A Year of Questions

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Where do butterflies go when Wind blusters and Snow flurries?

 How does Love see its Shadow?

  Who crowns Mother, reaching for Life?

   What is at the center of a Cackleberry?

    Why do Blossoms tickle your Sweet Spot?

     When was the last time you swam like Aquaman?

     When Sparklers burst and dance, do you say, “Ah”?

    Why is Sirius such a sweaty, oppressive tyrant?

   What falls in Harvest hues from the sky?

  Who is Boo, Cackle and friend Jack?

 How grateful can Tom really be?

Where does your little Starlight pay worship to the garish Sun?




~ Inspired by Calendar of Metaphor: Poetry Prompts at Poets&Writers 12.29.15

Pitch Perfect Perfection

I’m answering a bunch of questions that are supposed to make you fall in love with me. Be careful. This could be dangerous. After all, we know how adorable I already am.

We are on day four and here’s the question:

4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

My perfect day would start with a week of rest and relaxation: lots of sleep and naps and no voices, no questions, no cooking or laundry or anything remotely looking like responsibilities and no news. A week of completely nothing necessary. And after all of that, these three things still look good:

1. Sleeping without disturbance for 24 hours.
2. Reading without interruption for 24 hours.
3. Eating ice cream and key lime pie for 24 hours and the calories don’t count.

Then there’s this:

Part One

It would be sunny. The air would be clear, as if you’ve just cleaned your glasses of smudges you’ve gotten used to over several days and voila, sharp and crisp vision. There’d be a light breeze flowing consistently, enough that you’d feel it in your hair. It would be 74 degrees. There’d be no pesky bugs, but a variety of colorful butterflies and big fat bumble bees would be flittering around bright, blousy flowers along with iridescent hummingbirds.

I’d wake up, no alarm going off - just getting up when I feel like it - I’d stumble into the kitchen and someone would hand me a fresh hot cup of black coffee in my favorite mug. When I was seated and relaxed and immersed in my book, he’d bring me an ice cold bottle of plain seltzer.

He (could be a she but I’m not playing the he/she game) would say, “I thought you might like this. Go out on the porch, drink your coffee and read.”

There’d be no sounds except those natural ones previously mentioned. Forty-five minutes would pass and he would bring me another cup of coffee without saying a word. Part of my perfect day includes people not interrupting me while I am so obviously reading.

 
After I have been awake for about three hours, he would bring me breakfast which is two crepe filled with seedless, blackberry jam and whipped cream cheese, fresh pineapple chunks and a few pieces of perfectly crisp bacon. An extremely cold glass of Tang would not go amiss.

 
I’d need at least another hour following this for digestion. A perfect day involves no rushing and no questions of any sort and people doing things for me without asking what I want. I haven’t any idea what time it is because there’d be no clock watching either.

See, here’s the thing: I know people think it’s good to ask people what they want but when you ask me a question, I have to think of all possible outcomes, eventualities and all alternate histories before I can make a decision or give an answer. It’s exhausting and the reason why I usually say whatever you’re having or doing. And linear time perplexes me. Shoving myself into a clock regulated system makes my brain hurt. To me, time is like a big solid sphere that warps and moves. If I don’t pay attention, I often forget where exactly I am on the artificial time line of a day.

More tomorrow.

One Ringy Dingy

Lots of questions being answered over the next month. Go find out the whys and wherefores.

I hate phones. I always have.

They’re very intrusive. If I want to talk to you, I’d call you. Or better yet, I’d see you in person. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It means I don’t like phones. I’m not much of a chatter and I don’t like small talk. Plus, I need all of the sensory information you get from an in-person meeting. I need to see what you do with your eyes and how you move your body so I can read between the lines. Words and tone of voice alone can be very deceptive. Yeah, I’m always looking for lies.

I feel very disconnected when talking on the phone, almost like an out-of-body experience.

My mother used to talk for hours - like three hours in one sitting to just one person - and I couldn’t comprehend it even though I watched and heard it happening. What the hell could they talk about for three hours. It made my brain bleed. I sart to zone out after about four minutes. Just ask my daughter.

Phones are tools for a specific purpose. I have a question or a request, I call, I get my answer. Chow.

Utilitarian.

Really important conversations should not take place over the phone.

I think the first time I ever answered the phone was when I was about eight. I wasn’t supposed to answer the phone, but my mother was busy, so she told me to answer it. It was my Austrian uncle who told me (in German, of course and I’m not sure why that matters) to tell my mother that my great-grandfather was dead. From that point on, I’ve associated the phone with bad news.

I can let a phone ring forever and it wouldn’t bother me. I prefer to keep them unplugged or silenced. It was easier to get away with that before the advent of cell phones being organically attached to our bodies.

I like texting. But that involves writing, so, no, duh, on that.

On to the actual question for the day:

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

I don’t specifically rehearse a specific phone call per se. I rehearse all conversations, long before I have them, long before I even know I’m going to have a conversation. I’ve got conversations with everyone I know going on in my head all of the time. Maybe that’s why I run out of small talk.

More likely it has to do with my immense fear of the unknown. I think it’s a real phobia for me. I can’t stand not knowing something. If I’ve done something once, I’m good and I can do it over and over again. I’ve done things just so I can tell myself, “You’ve done this, so you don’t have to ever worry about it again.”

I think there might be something wrong with me.

Fame: I Want To Live Forever

~click image to make biggerer~

I’m working on falling in love with myself this month. I’ll be answering the 36 questions from an experiment done examining how people fall in love.

Question 2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

The short answers are yes and as an author and artist.

The longer answers are as follows:

I don’t want to be famous like a Kardashian or a Trump, famous, infamous, just to have attention or to have my name bandied about on people’s lips. I’m thinking more along the lines of Anne Rice or Stephen King or JK Rowling. I want to be known for entertaining stories in novel form. Stories that can take you away from the everyday. Stories people will read in future generations. I’d like to write essays, too, on any number of topics that strike my fancy, mostly because we all know my opinion is so valuable. I also want to create various pieces of art in just any medium imaginable: paperdoll puppet shows, drawings, paintings, collages, dolls, beaded hair decorations, hand-sewn clothes and costumes and notebooks.

To Fall In Love With Anyone, (Even Yourself?,) Do This

Not sure how this will work out but I thought I’d try this exercise with myself. It’s meant for a couple but you’re supposed to love yourself first, right?

Dr. Aaron did an experiment where two strangers spent time together, asking and answering questions, then they looked into eachother’s eyes for four minutes. Within six months, they were married. They had fallen in love.

I’m going to answer the thirty-six questions over the next thirty-six days and then stare at myself in the mirror. Oh, joy.

Question 1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

There are so many answers to this question. I’m quite moody, so the answer depends on my frame of mind and even on what I feel like having to eat.

It would have to be someone I’d feel comfortable around, who likes to debate weird topics, and yet is ok with long silences, maybe someone who likes to pick at a variety of different foods as opposed to having an actual dinner, someone who likes to laugh and finds the oddity of life humorous. A comedian would be good. I’m a sucker for anyone who makes me laugh.

I always thought it would be fun to be an ex-pat living a bohemian sort of life in Paris, partaking of the green fairy and screaming politics while smoking killed us before we reached forty. I don’t mind the cold, so living in an attic with only a mattress on the floor would be heavenly. No bugs, though. Oops. Just popped the fantasy.

So, cushions on the floor, a roaring fire, candles, green olives and gin and tonics while reading books. And there’d be a thunderstorm raging.

And I can’t think of the exact right person to join me. There are bits and pieces of several people but not the perfect person. Seriously, I can’t think of anyone. WTF?

Always when I give up control … boom, it comes to me.

It would be someone like Chris Pratt. I saw him on the Graham Norton show and he had this boyish, self deprecating humor. He was funny and he told good stories. I really like being entertained. There are a few “real” people I think might be the same but I’m not going to actually name them. I wasn’t born yesterday.

It’s interesting that all possible candidates are male.

For some reason, I think the question implies that I’d be inviting the person into my home. I like to be alone at home. I can’t get enough alone at home. I don’t mind having people around if they can be quiet or if they must speak, it has to be something clever and interesting, nothing about mundane, everyday topics, like bills or groceries or laundry. I don’t want to talk about kids or cats or kitchens. I prefer kings and queens and castles.

Give me philosophy and science and psychology and the vagaries of the human spirit. Or potty humor.

what am i?

I came onto the scene on 1977.

When I was young, I was 

yellow

♺

& full of —'s.

Now, I follow the rainbow:

Pastel ♺ ♺ ♺

Neon ♺ ♺ ♺

Electric ♺ ♺ ♺

Translucent   ♺  

in many shapes ♥ ◊ ✩

& sizes ☃ ☃ ☃ TwitterKeys

& I even pop up  EmoFaces

I have become a fashion statement kiss markringgem stoneF

Facebook Symbols 

& an art icon  🎇 

Twitter Symbols 

but I never leave a mess where I have been 

What am I?

Thursday's Third Degree

Do the personal lives of famous people detract from their work?

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite authors, Anne Perry, at 15, along with her best friend, killed her best friend's mother. While putting together yesterday's list, I discovered the author of another of my favorite books, Marion Zimmer Bradley, was accused of serious abuse by her daughter.

I've known about the Anne Perry story for 20 years since watching Peter Jackson's movie Heavenly Creatures.

Writers' personal lives don't stop me from reading their books. It makes them more fascinating to me. But I can't know anything about the lives of actors. If an actor does something I don't like then I can never watch any of their work. I can't stand Tom Cruise, not that I cared much for him to begin with, but once he jumped on the couch, it was all over. I used to love Brad Pitt until he cheated on Jennifer Aniston. Now, he doesn't look as good to me. This may have something to do with me not ever being much of a groupie.

Musicians can do whatever they want, but I'm quite judgmental of artists, like Picasso and the way he treated the women in his life.

But really, I don't care about an artist's personal life in most cases, so I usually don't know much about them. That way their work can stand alone. We all know artists are nuts and they deserve some latitude.

What do you think?

Thursday’s 3rd°

Accent: Jersey, as in, “What exit?” (44)

Booze: Bombay Sapphire Gin

Chore I Hate: Housework.

Dogs/Cats: Dogs. No more!

Essential Electronics: iPad mini

Favorite Perfume/Cologne: I don’t wear any and haven’t for ages but I love lavender. It smells so clean.

Gold/Silver: Gold bars would be nice. Got any?

Hometown: Born in Würzburg, Germany, spent the most time in New Jersey but Hallein, Austria feels like home.

Insomnia: Since forever.

Job Title(s): Human Resources Manager

Kids: The Snoogs.

Living Arrangements: A house.

Most Admired Trait: Never giving up.

Number of Sexual Partners: This is an unfair question as I lived through the 70’s and 80’s.

Overnight Hospital Stays: Once for a car accident, once for giving birth.

Phobia: The Unknown.

Quote: “Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” ― Hans Christian Andersen, The Complete Fairy Tales

Religion: Raised Roman Catholic. Currently, Pagan.

Siblings: One younger brother.

Time I usually wake up: 5am

Unusual Talent: Sticking my head in the sand.

Vegetable I refuse to eat: Beets.

Worst Habit: Eating too much, including my cuticles.

X-Rays: So many when I was younger that I should be glowing.

Yummy Foods I Make: Beer Meatballs.

Zodiac Sign: Libra, Libra rising with Moon in Libra.

I found this at EJFlavors.com and it's called Memelicious – A to Z.

Flash 55 - Questions

"Squid" by Vanessa V. Kilmer, May 27, 2012

zentangle ~ uni~ball VISION ELITE black on paper

~ click to make biggerer ~

Questions

who you voodoo

pink orange & blue

what you doing

percolating & brewing

where you been

none of your biz gunga din

when you go away again

likely by the count of ten

why you do a deep sigh

something is in my little eye

how you just disappear

answer to that is quite unclear

Write a story in exactly 55 words.

The G-Man "Mr. Know-It-All" is our intrepid host.

Visit him and give him a tickle.

~ Merry Meet and Blessed Be ~

Flash 55 - If Memory Serves

it’s been a while since I’ve written in double fives

and I find myself breaking out in hives
do I remember how to do it
is it like riding a bike
I have to make my thoughts fit
like a finger in a dike
and say something that doesn’t stink like chives
hoping everyone survives

Write a story in exactly 55 words.

 Hosted by G-Man @ Mr. KnowItAll – Click Here

Merry Meet and Blessed Be

Hungry? iliza shlesinger

I wrote a memo yesterday at work. I rarely talk about my work. You can get in trouble for that sort of thing.¹  

So, I wrote this memo. It began like this, “…claims for missing items are eating our lunch…” Not one of my employees, who range greatly in age, gender²,³ and geographic origin, has heard this saying.

Have you?*

¹ I probably wouldn’t get in trouble but why take the chance. My dog likes to eat well.  

² we have four

³ I’m trying to be inclusive since June is Gay and Lesbian Pride Month and I like rainbows

* I even googled and couldn’t find the saying.

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