Betrayed: By a Bitch with a Blade

Betrayed by the bitch who wanted my boyfriend

Betrayed by the bitch who went behind my back

Betrayed by the bitch who bedded my boyfriend

Betrayed by the bitch who wedded my boyfriend

{who became my ex}.

Betrayed by the bitch who done broke my heart

Her knife in my back twisting everlasting.

Betrayal done but still remain the scars.

Betrothed no more, divorce papers soon signed

Only one question to my Betrayer was there:

Ain’t karma a bitch.

daily prompt: betrayed

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Anchor’s my way, my boys!

Flash-fiction, flash-thought.

Promptly — Micro: means beer!

Craft beers. The golden goods churned out by microbreweries. From pilsners to porters and all between, good or bad, there’s something magical in brews crafted by heart and hand that machines at the Big Beermakers cannot replicate or achieve.

Microwbrews are: Mojo in a Bottle.

Not gonna delve into critical thought or reviews of beers. Such analyses overfloweth online. Instead, I wish to pay my respects to my very personal favorite:

Anchor Steam

1849. The rich history of Anchor Brewing can be traced all the way back to the California Gold Rush, when German brewer Gottlieb Brekle arrived in San Francisco with his family.

A direct quote from its site; more here.

Anchor Steam was way ahead of its time. It created craft before craft became common and, I daresay despairingly, trendy.

My own roots with Anchor Steam date way back — some 30-40 years — in a love affair everlasting.

Through the decades, I’ve drunk oodles and oodles of beers, ranging from marvelous microbrews to the swill that is Budweiser.

Ultimately, over time, my heart always takes me back to:

Anchor Steam

anchorsteamlabel

 (the original, though seasonals and new arrivals are worthy as well)

Mmmmm-mmmmm mmmmmmm-mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmm.

It’s sheer coincidence that well-known song “I Left My Heart in San Francisco”* pairs with the City that is home to the one brew that has my heart.

*SF – where I lived looooooooong ago before it and California went to total shit

Were I on Death Row — the chance of which is nil, just illustrating — I’d request a bottle of Anchor Steam with my last meal.

(Also on the list: hirame (halibut) sushi – or, if unavailable, cooked — a bowl of Japanese rice with a raw egg and seaweed, spinach, a pig-in-blanket (weiner wrapped in Pillsbury crescent) with mustard and ice cream)

On second thought, prison wouldn’t allow beer in the bottle due to the glass. In special circumstances, a Dixie paper cup’ll do.

On my deathbed, ditto the drink.

Anchor SteamLifting free off this planet with Anchor Steam on my tongue … and a naval lyric in my Piscean heart … perfect!  … I can see and hear(t) it all now!

Anchors aweigh, my boys,

Anchors aweigh

Farewell to foreign shores,

We sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay.

Through our last night ashore,

Drink to the foam,

Until we meet once more.

Here’s wishing you a happy voyage home.

 

daily prompt: micro

Es ist fremd! Or is it?

Foreign.

It’s foreign! Es ist fremd, in German.

This prompt. So rich, so inviting, so. very. up. the. alley for this girl who lives, breathes and is born for other cultures. The true Global Chick long before that phrase and concept became trendy and diluted by popularism.

Soooo my topic: Foreign.

But: I’m going to back away from the obvious for brevity’s sake.

Keep it simple. Sweet. To the point. Off-the-cuff first response.

Foreign.

Learning a foreign language. I’ve studied five to some degree or another.

Spanish. Booooooring. Oh so very boring.

French. Hated hated hated the sounds. One semester was plenty enough.

Italian. BEAUTIFUL.

German. Ja! Ja! Ja!

Japanese (written and spoken). Hardest of all — and this from someone who studied German, itself no cakewalk, for five years!

What I remember most about my earliest studies of Japanese is too intimate, to private to reveal. Boudoir matters that are none of your damn business.

BUT! That’s partly why those first instructions in Japanese are still so damn memorable 30 years later.

Language learning in the classroom vs. boudoir.

Takeaway lesson: Whatever your native culture and tongue, foreign sheds its inherent “otherness,” obstacles and problematic communications when passion, connection and love come knocking.

それは本当です
That's so true.

 

daily prompt: foreign

The Talisman Talks

“Talisman, schmalisman!” she exclaimed.

