You might not return.
With this thought I move on
to love again with caution?
The Legacy of Divorce was real to us-
anger that people leave us,
belief that all things are temporary,
our inability to build beyond foundations,
who can walk forward with those on their mind?
I've never met a person like you,
there's so much we shared,
so much in common,
so much support,
real love was in our kiss.
Now forgotten?
I never saw it coming,
your walking,
your going.
I'll be here to hold you if you return.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
You Planned Our Deaths by Red Adley
Little signs fall in line
sense comes to the once dumb
the Once Blinded by Love
All now miraculously given Sight!
And what a fright---you planned our Deaths,
the End of Us.
Romantic Things was all I could plan
unaware of the texts from another man
One who would come away and re-capture your sweet heart.
My eyes fill with tears.
'Wait for me' you text...which,
to an Old Dog like me means
Stay---Be Good---Don't Follow Me
into the Fray of Nexts
I'm lately soaked from my own eyes.
I couldn't see beyond my nose,
Your love, that---when proposed
would last more than a season?
Surely, I supposed! We started to build the foundations.
But now the memories burn
vignettes of Us return
to show all along you planned an Exit
went with the plan that might least burn,
then lit the fire which would ignite, burn bright,
leave me with a lesson to learn,
This hurts more when I look into this Fall,
a coming coldness we would share,
snuggle deep, under covers share stale air,
You couldn't even wait on turning leaves,
leaving my heart and life in despair.
sense comes to the once dumb
the Once Blinded by Love
All now miraculously given Sight!
And what a fright---you planned our Deaths,
the End of Us.
Romantic Things was all I could plan
unaware of the texts from another man
One who would come away and re-capture your sweet heart.
My eyes fill with tears.
'Wait for me' you text...which,
to an Old Dog like me means
Stay---Be Good---Don't Follow Me
into the Fray of Nexts
I'm lately soaked from my own eyes.
I couldn't see beyond my nose,
Your love, that---when proposed
would last more than a season?
Surely, I supposed! We started to build the foundations.
But now the memories burn
vignettes of Us return
to show all along you planned an Exit
went with the plan that might least burn,
then lit the fire which would ignite, burn bright,
leave me with a lesson to learn,
This hurts more when I look into this Fall,
a coming coldness we would share,
snuggle deep, under covers share stale air,
You couldn't even wait on turning leaves,
leaving my heart and life in despair.
Monday, September 12, 2011
NUMB by Red Adley
It's a drug free world for me
has been for years
but because of the news I wouldn't be yours anymore
well---that has left me numb.
That's not the best word for it---numb.
It's like the feeling a long time ago
of being high enough
falling but sitting still
a vacuum
wondering what to do next and feeling guilty for not caring if you do so.
Occasionally I pinch myself, wincing with the thought 'I'm still alive'.
The pain of your decision to leave,
and it really is a pain---is so deep
like a syndrome, read: a group of coincident things,
possibilities I am somehow to blame?...gather quickly,
healing is so much slower!
It's really happened: My Worst Fear:
You were just mine for a brief moment!
I thanked you every day for being in my Life.
I didn't sin on that Front: I never took love for granted.
Not after you paid for my trust!
My addicition to you was called 'More'
this caught me by surprise, I expected more from you.
I gave you every part of me.
That's it.
There's nothing left.
I'm ashamed to go back around our crowd,
look them in their eyes,
read their "...I Told You So s"
hear them laughing at me.
"What a Fool"
They once believed in Love.
Perhaps I'll never pick up the phone again,
drop off the Earth
find another planet.
It would be easier that way.
Maybe I could just hide, and no one would hear from me for months
until I needed milk, bread, eggs...the things one needs for Cold.
I am become Distant Memory.
Inside this harsh cocoon I can avoid looking in the mirror
seeing dumb,
The world I am left with
leaves me numb.
has been for years
but because of the news I wouldn't be yours anymore
well---that has left me numb.
That's not the best word for it---numb.
It's like the feeling a long time ago
of being high enough
falling but sitting still
a vacuum
wondering what to do next and feeling guilty for not caring if you do so.
Occasionally I pinch myself, wincing with the thought 'I'm still alive'.
The pain of your decision to leave,
and it really is a pain---is so deep
like a syndrome, read: a group of coincident things,
possibilities I am somehow to blame?...gather quickly,
healing is so much slower!
It's really happened: My Worst Fear:
You were just mine for a brief moment!
I thanked you every day for being in my Life.
I didn't sin on that Front: I never took love for granted.
Not after you paid for my trust!
My addicition to you was called 'More'
this caught me by surprise, I expected more from you.
I gave you every part of me.
That's it.
There's nothing left.
I'm ashamed to go back around our crowd,
look them in their eyes,
read their "...I Told You So s"
hear them laughing at me.
"What a Fool"
They once believed in Love.
Perhaps I'll never pick up the phone again,
drop off the Earth
find another planet.
It would be easier that way.
Maybe I could just hide, and no one would hear from me for months
until I needed milk, bread, eggs...the things one needs for Cold.
I am become Distant Memory.
Inside this harsh cocoon I can avoid looking in the mirror
seeing dumb,
The world I am left with
leaves me numb.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Murder on Yellow Patio by Red Adley
Give me two months
to fall in love
to make some plans
to prepare a place for us to live...
"Don't do this," I cried
"please, please, please..."
to no avail.
The look in your eyes-cold
Still, the same blue pools I'd seen twinkle
but this time---ice.
"What about California?" I asked.
I had already bought the tickets, we paid for the hotel together.
Give me two months
to fall for you
to make "us" plans
to dream of places to explore---together.
"At least talk," I begged.
"Why go back to your Ex?
There's no real love there."
You say "...I've got to find out."
Machine gun-like I rattle:
"...please, please, please.
Don't do this. Please?
It's Me, remember Me?"
On that patio, flowers surrounded us.
Yellow---bright...
I thrust myself upon you with something to prove,
kissing your dry, unyielding mouth
"...this is the real truth, in our kiss" I say.
To eyes that pierce cloth, skin, breastplate, organs.
My heart begins to bleed...and I do bleed red.
It contrasts itself to the lovely flowers, which seem to sway toward
the bench. They look upon the scene, look upon me-bitterly?
That's about the time I begin to hold you, pressing your head to my shoulder.
You say nothing.
I'm a jabbering idiot.
It's all I can do not to get down on my knees.
"Don't leave me. Marry me?" I plead.
You nod "no" or "not now" or "never"
Who could be for sure?
I'm in such shock, I cannot cry.
I guess you gave it two months, enough time...
to let people know
to take me into trust
to conquer my hopes---dreams of a future!
