Dashed Hopes

After the burst of the bubble, my cash flow went in the red. My hopes to cash in my chips, become a script writer and play guitar in Tampico went by the boards.
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I wrote this for the Week 61 Trifextra Writing Challenge where we are to write a 33 word composition using an idiom.

Your comments are appreciated. 

How About Dealing With Some Real Problems?

I read and watch the news about the pending gay marriage cases in frustration.  To be sure, there are all sorts of difficult legal issues to be resolved, but I just wonder why we can’t just step back and ask, “Why is all this necessary?” 

If the state and federal governments could just refrain from legislating how two consenting adults decide to live together as a couple, we could get past the legal wrangling over manufactured issues and get on with some real problems.  There are too many to name, but how about adopting some simple gun control legislation?  Or asking what should be done about teenage boys who rape a girl and then brag about it?

“Huh”, you say: “What planet have you been living on?” Yeah, I get it; I know how the real world works:  There are the self-appointed moral police, the special interest groups and big business, not to mention plain-old evil thinking people, all of whom make it their life’s work to influence our lawmakers.   Yeah, but wouldn’t we be lucky people if just a few of these ignorant souls could get their heads out of their asses?

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I wrote this for the Week 70 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write a 33-333 word composition using the word “lucky” in the context of producing a favorable result by chance.

I am late entering this week due to having some surgery which came out ok, but which had me tied up with doctors and hospitals all week.  I mention this only because I may not see as many of the other entries as I usually do, especially now that there are so many.

Your comments are appreciated. 

 

 

The Abyss

I stand in the cold rain
And try to remember
What the rebellion was all about
As I think about the loss
And who did what first, 
I wonder if it really matters anymore
An abyss
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I wrote this for the Trifextra Week 60 Writing Challenge where we are supposed to write a 36 word composition using the words "remember", "rain" and "rebellion".

Your comments are appreciated. 

What's Up With the Bad Boy Thing?

None of the cute girls in high school noticed me until I became a “hippie”.  At the beginning of my senior year, my friends wanted to go to a Led Zeppelin concert.  I had liked their music on the radio, but going to a live concert was a totally different experience.

I loved the loud music in the dark, smoky concert hall and I was hooked. Within a couple of months, my friends and I saw Traffic, Cat Stevens, Alice Cooper and Grand Funk Railroad (I know, I’m embarrassed about the Grand Funk thing, but we went to see any band which came to town).

Along with my new interests, I grew my hair past the top of my ears and bought a few pairs of bellbottoms and a wide leather band for my watch. And, so, as it is with many high school kids, I changed my whole persona. Since most of the kids wore button down collared shirts and penny loafers, I caused some attention.   

The funny thing was, I had no strategy with the new look. I wasn’t the rebellious type and I wasn’t trying to make a statement.  I was just going along with my friends.  But, it was a big surprise to see how my new style would infect me with a different status in school.  Suddenly, all the cheerleaders who I had a crush on were interested in me. Apparently, these very proper girls were attracted to what they perceived was a risky, mysterious lifestyle.  

Even though I enjoyed the attention, as events unfolded, with escalation of the Viet Nam war, the riots and head bashing at the Democratic National Convention and Watergate, I realized that my style of dressing and the cheerleaders’ reaction to it were pretty superficial; there were other things to worry about. 
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I wrote this for the Week 69 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write 33-333 words using the word “infect” in the context of: “to contaminate, corrupt” or “to induce” some reaction. 

Your comments are appreciated.

 

   

Papal Chase

#14

Mel and Michele have invited us to write up to 57 words for Ketchup With Us.  This week, we are supposed to write about our doppelgӓnger. This was a hard one for me, since I really don’t like to show pictures of myself.  But, being a good sport, I decided to go for it. 
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This week, many people have said that I am the spitting image of the new Pope.  As many times as I’ve heard this, I really don’t see the resemblance.  That’s me on the left and that’s Pope Francis on the right. 


Me

Pope Francis

What do you think? 

In honor of the new pope’s election, I wrote a poem, entitled “Papal Chase”, which is not part of my entry, but is something I wanted to share with this quirkish and eclectic group of readers.

Cardinals debated and deliberated

Cannon commentators speculated

Talking heads examined papal precepts

And pondered whether the smoke was truly white

Vatican experts analyzed, prognosticized
and philosophized

On the sidelines, we squirmed and fidgeted,

and fretted and sweated

So happy to have witnessed

A new spectator sport!

Your comments are appreciated. By the way, I know I have a made up word in my poem, done for the sake of fine poetry.

 

 

 

A Timely Decision

My mother’s doctor called and told me that she needed surgery right away.  He explained, in layman’s terms, that she had an opening in her stomach which needed to be repaired.

He said:  “She will die without the operation.”  After recovering from the shock of his blunt message, I said, “Of course, do whatever you need to do.”  “But…”, he said, “...there’s a good chance she may not make it through the operation or may die in recovery.”  He continued:  “Anyway, are you sure you want to put an 88 year old woman with Alzheimer’s through this? Even if she lives through it, she could wind up on a respirator or bedridden for the rest of her life.”

My mind was reeling:  “What was he saying? He’s talking like my mom is a sick, aged dog.”  I was dumbfounded.  But after a few moments, I realized that he was raising an honest, albeit crass, question about my mother's quality of life.

Prior to this moment, I always imagined that such questions would be straightforward.  Surely, knowing my mother, if she were in a hopeless, vegetative state or in perpetual pain, I could have more easily decided to forego the operation.  But this was so very different.  Who can say what she would choose, if she were able?     

As I struggled, I recalled a day, about 55 years ago, when a five year old boy, fearing a bunch of scary medical tests, hid in his bedroom.  My mother came in and said, “It’s time to go. But don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

After a full recovery from the operation, my mother continues to live in her imaginary world, oblivious to her own ordeal. I think I made the right decision. 

© lumdog 2013
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I wrote this for the Week 68 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write 33-333 words using the word “time” in the context of an appointed fixed moment or an opportune or suitable moment.

Your comments are appreciated.

 

 

Gravity

One ball soars
Then two, then three
When they drop
We ask why
But gravity dictates
It always does

We juggle  

through our lives
The kids, the job, the laundry, our friends and loves
We make choices
But gravity dictates
It always does
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I wrote this for the Week 67 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write 33-333 words using the word “juggle” in the context of handling or dealing with several things at one time.

Your comments are appreciated.

 

 

Envy

#13

I wrote this for Mel and Michele’s Ketchup With Us, where we are to write up to 57 words about someone’s shoes we would like to walk in for a day.

Since I am pretty content in my life, I had some difficulty identifying someone I’d like to replace for a day, so I wrote this from the perspective of a character that is envious of another’s situation and wished he could “fill those shoes”.   This is absolutely not about me, I swear on a stack of bibles!
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I wonder if he’s gotten some off her already. Yeah, I guess he’s licking her all over right now.  And I miss the way she’d stroke me real good. Damn, I bet he’s gotten into her pants by now. I knew I screwed up when I peed on those pants. Off to the pound I went!

Your comments are appreciated.

Crash

It was nighttime at the championship show.  My horse, jittery under the bright lights, stumbled, then lurched as we approached the high obstacle. We crashed spectacularly, sending chunks of wood and skin flying.
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I wrote this for the Trifextra Week 57 Writing Challenge where we are to write exactly 33 words in first person narrative.

P.S. Fitch and I plowed into the ground head first.  I came out with two sprained wrists, but Fitch had to have175 stitches in his leg. Ultimately, he was fine.

Your comments are appreciated.