Friday, April 24, 2015

injaynesworld "Getting High On Poetry..."

So completely have I been selfishly focused on the celebration of my birthday this month, one would think April was invented just for me.  Not only did “National Weed Day” pass me by without so much as a whiff, it’s almost the end of the month and I’m just now learning that April is “National Poetry Month.”

Who makes this stuff up?

I’m particularly embarrassed about my ignorance of the celebration of poetry, especially since I’m currently enrolled in an online poetry class.  You’d think someone would have given me a heads up.

While I can’t offer you any plant matter to toke upon, I do have a tiny poem to share.  Well, actually, it’s just a snippet that aspires to be a poem.  This is in response to the Studio 30+ prompt “arcane or mysterious.” I call it “No Name Poem,” partly because such a title is mysterious, and partly because I have no name for it. 

The tapping of a cane
Against worn wooden planks
Echoing off walls filled with faces
Forever to remain unknown

Yeah, I know.  Some righteous weed would have been better.  

Happy Poetry Month.  

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

injaynesworld it's "The Hunt..."

Blasts from the high-powered rifles shattered the quiet, sending the herd trumpeting from the watering hole, their gigantic feet quaking the ground beneath them; mothers, calves and great bulls all fleeing for their lives. 

The men panicked as the barrage of metal ripped through six of their own, sending their bodies snapping wildly in the air, before falling bloodied to the jungle’s dirt floor. 

Bold and arrogant, they had been easier prey than that which they had preyed upon.  

Leaving their dead comrades behind, they ran toward the trio of Jeeps, firing their weapons aimlessly in an effort to ward off their unseen attackers and prevent their own impending slaughter. 

What was left of their carcasses after the lions and vultures had had their fill would be found next to signs written in blood:  POACHER.

From the Five Sentence Fiction prompt “hunt.”

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

injaynesworld "Only 20 More Shopping Days..."

Unlike so many who regard birthdays as the poopy diaper of celebrations, I still embrace my special day with all the joy and anticipation of a child.  There is absolutely no excuse for anyone who knows me to forget my birthday.  It’s April 21st and I started sending reminders out today. 

My earliest birthday memory is the Mickey Mouse Club theme party I had when I was six.  I got to be Annette, of course.  A dozen kids gathered around three card tables pushed together and covered with a paper tablecloth picturing Mickey and all his friends.  Matching napkins and paper plates completed the d├ęcor, with a few balloons thrown in.  

Back then you could throw a kid’s birthday party without depleting their college fund.  Pin-the-tail-on the donkey, cake and ice cream, and we were happy.  Best of all were the presents.  There was loot to be had that day and some of us were known to invite kids we didn’t even like.

These days I have to admit I’m hard to buy for.  I’ve already gone through my stuff-accumulating years, gotten rid of most of that stuff, and downsized to a tiny cottage where there’s no place to put any more stuff.   To make it even more difficult, I’ve reached a very blessed place in my life where I actually want for nothing.

This year friends are taking me out to lunch, other friends for drinks, and another will be popping for dinner.  When it comes to people who love me, I won the freakin’ lottery.  You’d think that would be enough.  It’s certainly more than a great many others ever receive.  And yet, I’m embarrassed to admit, the child in me still wants to unwrap a present.

On the other hand, at my age there’s a fine line between childish thinking and dementia. 

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

injaynesworld "Kiss Me, I'm Irish..."

This is the first St. Patrick’s Day I can actually say that.  Up to now, I’ve only guessed at the possibility.   Being English and French (and we know what sluts the French are), I always figured there had to be some fence-jumping way back when my bloodline was still “across the pond.”  Turns out it wasn’t across the pond at all, but just to the north in New Brunswick, Canada.

It was there that my paternal great-grandfather, Daniel Carrigan married Jeannie Baker and spawned a brood of seven daughters, my grandmother, Ellen, among them, born in 1885.  On July, 7th, 1902, Daniel and Jeannie would give their first-born, then only 16 years old, to Herbert Martin, 32, in marriage.  I would like to believe that Herbert was rich and handsome and offered Ellen a wonderful life, but I have no idea.  With the birth of my father, Joseph, in 1907, in Winn, Maine, my family history on my father’s side stops.  I never knew my paternal grandparents.  I have no idea if they ever even met me.  Truth be told, I barely knew my father. 