On the patio...I look into those cold eyes...
eyes that once held me as Your Everything,
you don't speak
"Say something," I beg. "Say you're just kidding,
Say it's just a test...say it ain't so!"
My heart has by this time bled completely through my shirt,
and is sticking to my Ego.
I've nothing left to lose, dignity gone.
There's a lump in my throat like one of your imagined turtles.
You don't even notice I'm a Bleeding Siv.
Yellow sees it...the beautiful flowers seem to enclose me, in pity?
They want the red for some reason.
The color Yellow deserves a dash of red,
wanting something beyond itself---not a flood of it---not all of my 5.6 liters!
I stand-up...quickly, shaking my head "no" but saying the same damn word
over and over
"...please, please, please...don't do this to us."
You've said your peace, and
stabbed me with a piece of my own
Self Esteem.
I turn toward botanicals and you gather yourself to leave.
It's far too late, way far out,
our short life lived together
...too far gone!
We were: artsy, gourmet-like, fashionable, passionate.
We were Selflessness in action.
I think back on the times I kissed you
only to breathe your air back into me.
To share your atoms,
to stop your loss,
to tourniquet your own Past Bleeding!
I was the Patch That didn't Hold.
At this realization I can no longer stand.
I slump, lay down on the ground;
a grass is always softer than a tile.
The flowers lean ever closer!
My once-white shirt, ruined by
the pumping wounded heart,
the Red has covered me,
consumed me,
taken all my Pride!
From my eye level all I see is Earth
"...please, please, please" is what I whisper.
You murdered me on the Yellow Patio.
Broke my heart,
my tears mixed with dirt, lovemuck and false hope---
---which appears as running blood, feeding the hunger of the flowers.
How long have I been here? How much blood have I lost?
With one last move, I make a forlorn look back to the bench---
But you have long gone.
to fall in love
to make some plans
to prepare a place for us to live...
"Don't do this," I cried
"please, please, please..."
to no avail.
The look in your eyes-cold
Still, the same blue pools I'd seen twinkle
but this time---ice.
"What about California?" I asked.
I had already bought the tickets, we paid for the hotel together.
Give me two months
to fall for you
to make "us" plans
to dream of places to explore---together.
"At least talk," I begged.
"Why go back to your Ex?
There's no real love there."
You say "...I've got to find out."
Machine gun-like I rattle:
"...please, please, please.
Don't do this. Please?
It's Me, remember Me?"
On that patio, flowers surrounded us.
Yellow---bright...
I thrust myself upon you with something to prove,
kissing your dry, unyielding mouth
"...this is the real truth, in our kiss" I say.
To eyes that pierce cloth, skin, breastplate, organs.
My heart begins to bleed...and I do bleed red.
It contrasts itself to the lovely flowers, which seem to sway toward
the bench. They look upon the scene, look upon me-bitterly?
That's about the time I begin to hold you, pressing your head to my shoulder.
You say nothing.
I'm a jabbering idiot.
It's all I can do not to get down on my knees.
"Don't leave me. Marry me?" I plead.
You nod "no" or "not now" or "never"
Who could be for sure?
I'm in such shock, I cannot cry.
I guess you gave it two months, enough time...
to let people know
to take me into trust
to conquer my hopes---dreams of a future!
On the patio...I look into those cold eyes...
eyes that once held me as Your Everything,
you don't speak
"Say something," I beg. "Say you're just kidding,
Say it's just a test...say it ain't so!"
My heart has by this time bled completely through my shirt,
and is sticking to my Ego.
I've nothing left to lose, dignity gone.
There's a lump in my throat like one of your imagined turtles.
You don't even notice I'm a Bleeding Siv.
Yellow sees it...the beautiful flowers seem to enclose me, in pity?
They want the red for some reason.
The color Yellow deserves a dash of red,
wanting something beyond itself---not a flood of it---not all of my 5.6 liters!
I stand-up...quickly, shaking my head "no" but saying the same damn word
over and over
"...please, please, please...don't do this to us."
You've said your peace, and
stabbed me with a piece of my own
Self Esteem.
I turn toward botanicals and you gather yourself to leave.
It's far too late, way far out,
our short life lived together
...too far gone!
We were: artsy, gourmet-like, fashionable, passionate.
We were Selflessness in action.
I think back on the times I kissed you
only to breathe your air back into me.
To share your atoms,
to stop your loss,
to tourniquet your own Past Bleeding!
I was the Patch That didn't Hold.
At this realization I can no longer stand.
I slump, lay down on the ground;
a grass is always softer than a tile.
The flowers lean ever closer!
My once-white shirt, ruined by
the pumping wounded heart,
the Red has covered me,
consumed me,
taken all my Pride!
From my eye level all I see is Earth
"...please, please, please" is what I whisper.
You murdered me on the Yellow Patio.
Broke my heart,
my tears mixed with dirt, lovemuck and false hope---
---which appears as running blood, feeding the hunger of the flowers.
How long have I been here? How much blood have I lost?
With one last move, I make a forlorn look back to the bench---
But you have long gone.
Not Dead of Heartbreak/the Hat by Red Adley
I awoke today surprised...I'd gone to sleep thinking I would die of heartbreak.
But it didn't happen.
The pill I took---not strong enough to kill me,
just kept me awake looking for answers.
In fact, besides your smiling face, I woke to Dread beside me.
Woe, for having to learn to live without you.
Pain---you say you love somebody else!
(I secretly hope it doesn't work out).
I gather the evidence of your existence...
For a moment ( moment of strength, perhaps) it felt good to pack your things,
memory filled things....items you, we had worn...
Everything about our love could fit into a kitchen sized trash liner.
I snatched and packed even the most mundane things: a movie stub from a movie we really liked,
a poem you had written for me (one time it was sincere but has lost all meaning),
a stick from a sucker I nabbed for you while you waited patiently for me at the bank.
You should get an acting prize---you survived all my sweet sentiments during the planning.
It must have killed your soul at times, knowing you were planning my demise!
Especially those last three days---I'd been so good to you.
Just Thursday night it took me three hours to prepare dinner..you snuggled with me under an almost full moon. "Full Moon soon," I had mumbled "...watch out for the Crazies soon."
Little did I guess it would be you, waiting in the wings to stab me, cut my heart from my chest!
Before you drove off yesterday into my memory, I caught a hint.
I can be smart, on occasion: you took my favorite hat---one of your hats---back.
"...I want to wear it," you said.
Little signs fall in line, and
sense comes to the Once Dumbed By Love.
You planned my exit, when all I could see to plan were romantic things.
I feel the Fool, a Tool,
something raw, used, and left dull
with a broken blade.
At least you got your hat back.
But it didn't happen.
