#ROW80 1ST QTR 2014 – WRITING PROMPT – TWO CATS

TWO CATS

 

Now that the A-to-Z Challenge for 2014 is over, I can honestly say that I am a much happier writer going “themeless” or at least with something a bit more complex than just “HUMOR AND HUMORISTS”, which was never the knee-slapper I thought it would be, I can return once more to my aimless nit-picking, meandering, diatribes, general nonsense and philosophical wonderings about just how many angels can dance on the head of a pin and is there anybody out there. That is NOT the fault of my awesome team and my wonderful team leader, Damyanti G of #teamDamyanti. I will be side by side with them again next year. The fault was mine in not preparing and not really thinking about how a "theme" can work to one's advantage. Lesson learned; but I am glad I did it because I always come away from these challenges a better writer and with great friends!

Writing about humor wasn't as funny as I thought it would be. Judging from the comments, my family was a whole lot funnier. Next year, I'm just going to write about them.

 

All of this is in an effort to forestall editing on my own magnum opus from NaNoWriMo 2013, Music of the Spheres, because while I think it has several wonderful ideas, it has a lot wrong with it, and I haven't the least clue of where to begin, as I am not a creative writer. I'm more about ideas, and I noticed when I was writing Music, my characters did a whole lot of standing around and pontificating. Not exactly the most exciting thing for a Sci-fi Thriller, even if it does include the Alien Undead Railroad Underground, or something approximating that.

So, stepping bravely back into the fray of blogging every day on my own whims, which is what I did when I first started “Homeless Chronicles Blah Blah Blah” I decided to write about some of the goings-on around and about Nebraska Ave., 33605, 33602, which I haven't done in a long, long time; I'm returning to my writing roots, as it were.

Imagine about twenty buses going hell-bent trying to keep a schedule, racing in or out, in a giant, tilt-a-whirl thing. Now, imagine smoking brakes, or non-functioning brakes and it's raining. It's THAT much fun!

 

Three days ago, I had to take the bus to Rose Diagnostics to get a chest x-ray for my pulmonary doctor. Not a big deal, and it's one transfer. I take the number 2 downtown to the Marion Transfer Center, where commences the Bus Ballet. For those just tuning in, the Bus Ballet is where every bus converges into a round-about at the same time, and it is a fine cacophony of brake squeals, snorts of exhaust and bus hornery playing. This is accompanied by near-misses, bus asses heaving into sight, zipping past squared-off windshields, that make them seem oh, so much closer, and just as quickly sinking out of sight, as if below the waterline. It is one of my favorite parts of riding the bus – call me an adrenaline junkie – and I always look forward to the MTC; it's always hectic and that day's was even more so, as I had to run to catch the number 14 to go up Armenia to Rose Diagnostics.

That done and quickly, I skipped back across Armenia to make my return back downtown, to take the #2 back up Nebraska Ave., 33605 to my house. I just made it and the #14 arrived on time. I sat down and was just kind of zoning. I was kind of tired, but was thinking about my last two A-to-Z blog posts. I looked towards the front of the bus and where people usually put their baby buggies, or their grocery buggies, I noticed a wire cage, about 3 feet by 3 feet, with a blanket on the bottom of it. My vision has been a bit worse than usual of late, so I really couldn't make out anything, except what I thought were two ears on the left hand side of the cage. I was on the left-hand side of the bus, in the only open seat.

The two cats were this laid-back. Their owner was so solicitous, but they hardly seemed perturbed. The tuxedo cat was a domestic short-hair, but they looked much like this. As the bus bumped over the ruts in the road, the cats' heads bobbed and swayed along with the peoples' heads.

 

At the next stop, the man who was sitting on the right side of the bus, left his seat and I moved over and up one and I could see then what was in the cage. There were two cats. One was a ginger cat, red-and-white striped and the other was a tuxedo cat. The pair were laying side-by-side and although it was warm on the bus and noisy, they seemed perfectly okay with all of the people getting on and off the bus. The bus was noisier than usual and had worse-than-normal bus shocks, as in non-existent. We may as well have been riding in a Conestoga wagon going west during the 1880s, but these two cats rode along fine, their little heads dipping and bobbing in time, with the rest of us. They were more well-behaved than some of the kids I have encountered on the bus. Their owner, a guy in his mid-30s, wearing a wife-beater, denim shorts, tattooed, with 'banger signs and chains, was standing by them, with another cart with food, kitty litter and litter box and he would occasionally stroke one of them or talk to them.