For much of my adult life, my red hair has allowed me to pass for Irish.  I always felt like a bit of a fraud, but it got me free beers and a few drunken kisses once a year, so what the hell.  But this year, I won’t be flaunting the green or guzzling the suds.  I’ll be thinking about Ellen and my Carrigan heritage, and wondering what part of them I carry.  Do I have Ellen’s eyes?  My great-grandfather’s smile?   With no photos, I can only imagine.  But at least now I have them in my heart.  

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

injaynesworld "There's a Carcass of a Bull on Top of My Remains..."

Can’t say when I’ve been more surprised.  One minute I’m waking up on the couch with my head feeling like I’m on one of them Tilt a’ Whirl rides.  Then there’s this big-ass explosion and I’m like 'What the -- " And bam!  I'm dead.  Just like that. 

Damn, the place is a mess.  Whole front window's blown out, half the wall, too.  Sheriff and fire guys milling around…

Molly’s standing over by the TV in her bathrobe crying.  Yeah, she should be.  I wouldn’t have been sleeping on the couch if she wasn’t such an unreasonable woman.   Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have stayed for that last round at McKinley’s.  Guess I can finally assure her it won’t happen again.

They’re saying it was some twisters just north of here.  Big suckers and fast-moving.  Barely got the sirens on before they whipped around and headed this way.  Bull belongs to Bill Wolich just down the road.  His place got leveled.  Suppose I should be grateful Molly still has a roof over her head.

Still…  Hell of a way to go. 

Sunday, February 22, 2015

injaynesworld "Technology Marches On..."

While I march in place.

I recently received a letter from AT&T informing me that they will soon discontinue service on their 2G network:  This is one of a series of notifications which AT&T is providing to customers like you. 

Is it me or is there clearly a tone of hostility in those last two words? 

Yes, Jayne Martin.  You.  And others like you clinging to the past like gum on the sole of a Nike and gumming up the works for the rest of us.  Without your kind taking up valuable space on the spectrum your friends and neighbors – the ones paying us the big bucks – could download porn and upload dick pics at twice the speed, and you can be sure we’re going to let them know about it!

This isn’t the first time AT&T has threatened to cut me off.  In 2004, I received a similar letter telling me my two-pound analog Motorola was about to be relegated to the Smithsonian and kicking me into the unwanted future.  I must admit that my tiny 2G Nokia with the camera and the ability to download the theme to “Sex and the City” as my ringtone was an improvement, and it has served me well ever since.  It’s everything I need in a cell phone:  It makes calls and receives calls. On the rare instance when I receive an (unwanted) text, I have the ability to text back the sender asking them not to do that again. It’s relatively cheap to operate at $43/month, with unlimited rollover minutes, and I think I’ve accumulated about 4,000 such minutes at this point.  That’s how little I use the thing, and I’m perfectly happy with the whole arrangement.

The letter goes on to say that 2G service will be completely eliminated by January 1, 2017, but just when I rejoice at the prospect of remaining recalcitrant for another two years there’s this:  Don’t even think about it, asshole, because if we’re in the mood (and we can assure you we are) we may just pull the plug whenever we feel like it.

Or words to that effect.

Finally, an invitation to contact my AT&T account representative who will be a valuable resource in shaming you into a Smart phone you don’t want while signing you up for a bazillion- dollar data plan you can’t afford and will never use. 

While no one loves dragging their feet more than I do, even I know when I’m beat, but I’ll be damned if I’ll put one more penny into their sinister corporate coffer than I have to.  You want me to upgrade to 3G?  Fine.  And off I go to Ebay (the second happiest place on earth) to find another phone that's as close as I can get to the one I currently clutch. 

Fifty-bucks-with-free-shipping later, it’s mine:  In fashionably red, 3G, and best of all unlocked, so anymore crap from you, AT&T, and you can kiss my stubborn ass good-bye.

"Flip" you, AT&T

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