The pill I took---not strong enough to kill me,
just kept me awake looking for answers.
In fact, besides your smiling face, I woke to Dread beside me.
Woe, for having to learn to live without you.
Pain---you say you love somebody else!
(I secretly hope it doesn't work out).
I gather the evidence of your existence...
For a moment ( moment of strength, perhaps) it felt good to pack your things,
memory filled things....items you, we had worn...
Everything about our love could fit into a kitchen sized trash liner.
I snatched and packed even the most mundane things: a movie stub from a movie we really liked,
a poem you had written for me (one time it was sincere but has lost all meaning),
a stick from a sucker I nabbed for you while you waited patiently for me at the bank.
You should get an acting prize---you survived all my sweet sentiments during the planning.
It must have killed your soul at times, knowing you were planning my demise!
Especially those last three days---I'd been so good to you.
Just Thursday night it took me three hours to prepare dinner..you snuggled with me under an almost full moon. "Full Moon soon," I had mumbled "...watch out for the Crazies soon."
Little did I guess it would be you, waiting in the wings to stab me, cut my heart from my chest!
Before you drove off yesterday into my memory, I caught a hint.
I can be smart, on occasion: you took my favorite hat---one of your hats---back.
"...I want to wear it," you said.
Little signs fall in line, and
sense comes to the Once Dumbed By Love.
You planned my exit, when all I could see to plan were romantic things.
I feel the Fool, a Tool,
something raw, used, and left dull
with a broken blade.
At least you got your hat back.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
CONFUSED at LOVE by Red Adley
Today I awoke-confused,
On my stomach,
on my side of the bed
on my own Island?
As soon as i pushed-up,
I caught your eyes, looking at me.
Smiled, then pulled me under your arm.
I felt your eyelashes on my cheeks, twitching systematically.
What were you dreaming?
How could I deserve this love? I thought.
Even more unusual, I fell asleep, there-under your arm.
That has never happened in my Life.
I set my breathing to yours.
An hour later, I awoke-confused.
How had I picked this Angel?
Before we met, I watched him, wondering:
Who is this man? Why does he look so troubled?
I wanted to be inside his head, walk around, see the exhibits, read the back stories, leave my comments!
His profile, exquisitely chiseled, like a Nordic Warrior. The day I first saw him,
he kept his eyes closed, as if soaking-in all of Life,
like taking-in water to put out some distant fire
inside his soul.
His jaws were tight, as if holding-in All Purgatory!
You still haven't left.
How could I deserve this love? I thought.
Now I'm up, yet still confused.
You're still beside me. I like the way your skin smells.
I notice the rise and fall of your muscled chest, your breathing soft.
I get within not even an inch of your mouth.
Like a magnet, you pop-up slightly and plant one on me with dry lips!
With my left hand I touch your brow, tracing a finger down to your nose,
make an outline of your lips, and finish with your chin.
You smile, never opening your eyes.
Do I provide a sense of comfort for you as well?
How lucky am I? I'm wide awake-confused.
On my stomach,
on my side of the bed
on my own Island?
As soon as i pushed-up,
I caught your eyes, looking at me.
Smiled, then pulled me under your arm.
I felt your eyelashes on my cheeks, twitching systematically.
What were you dreaming?
How could I deserve this love? I thought.
Even more unusual, I fell asleep, there-under your arm.
That has never happened in my Life.
I set my breathing to yours.
An hour later, I awoke-confused.
How had I picked this Angel?
Before we met, I watched him, wondering:
Who is this man? Why does he look so troubled?
I wanted to be inside his head, walk around, see the exhibits, read the back stories, leave my comments!
His profile, exquisitely chiseled, like a Nordic Warrior. The day I first saw him,
he kept his eyes closed, as if soaking-in all of Life,
like taking-in water to put out some distant fire
inside his soul.
His jaws were tight, as if holding-in All Purgatory!
You still haven't left.
How could I deserve this love? I thought.
Now I'm up, yet still confused.
You're still beside me. I like the way your skin smells.
I notice the rise and fall of your muscled chest, your breathing soft.
I get within not even an inch of your mouth.
Like a magnet, you pop-up slightly and plant one on me with dry lips!
With my left hand I touch your brow, tracing a finger down to your nose,
make an outline of your lips, and finish with your chin.
You smile, never opening your eyes.
Do I provide a sense of comfort for you as well?
How lucky am I? I'm wide awake-confused.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Current Projects Update
Keller Williams E-Edge SEO writing projects (continuing)
New Network Formation- THE CREATIVE DRYER Atlanta Chapter (for Writers, Filmmakers & Actors)
BROKEN- Short film (currently in re-writer).
TO BE RED a novel Part two written chapters 1-2-3
Short Story Idea Projects: (2) ATTACKED at a PARTY: short story about a man who is attacked at a drinking party by one of the guests and how the event changes the dynamics of his friendship with the party Hosts. WITNESS to a CRIME: early one morning while walking his dogs, a man witnesses a crime and forever wonders whether he should have gotten involved.
BRING BACK PERFORMANCE ART Project: See Princess Charles & Brent Starr
New Network Formation- THE CREATIVE DRYER Atlanta Chapter (for Writers, Filmmakers & Actors)
BROKEN- Short film (currently in re-writer).
TO BE RED a novel Part two written chapters 1-2-3
Short Story Idea Projects: (2) ATTACKED at a PARTY: short story about a man who is attacked at a drinking party by one of the guests and how the event changes the dynamics of his friendship with the party Hosts. WITNESS to a CRIME: early one morning while walking his dogs, a man witnesses a crime and forever wonders whether he should have gotten involved.
BRING BACK PERFORMANCE ART Project: See Princess Charles & Brent Starr
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Linking Myself to You by Red Adley
I had all but
given up
when you came along.
Now I'm wondering if you should
have talked to me at all.
The pain of my Last Love
still rings familiar
I told myself I'd never
love again.
Constantly thinking
hopelessly drinking
drinking at you.
Now I've changed.
It's time to love again
I've given up the bottle
my Other Sins.
'You have nothing to offer anyone'
my Friend says
I'm vulnerable now
come back from the Dead.
I was like that then---
waking with Every Thought of You in my mind
Now the You has changed
It's only Fate with Time
Things will be The Same.
Constantly thinking
This time without drinking
hopelessly linking
linking myself to You.
Now I've changed.
It's time to move again
I've given up comfort for
your New Sins.
The pain of my last Love
still rings familiar
I promised me I'd never
fall this hard again.
And I had all but given up
when you came along.
Now I'm wondering why you ever talk
to me at all.
I had all but given up
when you came along.
Now I'll be constantly thinking
defenses all shrinking,
linking myself to You.
given up
when you came along.
Now I'm wondering if you should
have talked to me at all.
The pain of my Last Love
still rings familiar
I told myself I'd never
love again.
Constantly thinking
hopelessly drinking
drinking at you.
Now I've changed.
It's time to love again
I've given up the bottle
my Other Sins.
'You have nothing to offer anyone'
my Friend says
I'm vulnerable now
come back from the Dead.
I was like that then---
waking with Every Thought of You in my mind
Now the You has changed
It's only Fate with Time
Things will be The Same.
Constantly thinking
This time without drinking
hopelessly linking
linking myself to You.
Now I've changed.
It's time to move again
I've given up comfort for
your New Sins.
The pain of my last Love
still rings familiar
I promised me I'd never
fall this hard again.
And I had all but given up
when you came along.
Now I'm wondering why you ever talk
to me at all.
I had all but given up
when you came along.
Now I'll be constantly thinking
defenses all shrinking,
linking myself to You.
ONLY by Red Adley
"...only Sweet Dreams
for you, Baby,"
his message read.
Instantly, I began to cry.
It's as if he's up there
in my head, watering the plants
which I thought had died!
"...only the World
for you, Love,"
I want to answer back.
I can only give that in small doses.
It's as if he's up there
in My Future...a day without lack
fully packed...filled with roses!
If only he were with me,
all the time!
That would be my only need,
the "...only Sweet Dreams" for me.
for you, Baby,"
his message read.
Instantly, I began to cry.
It's as if he's up there
in my head, watering the plants
which I thought had died!
"...only the World
for you, Love,"
I want to answer back.
I can only give that in small doses.
It's as if he's up there
in My Future...a day without lack
fully packed...filled with roses!
If only he were with me,
all the time!
That would be my only need,
the "...only Sweet Dreams" for me.
My Newest Addiction by Red Adley
As you sleep
I watch your face
the face of my Angel
yet I'm running late...
Your breathing---peaceful
the head resting to the right
lids closed tight,
I wonder what you're dreaming?
I'm close enough to smell you...
a sweet, peach scent.
Perhaps it's your soap,
it's part of my addiction, your smell-I'm bent.
I've no time for sleep---but I want to watch.
The eyelashes twitch, at times.
The sheet only covers your core.
I pull it up to your shoulders, so you'll have more.
You exhale, reach for me like I'm Adam.
I mold to you and you gather me close.
I kiss the soft lips, inhaling the sweet stale breath.
Sleeping beside you: that's my new addiction.
I watch your face
the face of my Angel
yet I'm running late...
Your breathing---peaceful
the head resting to the right
lids closed tight,
I wonder what you're dreaming?
I'm close enough to smell you...
a sweet, peach scent.
Perhaps it's your soap,
it's part of my addiction, your smell-I'm bent.
I've no time for sleep---but I want to watch.
The eyelashes twitch, at times.
The sheet only covers your core.
I pull it up to your shoulders, so you'll have more.
You exhale, reach for me like I'm Adam.
I mold to you and you gather me close.
I kiss the soft lips, inhaling the sweet stale breath.
Sleeping beside you: that's my new addiction.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
UPDATE: Writing Projects
Keller Williams E-Edge Search Engine Optimizations (continuing)
Screenplay: BROKEN (current) Synopsis: One man is breaking-up with a partner and goes into recovery with a mission to find the perfect mate; meanwhile another has near recovered from a break-up and has learned to live again.
Optioning: Olympic City Grill, The Network
Screenplay: BROKEN (current) Synopsis: One man is breaking-up with a partner and goes into recovery with a mission to find the perfect mate; meanwhile another has near recovered from a break-up and has learned to live again.
Optioning: Olympic City Grill, The Network
NOW by fellow writer friend James Benton Moon
The Future is unclear
The Past is gone somehow
You are here
and this is the Now.
My Now consists
of thoughts of You
Holding your hand
Experiences that are new.
My Now consists
of loving and giving
abandoning a ship that long ago,
had already been sinking.
My Now consists
of crawling inside your Heart's Den
hearing your kind, supportive words
and letting them sink in.
My Now consists
again the words---
I Love You
and the three words build strength
the more I get to know you.
My Now consists
of your smile
rubbing whiskers
and just simply sleeping awhile.
My Now consists
of beauty and romance
to hold and be held
to take hold of this chance!
My Now consists
of You!
The Past is gone somehow
You are here
and this is the Now.
My Now consists
of thoughts of You
Holding your hand
Experiences that are new.
My Now consists
of loving and giving
abandoning a ship that long ago,
had already been sinking.
My Now consists
of crawling inside your Heart's Den
hearing your kind, supportive words
and letting them sink in.
My Now consists
again the words---
I Love You
and the three words build strength
the more I get to know you.
My Now consists
of your smile
rubbing whiskers
and just simply sleeping awhile.
My Now consists
of beauty and romance
to hold and be held
to take hold of this chance!
My Now consists
of You!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Truth About Us by Red Adley
No One will back Our Love
of this I am convinced
it's if we've fallen for a bird
sitting briefly on a fence!
The people I once called friends
all laugh behind our backs
saying mean words while smiling
that its sense we lack.
Yet when I look into those pools
your blue angelic eyes
I see our future nontheless
then forget those fools and
beside you lay my head to rest!
of this I am convinced
it's if we've fallen for a bird
sitting briefly on a fence!
The people I once called friends
all laugh behind our backs
saying mean words while smiling
that its sense we lack.
Yet when I look into those pools
your blue angelic eyes
I see our future nontheless
then forget those fools and
beside you lay my head to rest!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Glorious, Robot! by Red Adley
It's like a bad blow to the noggin'....say like bumpin' your head on a cabinet.
You see stars! Well, technically swimming atoms over your eyes. And suddenly---it makes you think, Owww...I'm a Human. I'm a Human and I have atoms as parts.
Except that doesn't happen to me anymore, and I've begun to wonder about that. Instead, I stare forward without blinking. All Systems Are Go. At least, it feels good to say that.
When I was a young man, a man in college, I used to play all-kinds of intramural sports. Flag Football was our frat sport, and we played it often clear into dusk. But we also played baseball, ultimate Frisbee and basketball when the black guys would let us use their courts.
Back then I was so spry and lankly muscular---I really got around with the ladies. The sorority girls would gather around the fields and watch us play football in our tight shorts. I'd do my own type of "non-flirting" where I would raise my shirt to wipe the sweat away from my forehead, all the while pretending not to see them swoon.
That's how I met my girl...playing Flag Football! To think a bunch of guys chasing each-other around reaching-out to grab asses could turn a bunch of women-on! Wow.
