Vuja De
Vuja De
May 11, 2024
The sun set slowly as the restaurant began illuminating the tables on the back deck with strings of old looking incandescent bulbs and table top candles. The ambience was purposeful promoting both proposals and disappointments.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
I knew this was not the last time I would hear her ask.
“You creep! I thought you were special. You men are all alike. All you want is sex! No way would I consent to what you want.”
I hit the reset again.
The sun set slowly as the restaurant began illuminating the tables on the back deck with strings of old looking incandescent bulbs and table top candles. The ambience was purposeful promoting both proposals and disappointments.
“Anthony, the answer is no! Just get your mind out of the gutter and grow up.”
The sun set slowly as the restaurant began illuminating the tables on the back deck with strings of old looking incandescent bulbs and table top candles. The ambience was purposeful promoting both proposals and disappointments.
She thought about my proposal while sipping Merlot. She found it somewhat intriguing and wanted to know specifics. “I think I’m in, but what if she changes her mind?”, pondering both my boldness and the possibilities for future proposals.
If you roll a handful dice, there exists a probability that each die will land on the same number. The probability is small, but the possibility does exist.
No Tan Lines
No Tan Lines
May 10, 2024
For Ava
I went to the beach today
My bikini stayed home
I was feeling daring
The men on the beach were feeling uncomfortable
Not because of what I gave them to see
But, because of what they gave me hoping I wouldn't see
I was confident in my own skin
Others, not so much
A few of the vacationers approached
Each with a myriad of various offers
Some seemed intriguing
Most were simply disingenuous
A few piqued my curiosity
One piqued as well as peaked
I asked him when in Rome
He disrobed as the Romans would
My beach umbrella was built for a singular occupant
My "guest" soon required its protection
Either I shrink the boardroom
Or I disband the meeting
I opted for the former
Closing the gap
Between obstacles hindering closure
And obstacles advancing closure
My sunburn was well earned that day
Extending from pole to pole
His sunburn exacted a hefty price
Extending from pole to the same pole
Tenderness became our new norm
Requiring all contacts by permission only
With permit fees filed in triplicate
And lotion in quantities both copious and abundant
Further forays back to the beach seem unnecessary
However, I still relive that outing
Within the confines of my secluded property
I ask for no more than is asked of me
Or in most cases begged
Being so comfortable definitely has its advantages
Mainly, more than social intercourse
And no tan lines
I miss Karen Carpenter
I miss Karen Carpenter
May 08, 2024
I miss Karen Carpenter. Not because today is an anniversary. Not because I am making a statement. I miss Karen Carpenter because of that voice.
It was perfect.
The songs were perfect.
And they came at the right time.
Nestled between the psychedelics of the late 60's and Disco of the late 70's were the Carpenters. It was indeed a simpler time made even simpler with lyrics you could understand, melodies you could learn, and songs you could sing to.
Karen's voice resonates in my mind from this time period as well as today. I hear those songs and I am swept away to a time when worries were few, politics did not interfere in every aspect of life, and people seemed less hurried.
Take time when you are troubled to listen to, "Rainy Days and Mondays", "Close to You". "I Need to Be in Love", "I Won't Last a Day Without You", and "We've Only Just Begun." Wonder why you haven't done this before. Listen to her voice. Then go to the internet and find others who try to do the songs justice.
You always go back to the best.
I choose this picture of her from the hundreds available, not to emphasize how she died, but what she did when she lived. Karen was a mixture of many things, but that voice, much like the cream, always rises to the top.
If you do not follow what I am saying, listen to, "Yesterday Once More." Ask someone if this was a part of their life. Then wonder if it should be part of yours.
It
It
May 07, 2024
I found something worth finding
Something I have little use for it
Others may politely disagree
One man’s trash is the adage
But this treasure belongs to another
It sits quietly upon my desk
Catching the light of the morning sun
The words, “scintillating” and “iridescent”
Come to mind
As I become transfixed in its aura
My cat discovers this treasure
And assumes it is food
Then assumes it is a toy
Finally assuming that
It is a good time for a nap
If pressed, I would testify
It emits a low frequency hum
Barely audible to humans
But tantalizing
To canines in proximity
The approaching moonlight
Gives it a spiritual glow
As if it were supernatural in origin
Perhaps made of “Star Stuff”
Pronounced best with a Sagan accent
I am reminded of those long ago
Who began quests of epic proportions
To return such an artifact
To its place of origin
Assuaging the Gods that misplaced it
But,
It remains on my desktop
An artifact of lackluster curiosity
Maybe someone will come looking
Maybe it already is looking
She Made a Suggestion
She Made a Suggestion
May 07, 2024
With the death of the Captain (heart attack), I am in command. To operate the ship with two command officers, I field promoted the only remaining crew member, Lieutenant Robinson, to Lieutenant Commander.
The orbiter has supplies for a crew of twelve for nearly a year. Now, for a crew of two, we have the option of awaiting a rescue in four years. Despite the elevated levels of heat due to our proximity to the star, I give the order to wait.
Dawn (Lt. Commander Robinson) makes the suggestion that uniform clothing should be optional. The atmospheric controls do not need to be taxed until they are repaired. Despite my required adherence to regulations, I am in agreement to her suggestion.
Within minutes, neither of us wears anything. Dawn finds my proximity to her stimulating. She openly tells me so. I find it becoming difficult to disagree with her logic.
I blush as I find the feeling is mutual.
When I awaken, Lt. Commander Robinson informs me of a radiation leak. We are confined to sickbay in quarantine. She has employed auto-drones to stabilize the situation and move us away from the danger. We are to spend the next 48 hours in an area built for one person.
She insists I call her Dawn, for I am under her care. I, once again, ask that she refers to me as Melissa, for I am under her spell. My sentence has no justification from my command authority. Her lips brushing against my lips have no justification from her Doctor-Patient level of care. I am throwing caution to the wind enjoying what most could only dream of. Dawn encourages and then responds to my touch. I am similarly attracted by her boldness.
There is no night, no evening, no morning to which the two of us may awaken. I find her arms holding me as I wish to be held, warm, and safe from harm. She nudges me to activate the habitat computer and urges me to cooperate with the survival acrobatics program designed for one, currently operating for two. Her whisper includes the phrase, “Captain, you might like it.”
I find it difficult to exit the quarantine chamber. The auto-drone performed as programmed although the record logs do not indicate excessively high radiation levels warranting quarantine. I have managed to reduce the ambient temperature only to return it to its previous elevated levels.
Dawn made that suggestion also.
For the next three years, the Lt. Commander made a number of suggestions.
I could not find a reason not to listen to any one of them.
Sent a Message
Sent a Message
May 05, 2024
“How many people do you wish to kill?”
Such a simple question bantered about without reservation.
“At a minimum, 20 million, but no more than 30 million. I need to send a message without depleting future slave stocks.”
The technicians made their calculations, adjusting their prices accordingly.
“The system has 9 planets. Three are inhabitable. Do you have any reservations about destroying the ecosystem of one or more of these?”
“I am willing to sacrifice either the second or third planet in the system, but not both.”
The merchant, once again, consulted with his techs.
“Is there a specific time frame you are adhering to? Either for destruction or recovery?”
The grieved warlord answered in the affirmative. “I had not given much thought to recovery. However, I want the destruction to be effective. Once again, I wish to send a message.”
How he said the word, effective, sent shivers down my spine. For the corporate technicians, no such physiological response was noticed.
“Given your time table and desire to conserve productive feedstocks, I would suggest a strategic insertion of a high density projectile.”
“So you wish to strike a planet with a large mass?”
“Not exactly. We suggest using a 1000 cubic centimeter mass of a neutron star to slowly pass in close proximity to the planet of your choice. Its gravity will pull the planet out of its stable orbit. Where the planet finally resides will be directly proportional to the time it remains close to our projectile.”
“Could you pull a planet away from a star so it freezes?”
“Yes.”
“Could you return it once everyone has died?”
“For a price, yes.”
For the second planet of the Tisa system, life would end that day. Its oceans quickly froze leaving all population centers to vanish.
The Warlord had indeed sent his message.
As a resident of Tisa-3, I would send my message.
For the technicians already took my payment and details.
Mellifluous
Mellifluous
May 05, 2024
Such was her place in life
An attack by presence alone
One could hold a line of discontent
And then be riveted to the thought
That she was now in close proximity
Discordant thoughts seemed to vanish
As easily as they first appeared
She knew the power she held
Yet wielded it sparingly
Preserving its intensity forever
She acquired a collection of informal invitations
To soirees not requiring accent marks
Few could be sure of her arrival
Even she gave no confirmation
Serendipity was her middle name
Her attire spawned new fashion trends
Not from what she wore
But how she wore it
Her pronunciation of old words
Invoked similar responses
She was neither famous
For being famous
Nor famous
For achievements yet disclosed
She was as she was
And what she was was pleasant
Pleasant when close
More pleasant when closer
She was the catalyst in which delight
Surfaced betwixt despair and depressed
But she remained only in the
Briefest of moments
A will-o-the-wisp of memory
Held by gossamer threads of hope
And then she was forever gone
Ephemera
Ephemera
May 03, 2024
Robert and Lisa exchanged vows this morning.
By now, the reader understands where the story is going.
The next pages could divulge a motive for transgressions past and present.
But, the next pages are simply superfluous.
The night fell with ink signatures on an annulment,
Barely older than the previous ones on the license.