Contributor Posts

I am five foot four,
is what she said,
when just standing,
not in my bed.

What's the point,
I asked of she.
No point at all
just let me be.

Tall was my goal,
can't you see,
I wanted to be tall.
Taller than thee.

We got a tradition down here on the South End that when we want to purge our bounty, clear out our closets or empty our sheds, we drag the unwanted possessions down to the highway, slap a FREE sign on the treasures and let the passing motorists fight for the spoils.  Usually only takes half a day before someone slams on their brakes, jumps out of their pickup, does a cursory investigation, then grabs what items would fit in their closets or their sheds.

Sure, we could haul the stuff down to the thrift stores up north but they would charge money selling them to pay for their overhead and rental so why not skip the middleman and reach out directly to our fellow indigents?  I carried out two nice maple colonial chairs circa 1950, cushions reupholstered, mint condition (okay, pretty good condition), set them at the end of the driveway with a woman’s Schwinn bicycle and a rug.  The rug was gone in an hour, the bike in a day and the chairs — well, I suspect the new owner needed to find a truck or van, but they disappeared today, two days later.  Saved me that hellish trip into town, saved the scroungers mucho bucks, probably saved the planet too although I don’t want to get overly carried away here, just doing our part, no need to thank us or even throw a good review on Yelp or whatever social media you still think is worth the End of Democracy and Civilization as You Know It.

All I’m saying: down here on the island’s Banana Belt, capitalism has evolved.  The barter system still works, garage sales outpace the mercantiles now that Tyee Store is ancient history, non-fungible tokens have taken root at the History of the World Gallery … and roadside thrift stores bypass the backlogged goods waiting in ports from San Diego to Vancouver.   Future economists, no doubt, will study us.  Meanwhile, anyone need a perfectly good microwave, come on down tomorrow.  Satisfaction guaranteed!

The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Fate stopped by
to say hello.
Said she had
many stops to go.

Your name came up,
as she said,
"I'll visit tomorrow,
don't be in bed."

Came the morrow,
true to her word,
she brought Fate.
Know what I heard?

Oh mighty Lord,
in heaven
on high,
would you help
me, please.
to learn
how to fly.
I will be good
and continue to try,
forever until I die.

I stuck out my foot,
reaching for the stair.
I missed the step,
for it was not there.
It should have been solid,
but now I'm in the air.
A thought entered my head,
find something soft,
to avoid being dead.
As luck would have it,
there was a large bush,
and I fell in the middle,
right on my tush..

A love, long lost
in this World, ours,
of hedonistic desire
for exotic cars.

Early the morning,
hours before dawn,
watching a drama,
trying not to yawn.

For naught
the words
in my head,
perhaps I'd be
the Living Dead.

Grab word bundles,
completing a task.
Nothing to say,
but since you ask.

I'll tell you a story,
one about self
and the adventures of
The Elf on the Shelf.

Late at night
he went creeping,
when all humans
were fast sleeping.

He scurried about
room to room,
without a worry
of impending doom.

Then in wee morning,
before early light,
set in a different location
then the last night.

Owl not tell you,
this tale of mine,
unless you ply me
with some red wine.

Love me tomorrow,
Love me today,
Love is the message,
Love's what I say.

So you don’t like your job, probably hate your boss, think you should be paid more for all the hard work and overtime you put in, maybe your co-workers look like mindless drones these days and retirement seems a lifetime away (it is!) … but quitting isn’t an option, not when you would lose your health care and your apartment, the apartment that already costs more than you can believe.  What’s a person to do?

Well, apparently, quit in place.  Stop killing yourself.  Stop sucking up to your boss.  Refuse to take overtime.  Slow down, relax, daydream a bit, take a long lunch break, sneak a joint in the john.  It’s a brand new workplace.  The go-go years have gone gone gone, good riddance.  The company treats you like a robot, act like one.  One pace, steady and slow as she goes. Do as little as possible, same as they would do for you.  They’re no longer loyal to you employees, why be loyal to them?  This is the New Work Ethic.  Congratulations and welcome to your new cubicle.

Personally, I always believed in Quitting.  Seemed like a good strategy.  Course, apartments didn’t cost an arm and a leg back then and health insurance wasn’t in the cards.  Pensions, 401-K’s, fergettaboutit.  I was part of the gig economy decades before it had a name and by the time it did, I was self-exiled to the South End where employment was marginal to non-existent.  So I did what the rest of us layabouts did down here, worked for myself.  Sure, the boss was a jerk, but that’s the joy of self-employment, you can look him in the eye and tell him to go to hell.  Won’t affect your wages one iota.  And end of the day you can have a beer or two together, gripe about the same issues, maybe decide neither of you will work the next day.

I recommend it.  But quitting in place.  I dunno.  Seems like the days would just be interminable, slowing down, dragging feet, avoiding work.  You like that kind of job, maybe be a traffic sign holder, SLOW, STOP, for a construction company.  Hours like years, days like a lifetime.  Personally I like to work if I’m going to work, put a back into it, feel like it was worth the effort.  Time flies even when it’s not much fun.  But … don’t say you heard it from me.  And whatever you do, don’t tell my boss.

The Skeeter Daddle Diaries