When I was homeless, one of my roommates, who was given to confabulation told me that someone had chickens on the bus, and I told her she was full of it. Maybe she wasn't. . . nah, she was, because she conflated everything else.

When we arrived at MTC, he was the first one off, cats, cage, cart and all. I stopped and asked the bus driver if that was permissible as I have a pet who needs to see the vet. Mama needs her annual check up and I have been pondering on how I am going to get her to the doctor. The bus driver said, “Well, he should have had two carriers, but yes it is allowed.” Happy day! Now of course, getting Mama to go along with the bus ride will be another story and probably not a happy one!

A-TO-Z-LETTER CHALLENGE "B" – ROBERT BROCKWAY, WRITER

 (WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE)

I cannot remember the first time I read one of Robert Brockway's articles on Cracked.com, the humor website, but it's been years. Robert is not a humorist per se, as was James Thurber; he tends more to sci-fi, or speculative fiction, or whatever the hell they're calling it these days, but I was immediately taken with his writing style, not just because of his use of the English language, which is beautiful and unusual, but because he paints images that linger in the mind. . .

                                                                                                                                                                                                  Dieselpunk

. . . and then follows it up with a picture and more prose that embeds itself for eternity, as well as setting you up for the hilarity that is to follow:

 "Demonstration matches were frequently held at county fairs and stadiums all across the country, though it was most prominent in the Midwest during the early 1910s. It was usually played with a basketball, as seen above, and the only mandated gear was a jaunty cap and a callous disregard for human life. It was every bit as unquestionably awesome as it was uncontrollably, screamingly retarded:"

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/15-old-photographs-that-prove-world-used-to-be-insane_p2/#ixzz2xfoeQ8iL

There is more mayhem regarding "Auto Polo" but really? Is it any more idiotic than any of the crap you see on "World's Dumbest Partiers?" I must admit it is the ONLY show I watch on Tee Vee; all else is Netflix. I've seen entire back seats of sedans strung up between two trees and drunken red necks swinging to and fro and laughed myself into apoplexy when one of them does a face-plant into the dirt. Am I just not enjoying a free, and safe, ride as the lower end of the gene pool continues it's slow, albeit creative slouch towards self-destruction? But, I digress.

Within this same article, after "Auto Polo", is something that is near and dear to my heart, although, I am glad it is not practiced anymore, for the sake of the wildlife involved. It is called "Lion Drome" and yes, it was a thing. Just thinking that we, here in the U. S. ever did something like this should seem astonishing, but crazy stunts with wild beasts and any other wild, insane, dangerous things that will most surely end in tears, regret, blood and shattered limbs is done all the time, even now. 

"Lion Drome" consisted of, um. . . well. . . it was. . . Hell. I'm just going to let Robert describe it for you. 

"I've shown this photo once before, but I don't think I made it totally clear that Lion Dromes were not a fluke. This was just how you took in a show, back in the day. It was like going to the matinee now, only instead of watching Jeremy Renner pout in front of a shaky camera, you had the kids stick their unshielded little faces out over a bowl of automotive trauma and told them to inhale the heady fumes of gasoline and jungle predator.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/15-old-photographs-that-prove-world-used-to-be-insane_p2/#ixzz2xft6IwVD

                                                                                                                                                                                                            Thrillarena

 The first time I saw this picture and could finally stop laughing, I looked at the expression on the lion's face and dubbed him "Executive Lion". He's thinking, "Hmmm, wonder if I ate my briefcase."

I have to dip back into a familiar well and go back to "World's Dumbest" and this time I think it was 2 guys on motorcycles inside a metal ball. . . In Bulgaria, which is already sounding like a bad idea. Here in the good ol' U. S. of A., OSHA isn't exactly busting the chops of cheap carnivals that roam around the country, and since they pretty much dump nuclear waste in the rivers, land and atmosphere with regularity in Eastern Europe, I'm sure they don't give two hoots about a couple of dull-normal siblings in a Bulgarian carny. I was proven right. 

