Category Archives: This World Needs An Enema!

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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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
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Two Writing Teachers

Remember?

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23

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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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
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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

This Day Needs An Enema

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I knew when I saw the caller ID this morning it was going to be a crapshow, but I answered it anyway. Usually I can maintain a balance, but not today. Today I chose violence as the kids say an neutrality and diplomacy were shot to smithereens. And things only escalated from there. I have spent a much too long portion of this day in a mood that can only be summed up by the questions I have asked today. All of which were some various form of:

  • You F-ing KIdding Me Right Now?!
  • How F-ing Stupid Are You?!
  • Don’t Your Knuckles Hurt From All That F-ing Dragging?
  • And You F-ing Thought THAT Was The Best Option?

Today has been a personal and social quagmire. Come tomorrow I suspect there will either be several apologies or a few grudges that are going to be held for a long time to come.

Today might not have been a complete loss, but it certainly was not a win.

Day 19 of 31 –

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

So Burnt

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I have semi-personally been trying to find the joy in life again, in peope. Oh, I’m doing an okay job of faking it until I make it, but right now? In this exact moment I am simply burnt the fuck out.

And I’m torn…

– in my sorrow for the shit that’s happening in Ukraine. The sanitized politics that’s being parsed out as news over here versus the sensationalized what’s supposed to be coming directly from there on top of what I hear from my colleagues. All of which means everything and nothing as I try not to fret and fear over the fact that I have not heard from someone I personally know there in over a month. An erstwhile colleague, he went home when his mother became ill not long before the world shut down because of Covid. We remained in spotty contact mostly via email. He lives in the Holosiivskyi raion (a district in Kyiv) and would be among the men now in uniform fighting for his country. I fully understand, I am far from a priority now. I don’t know and won’t know until he can find a moment to reach out.

– in my exasperation over Prince William who tells the world with a straight fucking face that only Asian and African countries wage war. That Europeans just don’t do these things and he’s surprised by the situation in Ukraine. Are you fucking kidding me?! England has a track record of poaching and taking by any means necessary, under the sweet term of ‘colonizing’ a mile wide and an ocean deep. I find this particularly galling as England recently celebrated Commonwealth Day the partnership of 54 nations, mostly made up of countries that were previously part of Britain’s Empire because I’m so absolutely sure not a single one of those 54 nations ever had a British gun fired upon them. Yes, Prince William is a grown man, but still, boy if you don’t go sit your selectively blind arse down!!

– in resignation along with these allegedly warmongering Asian and African countries, as well as Black Twitter, who are all sitting back, looking around with “you SEE this bullshit?” expressions. They are understandably side-eyeing a world at large that is seemingly losing its shit over Ukraine while also wondering where the fuck was all this concern for them when it was people/countries of color being invaded?

– in enmity with the state of Florida and their “Don’t say Gay” bill which would ban “classroom discussion about sexual orientation or gender identity” for primary school children in the state. What that fuck is this reverse “Field of Dreams” bullshit? If you don’t say it to the kiddies then LGBTQ won’t exist. Yeah, good luck with that. And how long before someone amends the ban to include middle school, or high school?

– annoyance and semi fear of my own city, in fact – most of this world, with its relaxing of Covid restrictions. Every one is so much of a rush to behave as though everything is back to “normal”. Yes, I am so sick of having to wear a mask 12-16 hours a day when I step out my house to go to work, and/or try to have something of a social life again. But I much rather be sick of a mask, than be sick from Covid. Vaccination does NOT equal immunization. Less likely to become so sick from Covid that one might die, does not mean one won’t get sick. It most certainly does not mean one won’t be a carrier regardless and transmit it to someone else regardless. We [the world at large] are not anywhere near ready for what we once knew as “normal”. Especially for those at risk who genuinely cannot take the vaccine. Do they get relegated to become some form of agoraphobes to better protect their health from a world that demasked too soon? I’m waiting for the Covid numbers to once again start rising as more masks get lowered.

– in a form of self-induce ambivalence where I get through my days in a state of “I’m fine”. In the Venn diagram of me for the most part I really am fine in my little bubble of the world. But in another part of me there is this powder keg of utter helplessness within that feels like it is going to explode any fucking second and it’s slowly expanding over space. And the thing is even I am not sure if that explosion will be in egregious rage, in sinking depression or in an apathy that is borderline socio in self protection. Because I know what happens to me when I try to be everything to everyone. I’ve gone the self-martyr route and it was a bitch digging myself out of that emotional quagmire to allow myself to be happy. I cannot do that to myself again. I’m justifying to myself why an upcoming pleasure trip to Atlanta in a couple of weeks is sorely needed. Yet, I’m also chastising myself because I feel like a whiny little brat when I know I don’t have it any where near as bad some of my locals who are truly shouldering some heavy burdens in which I can do nothing for them but be emotional support – it’s enough for them – I know it is, and yet it’s not.

I’m trying to give myself perspective to keep all my petty shit together and get through the daily, but it has been so fucking hard. I’m just so burnt with outside forces playing havoc with my inner equilibrium right now.

Day 17 of 31

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Ummm Why?

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The more I think I cannot be caught off guard by the “ummm why?” of those people with whom I share the office floor, the more those people – and note I did not say co-workers or colleagues, but those people – are determined to prove that I in fact can be caught off guard.

Exhibit A: I walk down the hall at work and encounter this: someone left their dishes in the water fountain.

Okay, “dishes” is bit of a misnomer. It’s not as if there is a stack of plates with remnants of mom’s spaghetti. [Dammit – and here comes Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” to rattle in my head for the next hour.]

I’ll even give credence to the fact that despite the literal dishwashing implement in the dirty mug in preparation for cleansing, clearly the incredibly rude person who did this was only storing the items there momentarily-likely while the used the nearby loos- before they could be taken to the sinks in the pantries. Regardless, that was just wrong.

Yes, there are water coolers -with better tasting, colder, better filtered water- located elsewhere on the floor that most people use. Those water coolers are located in the pantries that bookend the floor. As my floor hosts about 400 seats, 80-90% of which are occupied on any given weekday; the coolers are literally a full street block apart from one end of the floor to the other. This classic water fountain is centrally located on the floor. Regardless, that it is used much less often, it remains a working fountain, I have seen people use the fountain as intended – to drink from.

I can only imagine the utter repulsion of the poor souls who wanted a quick sip at the moment without going to polar ends of the floor to do so and encountered that nonsense. I know I shuddered at the thought.

So typical me, printed a sign and taped it above water fountain: This is not a dish rack. It is a working water fountain. Just because YOU don’t drink from here does not mean others do not.

The fact that I saw the dishes, got annoyed, created and printed the sign and the items were still there when I returned to the fountain to post said sign proved its need for it (in my humble opinion – and some of you know how humble my opinions are). Sign printed and posted I forget about it.

When I left for the day I pass the fountain and note the dishes are gone, but the sign remained. Only now in tiny print in a corner was scrawled Oops Sorry. This morning the sign was gone.

I have no idea if the offender knows I posted the sign. Unless I see the person with the mug I will have no idea of the offender’s ID.

I do have an idea that at least that person will not be so presumptuous about turning fountains into personal dishracks.

Day 4 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up this Friday!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers