The Sunday Whirl: Wordle-286 – Bar None

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Three people walk into a bar; stop at the top step and look around…

The place truly had seen better days. Cloth covers most of the major furnishings.  What was not covered by cloth was under the same thick layers of dust that covered the cloths. A few shafts of sunlight slanted across the room giving an otherworldly sparkle to the dust motes that took to flight upon their entrance and were now resettling. Desaturated of color, the many gray and black shades of dirt and dust gave a horror film quality to the place. In spite of the dust, decay had not taken root. The place had solid bones. The owner was willing to sell it for practically a song as long as someone else was willing to spend for the necessary repairs that certainly would be needed.

With a dramatic flair she takes the few steps down to the main level and walks over to a corner, grabs the edge of a cloth and flips it over onto itself revealing the upright underneath. It was unusual for its time period. Heavy walnut with mother-of-pearl inlays greeted them. Well, what was left of the inlay that is. The inlay was chipped in some places and outright missing in others.  The wood itself had its own dents and stains. Looking at it you could all but imagine someone zoot suited pulling up a stool and hammering out the rhythms of a resounding rag.  She played a couple of chords of what could be called a melody with some love and care and tuning.

Next she unveils a table which had similar inlay work. She leans a little on the table, testing its strength, nearly falling to the floor as the wobbly legs finally revealed themselves and the table broke in half as it crashed to the floor sending up a cloud of dust.   She spies the dubious face of one her companions as she fans the dust away from her and she sighs.

Slowly, they uncover the other furnishings.  Like the first table, most were in some state of disrepair, though the chandeliers looked to be in good enough condition that nothing more than a little, perhaps a lot, of elbow grease couldn’t fix.  The more they looked, the more it seemed she could see the dubious companion’s hope fall even more. The realtor knew the place was going to be a challenge.

Without a word she and the other companion look to each other knowingly. Together the husband and wife turn to the realtor looking at the two of them pretty much resigned to not making a sale.

“We’ll take it!”

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sunday whirl
The Sunday Whirl: Wordle – 286

challenge, face, half, melody, rag, resound, rhythms, root, song, stool, unusual, upright

Saturday Mix – Silly Soliloquy

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footsteps in snow
Caught in Ol’ Man Winters blow,
It was not far I walked  in this snow
And the masses shy from my harried face,
Ignore how I pace, my steps retrace
For what was mine, now gone, I cannot glean
From whence the place it was last seen,
Oh how its lack makes my heart wrench
When I thought I spied it ‘pon you bench
But it was a trick of the sun’s glare
To make me think it could be there
In defeat, to bathroom I go to silently bawl
And find it still there by the stall
Some thought it’s trite how I bemoan
But it was not they who lost their phone!
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For the MLMM Saturday Mix Bastet  invites us to write a short soliloquy. I find my self in a silly mood, thus a silly soliloquy. Willie Shakes has nothing to fear from the likes of me.

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix – February 11, 2017 – Bastet

MLMM – Music Prompt # 74 – Valentine’s Day Special – i am yours

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Time stands still

She sits in the white leather armchair by the fireplace, her legs slightly akimbo as one arm casually resting on one side, one hand holds a snifter of brandy alternately glancing at its colors as she swirls, sniffs and sips its contents even as she silently watches me, waiting.

The fingers of the outstretched arm are lightly tapping the the chair. It is the only indication of her mood. I had to make a decision.

Though she has not uttered a sound since I walked in fifteen minutes ago, I hear her smoke on velvet voice in my mind as clearly as if she had spoken.

Are you sure?

Beauty in all she is

The black velvet jacket gaps just enough to expose the sheer lace of the scarlet basque that offsets her mocha complexion beautifully. Barely containing the voluptuousness underneath, it gapes enough to know it is intentional, but not enough to be indecent. The black leather pants fit snug, but not tight over her wide hips, luscious thighs. Her black stilettos are casually tossed to the side, but she sits with her toes in the plush carpet, feet arched as if she still wears them. As though her regal bearing could ever be lessened by some mere trifle as being shoeless.

Trust Me. Trust us.

I will be brave

Never able to hide anything, She watches my face as I stand before Her contemplating. There really was not anything to think about. The decision was made when i walked in the door this evening. Hell, i think She and i knew this was inevitable from when we first laid eyes on each other over a year ago. There is no place i rather be, there is no one else, but Her.