The ball held all right, but the two dudes, after reaching maximum speed did about 2 laps that looked like an insane Wheel-o, before meeting in mid-air and falling into a crumpled heap in the bottom of the metal ball. Who does this? I mean, the ball has to be sturdy enough to hold two full-grown men and two motorcycles, so the bars are rather dense, so you get this impression of a giant atom, with large molecules acting okay, and then, poof! Critical Mass? Fission? . . . and a crumpled heap of men and metal at the bottom. Meanwhile, the "assistant" who had presented this amazing thing with a flair of her hand was off to the side playing "Statues" with her arm still held out, pointing to this 8th wonder of the world. It took her a good minute, or minute and a half to realize all was not going to plan. But I digress.

I could go on for hours about the funny and laugh-out-loud expressions and turns of phrase that Robert Brockway continually amazes me with in his writings. Like any excellent writer, he practices and hones his craft and his diligence and persistence are paying off for him. The publishing house Tor purchased his book, the Unnoticeables at auction, with a three-book, six-figure deal! Tor said the books are "hilarious urban fantasy novels" set in a world that pulls from New York's punk scene in the 1970s as well as the modern-day Los Angeles entertainment industry. The Unnoticeables is tentatively scheduled for July 2015.

Robert's comment on his website, regarding his good news on robertbrockway.net? "That's right -- THREE god damn books coming your way. I am going to literally crush you with an avalanche of my books*.

*Provided you are small and do not struggle too much"

His book RX: A Tale of Negativity is available on Amazon and you can read his articles on Cracked.com. His website is www.robertbrockway.net and he is also a disciple of Chuck Wendig, another hellacious author and fan of establishing a solid work ethic.

Please, please, please be sure and stop by my fabulous team Leader for this challenge, DamyantiG to see her post on action scenes in writing, here: Amlokiblogs: #atozchallenge : A for Action #fiction #writing #quotes

TECH TUESDAY INTERRUPTED FOR GENERAL MUSINGS ON THE EVE OF A-TO-Z AND THE LACK OF #ROW80 PARTICIPATION

Firstly, it's been so long since I did anything with #ROW80, they probably think I don't care, or I've died, although I know Cateartios knows I'm still floating around, as does Alberta Ross, (I hope) as I do try to give shout-outs to my #ROW80 peeps on the #FF when I remember to do them. It has been frantical around here, in some good ways and in some not so good ways. I guess what God giveth with one hand, he taketh with the other. Rather heavy-handed sounding that; let's just go with 4 steps forward, 2 1/2 steps back. . .

To begin with, JC had a heart attack, and not one of these sudden, stop-you-in-your-tracks-fall-down kind of myocardial infarctions, but the kind that are more like a slow-moving decrepitude, with mild distress, that seems like tummy ills, pneumonia, and a few hospital stays. The fact that he is less than compliant with his meds makes it even more difficult to work with him, but he is 67 years old, and at this juncture, my main focus is his comfort and for him to know that he is loved beyond reason -- something he has never had, and which everyone is entitled to -- so, writing has taken a back seat to this; surely understandable. We do what we can and and getting him to walk and take his meds and laugh at stupid stuff like "World's Dumbest ____________ " and play with Mama is good enough. He's a peach and I get to hear his stories.

Like about the time JC and Mr. Cantrell were a' settin' on the porch of the General Store in Snyder, Texas and Mr. Cantrell happened to mention that he'd bought himself a new huntin' dog. "How'd she do?" JC asked, in that Sam Elliott drawl of his. "Waahll, it went lahk this. . ." Mr. Cantrell said. "We ahll got aout inta tha clearin' and let them dawgs outta the back a' thet truck. . ." He paused for a bit, and looked off into the distance as if remembering a long-lost wife, or the sinking of the Titanic, and then went on, "All o' them dawgs went one way, 'cept thet thar new dawg, she went a' high-tailin' it t'other way. . ." He paused, and gazed off again, then shook his head and grinned. "Thet thar hound jus' kep' on a-goin'. . . I could still hear her a-bayin' in tha distance, after sunset, and tha next mornin', when I went back ta callin' her. Stupidest hound I ever bought. . . " JC said she never did come home, but once in a while, it was rumored that she could be heard yapping in the distance in far and sundry places.

The other things of note that have occurred are helping my co-host, the great DamyantiG with the A-to-Z Challenge 2014, that starts on April 1. For those not in the know, it is a challenge that starts on April 1, with the letter A and ends on April 30 with the letter Z. Sundays are exempt, so every letter of the alphabet is covered in 26 days. There are themes and non-themes and all sorts of ways to participate. If you've never done it and you are a blogger, I highly recommend it. You'll get a chance to get in the groove of writing daily posts; short and snappy and eye-catching! You'll also get a chance to visit other blogs and make new friends. Leaving comments is important! Interaction within this thriving community can only help you and you'll not find a better, more generous and giving group of people than writers!

I should mention that I have an actual THEME this year! Last year, I came up with some kind of half-baked idea that I needed to make a spreadsheet -- I'm shocked that I didn't write a relational database! -- with all of the letters in a row and the topics I had already picked out, listed in the columns. I believe my intention was to fill out all this bullshit and hand it in to Arlee Bird who started the A-to-Z Challenge for a grade, or something. But that all became moot, when I hit the letter "B". The reason is, I had chosen "Bravery" or something equally blah, so I wrote on "Beethoven" and his 3rd symphony, which turned out to be a big hit. It was something I had analyzed in college and it's a masterpiece and a bridge between the Classical era and the Romantic era in about 16 measures; with a bit of near-syncopation close to the finale. To say Ludwig was way ahead of his time, is an understatement. His string quartets and piano etudes boggle the mind in their forward-thinking approach to composition.

Anyway, my theme this year is HUMOR AND HUMORISTS. This idea came to me while I was hanging out in the ER with a massive eye infection. Just another one of those things that my body likes to do; stand up and say "YOU'RE NOT 25 ANYMORE!" More of a nuisance than anything and one of these stubborn things that required medicine that makes me sicker than hell, but hey! At least I don't look like something out of a Lon Chaney movie, any more. But last night, I got into one of those "Red Zone" laughter modes, the kind were you just know if you go up to that next level, it's apoplexy and hysteria and probably a burst blood vessel in your head.

The subject matter started with a bunch of Unintentially Hilarious Propaganda Posters from Cracked.com. Written by Jacopo Della Quercia, it starts off mildly, but gets cranked up by around poster #6, and I start that kind of wheezing laugh. I'm feeling pretty helpless and like jelly. JC has been asleep, but he wakes up to find out just what is so damned funny. So, I read the commentary and we crack-wise over this nonsense. I go from here to "Lost in Translation: 20 Baffling Foreign Movie Posters" and the "Red Zone" revs up again. It's not just that the pictures are so mystifyingly bizarre; it's that most of them have almost nothing to do with the original movie. So the writer, Jay Thomas, helpfully interprets what he thinks went on when the posters were created. What Jay thinks went on is damn funny indeed.

I have spent my life being the world's Straight Man. I am at my best riffing off stuff other people say. For example, I think I won Andi-Roo over when she tweeted something about "loving the idea of elevensies" and I responded with "I do twelvesies, onesies, all the way to sleepsies. . ." My brand of humor is reactive, not proactive. This probably has more to do with the fact that my parents were both hysterically funny and I am very, very literal and logical. I am whimsical, but only in my own head; in short, a mess. Now, I have to run to the grocery store and some food. 

#ROW80, #IWSG THURSDAY, BECAUSE I SLEPT THROUGH WEDNESDAY. . .

Poor #ROW80; they probably wonder if I'm still alive. #IWSG is more than likely under the assumption that I'm some mass hallucination. I wonder myself. At least Damyanti of #teamDamyanti is aware that I am a real person; sort of. . .

I honestly meant to be on-the-ball this month; really. But once again, life happened, and as is my wont I tend to be secretive, when I most likely shouldn't be. Blame it on Asperger syndrome, being an only child, hating most of the human race, being shy, having low self-esteem, high self-esteen or knowing that interaction with most of the hoi-polloi ends in tears, regret, shattered dreams and on occasion, spilt blood; not mine, but theirs and one begins to understand why I am rather comfortable with my own company and ill at ease with people I do not know. 

Thanks to Mr. Jesse Libecap and theworld4realz.com and the entire Roo family for my wake-up call today!

So, what does this have to do with missing my #IWSG check in? JC had to be put into the hospital again, and this time it was for his heart. What should have been done months ago, and was ignored by his primary care physician, finally caught up to him. It was discovered by his Gastroenterologist, who flat-out told him that he would not perform and endoscopy on him until his heart issue had cleared up. My railing at JC over the phone whilst in the G.E. doctor's office did nothing, because he is a stubborn man. Alex's hollering did nothing. So, we let him come home. This was February 24, 2014.

We finally got him to the hospital on February 26, 2014, when I refused to speak to him for 2 days. I turned my back. Every other gambit had failed, but this. JC has had little love or interaction in his life, but I knew this was one thing he could not bear. I stopped interacting with him at all. He would walk into a room; I would walk out. It tore me up inside, and yes, it was cruel, but it worked. He gave in and went to the hospital. Alex and I visited him and made him laugh; JC and I are never angry with one another for long; there is too much love and we have cared for one another through so much, but I am not ready to let him go. As I told him, "I'm not through making you miserable in my attempts to make you experience happiness!"

The amazing thing is, the human body is hard to kill. The heart catheterization did not have the desired results, so for now, the doctors are using a combination of medicines to break up the calcified stent and the surrounding plaque. If this does not work, then, they will be forced to do a surgical bypass. Good thing I remembered all of that crap from the good doctors at the University of Michigan hospital, almost 40 years ago. 

JC seems to have weathered it well, better than his princess of a cat, Mama, and myself. Mama, of course looked for him constantly, and with him gone, she was forced by me to remain inside the entire time. No half-ajar doors, where she has the run of in-and-out; it is far too dangerous a neighborhood, with me here by myself to leave any door open. So, for about five days, I chased her around, with a spray bottle and picked up the stuff she knocked down. I didn't sleep well, and wouldn't have anyway, with JC gone. My Parkinsonism, requires lots and lots of sleep, and when I don't get it, I find that the Primodone, while helpful, still leaves me fatigued. The muscles on the right side of my body seem to have been weakened and my right eye-lid starts to droop. A lovely sight, I'm sure. 

Before my 2nd eye surgery, I could sorta do this. If this came in blue, I'd totally own it.

So, after JC was home, and we had settled in, I took off up to our favorite Sweetbay/WinnDixie to get his medicines. In spite of what I said, I am amazingly strong and a good 2-mile walk was what I needed to blow out some of the tension and anxiety. The muggers have learned to leave me alone after their last botched attempt, so I am safe. I grabbed the meds and a few items and stuffed them into my backpack in the front of the store.

Whilst doing so, I knocked over this poor gent's bike with my cane. I felt terrible and hoped I hadn't hurt it. I was trying to pick it up and I heard "Hey! That's my bike! Don't be takin' my stuff!" I whirled around and said, "I'm so sorry mister! I knocked it down! I hope I didn't hurt it!" He saw my cane and pack and bags, and asked "Could you wait here while I get my stuff?" I said "Sure! I'd be happy to!" He went back inside and got his things and came back, saying "Lawdy, lawdy, they put the grapes on the bottom, then the eggs and the canned goods on top!" He got it all arranged, as I was arranging my stuff.

Where I live, the bicycle is the primo method of transportation, unless you're a drug dealer or a pimp. The gent's bike didn't have quite this much stuff, but he had several 6-packs of water, a dozen eggs, grapes and canned goods on his handlebars. I've seen some contraptions in my time, running up and down Nebraska Ave., 33602, 33605, and some really, really fine looking rolling iron that is not owned by the upstanding citizens or V. M. Ybor.

