Category Archives: This World Needs An Enema!

A World Divided

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On Star Trek: The Next Generation, there was an episode about a planet wanting to join the Federation but could not because a small part of its population was opposed to it. It had to be unanimous, a united planet to be a member.

A united planet.

We who call ourselves citizens of the United States would be noted as liars to say we are united merely as a country these days. Once we got over the shock of it, I’d say we stopped being truly united five or so years after 9/11. Perhaps there was a momentary resurgence of patriotism when Osama Bin Laden was finally taken down, but the bloom fell off that rose pretty quickly.

Since Cain first had his jealous streak and took out Able it has been man’s penchant to divide and hold his cause in favor.

It is one of the oldest strategies in the book of power. And it works, because it plays directly into human nature.  We classify ourselves along political, social, religious, and economic lines, and so on. We used to agree to disagree and, if not fine, at least be tolerant of opposing views. These matters are central to human social existence and tend to resist any attempts at resolution. As a result, each side views the position of the other as a threat to its very existence.  The more we lose sight of our commonalities, the more we drift away from each other and become less human. When we group ourselves away from those outside our immediate groups and regard them with fear and hostility, even when they’ve done nothing, we forget that they are humans too, and that makes us part of the problem.

These intractable conflicts are ones that have continued unresolved and seem stuck in their levels of intensity and destructiveness. People tend to strike out at what is different, what they fear, which is bad when what we fear is each other.
It’s worse when we give in to that fear, give in to that desire to inflict as much harm, physical and psychological, on each other as possible. For so many this constant sense of threat and hostility pervades everyday life and overrides our ability to recognize any shared concerns.

For a nation renowned for embracing the different, some in the U.S. seem to have lost sight of this within our own walls. Where will her huddled masses go if Liberty’s torch grows dim?

I live in New York City, and twice within my lifetime, we’ve been a target. It’s a very sobering thing to have at the back of my mind that the physical symbolism of Liberty, if not all she stands for, could be blown out by force?

And considering the current clime…

So many nations flexing power with malice, not peace. We as a people seem to be doing more and more of separating ourselves from each other than coming together. 

Countries Currently at War 2026 according to the World Population Review
https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/countries-currently-at-war

Earth would never be admitted as a member of the United Federation of Planets as we stand now.

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 7 – Two Writing Teachers

 

This Is A Beauty No One Is Sleeping On

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.
So, a guy emails me through an online dating site:

“I am going to assume that my profile is too casual/risqué for you, but I thought I’d shoot you a line anyway. (You have a fetching smile.)”

Of course I check out his profile. He states he wants a FWB, not looking for serious dating and is desirous of a woman with intelligence.

Got it – he wants a fuck, just not a dumb one.

My response?

“Hello,

My orthodontist and I thank you.

“Check you out!” as the kids say, throwing down the gauntlet on the opening play.

If I respond in the negative I come off as looking prudish, yet a positive one is indicative that I am open to only being someone ‘beneficial’. If I am open to such with you, who else have I been beneficial to? Providing I am someone simpatico to your intelligence and views to be worthy of said fornication.

Damned if I do and damned if I do. Fiddley-dee, whatever is a woman to do?

Oh, I can pick up that gauntlet and cyber strike you across your grizzled jowl for your cheekiness. (Insert emoji with tongue sticking out here.) [– Yes, I actually wrote out the emoji as such.]

How dare you!

Rai”

This is not to say I would or would not go for a roll –or a few- in the hay with him. He is attractive and arrogant and just the sort of ego balloon I like to stick my pins in and pop.

Regardless, one has to prove worthiness of my wrapping these thick juicy thighs around, and that ain’t the way, Bub.

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 4 – Two Writing Teachers

sol

Articulate This

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I’m in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Two of the GPs are out, and there’s an understandable delay. I’m not happy, but being retired has its advantages. I had not packed my day chock-full of All The Things To Be Done On My One Off. I’m not stressed and have time. My doctor is in the office, and I absolutely do not wish to reschedule until next month or possibly longer, so I wait.

A patient is making his displeasure at the delay known to the nurses at reception. As in, I can hear his complaints over The Hu (a Mongolian folk metal band), over my iPod (yes, I still use my iPod). A woman sitting near me and I give each other the “Oh, you hear him too, huh?” empathic smile that all who have gone through such before have, and strike up a conversation. I am a born-and-bred New Yorker; she is a transplant from another state, having lived here for less than two years.  We touch on television and learn that we both have a penchant for period dramas. We spent a few minutes on classic books, version the Hollywood interpretations, and that’s when it happened…

She shakes her head, “Wow…”
“What?” I ask.
“You. The way you speak… You’re well read and very artic…”

I am going to gather she stopped short at that point, less because her brain kicked in and more because I’m sure my expression went from amicable to apoplectic by the second syllable of the classic “A” word used with well-spoken blacks: Articulate.