Sailing into a hard-landing on the floor they went, the entire lot.

A crimson rabbit’s foot from her childhood.

A silver 4-leaf clover off the charm bracelet — a 15th-birthday present from her mother.

A pearly-white rock from a river’s shore during a walk.

Even the wallet-sized picture of Lakshimi, Hindu goddess of good fortune and wealth that she carried from slot machine to slot machine at the casino.

Heaved to the ground they all in a raging anguished “All crap! All bullshit! None of this crap works!”

She turned, glancing at the talismans lying near her feet. The smile of Lakshimi’s radiant face caught her eye. Remorse and guilt surged in Mandy.

Against her better judgement, she retrieved the photo that’d she herself had printed off the Internet with such care a year ago. The picture’s edges were softly worn from many times of being pocketed in her blue jeans or caressed during slot spins.

“Talisman, schmalisman!” she chuckled. “Like the sound of that. I’ll hafta write about that.”

She left the trio of Lucky Charms — or Not-So-Lucky Charms, they’d never brought her much in the way of wealthy gaming or jackpots  — on the faux-wood floor. Retrieved only the picture. Brushed Lakshimi’s gentle face with her thumb, then kissed it.

“I wonder if this is how apostles felt after dissing Jesus.”

Respectfully she set the 2X3 glossy print to a place of esteem: against a jar of flowers on the dresser.

“I can’t stop gambling,” she thought, gazing at the revered goddess.

“Or maybe I just don’t wanna. Or I’m not ready.”

Lakshimi’s beautiful smile didn’t waver.

“But if only,” she whispered to the saintly goddess, “if only you’d deliver me a jackpot, I’d stop. Just that, then no more gambling.”

The room was silent apart from the hum of the air purifier.

Mandy turned to go, then the weirdest thing.

“Wealth, abundance, good fortune are all around you. In life. In your breath.”

A voice?! Nah, the wind of the air purifier? Probably?

An alarmed Mandy zeroed in on the picture. Lakshimi’s smile — still as ever. It hadn’t cracked, wavered or shifted even a smidge.

“The talisman talks” — is all a spooked Mandy could mutter as she exited.

Only after she’d left her apartment did Lakshimi crack that smile frozen upon the photograph. A smile from ear to ear that positively glowed like Light itself.

Fact is: The talisman of wealth, abundance and good fortune doesn’t just talk but she shines.

And neither dime nor dollar was inserted into a slot game or spent in any fashion for that bliss, for the wealth that is wisdom, that is serenity.

lakshimi

daily prompt: talisman

Incubate: You Farmer in the Dell

Dark is the moon

Today’s new moon in Pisces 26 degrees

The dark of the new moon:

Time to plant seeds

To cultivate your own Farmer in the Dell.

So don your metaphorical denim overalls

Grab the spade, the grungy leather work gloves

the watering can and packet of seeds

Not off the shelves of Home Depot

Rather the seeds of your desires, wishes and dreams

that speak to you right now: this 17th of March 2018

Be the Farmer in the Dell

hand-turning the soil

clearing the weeds

sprinkle a seed, two or three

into the earthy bed

Cover, water and water some more

with thoughts positive and encouraging

“Oh seeds, I can’t wait to see you emerge!”

“You will be beautiful”

“You will be bright”

Sowed now in this darkest of night of the moon

The seeds

You incubate hidden from view

In a short time you shall break the soil

Blossom

Stretch for the sun

And shine

Seed your dream

In this lunar blackness

She awaits you

Tonight heigh ho the derry-o

You Farmer in the Dell

daily prompt: incubate

Jet engines got nuthin’ on Noise Polluters

Peace and quiet in nature.

Remember the days when you’d go on a hike or stroll in a park, in the hills, around a lake and contemplate? Destress? Simply: Breathe and Be.

Or simply enjoy the song of Mother Nature: her winds, her birdsong, her rustling of leaves and twigs by the scampering of unseen creatures?

Remember the days when Nature was our source of solace? Of Space? Of Solitude?

Those days are o-v-e-r.

To illustrate from only the most recent of experiences.

I park in the dirt lot near the trailhead.

Next to me a woman exits her car. Steps to the rear, lifts the hatch then barks: “WAIT!” {pause}

Two dogs come bounding out. One large one small. All super-excited and ramped-up about their impending walk.