I hear vibration. It worries me that I don't blink. Something is happening. I hear vibration.
The college helped me find an internship which turned-into a major job at a big company located a couple hundred miles away in the Big City.
I can't remember the name of the company. I can't even remember the name of the Big City. What is happening to me? More vibration. Someone seems to be approaching from upstairs.
I remember the name of my gym though---it was called City Gym.
City Gym of what city dammit? Have I blinked? In hours?
That gym had everything, though it was small. Real bodybuilders went to City Gym. It was motivating to be around people like me, men who lived for nutrition and looking healthy. I immersed myself into that environment...some would even say to my detriment!
I put on so much muscle back then! I worked-out in the early mornings AND after my shifts. I got so big other members would give me priority on the weights.
And like some superstar on steroids, I changed that year for sure. I of course didn't get any taller, but I did get huge. I went from a size Medium to an Extra Large. People who hadn't seen me in months were shocked.
"ROIDS, Man" someone would say, under their breath whenever I went in public. This got to where it was making me real self-conscienced---so I sort of went underground.
I stopped working-out and shopping during normal hours so that no one would leer at me, or bother me with their opinions. I was amazed at my size and considered myself a candidate for Mr, Olympia then.
Late night at the grocery I could also read labels and compare my own theories about nutrition without anyone interfering. Although this was also prime time for gay cruising and more than once I've had to whisper "...I'm not gay," to a passing male fan out shopping for late night chocolate AND/OR piece of ass.
By way of California, I made it all the way to the Olympia that year; but was placed real far down. I think I was in the 18th position when people started to fall-out or quit. I had a lot of media coverage at least, and was voted a crowd favorite, finally making it to 6th Place!
Suddenly the lights come on and there is a woman in a business suit standing right in front of me. She's talking, but I can't hear what she is saying. I can't even read her lips. She's a heavy set blonde with pretty eyes. This is probably the vibration I felt?
She's looking all-around, on top, beside me---rubbing her fingers near my eyes but I still cannot make-out what she is saying...which soon becomes...
"Duh---here's the ON Switch."
Another voice is added to the room, and it has created an added vibration: "It's OLD...probably going to be perfect for our project. But it has to warm-up."
And that's exactly what it feels like...a warm...or sick...feeling in me. My memories of my glorious days as a champion bodybuilder grow bright as I see one last glimpse of myself posing in those dumbass trunks! Then the picture begans to fade. I'm beginning to hear better and realize the saddest thing...a devastating revelation that I'm not really Human after all. I'm some product of a tape left across the head of a machine. And to hear correctly, I'm a machine which has almost outlived it's usefulness.
"I don't know if it will work for this project, but we can try." says the male vibration.
The female answers with surprise in her voice "...well look at this---a tape from the 1988 Mr. Olympia." She ejects the tape, handing it to the male vibration.
"They sure don't make 'em like this anymore, do they?"
The female vibration laughs at me. Humiliating. I feel nothing.
You see stars! Well, technically swimming atoms over your eyes. And suddenly---it makes you think, Owww...I'm a Human. I'm a Human and I have atoms as parts.
Except that doesn't happen to me anymore, and I've begun to wonder about that. Instead, I stare forward without blinking. All Systems Are Go. At least, it feels good to say that.
When I was a young man, a man in college, I used to play all-kinds of intramural sports. Flag Football was our frat sport, and we played it often clear into dusk. But we also played baseball, ultimate Frisbee and basketball when the black guys would let us use their courts.
Back then I was so spry and lankly muscular---I really got around with the ladies. The sorority girls would gather around the fields and watch us play football in our tight shorts. I'd do my own type of "non-flirting" where I would raise my shirt to wipe the sweat away from my forehead, all the while pretending not to see them swoon.
That's how I met my girl...playing Flag Football! To think a bunch of guys chasing each-other around reaching-out to grab asses could turn a bunch of women-on! Wow.
I hear vibration. It worries me that I don't blink. Something is happening. I hear vibration.
The college helped me find an internship which turned-into a major job at a big company located a couple hundred miles away in the Big City.
I can't remember the name of the company. I can't even remember the name of the Big City. What is happening to me? More vibration. Someone seems to be approaching from upstairs.
I remember the name of my gym though---it was called City Gym.
City Gym of what city dammit? Have I blinked? In hours?
That gym had everything, though it was small. Real bodybuilders went to City Gym. It was motivating to be around people like me, men who lived for nutrition and looking healthy. I immersed myself into that environment...some would even say to my detriment!
I put on so much muscle back then! I worked-out in the early mornings AND after my shifts. I got so big other members would give me priority on the weights.
And like some superstar on steroids, I changed that year for sure. I of course didn't get any taller, but I did get huge. I went from a size Medium to an Extra Large. People who hadn't seen me in months were shocked.
"ROIDS, Man" someone would say, under their breath whenever I went in public. This got to where it was making me real self-conscienced---so I sort of went underground.
I stopped working-out and shopping during normal hours so that no one would leer at me, or bother me with their opinions. I was amazed at my size and considered myself a candidate for Mr, Olympia then.
Late night at the grocery I could also read labels and compare my own theories about nutrition without anyone interfering. Although this was also prime time for gay cruising and more than once I've had to whisper "...I'm not gay," to a passing male fan out shopping for late night chocolate AND/OR piece of ass.
By way of California, I made it all the way to the Olympia that year; but was placed real far down. I think I was in the 18th position when people started to fall-out or quit. I had a lot of media coverage at least, and was voted a crowd favorite, finally making it to 6th Place!
Suddenly the lights come on and there is a woman in a business suit standing right in front of me. She's talking, but I can't hear what she is saying. I can't even read her lips. She's a heavy set blonde with pretty eyes. This is probably the vibration I felt?
She's looking all-around, on top, beside me---rubbing her fingers near my eyes but I still cannot make-out what she is saying...which soon becomes...
"Duh---here's the ON Switch."
Another voice is added to the room, and it has created an added vibration: "It's OLD...probably going to be perfect for our project. But it has to warm-up."
And that's exactly what it feels like...a warm...or sick...feeling in me. My memories of my glorious days as a champion bodybuilder grow bright as I see one last glimpse of myself posing in those dumbass trunks! Then the picture begans to fade. I'm beginning to hear better and realize the saddest thing...a devastating revelation that I'm not really Human after all. I'm some product of a tape left across the head of a machine. And to hear correctly, I'm a machine which has almost outlived it's usefulness.
"I don't know if it will work for this project, but we can try." says the male vibration.
The female answers with surprise in her voice "...well look at this---a tape from the 1988 Mr. Olympia." She ejects the tape, handing it to the male vibration.
"They sure don't make 'em like this anymore, do they?"