Was it because I did not interject “like” and/or “you know” every fifth word or so? Perhaps it was my lack of “neck roll”? I do not know. However, I’m pretty sure I popped a capillary or two in my efforts to restrain my agitation at hearing this.

Worse, I am hearing it from someone less than 30 years of age. Someone who assuredly should know better, coming from a – not major, but a metropolis. Geographical differences aside, clearly Barack and Michelle Obama, Kamal Harris, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and Maxine Waters are ethnic flukes, as though they do not speak the same English spoken by the majority of people in this country.

“I mean, I mean….” She starts the familiar back-peddle seen often when people are caught hoisted on their own petard.

“Oh, I know what it is you meant.” I stop the peddling in its tracks. “I don’t know what you were exposed to in (name of city redacted to not paint all of its denizens with the broad brush of ignorance), that gave you such preconceived notions, but for the record, it is not a compliment to be surprised, or worse, impressed, that a person of color can speak well as though it is such a foreign concept. And, it is incredibly condescending and patronizing to think we should feel complimented that it’s noticed and meets your unasked-for approval.”

Suffice it to say, the conversation ended there. It was just as well, for my name was called to see my GP not too long after.

It is amazing that this still requires clarification, but here it is: some of us (Black people) become a little perturbed when people call out our articulateness.

It perpetuates the stereotypes that Blacks speak mostly in slang, in African-American Vernacular (aka Ebonics), or in anything other than standardized English. It is also divisive, a separating of us into an “us” and “them”. It is the stereotype that is perpetuated even within less affluent black communities every time a well-spoken black person is accused of “talking white”. The stereotype that equates articulate styles of speech as belonging to “Caucasian” rather than belonging to “intelligence”, as though one was still the exclusive dominion of the other. Blacks do not assume every white person speaks with a major in English, so why is it still a thing of note to some when encountering those of us who have a more extensive use of verbiage, diction, and enunciation?

Here we are in 2036 Anno Domini (CE for those who prefer the secular nomenclature), and it’s an aggrievance that yes, this is still a conversation.

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 3 – Two Writing Teachers.

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Take-Out and Take Off

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Normally, my breakfast at work in cold weather is a cup or two of instant oatmeal or Cream of Wheat. It’s dreary rainy Tuesday here in New York City and I was in the mood for something savory, not sweet. So I pop downstairs to the coffee shop next door -no not Starbucks- where the colonnade protects me from the rain.

The coffee shop has two wood benches outside. A couple of college students are seated on one, chatting and sharing a hot cocoa. They look adorable together and I have the impression they are a couple as I enter. I know most of the staff visually and we acknowledge each other as I place my order for a ham and gruyere croissant and wait by the window as it is warmed for me.

I am looking out at the droplets that drip from the decorations of the annual Christmas tree that arrived last week and is now decorated for the holidays. My idle query on coupledom is confirmed when the two outside share a quick, but meaningful kiss. The two are oblivious to the world, as most young lovers are. I smile move my eyes away, giving them a sense of privacy even if they are not worried about such.

That is when I see him…

A man comes into view. Nothing out of the ordinary, a white short-sleeved dress shirt, black trousers, loafers, his hair could maybe use a comb. As I said, nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday morning…

All the way up to the point when, with barely a break in his step, he reaches down, grabs the end of the bench not being used and calmly starts to walk off with it.

Wait. What the actual…?

“Um dude, you might want to rescue your bench. Some guy just walked off with it ” I inform the barista closest to me, just as he is turning to hand me my order. The bench thief is moving surprisingly fast to be dragging the bench behind him for he is out already out of sight.

The barista immediately runs out. I explain what is happening to his coworkers and leave. I don’t see the interaction, a column of the colonnade blocked my view, but I heard the short but volatile Samuel L. Jackson worthy exchange before I see the understandably aggrieved looking barista with said bench under his arm. He thanks me in passing as he returned…

The couple on the bench, in their own little rose-colored glasses world did not realize anything was amiss until the barista ran out. They were unaware the benches were not anchored until the one beside them moved. Even then, because the man really looked like he could have been a low-level manager, they assumed he worked there.

I return upstairs to find out that someone who fit his description was found roaming around the underground carpark of my office building and was ejected from the premises. And all of this was before 9 A.M.