Each dog’s leashed. The lady struggles to control their stir-crazy enthusiasm. Especially the dog’s who’s bouncing my direction. Fortunately she pulls him/her before I’m assaulted by an unfamiliar canine.

What’s remarkable in this otherwise un-newsworthy scene is:

She’s got her cell phone glued to her ear! Talking!

The entire time!

From when she exits the car to leashing and letting out and “controlling” rambunctious canines, she never sets the phone down. Never misses a beat of conversation.

Which, from what I overhear, without consent or desire, is typical drama-ridden world-revolving-around-me-nobody-else-exists-selfish BS.

She keeps on talking with phone propped by left shoulder against her ear through it all.

I stand waiting between the cars while she reins in her dogs so I can safely pass. I look directly at her. “Looks like the most important thing is to take care of the dogs” — or something to that effect.

Meaning: In the mayhem, your top responsibility is getting the dogs organized and under control in the presence of another human being (stranger).

Rude Lady with Unruly Dogs nods. Yet her actions speak differently. Being on her phone is priority.

Despite the fodder for an endless regurgitation of Shit Behavior by People on Phones, I give you this, the crux of the reason this bothers me so very much:

The lady didn’t shut the fuck up. Even in nature.

Every-fucking-where you go, there they are. Talking on phones. Despite signs that instruct otherwise. On their phones in the most inappropriate of places (i.e., bathroom stalls). In the most sacred of spaces and places.

But you know all this.

I go hiking to get away from people on phones.

Repeat: I go hiking to GET AWAY FROM PEOPLE ON THEIR FUCKING PHONES.

Respite. Rest. Relaxation.

How foolish am I?!?

Yet there I am — hardly for the first time, I’m sickened to say — seeking solitude and quietude that only Mother Nature can provide. Only to have it ruined, in this instance, by the Rude Lady with Unruly Dogs.

The face may change but the song stays the same.

There’s a very significant reason I need that walk in nature on this particular day. Won’t share why, only that it has to do with death.

That Rude Lady with Unruly Dogs and I are heading to the same trail.

I’m not about to endure her obnoxious Me-Me-Me when I need the space and silence — so. very. strongly.

So short of yanking her phone and stomping on it — better yet, smashing it with any of the innumerable large rocks yearning to be put to good use! — I do the only thing I can do legally:

I run.

(p.s. I’m not a runner, rather a swimmer.)

Over the rocks and through the woods to Mother Nature’s house I go.

I run as fast as my old little legs and worn New Balances and right ankle, still hurting from a recent severe sprain, would take me.

I run ’til my breathing labors as do ears for any sound of Rude Lady.

That’s one more thing that people on phones DON’T SEEM TO KNOW — or care about; they certainly don’t respect it:

Sounds are amplified in open space in nature … and amid hills and canyons and valleys, they bounce about. The echo effect.

I run run deep into the hills, stopping only when intuition tells me I’ve put significant distance between us.

Finally: peace.

I never see — rather hear from — Rude Lady with Unruly Dogs again. When I eventually return to my car, she’s gone.

Too bad, really. I was gonna write a note for her windshield. Off the cuff, something like:

“There are many people who come to Mother Nature for many reasons. They are troubled. They are hurting. They are happy. They are exercising. They enjoy beauty. Whatever the reason, they all have one thing in common: They seek the peace and solitude that only nature can provide.

“You — and people like you — destroy it with your yammering on your phones.

“Despite our objections, you  won’t be deterred from polluting public spaces with your incessant self-involved talking. So can you draw from any decency that may be left in you and leave us in peace in the great outdoors. Respect us. Respect Mother Nature.”

The roar of jet planes got nuthin’ on these Noise Polluters. Seriously.

To them, I’d love to shout SHUT UP! from the mountaintops.

But they won’t hear it over their own damn voices.

Even Mother Nature herself must be sobbing. Such reckless disrespect by so/too many who revere their cells more than her spacious skies.

So if even the hills and trails, mountains and valleys aren’t safe from the Noise Polluters, where’s left to go for nature’s serenity?

It’s come to this:

singlerowboat

my future home?