An imperial eyebrow arches as She sees the decision coalesce on my face.

This moment is me finally showing on the outside what we both knew i had accepted in my heart weeks ago. She rises as i move from the door to stand directly before Her.

With immense release, I vale to my knees, bow my head and submit.

“Yours.”

It is likely only a couple of minutes as she makes me wait, but it feels like a thousand years before I feel the touch of Her hand in my hair, guiding my head back for a kiss in acceptance.

MINE.

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At Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie we are invited to use the lyrics of “A Thousand Years”by Christina Perri as inspiration to write about love and to “Feel free to take the subject in whichever direction that you desire.”

Music Prompt # 74 – “A Thousand Years”by Christina Perri – Valentine’s Day Special

MLMM’s Wordle #141 – Brained

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With his latest exploit leaving him temporarily unable to yell, his adroit digits fly over the keyboard. It almost seemed diabolist as the more he typed the more the words accelerated across the page in a desperate attempt to catch up with the seething mess of thoughts as they escaped the confines of his synapses. Drowning in his rage he pulled no punches. No he would not be polite in this, there will be no form of tact to soften the blows. Otherwise silent, only the rapid staccato of key strikes gave testament to his diatribe.

Minutes of manic typing pass before the cramp formed from being so tensely hunched over made him straighten his back and lift his head. He stopped cold as he caught sight of the furious expression of his likeness in the mirror off to the side. Still, the depth of his fury paled in comparison to the dazed and confused reflection of his partner standing off in a corner away from him. And just like that, the anger vanishes as he sighs in exulansis. With fanfare he yanks the sheet from the typewriter, balls it up and bins it.

Seeing the usual temper tantrum has once again passed, his partner smiles and happily bounces over to him expectantly.

“Gee, Brain. What are we going to do tonight?”
“The same thing we do every night, Pinky…”
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week-141
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie | Weekly Wordle #141

Escape, Exulansis, Diabolist, Polite, Likeness, Fanfare, Seethe, Soften, Adroit, Drown, Mess, Accelerate

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form, in any order that you like.

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For those of you who may have no idea about those last two lines – try this:

And if you’re still flummoxed go here: Pinky & The Brain.

Three Shots

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Winter in dirty rounds
Left a sour chaser
In this summer soul
El Sol hears
My shaken last call
And responds
Warm rays fall
A tonic that bides me
Straight up until spring

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The kamikaze ball dive
sent a spritzer of
mud and hair of the dog
across the erstwhile neat landscape
of three sheets to the wind
With shaken resolve
Bro and I
face Mama

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Days of straight
getting hammered, plastered

Now after a paint chaser
all proof of the head shot
soused across the wall is gone

Tipsy with exhaustion
only the bloody memory
has me stirred

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Yesterday, De (aka WhimsyGizmo), invited us to mix our muses up a bit by throwing some pub and drinking terms in the blender. But to use the words in ways that have nothing to do with the bar scene, alcohol, or drinking. Being verbose, I went for the tall drink realizing after the fact she wanted shots of no more that 33 words. Being a lush I offer the “three shots” above.

dverse
dVerse Poetics: Muse Mixology

Doing Rounds

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I twist my head slowly
trying to tame
the kamikaze tumbler
of my synapses in hyper drive
Your touch 100% proof
I never had a chance
This round is yours

Still stubborn as a mule
You struggle against the bonds
part shaken by how well
I’ve tied one on
But mostly stirred
And you know I know it
This round mine

As I curl out and then straight up
You straddle my chair neat
I drown my sorrows dirty
hammered against the heat
and wet your whistle with firewater
This last call ours
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De (aka WhimsyGizmo), invites us to mix our muses up a bit by throwing some pub and drinking terms in the blender. But to use the words in ways that have nothing to do with the bar scene, alcohol, or drinking. I think you can guess where I went with this.

dverse
dVerse Poetics: Muse Mixology

Name Me

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Before I begin this I concede that I am a prurient ass, and while I hope I am not the only person for whom the following would be such a point of contention as to blog about it, but it does irk me to that degree.

I have a confession to make: I, a writer, am at a loss for a word. Not words, for this is not a post on writer’s block, but a word. A single word -and speaking of single let me roll this back a bit and make my conundrum clear.