I’m at my desk, sipping my much needed coffee. I’m too leery to wonder what other craziness is in store for today. I fear Universe will take it as a challenge.

I do not want to FAFO.

Let’s see how others are slicing life this Tuesday…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Timetables and Turntables

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I get to the train platform on time for my usual train. An older woman, and not – I am 61 for reference, is loudly kvetching to all who will listen how the time arrival board has stated a train will approach in 1 minute for over 5 of them. After listening to her for a minute, and realizing this will not end anytime soon, I blatantly pull out my iPod in her face to tune her out – literally. It’s me grooving with some Brothers Johnson.

🎵Feel sunshine sparkle pink and blue playgrounds will laugh if you try to ask
“Is it cool?” (is it cool) 🎶

And yet I can still hear her whinging even as a train finally approaches the station.

As a several decades commuter of NYC transit I do not say a word for I drink and I know things. <– If you get that, you GoT that.

  • The train approaching the station is going to be packed, so I step back and wait for the train after this that I know will imminently follow.
  • That next train will be relatively empty because everyone will have crowded this coming train in the delay..
  • There will always be another train.

    🎵I get knocked down but I get up again you’re never gonna keep me down 🎶

  • Bitching and kvetching only upsets the complainant more. And above all…
  • Neither of which will make a train arrive any faster,  so I chill.

Clearly these are not things some have learned. Or perhaps they enjoy the sound of their own whinge.

IDK and IDGAF as now it’s 🎵Me-ee an-and Mrs. Mrs. Jones... 🎶

Ms. Kvetching brushes past me to take the spot I vacated on the platform to be at the door and presumably push her way into the train. Lo and behold, instead of her boarding said train, everyone on the train push past her to disembark. The train is going out of service.

But dear me oh my! *clutches cyber pearls* The wailing and gnashing of teeth that commenced from her and other commuters!

It worsens when it’s announced over the PA system that no trains will be making stops on the local downtown side until the train that went out of service has cleared the track.

Passengers are advised to take the next uptown train, about seven minutes away by the time board, to the express stop one station away for access to the downtown express that will bypass the station. Several follow that sage advice, including Ms. Kvetching. Another woman then starts outright bitching – really, there’s no other word for it. She is bitching so loud on her phone that those like me who chose to stay on the downtown side can hear her clearly. I mean she is bitching so loud I can hear her from my side of the tracks over my Metallica which universe now plays on my iPod to amuse me.

🎵 Black heart scarring darker still, yes she’ll be there when I’m gone, Yes, she’ll be there when I’m gone, Dead sure she’ll be there…🎶

Two local trains pass on the express track to the chagrin of most on both sides of the track as complaints rise in volume. It does not help that an advert for positions available for hire in the MTA is announced. I have the giggles, but seem to be the only person finding the humor in this. And the humor deities, Thalia and Gelos strike again

🎵 I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral, can’t understand what I mean? Well, you soon will…🎶

There is an unofficial stare down between the many who have now moved to the uptown side of the track and the few of us who have stubbornly?/knowingly?/hopefully? held our ground on the downtown side. Oddly enough it reminded me of the smug look some Mac users have when pulling out their sleek machines among us run of the mill die-hard brick carrying PC users.

A gentlemen seeing that I carry a bulky package I need to drop off to FedEx when I get to work offers assistance if I wish to go to the dark – erm I mean – the uptown side. I decline even as a third local train passes on the express track and he departs for the uptown track.

About seven-eight minutes total have passed

🎵 *Theme to “Rocky” plays* Gonna fly now, flying high now, gonna fly, fly, flyyyyyyyyyy…🎶

There are perhaps about eight of us in my line of vision on the downtown side when another local train approaches – on the downtown LOCAL track. Those of us who patiently waited have Cheshire Cat smiles amongst each other as the opposite side goes into a fresh uproar. I am on the train and smirk as a few young ones who hauled arse from the uptown to downtown side just make the train.

I am mentally howling with laugher at my iPod which continues to be one with the Cosmos in amusing me.

🎵My baby takes the morning train..  🎶

I look out the window and catch the infuriated faces of Ms. Kvetching and Ms. Bitching as my train pulls out of the station without them aboard. I make eye contact with another experienced commuter who also waited and we knowingly smirk as we go our merry little way

Yes, the schadenfreude was massive with me and Digable Planets.

🎵Check it out, man I groove like dat, I’m smooth like dat
I jive like dat, I roll like dat
Yeah, I’m thick like dat, I stack like dat
I’m down like dat, I’m black like dat
Well, yo, I funk like dat, I’m phat like dat
I’m in like dat ’cause I swing like dat
We jazz like dat, we freak like dat
We zoom like dat, we out (we out, we out)🎶

Let’s see how others are chugging down their slice of life it down this Tuesday…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Remember?

