20060228-Milk Box
Tue, 28 Feb 2006 at 21:30:51 pm | In prose | Comments OffTags: blogging, food, health, humor, philosophy
I’m stuck in a rut and living this flat-lining existence of comfort and bliss with no worry or care in the world. I’m stuck in a writer’s block that creeps upon me now as I try fruitlessly to think of useful words to describe the event. I’m stuck in a dream world that seems too good to be true and that nothing could get any better than being here alone with my thoughts and by me.
Honestly, I could do myself a ‘real’ favor and go outside to the ‘real’ world and meet other people with ‘real’ experiences of riding the peaks and troughs that seem similar to ripples created by a pebble dropped into a pond. But first I must finish my soy milk. (Personally, I do not like the unsweetened version because the nasty taste reminds me of Play-Doh).
I drink my soy milk diluted with bottled water for ease of swallowing. This should provide my mind the nourishment it needs to think better. My hope, furthermore, is for a clearer perception of where I’m going with this blog. Ah! I feel the half fullness of my stomach (or half empty glass for the pessimists out there) of soy milk permeating into the creative portion of my being.
Yum! There we go-another swallow of this slightly sweetened formula that reminds me of mother’s milk. I feel like a baby once again thinking about those younger years of being pampered by my mommy and powered by my daddy. Oh, swallowing is only for food and liquid, right? And that’s how I should keep my blog: nice and clean like a baby’s bottom.
Another swig of this stuff and I’m almost to the bottom of the glass. I hope I have enough space in my stomach to keep the flow of words going in this blog. My mind is now in creative thinking mode. The boost from this liquid proves to be helpful for me.
And now I have a blog in mind since my original topic seemed to have changed after finishing the foodstuff. For whatever reason, I now see an avenue on better days. All this introverted activity has gotten me nowhere except to prove to myself that I may have a creative edge in writing. I guess practice is all I needed.
I wonder if being indoors is paradise all the same with me and no one else and with the scary prospect of no parole (a pun, please). This sounds like a normal deal for any secure minded individual to stay locked up in a box containing other boxes to provide a lifetime of enjoyment.
My favorite boxes are the musical ones that hold my jewelries and silent ones that hold smaller trinkets. There are my drawers (of white with gold-colored trimmed furniture that my parent bought for me as a child) for keepsakes and other articles of clothing.
My computers (one primary and the other a laptop) provide very informative data when I could log online with my freaking inexpensive, dial-up service, which seemed to have disconnected earlier tonight and a few weeks ago.
In my closet, there are many old types of clothing on old hangers and other containers of old stuffed animal toys and object of arts that Brat (with an ‘old soul’ of Atlantean wisdom) has gifted me over the years.
I used to listen to my stereo system, which I moved downstairs to replace Paw’s larger stereo system, which he bought from Okinawa, Japan back in 1976 and which has been recently donated to a local charity.
I used to watch televised programming, which did nothing but hook me into this humorous drooling stupor of watching only the best and informative truths provided to ~sheeple~.
I read books, articles online and periodicals once handled by patients waiting in doctor’s offices. I find that reading is a good source of information because the readers create the images and sounds in their own minds.
The greatest box that one could ever have is a beautiful mind. The contents of one’s mind are infinite and the possibility to create a new world by composing my blog is like the milk box and its liquid contents. Sharing my blog to my readers is as good as drinking a tall glass of soy milk. Cheers.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Tuesday February 28, 2006 – 09:30pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
20060227-Gray There
Mon, 27 Feb 2006 at 19:35:21 pm | In verse | Comments OffTags: extraterrestrials, health, humor, weather
I see gray clouds up above yesterday and the whole of today. It’s 07:33PM.
The cats and dogs are pouring their tears as heavily upon rooftops, treetops and mop tops of old hairstyles and everywhere the sounds of washing cars establishments beating on windshields wiping faster than flags waving for Indy cars towards the finish line.
There is freedom from the transmission devices digging into skin of scalp and hiding where only daredevils roam freely in circles. Pluck!
The feeling becomes soothing and sleepy in my hands; the root herewith being less itchy and hairy in my palms as I hold to light shining and shiny yet through to show lifelessness, stillness and laughing at the strand.