My spouse – the person I am married to.
My fiancé/fiancée – the male/female identifier with whom I am engaged to marry.
My betrothed – the gender neutral term for the person I am engaged to.
My intended** – the very informal use of betrothed.
My lover – the person I am having sexual relations with, but who is not necessarily my betrothed or my spouse.
My paramour – the pretentious and/or facetious use of lover, but indicative that the other person’s holy matrimony is the stumbling block between the two of us.
My friend – the person whose company I enjoy, but I have no romantic feelings for.

I’m guessing at this point you have figured out the missing rung.  So I say this to you: When I enter into a monogamous relationship with a person I am dating, but not necessarily have engaged physical relations. I do not desire to state it so baldly by using the term lover, or any indicative thereof, especially if we have yet to engage in the more physical aspects of such. How do I introduce that person to others? Please note I am not referring to terms of endearment, the romantic nouns with which we would call each other, but a clear-cut specific term when you are past saying my date, because as a grown woman of 53 years of age, I would feel utterly ridiculous being introduced as someone’s girlfriend. Thusly, I would not want to introduce a male of my peerage as my boyfriend. So what are the alternatives for the mature dating couple?

My woman/My man sounds like someone is trying a buy a couple seconds while desperately trying to remember the other person’s name while not insulting their maturity by addressing them as my boy or my girl.

My lady, while acceptable enough, sounds so stuffy as though bowing of some sort is expected. My gentleman caller evokes, well, peals of laughter, and expectations of bows, curtsies and polite kissing of said lady’s knuckles (*press play on hurl.mp3 here*).

Granted there is the classic sweetheart, but seriously. For those who know me, I can already hear their snort at my attempt to say such with tenderness except maternal and I haven’t done that when addressing my sons since they were in grade school.  Saying sweetheart with derision or utter sarcasm? -oh in a heartbeat. Saying it with affection? -never gonna happen. And honestly, could you see me with a man who would call me such, except smartastically? Great the old standard Let Me Call You Sweetheart is now running in the background of my mind as I type this. Ugh!

That leaves the ubiquitous my guy/my gal. The former immediately brings the classic Mary Wells tune to mind, while the latter conjures Judy Garland & Gene Kelly hoofing it. So again, I really would prefer a term that did not engage my already natural tendency to drop a song lyric at any given prompt more chances to run rampant. And cripes – now Bon Jovi’s Runaway is in my head- I really can’t stand myself sometimes.

I have read somewhere that other places, such as in the Chinese language, there are several distinct terms for love. These words define, romantic love, from familial loves, from humanitarian love etc. Whereas English only the generic love which encompasses everything, versus in love, which is solely the providence of romantic relationships. If the English language, which has no qualms in blatantly stealing phrases from every other language in existence to make its point when needed, has such a dearth of more appropriate terms for the varying intricacies of love itself, is it really surprising we are so lacking in terminology for the extended ladder rungs leading to it?

I imagine part of the reason for this lexiconic lacking is a mix of history, tradition and longevity. History in that from the days of yore the human life expectancy was a much shorter one than now. Tradition in that a hundred or so years ago, it was pretty much a given that anyone over the age of 25 was likely either married or widowed, unless the person was a spinster or confirmed bachelor. While it was possible for a widow in antebellum south to reenter the courting pool, she retained her late-husband’s surname if/until she remarried. There was no need, read time, to establish more dating/courting terms for the mature single person beyond the genteel gentleman caller. Longevity in that it is still the relative norm to presume a person will date, became engaged, get married and at some point widowed, and as we’re talking this day and age –  possibly divorced. However, as we are living much longer and by extrapolation, dating longer, and/or returning to the dating pool at later ages, the strictures of old-fashioned courting are as outdated the as term gentlemen callers. As such we find ourselves in a bit of linguistic conundrum.

So here I am a week from Valentine’s Day, throwing out a net into the linguistic waters in search of a word in English that is equivalent to the immediate understanding of girlfriend/boyfriend yet does not immediately bring to mind the days of high school. Any takers?