Then he looked at me and said, "Can I help you to your car?" Then, he looked again, at my cane and glasses, and said, "Oh." This isn't the first time I've been asked this. "Nah, I'm taking the bus," I said. "Okay, well have a great day, and thanks!" He started to peddle away, and stopped and started laughing. "I forgot to unlock my bike!" I looked at him. "I have that effect on people. I sow confusion, wherever I go. It's my confuse-a-what™ and I'm really good at it." He said, "I can see that. Goodbye" Off he went.

I just made it to my bus and got home. I showed JC all of the items that he could make for himself that were easily fixed and heart-healthy. I gave him his meds and realized that I was so tired I could hardly move. Alex and I had made egg salad with 35 eggs that the church had provided on Sunday, so I had a sandwich and laid down for a nap at 3:30 pm on Wednesday, March 5, 2014. I woke up, today, at 2:10 pm. Yep, I was tired and that was some nap. JC is comfortable and seems willing to do what the doctors are asking of him; I hope he complies. Only he can do that; I am the most compliant patient on earth. I am non-compliant in every other aspect of my life; and oh yes, I do challenge my doctors. But, being compliant and going along and trusting everyone, got me to this point where I have nothing to retire on; after helping husbands get degrees and all. You hear me, Lithia? I will outlive JC; my health is much better now than it was 25 years ago, but my attitude is much, much worse in regards to "letting things go". I will fight for JC and I will fight for myself, as well.

A reminder! Theme Reveal for the A-to-Z Blogging Challenge is March 21, 2014. The Sign up is here. I am part of #teamDamyanti and our goal is to assist you in choosing a "theme" for your A-to-Z Challenge, 2014!

A To Z Challenge Theme Reveal Blogfest #teamDamyanti

             Badge Courtesy of: Samantha Geary-Jones @ writerlysam.wrodpress.com                                                                           

 

I know, I know. It's not #ROW80 and it's not my usual ravings about stupid stuff that goes on here in da 'hood. It's something different; hopefully something with a little class! Even though it's still winter and the Olympics are roaring along in Sochi and I had a 232-page post (just kidding) prepared about life in Russia, that will just have to wait. Something much, much more important is taking place!

Today is the day we announce the Theme Reveal of the AtoZ Challenge that occurs each April. The theme part of the challenge is the brain-child of Mina Lobo who participates each year. Last year was the first year I participated and I enjoyed it so much that when one of the established co-hosts was looking for volunteer-minions I jumped into the breach!

I'm proud to be a member of Damyanti's team and you can find us on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/atozchallenge or on Twitter with hashtags #teamDamyanti and #A2ZReveal. 

Be sure and check out the blogs of my fellow minions and my fabulous co-host Damyanti from her main page! If you have any questions or need help cooking up a theme, you can contact any one of us, or be sure and come to me! I am first-rate at whipping up a big batch of confusion. Some of you may remember that I followed myself last year on my own blog, trying to answer one of my commentators.

That was probably the least idiotic thing I did in 2013. But, I digress. The important thing is to join the Challenge at the A-to-Z for 2014 and pick a theme! Write about cats, or cupcakes as my co-minion Csenge did one year. Or not! Write about the letter C, like my friend Gina Valley did, when she couldn't remember the alphabet! I told her the funniest thing I ever saw was the drunk lady on "World's Dumbest Partiers" who sang the Alphabet Song at karaoke, which in itself is pretty stupid, and couldn't get past the letter "A" even when another drunk tried to help her. Hysteria and apoplexy followed, which really helped my parkinsonism! I almost had a stroke and a hernia! Just kidding. 

Anyway, you get the idea. Come on and join in the fun. You don't have to write War and Peace. You can write haiku if it suits u. . . That's bad, even for me. Well, I've been up way too long and it's time to get some sleep. Come and write. Come and read. Come and read and write, but sign up, first, here. You'll get a nifty badge at the end of the Challenge for finishing and feel good about yourself. Trust me.

My fellow minions are: Samantha Geary-Jones, Vidya Sury (who has 2 blogs) Anna Tan, Giulie Castillo-Oriard, Jemima Pett, and our own SteamPunk lady, Csenge Zalka (who also has two blogs!) Along with our intrepid leader, Damyanti, we hope to provide seekers with the very best, or at least non-mediocre ideas for themes, so stop by if you're in a quandary and need some inspiration! And sign up!