A Love Letter

Dearest Love,

 I look forward to seeing you every night, and I ache the whole day while we are apart. I know sometimes my absences are too long, our times together too brief; know that it is not you that I am neglecting but, my own needs. That time we are apart is an eternity. You are always there for me, no matter the aggravations or trials of my day. You support me in my times of need, wrap yourself around me, and give me a place to lay my weary head. Where it possible I would dress you in the finest of silks and take everywhere about town with me.Though there may have been others, it is in your embrace I want to spend the rest of my life.

My dearest bed, it is you I love. The creak of your mattress springs are alike a welcoming sigh of contentment. The worn, faded blankets that cover you, surround me in the warmest embraces. I love you madly and I love you deeply with a passion that only the truly sleep deprived will ever know.

Yours with greatest longing,


The Morning Coffee Comes Late Today

The morning coffee comes late today,
Gone are dregs from night before.
The child awoke in sluggish fasion,
Two bowls of cereal and asks for more.

The morning coffee comes late today,
Kid to dress and bag to pack.
Out of time and out the door,
Sadly it is the caffeine I lack.

The morning coffee comes late today.
We hurry our way down the street.
To a morning finess group,
Cause she’s got some friends to meet.

The morning coffee comes late today,
Back home still no time to brew.
I plot my errands on city bus,
Oh there’s just to much shit to do.

The morning coffee comes late today,
Book store trip, then a groceries buy.
I’ve lost all patience with mankind,
And just then bagel shop I spy.

The morning coffee comes late today,
The line is long I’ll have to say.
Place the order,
The five bucks I pay.

The morning coffee comes late today,
Cardboard cup contains house blend.
I sit and sip,
My shakes now end.

Happy Monday!


My Stalker

I don’t want to alarm anyone or, freak you out but I am fairly certain that I have a stalker.

Well stalkers really, maybe.

See there’s two of them, sort of. I wasn’t sure at first but, every where I go they are there. I’ve noticed them at the supermarket, at department stores, sometimes at restaurants. I’ve even caught them hovering around at work once or twice. They obviously have been watching me for sometime, they know my schedule and my preferred travel routes. Sometimes, when I go places, instead of simply following me they are already there, just waiting for me when I arrive.

I’m not paranoid. It’s not just a coincidence. Frankly readers, I am starting to get more than a bit worried.

I know it sounds crazy.

Seriously, I think I am being followed by Seals and Crofts.

You'd be a little creeped out too if you knew these guys were watching you.

You’d be a little creeped out too if you knew these guys were watching you.

Why would this seventies soft rock duo and smooth music pioneers go to such lengths to shadow my every move? Well… to be honest I am not sure.

I can, however be sure that everywhere I go I will be haunted by the gentle melodies of their 1972 pop hit Summer Breeze.


Has anyone else noticed themselves being mysteriously followed by some song or artist?

Image of Seals and Crofts from Wikimedia Commons
 and is in the public domain.

An Open Letter to the Goblins


Dear Goblins,

Why didn’t you kidnap me as a child? What? I wasn’t good enough for you? Or is that bad enough? Honesty I’m a bit confused on that bit. Anyway, I mean I don’t think I would have enjoyed being eaten very much, but there were other possibilities.

You could have put me to work in your mines and factories. Not that I agree with forced labor practices, but at least there might be the possibility of social reform. Even us humans got rid of slavery. Well mostly. It only took us a few thousand years. We might have begun something historic there.

Better yet, you could have raised me as one of your own. I might have made a great goblin. Now we’ll never know. It could have led to a life of adventure as I struggled to find my true identity in a world where I don’t fit in. Oh wait, that was my teens anyway. And probably most of my twenties.

Also if movies from the eighties are right (and when have you known them not to be) your king is David Bowie. Seriously, David FREAKIN Bowie! How cool would that be? To have David FREAKIN Bowie as you sovereign? I know, pretty rad huh.

I just wanted you to know that I feel we both missed a great opportunity.

Warmest Regards,

P.S.: You didn’t by any chance swap my daughter out at birth did you? Because that would explain a lot.

Visits From Nowhere

I was going through my routines this night
when as from the thinnest air,
I felt a touch that was so slight.
Might it be that someone’s there?

A brief interest seen for my endeavor
and how shallow  it does always seem,
that after this our ties you’ll sever.
It was just briefly we have shared the theme.

I labored and loved and this I showed,
to receive a view from you and others.
In return, being fairly owed,
I’ll  read your ravings about Big Brother.

In the end I’ll be alone,
Despite my writing this silly poem.

Meh, I could do better.

Meh, I could do better.

 This butchery of an art form presented in response to a Weekly Challenge.
Typing chimpanzee image from Wikimedia Commons and is public domain

It’s Called a Purse!

A lot of men, and a small number of women, I know get a bit hung up if you define any part of there style or accessories with what is perceived as a feminine term. In fact if you use the word accesory towards any of some men’s possesions your already hitting a sore spot. Specifically now I want to discuss something I feel very strongly about.

I don’t care who you are or how masculine your image is. If you have a bag slung on your shoulder it’s a purse. It could be made from the skin of an alligator you slew with nothing but your bare hands and a fountain pen, and have six-inch steel spikes protruding from it. It’s a freaking purse. Nothing to be ashamed of, lots of men carry purses these days, not many of them are willing to admit that their, shoulder bag/ briefcase/ satchel/ messenger bag/ rucksack/ whatever they want to call it, is in fact a purse, but they’re carrying one.

It’s fine, there is no judgement here. Acknowledging your love of purses is the first step.

I have a purse. I have pretty much owned at least one purse at any given time for the past, oh I don’t know, twenty-five years or so. I have even, once, sewn my own purse together out of an old pair of corduroy pants. Quite often I have found myself to be the owner of multiple purses at once, various shapes, sizes and colors of purses, though usually I opt for something roomy, with lots of compartments for organizing my gear. As a matter of preference I usually opt for a dark, solid colored purse. black is almost always a good choice, it matches nearly everything and most stains aren’t very noticeable.

Speaking of stains, I like purses that are easy to keep clean. Canvas or nylon are always good for that and are quite durable to boot. I’ve owned a few leather purses in my day and once they get stained, or worse torn or punctured, you might as well just throw them out at that point. Now vinyl, vinyl is a bit better than leather. Same sexy feeling to the word, nice glossy look, much easier to clean; vinyl is still a pain in the ass to mend, but at least you know nothing had to be slaughtered for its manufacture when it finally comes time to give it the old heave-ho. For what it’s worth I think canvas is the best way to go. Natural fiber, durable, easy to clean, easy to dye so it is available in a wide variety of colors, very easy to waterproof.

Yes canvas makes for the best purses, ready for whatever adventures your life leads you on.

I think one of the primary benefits of accepting purse ownership is it opens up the possibilities of shopping for purses. It is a fun activity and can give you something to do without actually spending any money. After all it’s free as long as your just looking, right? Thrift stores are the best places to look for good purses. The best ones are almost always buried  under a pile of bags, and assorted pieces of luggage somewhere between the shoes and the random pieces of sporting goods.

Now gentlemen, lean in for this one…

This gives you something to do when your wife, and/ or girlfriend takes you out shopping with them but, they don’t want you following them around the store with a bored expression on your face. Having something to occupy yourself while they browse for a new top or try on some jeans, will do far more to endear you to them than any amount of mindless opinions about which color dress you like better; chances are they’re just asking so you don’t feel like they are ignoring you.

I can hardly think of a better way to carry the volume of equipment that one might need on any given day. Quite frankly they don’t make pants big enough for all of the things we tote around with us these days. Fish around in there what do you find? Wallet… keys… pens, pencils, notepad. phone, sunglasses checkbook; heaven for bid perhaps some printed reading material? What’s the difference, what does it take to make it a purse? Do you need to add lipstick, a compact, and a brush before you draw the distinction?

There is no shame in calling your purse a purse. That’s what it is, and no amount of semantics is going to change that fact. So, just be proud, and be confident in who you are.

Walk softly and carry a big purse.

This bit of silliness was inspired by a Weekly Challenge.