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Remember?

That day you tripped

And somehow face-pined

Into the bowl of pineapple chunks

You red-faced in embarrassment

Me red-faced in pining

For the sacred sweet of your lips

Made more so by the juices dripping

I realized then

You tripped

But I

Fell

Pink lips with water drops

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #182: Are You Pining for Poems?

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

For this week’s Quadrille, Dee (aka WhimsyGizmo) has us pining for a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title, but must include some form of the word “pine” as a noun, verb, or adjective. Or play around with it and invent your own word.

Not Enough Coffee For this

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On the subway MMOC (minding my own commute) and glance up when the top three inches of a very colorful pair of boxer briefs under white ripped jeans come into view interrupting my crossword puzzle.

These are worn by a man who certainly is AARP if not Social Security eligible. I’m serious.

[Me internally – you must be kidding why?]

He (with happiness): Hi

Me (with caution): Hello.

He (with hope): You’re pretty.

[Me internally – I haven’t had coffee to deal with this ish, whyy?]

Me (with patience): Thank you.

I immediately go back to my crossword but I’m partially blinded by the colors in my peripheral and I cannot begin to expound upon how chagrinned that makes me.

He (throat clearing): Hey.

Me (eyebrow arching): Yes?

He (with hope): Can I get your digits?

[Me internally – Digits? DIGITS?? Oh surely you jest! Whyyy?]

(I find out why in a moment, but he looks at me and takes a step back; which was impressive given it is morning crush hour.)

Me (with disdainful): Let me be blunt. I can’t get down with a man who chooses to not keep his pants up. If I wear my trousers as yours I’m a slag. But you approaching a woman thusly is acceptable? Au contraire! I do hope the next station is yours.

He (with surprise): Damn you cold.

Me (with saccharine): Antarctic and dropping.

(There are some who will read this and chuckle getting the extra meaning – you’re welcome.)

I don’t know if the next station was his or not, but he left my sight. That was all I wanted.

Man Sitting Next To Me (shaking his head with mirth): You didn’t have to be so mean. The way your face went evil if looks could truly kill brotha would be a problem for the cleaning crew. Why you do him like that?

[Me internally – Oh Really?]

Me (turning my head with attitude): I had to be how I had to be. My face is my face. And what makes you think your opinion of such worth to voice it?

MSNTS (affronted): Fuck you.

[Me mentally switching dictionaries: Oxford > Urban]

Me (amused): Base language notwithstanding, sentiment fully reciprocated.

MSNTS (getting mad): You looked like you were a nice one until you opened your mouth.

Me (getting even): And your appearance likewise implied intelligence until your utterances indicated otherwise proving the adage of deceptive miens. . I can explicate, but conversational cessation would be preferred.

MSNTM moved as though he was about to do something. I didn’t even think about it as I started reaching for an earring (I flow between vivacious and voracious several times daily.)

Different Man Standing In Front of us who witnessed both exchanges: Bruh, stop. The way she just code switched on you like that? You ain’t possibly topping her, leave she be. Cause if I think you even thinkin’ ‘bout laying hands? Imma haveta take my earrings out along with she and none-a us want that this morning.

Me (gratefully): Thank you.

I go back to my crossword.

[Me internally – Why you must have that big ol’ wedding ring on? Whyyyy?]

MSNTM gets off two stations later with a muttered “Bitch.”

I don’t even look up. “Thank you, I resemble that remark.”

“I ain’t scared of you.” DFSIF laughs as he exits a station later.

“That’s ‘cause you scared of your spouse.” I laugh back. “Lucky wretch.”

“Damn right and yes I am.” He winks his goodbye.

And this is all before 7am.

If yesterday was Mad Monday for me (do not ask), today is definitely Takedown Tuesday.

Proceed with caution.

Let’s see how others are taking it down this Tuesday…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

We Don’t Need Television

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Makes us wanna holler

When they try to silence us

We’re done being quiet

Makes us wanna break free

When they try to hold us down

We’re done being still

Our movement is revelation

Watch us

Hear us

Our voice revolution

We’ve had enough

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #174: You Say You Want A Revolution

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

For this week’s Quadrille, Kim (Writing in North Norfolk) is prompting a revolution for a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title, but must include some form of the word “revolution”.

Here I give gentle nods to Gil Scott Heron (The Revolution Will Not Be Televised) and Marvin Gaye (Inner City Blues)

Day nineteen of National Poetry Writing Month

National Poetry Writing Month 20 years of 30 poems in 30 days

Office Whoa-s

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Client 09:51-email: Raivenne, it’s not working. HELP?