**While intended as a romantic term is used interchangeably with betrothed, I personally have considered it a step down on the romance ladder because of the classic definition of the word intend. Betrothed, brooks no question, two people are definitely going to get married. John Watson proposes to Mary Mortenson in the traditional way with a ring and everything (Yes, I am a huge fan of BBC’s Sherlock – just zip it – would you do that for me please?). There is no question they are a devoted couple and John is going to marry Mary, thus they are betrothed to each other.
When a spontaneous proposal happens, but there is no ring on hand to seal that part of the deal, I think intended should be used. In a moment of passion (not that type of passion – geesh people!) Pat pops the question to Leslie. However, because Pat has more love than moolah at the moment, it takes a bit before an engagement ring is placed on Leslie’s fingers. Until the rings show up, they intend to become engaged/married.
And going back to 221B Baker Street as temporary analogy (I said zip it), in the case of Sherlock flashing an engagement ring at Janine, Sherlock would have introduced her as his betrothed for we would see the evidence of such on her left hand ring finger. However, as she would have been the sole ring wearer, she could introduce him as her intended. After all Sherlock bought the engagement ring because he intended to propose (<– see what I did there?). Intended – you can all but hear the comma, space, but and ellipses immediately following that sentence can’t you? This is why I place intended as a romantic term a rung down on the ladder.

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 challenge – Week 6
52essays2017
A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

And let’s see how others are slicing this week:
sol
Slice of Life Writing Challenge|Two Writing Teachers

MLMM’s Wordle # 140 – Deeper

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Enjoying a brief moment of kudoclasm, a corner of her lips turn up of as she thinks about how good it’s going to feel when he drives it home at last. Determined not to let it slip out again, she gets a firm grip his shaft.  She looks up at him expectantly, anxiously waiting for his signal.  Looking down on he, smiles grimly, placing his hand over hers, tightening their grip. When he’s ready he nods once.

With a slow, slightly twisting motion, it slides in easy for a moment and then stops in the same spot it did before. He glances at her and sees the naked resolve to get this done in her eyes. He pulls back, shifts and tries again.

And again.

And again.

Hunched over her, he feels the sweat of his exertions drip, sees it land on her. She is beyond caring, her breath coming in short gasps as she concentrates on her own efforts. He feels a pain as his back begins to cramp, but he’s almost there he can feel it! Owing it to simple somaticizing he doesn’t give it the time of another second’s thought as he pulls out slowly one last time and then shoves.

Hard.

And they feel it.  Their satiated breaths are understandably audible in the electrifying moment his shaft sinks in deep and stays put.

The aberrant earth blocking a solid purchase yields at last. He deadbolts the latches on the beach umbrella and opens its wide canopy against the glaring sun. Somehow knowing the wait is over, his stomach growls on cue. Laughing, she reaches inside the basket and tosses him a little something to sink his teeth into as reward for a job finally well done. He tosses crumbs to a sparrow and confident the umbrella will not tip over again in the grass, helps spread out a picnic under its shade.

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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie | Weekly Wordle #140

Shaft, Kudoclasm, Somaticize, Pain, Naked, Sparrow, Tighten, Deadbolt, Electrify, Wait, Tooth , Aberrant

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form, in any order that you like.

Temple of My Familiar

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One of the gazillion things I love bout my hometown is its museums. There are many, but there is one in particular I can only let but so much time go by without visiting, and that is The Metropolitan Museum of Art. And even then, regardless of what else new may be there, I must always visit one exhibit. The Temple of Dendur, a real Egyptian temple, is completely open to the public. I remember the first time stepped into the wing and laid eyes upon it I was enthralled. I remember wishing the entire wing were a part of my back yard. Even now, in the nearly two decades since, I still love to visit the temple, walk through its limestone doors and hallways, imaging the temple as it was used way, way, way back when.

The Temple of Dendur dates to 15 BC, in the Roman period. Over the temple gate and over the entrance to the temple itself, the winged sun disk of the sky god Horus is depicted. The temple is partly decorated with reliefs: the temple base is decorated with carvings of papyrus and lotus plants growing out of the water of the Nile. The middle room, used for offerings, and the sanctuary of Isis at the rear of the temple are surprisingly undecorated except for the reliefs on the door frame and rear wall of the sanctuary which show Pihor and Pedesi, as young gods worshiping Isis and Osiris respectively.

Each time I walk through it I am amazed at how something so massive was dismantled, shipped overseas from Alexandria, Egypt and rebuilt in the magnificent wide open Sacker Wing at The Met. That it only took a decade to do so is a feat within itself. The temple was dismantled and removed from its original location in 1963 in order to save the site from being submerged by Lake Nasser, following construction of a dam. It was a gift to America for the nations assistance in saving Dendur and a few other sites that were also in danger with the dam’s construction.