The female vibration laughs at me. Humiliating. I feel nothing.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A Poem for The Line
I crossed a line last night
and kissed your neck
holding you close enough to smell
in a Buddy Hug.
I couldn't help it.
Your skin is soft,
like I imagined it.
Yes, I imagine it.
I'm guilty of imagining it.
I want to kiss all of you.
I could stare into your eyes
and heal my soul!
Although the loneliness I see in them
scares...
...makes me want to flee to the Hemispheres.
Aren't we Hemispheres anyway?
Your Way is clear
and you would have me wait a Year...
-to establish Trust.
How can I wait to kiss your lips?
Lips I could ravish until we are rolling in the wake of my lust?
And what about Regret?
Would you regret me after all?
Adding me to Lists?
Lists too painful to revisit,
would but cause you tears?
The sum of Fears of all my generations is Here
in the Me.
In Us.
As I cross the line and kiss your lips, just now...
I kiss you with my Soul.
Like I always have imagined it.
by Red Irvin Adley
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
AWOL WRITER RED BACK FROM WRITING VACATION
Just Completed: TWO new plays by Red Adley:
OLYMPIC CITY GRILL
As divorcee Gayle struggles to open a successful eatery before the 1996 Olympics; a fighting gay couple delight in destroying their restaurant, which took years to build.
THE NETWORK
Join this crew of Occupational Chairs for a little weekly game of social networking roulette; oh...and it's a Musical.
OLYMPIC CITY GRILL
As divorcee Gayle struggles to open a successful eatery before the 1996 Olympics; a fighting gay couple delight in destroying their restaurant, which took years to build.
THE NETWORK
Join this crew of Occupational Chairs for a little weekly game of social networking roulette; oh...and it's a Musical.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Town Forgoes Pollen for Flowerless Spring
(Opp, Alabama) Gigantic fans have been installed around the sleepy moss-ladden town of Opp, Alabama; in an effort for their citizens to avoid allergies this season.
Opp, or Bumpintheroad, as many people would describe it---is in fact a tranquil drive-thru for most on their way to Florida vacations.
One woman with enough hair for three people said " Since the town lies directly in the path of ...everything that blows down to L.A.(local speak for Lower Alabama), we are getting illnesses, and so we have decided to by-pass the crap for 2011."
In fact, Bypass The Crap seems to be written on everything from bumper stickers to residential window plaques in this little touch of humid middle class heaven.
The mayor, a man who claims to own a John Deere but was driving a Golf Cart, said "...we just decided it was either We Do Something---or it was Sinus Snottville, plus whatever radioactive wind Atlanta had planned to blow our way this Season."
Most people supporting the protest (actually supporting anything that is more interesting than paint drying) gathered in a park at the city center, which consists of several Federalist Era buildings and a Wendy's, abuzz with people looking for change.
"Mother Nature Isn't Kind" read one protest sign, held by a guy holding a dozen eggs.
"Pollen is Good for Nature" read another, held by a Opp High School science teacher; who was quickly egged by the first guy.
"We got our Young 'ens out school for Sprang Brak" (SIC-spelling and poor grammar is correct) said some toothless Einstein hanging-out at the park. "...and thez is put-up fans all-over town to blow-away and monitor t'is dang Pollen." (TRANSLATION: "...Our kids are out of school and they are helping us.")
In fact a core of more than 1100 Opp students and parents were gathered to assure no breaks would occur in the Opp City Fan Project.
At the Opp Rexall Drug store, where Marcus Welby would probably cruise, a woman with a comb stuck in her hair handed-out protective face masks and coupons reducing the price of wind breakers and kites.
The elderly were not amused at the idea of fans keeping disease away. "Them fans is strong," said an old blue-haired woman, who was having to walk around with a heavy wrench in her purse to avoid being blown into the next town like Piglet. "I'm too old to fly," she whimpered.
Local Sheriffs were happy to announce "...we got fans blowing Highways 9, 12 and 84...west by southwest towards Babbie and Horn Hill."
In fact when interviewed, citizens in Babbie, Alabama seemed all pissy and yellow-eyed from the Pollen Wind.
"If we could get past that blasted fan we would kick their asses," said one Horn Hill Resident. "...them Opp-ites are a slippery folk."
Another Babbie-ite said "...they got some nerve cutting wind on us, we're a good group of Time Watchers and Ostrich Farmers."
Since the experiment only one Opp resident has come-down with The Common Cold, and that person is now on a FREE one-way Greyhound bus ticket to Chicago, thanks to a group of kind Oppites.
"We don't want you stuffy, sneezing, aching sinus sufferers here," said one nameless man who got into an orange Vega. "In fact, you reporters get offa m' property."
Opp, or Bumpintheroad, as many people would describe it---is in fact a tranquil drive-thru for most on their way to Florida vacations.
One woman with enough hair for three people said " Since the town lies directly in the path of ...everything that blows down to L.A.(local speak for Lower Alabama), we are getting illnesses, and so we have decided to by-pass the crap for 2011."
In fact, Bypass The Crap seems to be written on everything from bumper stickers to residential window plaques in this little touch of humid middle class heaven.
The mayor, a man who claims to own a John Deere but was driving a Golf Cart, said "...we just decided it was either We Do Something---or it was Sinus Snottville, plus whatever radioactive wind Atlanta had planned to blow our way this Season."
Most people supporting the protest (actually supporting anything that is more interesting than paint drying) gathered in a park at the city center, which consists of several Federalist Era buildings and a Wendy's, abuzz with people looking for change.
"Mother Nature Isn't Kind" read one protest sign, held by a guy holding a dozen eggs.
"Pollen is Good for Nature" read another, held by a Opp High School science teacher; who was quickly egged by the first guy.
"We got our Young 'ens out school for Sprang Brak" (SIC-spelling and poor grammar is correct) said some toothless Einstein hanging-out at the park. "...and thez is put-up fans all-over town to blow-away and monitor t'is dang Pollen." (TRANSLATION: "...Our kids are out of school and they are helping us.")
In fact a core of more than 1100 Opp students and parents were gathered to assure no breaks would occur in the Opp City Fan Project.
At the Opp Rexall Drug store, where Marcus Welby would probably cruise, a woman with a comb stuck in her hair handed-out protective face masks and coupons reducing the price of wind breakers and kites.
The elderly were not amused at the idea of fans keeping disease away. "Them fans is strong," said an old blue-haired woman, who was having to walk around with a heavy wrench in her purse to avoid being blown into the next town like Piglet. "I'm too old to fly," she whimpered.
Local Sheriffs were happy to announce "...we got fans blowing Highways 9, 12 and 84...west by southwest towards Babbie and Horn Hill."