V is for Virgo — and vision boards

… because it is a new moon in Virgo … 28 degrees … technically at 1.30 am. Eastern time yesterday (Sept. 20) but new moon energies continue for about three days

… because new moons are a time to plant seeds, make wishes, envision desires and goals for the coming month {and thereabouts}

… because Virgo loves details! … order … organizing … making lists, if not actually then mentally

… because Virgo is a sign of healing and service and is an expert at cutting through the dross to reach the kernel of one’s truth and identify need

… because Virgo is uber-critical — to a fault — analytical — which can be perceived as cold, unemotional, overly rational – just-the-facts-ma’am

… because as far as new moons go, there’s possibly no better energy for defining personal desires, goals, needs … for essentially crafting a plan, inner road map …

or a vision board!

Everyone knows what a vision board is, no?

  • Get paper. Poster-size works well. Foam cores or poster papers with thickness are recommended since you’ll be gluing images and words.
  • Get materials. Magazines, printed matter. Thrift stores, libraries, freebies about town, hospitals, offices, stacks from friends/family, recycling bins. It’s amazing where you can source those throwaways! My YMCA, for example, gets a big variety of mags donated by members. Cool!
  • Get images off the Net. Before I begin vision boards, I often have themes in mind but lack the printed matter. For example, if I’m feelin’ waterfalls, I can’t count on local materials to provide options. The Net’s a GREAT source for what you can’t get your hands on.
  • Get scissors and glue. Experience teaches that sticky glue sticks provide less adhesion and workability than liquid glue with the precision tip. Glue sticks designed for mounting photos work great if you’re using photos you printed on photo paper off the Net.
  • Reflect. Envision. Dream!

Pore through your sources of images and words and cut out those that speak to you … that jiggle your heart … ignite a passion … or REMIND you of one long buried.

Only one stipulation with vision boards:

They speak to YOU — and FOR you.

The stuff that your parents or society or conventions tell you that you should be or should want or should have … that has no place on a vision board! Toss that stuff out with the scraps of paper from your cut-up magazines!

  • Play!

Take those images, pictures, words, letters that you cut out and play! Place them on your poster wherever feels right for you!

Some folks like tons of images and words overlapping.

Me, I like pictures and words set into their own spaces, singularly and independently. To each his own! Googling “vision boards” will produce a vast array of amazing examples and portrayals! And they’re so much fun to look at! The imagination knows no limits!

  • Creating a vision board is organic. Lively and prayerful. Sacred creativity. I often set the scene with candles, incense, music.

Vision boards can be done alone or in groups. Solo is my preference but there’s a lot to be said for a vision-boarding party! Women (I’ve yet to meet a male who does vision boards … not that they don’t exist!) bringing bunches of old magazines and supplies all gathered gettin’ all creative and havin’ fun.

Then when everyone’s done, everyone gathering in a circle and each woman taking her turn, holding up her board and sharing. It’s really special. Magical. Illuminating. Powerful.

  • Signing your board. Though not necessarily a common or oft-recommended practice,  it’s so important I feel. On the back I write a short prayer, a sacred message, and/or a symbol (i.e., the wiccan star) and the date.
  • Place the board where you can see it every day. This is key!

A vision board is a photograph of your consciousness. It is a living breathing creation. It is not to be shoved into a closet, folded and s;id under the bed!

Respect it. Gaze upon it. Glance at it as you pass through a room. Admire your work. Feed and nourish it with your attention. It’s like a plant. It needs you to water it! So take those moments every day to connect your heart and mind to your vision board!

  • Disposal. Now, I’ve done quite a lot of vision boards over time. I leave them up as long as they still resonate. When they no longer do, or it just feels time for a new one, I honor their passing.

Don’t simply toss it into the trash! You can burn it. Or soak it in water (a sink or tub) to unglue the images/words from their surface, then (and only then) everything can be tossed or recycled.

  • Begin anew upon another new moon.

One more thing on a personal note. My current living situation doesn’t lend itself to attaching things to walls … plus I’m rarely there.

My solution: I create mobile vision boards … in a spiral-bound sketch book! I have it open lying on the passenger seat in my car, where I spend a LOT of hours, particularly as a pizza-delivery driver! So my aspirations, goals, dreams travel with me — literally!

So that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it! You can too! All it takes is inspiring images … words … scissors and glue! And you! Creating … playing … envisioning … planting seeds on a new moon for harvesting … in their time — and yours!