What a lot of people don’t know, or forget, is that the Temple of Dendur is not a tomb. No pharaoh or queen is honored here. It is a temple that honors the various gods and myth of the ancient Egypt. The temple was built to honor Isis, but Horus, Osiris, Thoth, Hapy, and Sekhment are also represented in its walls. And because kings, respect kinds, there is even a rendering of Augustus Cesar, dressed in the Egyptian robes of a pharaoh for kings respect kings, making offerings to Egyptian gods.

Another tidbit unbeknownst to most: Most of the walls of the ancient temples were originally painted in vibrant colors. It’s the erosion of time in the desert sun and the occasion flooding of the Nile, that leaves us with the beauty of the bas relief in sandstone. There are is very little documentation on this, but few examples found and from looking at other temples in the area, indicate there was color on the temple walls. Last year the Met had the Color the Temple project. A light installation using digital technology which projected the colors of the painted detail to the temple without altering the surface itself. The artists chose the scene of August Ceasar giving offerings as it was the most intact scene and in an ideal location in which to project. Alas, that was early last year and is now gone, but I am sure you can find pictures and articles of it somewhere in Googleland.

And with all things beautiful, to quote a certain Country and Pop star people throw rocks at things that shine. You can actually find graffiti carved into the walls of the temple. One dates as far back to the BC times, a few scant years after the temple was built through to another carved in the late 1800s. Leonardo 1820 is the one easily remembered, but my favorite – to my delight and yes, I presume it’s a male, his shame is one carved by a “L. BRAD—” the rest of the name is unreadable, “1821 OF NY US”. Here, nearly 200 years later, in New York City sits the tag of a fellow resident of my state, hey, for all I know, he may even be a fellow resident of the City itself. Now wouldn’t that be ironic and delicious?

The Sacker Wing which houses the temple was designed in a way to mimic the temple’s location in Egypt. The reflecting pool in front of the temple represents the Nile river and the wall behind it represents the cliffs of the original location. The frosted glass ceiling of the wing and the massive glass wall facing Central Park is stippled to diffuse the light coming in and resemble the lighting in Egypt. The view in spring and summer, when the trees are in bloom are beautiful. I myself am most enamored with the view in autumn, where the colors of fall complement the warm limestone walls of the temple. Even now in the midst of the stark contrast of gray winter days is its own beauty. So yes, the views of the temple and its outside environs are stunning regardless of season. I have whiled away many, many hours sitting, reading, contemplating life and simply enjoying the natural light that pours through the windows. Even in inclement weather it is beautiful to pass the time watching a rain storm through those windows.

The Temple of Dendur is also considered one of the most romantic places in NYC. Many proposals have happened in these hallowed halls as well as wedding receptions as the Temple of Dendur can be rented for events by museum members, with the monies for such of course. I must admit when the room is closed for a private event and I cannot have my time there, I am perturbed for days. It is a gorgeous atmosphere that is historically fascinating surrounded by natural beauty outside and over a couple of millennium of art in the inside. Is there really any wonder I continually return?

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 challenge – Week 5
52essays2017
A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

MLMM’s Wordle # 139 – The Coroner’s Tale

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“How she lay sprawled across the triptych. A human pupa awaiting the sweet kiss of Thanatos, but getting the cruel tongue lashing of Keres instead. The triptych itself, a most ghastly thing, was pinned to the wall as though it were a bed, and she to it.  Had I only seen the drawings, I would have sworn she lay across a divan in repose. Except for the missing toes, the only part of her the mice could easily reach I suppose.  As we came to collect the remains, I had wished it were only a mere image as opposed to the horror that was before me. There is a reason that was my last case.”  The ancient gnarled hands of the erstwhile coroner lit an equally ancient pipe.

“You know I am not a man prone to pleonasm, so forgive me this if I tend to such now. I must detail this as I recall it, or not as all, for the image of her like that sears my mind still. I remember I had to quickly grab hold of the nearest door jamb to steady myself it was such a shock.” I think it was not until he lowered his hand again that he realized it was raised to his nose as though to somehow ward off the stench of the scene then. Even his nose twitched in memory. “You sure you want to hear this, son?”

I nod and settled back in my chair waiting for the rest of the tale, somehow knowing it was going to take a while.

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week-139
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie | Wordle #139 “January 23rd, 2016”

Bed, Pupa, Image, Pleonasm, Nose, Sear, Mice, Collect, Grab, Ward, Triptych, Pin

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form, in any order that you like.