I am free and am no longer slave to wandering nails etching railroad tracks to unknown forestation thick and deep. Dark are the colors above as I sleep while it makes noise of squealing delights to once existence on top.
Now, no longer buzzing in annoyance but in garbage among balls matted or in water flushed towards birthing into ocean wide and blue, deeper until returning with others for the attack and more and more to roam in circles.
Mirror, mirror where are they? They they are but not in hay as yellow. But in reflections beyond blurry eyesight did I see. Hurry, more are more coming forward with the urge to raise sheaves and harvest that gray there.
Over there! It’s lost and cannot be found. I miss again from lack of strength to raise arms higher. I see it! Pluck!
There is relief at last and more to go. I’m afraid where only gray hairs grow.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Monday February 27, 2006 – 07:35pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
20060227-Whatever Plays
Mon, 27 Feb 2006 at 12:31:10 pm | In prose | Comments OffTags: blogging, images, music
I loved the song `Que sera, sera. What will be, will be…` and grew up with other music to the lyrics of `the hills are alive with music…` and `you make me happy when skies are gray…` I enjoy blogging my articles here at Yahoo! 360. But I love music more.
My bio-units thought I had potential in the musical arena. Having a very small, toy sized piano to tinker the tune of `Mary Had a Little Lamb` inspired and raised hope in my bio-units that I had some musical talent.
So the three of us went to the local mall in Virginia and looked for a real piano. I was only, say, four years old and didn`t reach the height of the legs of an upright piano. I ran to and fro amongst the various kinds that this store had to sell and thought it was another day to go shopping for toys.
I distinctly remembered, `I want this one`. The one with the prettiest scroll work on the wooden legs was what I got-an upright Kimball brand piano. To this day, I still have the Kimball in our living room and will post a picture of it when chance allows after work.
My photo showing my upright Kimball piano and bench.
My bio-units later gave me a set of piano books totaling eighteen. These are maroon colored and bound in leather and they have nice gold-colored, foil-lined paper and a gold-colored relief showing my full name on the front cover. I still have these books and the records that went along with the books. The records are still in mint conditions too.
During my childhood, I grew up on the military housings. The bugle tune of `The Reveille` would echo in the background every morning. And when that dreaded day of every week came for the piano teacher to come into our house, I`d feign sickness or pretended to not wake up from sleep.
I didn`t like having piano teachers at home. I thought I was better than anyone of them because of my pride and high ego. I learned harder pieces by sight later on in life based on the basics I learned from past teachers and by self-instructions from one of the maroon colored books.
Piano recitals were fun but nerve racking. I remember having to hold my pee because we were not allowed to leave the recital hall until everyone was finished.
Some, like Brat a few years ago, play by ear. He didn`t have formal training like I did. But with his hidden talent, he managed to produce beautiful music and regurgitated the hardest piece that I had a hard time playing from memory! I am still jealous of Brat and will always be due to his being my other competitor for our bio-units love and affection. (Some people like me never could grow up).
My musical background has always been classical and Maw`s all time favorite genre of waltzes. Waltzes are easy to play with the three beats per measure. As long as the level is at least third grade, I could entertain people hours on end. I have in the past but would need the sheet music, however, please. Remember, my memory is not that good as Brat.
Those old-fart sounds got boring to me at times and I tried others popular music like jazz, easy listening and those love songs that would nowadays turn me green from memories of past dating experiences. Some music pieces are loud and fast and those kinds hurt my ears. My preferences have always been the quieter, peaceful and slower ones. Gosh, I feel like an old person.
I consider myself good enough to play my favorites like the soothing `Moonlight Sonata` (first and second; not the third-it`s too fast) and `Fur Elise` both by Beethoven and masterpieces that I cannot seem to remember right now.
Now, I hardly play my piano at home. The piano still in good condition, however, my fingers have taken a toll from freaking typing too much at work! And my sense of hearing has become more sensitive and cannot bang away as loudly on the keyboard as much as in the past.
I wished my fingers were faster and wider enough to barely accommodate an octave. Then maybe I could be a virtuoso playing in front people on the stage. Maybe, I could try playing the piano with my toes.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Monday February 27, 2006 – 12:31pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
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