In fact when interviewed, citizens in Babbie, Alabama seemed all pissy and yellow-eyed from the Pollen Wind.
"If we could get past that blasted fan we would kick their asses," said one Horn Hill Resident. "...them Opp-ites are a slippery folk."
Another Babbie-ite said "...they got some nerve cutting wind on us, we're a good group of Time Watchers and Ostrich Farmers."
Since the experiment only one Opp resident has come-down with The Common Cold, and that person is now on a FREE one-way Greyhound bus ticket to Chicago, thanks to a group of kind Oppites.
"We don't want you stuffy, sneezing, aching sinus sufferers here," said one nameless man who got into an orange Vega. "In fact, you reporters get offa m' property."
Friday, February 25, 2011
ARCHIVE: Trump Running for U.S. President?
Watch for our HATH HELL FROZEN OVER IN THIS UNION? Series!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
WOMAN WHO TRIED TO MAIL PUPPY BURNED AT THE STAKE BY PETA COMMUNIST GROUP
NOTE Paragraphs 1-3 From the Huffington Post: Joanna Zelman Posted: 02/10/11 10:11 AM
A woman who tried to mail a puppy in a box from Minnesota to Georgia now wants the puppy back, along with the $22 she paid to ship the dog.
When #$%&^&**) first brought the box to the post office, she warned postal workers to be careful, but reassured them that she was shipping a toy robot. But when the box began to move and make noise, workers got permission to open it, and found a 4-month old puppy inside named Guess, a black poodle-Schnauzer mix. The postal workers gave the thirsty pup some water, and now he's at an animal control facility.
Prior to notifying authorities that she wanted the dog back, #$$%(*&) returned to the post office demanding a refund of the $22 she paid to mail the puppy, in addition to requesting that a small amount of money attached to a makeshift dog collar be returned.
(((RED))) Of course then the Federal Government got involved, and slapped the woman with a very rare infraction of the law called "mail idiocy" and will have to stand in line for four hours at the Post Office like the rest of us for her Community Service.
The woman is also being forced to take a 12-hour toddler's course on "Puppies/Dogs/Kitties/Cats all are Earthlings and breath our same air."
Her other minor toddler courses include "...punching air holes into a box so a clandestine pet can breathe" will be offered as well as adult courses "...your grandchildren won't ever love you for living in another state anyway" and "...what kind of of of a dumbass was I for having children instead of cats?"
" I hope she goes to Hay-ale" said one Georgia Redneck, waiting for the Greeter to greet him before entering a WalMart.
"Maybe she'll get mailed to Florida for her vacation," said one animal rights activist/person headed to WalMart to buy Ole Roy dog food. "...would serve her right."
"Get off our property." said a WalMart greeter.
Others who have in the past been critical of the US Postal Service are now raving "...they saved that puppy! Up until now they were just an army of left and right steering-wheeled drivers delivering Pottery Barn catalogs and running from rabid, loose dogs, daily."
By the way, who tells the US Postal Service, NTSA, or anyone in the US Government..."...I'm just mailing a robot,"? A robot of what? Mass destruction?
But alas it's no robot---it's a puppy. Okay WTF mails a puppy?
Pictured above, PETA Activists on way to woman's trailer in Happy City.
A woman who tried to mail a puppy in a box from Minnesota to Georgia now wants the puppy back, along with the $22 she paid to ship the dog.
When #$%&^&**) first brought the box to the post office, she warned postal workers to be careful, but reassured them that she was shipping a toy robot. But when the box began to move and make noise, workers got permission to open it, and found a 4-month old puppy inside named Guess, a black poodle-Schnauzer mix. The postal workers gave the thirsty pup some water, and now he's at an animal control facility.
Prior to notifying authorities that she wanted the dog back, #$$%(*&) returned to the post office demanding a refund of the $22 she paid to mail the puppy, in addition to requesting that a small amount of money attached to a makeshift dog collar be returned.
(((RED))) Of course then the Federal Government got involved, and slapped the woman with a very rare infraction of the law called "mail idiocy" and will have to stand in line for four hours at the Post Office like the rest of us for her Community Service.
The woman is also being forced to take a 12-hour toddler's course on "Puppies/Dogs/Kitties/Cats all are Earthlings and breath our same air."
Her other minor toddler courses include "...punching air holes into a box so a clandestine pet can breathe" will be offered as well as adult courses "...your grandchildren won't ever love you for living in another state anyway" and "...what kind of of of a dumbass was I for having children instead of cats?"
" I hope she goes to Hay-ale" said one Georgia Redneck, waiting for the Greeter to greet him before entering a WalMart.
"Maybe she'll get mailed to Florida for her vacation," said one animal rights activist/person headed to WalMart to buy Ole Roy dog food. "...would serve her right."
"Get off our property." said a WalMart greeter.
Others who have in the past been critical of the US Postal Service are now raving "...they saved that puppy! Up until now they were just an army of left and right steering-wheeled drivers delivering Pottery Barn catalogs and running from rabid, loose dogs, daily."
By the way, who tells the US Postal Service, NTSA, or anyone in the US Government..."...I'm just mailing a robot,"? A robot of what? Mass destruction?
Pictured above, PETA Activists on way to woman's trailer in Happy City.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
DRONE PHOTO REVEALS EGYPT'S MUBARAK ON GINORMOUS TUFFET
A U.S. Navy drone-to-satellite photo has captured the embattled Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak sitting atop the world's largest hippie throne.
Hosni Mubarak has ruled Egypt as a brutal dictator for 30 years, barring basic rights like freedom of speech/assembly and regularly employing torture to suppress political opposition.
"No one has seen him since the crisis began," said a supposed close aid, who wished to remain anonymous so his hands would remain attached.
"One minute I was lying down in front him, acting as a Human Carpet, just like any other day around the Heliopolis Palace. The Great One paused on my kidneys and then walked over me and tried to squash my head like a Tin Shawki," (The Tin Shawki is an Egyptian fruit full of seeds, tasting like melon).
Mubarak lives in a former hotel in the suburb of Heliopolis, northeast of central Cairo.
The luxurious hotel was originally built as the grand Heliopolis Palace Hotel in 1910. The hotel closed in the 1960s and was used by various government departments for years.
It was not until the 1980s, after the hotel underwent extensive renovations, that it became the official residence and headquarters for Mubarak's new administration, which includes "The Office of Cartoons" , "The Office of the Funny Newspapers" and "Office of Things People can Do For the Supreme Omnipotent Ruler, Instead Of Being Forced to Build Him a Giant Pyramid To The Sky".