Me 09:56-email: Please give me a call. No idea what you’re speaking of.

[While waiting for email reply, I look through files, begin to see the problem. Start an email response.]

Client 10:21-email: Will do. Are you free now? Here is the issue.

Me 10:22-email: Yes. Call me.

[While waiting for call, I continue look through their content on the back end and discover a series of issues that I presume are the reason for the request for help and continue typing mostly to have talking points at hand when they eventually call.]

One of the things I inform students during training, is that our application identifies them by name, date, and time, down to the seconds, when an action happens. Do not waste time telling me or any one on my team that you did not do something, because the application will, as I call it, rat you out. I do not contact you if I do not already know that it was you (royal you in this case as it involves more than one person), that did it. I already know if I do not cauterize this at the source now, it will drag out unnecessarily, so I aim for a preemptive strike.

My talking points become a diplomatic full out email, complete with screenshots, timestamps, and step-by-step breakdowns to explain:

– how ya’ll done effed up

– when ya’ll done effed up

– when ya’ll attempted to cover up the eff up which then

– created a bigger eff up, so

– here’s how to fix your eff up and ‘cause summa ya’ll clearly didn’t listen the first time I tol’ ya’ll ‘bout effin’ dis up

– here’s yet another step-by-step detail of the ideal scenario on how not to eff dis up again.

And yes, I went uber petty and purposely CCed all parties involved in the shenanigans, to avoid the backend I thought he/she/they -blame the person not in the email- I knew would happen without it. I spent nearly an hour and a half crafting that email, being excruciatingly detailed, because office diplomacy of politely, but emphatically, saying ya’ll some stoopid Keystone Cops sonsabeeches and we, meaning me, ain’t gots time fo’ ya’ll ‘peatin’ the same ol’ dumb ass ish ova’ and ova’ is wordy as fuck.

I ended the tirade with “Had the ideally happened this entire “conversation” would not be needed.”

As always when I go off the email-rails, I have a second, and often third, pair of eyes go over things because I sometimes forget to camouflage my natural penchant to snark my Rubenesque African American callipygian to near non-existence.

“Oooh, you are pissed!” “Damn did you at least send lube first?” were my colleagues response before I was allowed to click send.

Alas, because I am a cunning philologist (hah! Not the word you thought I would use here was it?), I am also aware that despite my best efforts to curtail my wont for multisyllabic linguistics in professional diatribes, my email diplomacy ofttimes necessitates the employment of verbiage translations. I should mention, in that one hour and a half span of composing said email and writing this slice – I am still awaiting that promised call. Thus, I am not in expectation of immediacy in response to my correspondence.

I think I will pull a Cheshire Cat now – smile and wave and disappear…

Let’s see how others are smiling and waving it out this Tuesday…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Sounds Springing in the City

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I am sitting at a table near an open window at a tapas place. I’m waiting for my dinner companion to return from the bathroom that I know is in the room, in the back, at the bottom of the stairs, in the bowels of the café. It’s a spring day that actually feels like a real spring NYC day. Not that hint of March lion where, just watch, tomorrow will be 20 degrees again just ’cause. No, it’s that warmish spring air that tells you it’s going to stick around.

I hear a cacophony of sounds on the sidewalk and street in front of me. It’s the usual discordant din that is not quite the white noise of living in a big city.

Sirens from ambulances and police cars speeding by assault my serenity as I nurse my large cup of black coffee. Buses and trolleys rumble by. Motorcycles and motor scooters, too.

There’s a group of teenage boys loudly playing rap music and performing what I assume to be some sort of rhythmical dance moves as a small crowd of onlookers gathers around them. Across the street a woman walking down the street spews random profanity at passers-by of her spot in the middle of the sidewalk.

I look up between the tall buildings to the sound of a passenger jet overhead, only to be distracted by the voice of the homeless man asking those who sat at the outdoor tables for any spare change. Some give, some don’t.

Down the block in the other directions the sounds of a musician playing acoustic guitar, accompanied by someone drumming on a large plastic pail turned upside down, wafts toward me. It’s not unpleasant.

Around me I hear the many conversations of the other diners that blur into its own white noise as well the ambient music playing in the restaurant itself.

I find myself smiling at everything and nothing.

My dinner companion returns and a velvet baritone breaks through my pensive listening. “You all right, Rai?”

And on this first day of spring in New York City, listening to the sounds around me, for the first time in a long time I realize something…

“Yes, I am.”

Day 20 of 31 –

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers