The ink is black The page is white Together we learn To read and write… This is the song that stuck in my head after reading this weeks assignment.  But I really couldn't fit Three Dog Night into a coherent post, so... So you ask me what my ink is? It is my companion and my friend. The one thing I can count on in times of trouble and strife. It shares my secrets and I can choose if they get revealed... or not.  My characters can be part of me I wish to mock. To make fun of my bad habits and disjointed thought process.  And the evil traits of others, sometimes.  I can be other people.  I can do evil and good. This week is the anniversary of the Apollo moon landing.  If you have been reading me for a while, you know when I was 10, my family  lived in Orlando. This was during the height of the program. Everything in Central Florida was space themed.  Even "I Dream of Jeannie" was set there.   It was a heady time for a day dreaming 10 year old