The drone caught images of Mubarak sitting atop the hippie-styled throne while an aid held a laptop computer while the centuries-old ruler played Spider, (a form of Solitaire for married folk hiding porn addiction).
Mubarak has outlawed the Internet in his country, "...which was a stupid move because now everyone has nothing to stay home-for," said one U.S. general, who wished to remain anonymous so the U.S. President didn't "...roll with his head."
The comments about this crisis continue to flood the Internet and television media. People outside the country say "...he's a dictator, an asshole."
Meanwhile, people living around the Egyptian military, who seem to have sided with the President, say "...he's a dictator, an asshole."
Hosni Mubarak has ruled Egypt as a brutal dictator for 30 years, barring basic rights like freedom of speech/assembly and regularly employing torture to suppress political opposition.
"No one has seen him since the crisis began," said a supposed close aid, who wished to remain anonymous so his hands would remain attached.
"One minute I was lying down in front him, acting as a Human Carpet, just like any other day around the Heliopolis Palace. The Great One paused on my kidneys and then walked over me and tried to squash my head like a Tin Shawki," (The Tin Shawki is an Egyptian fruit full of seeds, tasting like melon).
Mubarak lives in a former hotel in the suburb of Heliopolis, northeast of central Cairo.
The luxurious hotel was originally built as the grand Heliopolis Palace Hotel in 1910. The hotel closed in the 1960s and was used by various government departments for years.
It was not until the 1980s, after the hotel underwent extensive renovations, that it became the official residence and headquarters for Mubarak's new administration, which includes "The Office of Cartoons" , "The Office of the Funny Newspapers" and "Office of Things People can Do For the Supreme Omnipotent Ruler, Instead Of Being Forced to Build Him a Giant Pyramid To The Sky".
The drone caught images of Mubarak sitting atop the hippie-styled throne while an aid held a laptop computer while the centuries-old ruler played Spider, (a form of Solitaire for married folk hiding porn addiction).
Mubarak has outlawed the Internet in his country, "...which was a stupid move because now everyone has nothing to stay home-for," said one U.S. general, who wished to remain anonymous so the U.S. President didn't "...roll with his head."
The comments about this crisis continue to flood the Internet and television media. People outside the country say "...he's a dictator, an asshole."
Meanwhile, people living around the Egyptian military, who seem to have sided with the President, say "...he's a dictator, an asshole."
Thursday, January 27, 2011
HUGE HAND REACHES DOWN FROM SKY- TAKES OPRAH
Obviously there is life on other planets, as a huge, spaceship-shaped hand reached down from the sky over Chicago yesterday, taking only talk show super hostess and new "O" (Harpo Productions) television network CEO Oprah Winfrey.
"She's done so much good here, she was needed elsewhere," said one of her many fans left stricken when Oprah was suddenly bounced-off the studio's thrift store couch into the spaceship like some Tom Cruise kickball.
Some fans waved goodbye, and thought it was all part of the show's taping. "She could ride off in a chariot and I would clap," said one plate-eyed woman who witnessed the supposed abduction.
"Who's Oprah Winfrey?" said some wandering street idiot.
One passing scientist/guy smart enough to be buying a women's feminine product at a drug store said " If she was taken to a nearby galaxy, it was CANIS MAJOR---a small, irregular galaxy with a mass of about a billion solar masses, the Canis Major dwarf galaxy is one of our closest neighbours, lying approximately 25,000 light years from the Sun."
There is a large sect of people in America who believe Oprah was taken as a Goodwill Ambassador and is probably in Canis Major now on a planet similar to Earth.
"She's got her own show in the works, I'm sure." Another said she'd return one day with a cure for The Common Cold and outlaw television reruns of All In the Family and The Jeffersons..
"She's done so much good here, she was needed elsewhere," said one of her many fans left stricken when Oprah was suddenly bounced-off the studio's thrift store couch into the spaceship like some Tom Cruise kickball.
Some fans waved goodbye, and thought it was all part of the show's taping. "She could ride off in a chariot and I would clap," said one plate-eyed woman who witnessed the supposed abduction.
One passing scientist/guy smart enough to be buying a women's feminine product at a drug store said " If she was taken to a nearby galaxy, it was CANIS MAJOR---a small, irregular galaxy with a mass of about a billion solar masses, the Canis Major dwarf galaxy is one of our closest neighbours, lying approximately 25,000 light years from the Sun."
There is a large sect of people in America who believe Oprah was taken as a Goodwill Ambassador and is probably in Canis Major now on a planet similar to Earth.
"She's got her own show in the works, I'm sure." Another said she'd return one day with a cure for The Common Cold and outlaw television reruns of All In the Family and The Jeffersons..
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A CELL PHONE IS RINGING IN MY MIND
Everytime I try and use a touch screen on a cell phone, it dies.
I'm beginning to think I am the Green Lantern, and that I've picked-up some digital denigration program because the things just don't respond to me.
"'Ya hitting too many buttons at once, Son," Colonel I. Phone would say?
Oh my fingers are small enough...makes me wonder how the giant Gulliver people living in Holland can adjust to them overnight like it was no thing.
What if the whole world was a touch screen (and come to think about it---isn't it) where the GO BACK button was just below the cursor and no many how many times rubbed, you were lost to move that screen?
That's my fear.
We'll no longer be able to be in a situation where we can blame the machine.
I'm not speaking about parking meter machines, either. Future machines like these cell phones will be critical in our decision making---maybe even in our ability to make a decision---which is ridiculous but expected to a degree.
Logical thinking eventually gives-way to that of the machine...thereby influencing the User to rely on the machine implicitly---even for logical daily decisions.
By the way, I added a photo of my new cell---the Damn I Sure Am Broke Phone: It only weighs 5 pounds and I can re-charge it in my Mazda.
I'm beginning to think I am the Green Lantern, and that I've picked-up some digital denigration program because the things just don't respond to me.
"'Ya hitting too many buttons at once, Son," Colonel I. Phone would say?
Oh my fingers are small enough...makes me wonder how the giant Gulliver people living in Holland can adjust to them overnight like it was no thing.
What if the whole world was a touch screen (and come to think about it---isn't it) where the GO BACK button was just below the cursor and no many how many times rubbed, you were lost to move that screen?
That's my fear.
We'll no longer be able to be in a situation where we can blame the machine.
I'm not speaking about parking meter machines, either. Future machines like these cell phones will be critical in our decision making---maybe even in our ability to make a decision---which is ridiculous but expected to a degree.
Logical thinking eventually gives-way to that of the machine...thereby influencing the User to rely on the machine implicitly---even for logical daily decisions.
By the way, I added a photo of my new cell---the Damn I Sure Am Broke Phone: It only weighs 5 pounds and I can re-charge it in my Mazda.
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