Fwd: for your consideration

When you are feeling, you don't know what
begin to write anything
what day it is
what the weather is like
and more will come out

If you write it down it will get out of your head
All that you are feeling is everything in your memory
all at once

yesterday today and tomorrow
all jumbled up in a mess

scribble
it doesn't have to be neat

allow yourself to grieve
cry scream yell
let it out
keeping it inside will only prolong the pain
and make it worse

feel how horrible it feels
only once do you bury a father
it is a unique pain
and you will only feel it once

then begin to celebrate
all the good that was
all the happy that was
all the love that was
hug it tight
and then let it go
with time
all the pain will fade away
and life can begin anew
for the stronger you

The game of Football

Well we watched the ball game.
But, my comment is that the game is always fixed.
I have lost much interest in sports competitions because of all the
scandals.
Lance Armstrong really broke my heart, taking steroids is one thing but
lying about is an altogether bummer.
So, I sometimes watch kids perform on track and field just to see what
the kids have grown to.

About football, i remember back in the 60's they would interview
football players and they could not communicate at all. Now they are
thinking machines that speak to. Man has come a long way learning lots
of stuff and then they have to cheat to make sure they win.

I remember when playing the game was the important thing. Now, winning
is the only thing that matters. There is no more art in sports, it has
become a survival feat.

Oh yeah, there are some pretty passes and some amusing touchdowns but
the real challenge has been removed. Fake turf has removed the mud and
dirt and grass from football uniforms so we do not get to see the tell
tale signs of the damage the players are feeling. It is now a sterile
competition, fighting for land that isn't even real.

It is still winter

   A crisp chill  unfelt as brushes a cell sweeps it,  blowing through the night air, a moments rest atop a rolled collar, to fall upon a brim to trickle down a shoulder roll to a sleeve, rest upon a glove. Again airborne, floating, unhurried, unbound, adrift, disintegrating, distant  from whence, dimming passage, edges curl, furl on a breeze of the night, again, rest upon alien landscape, amid flecks, shards and fragments of a day passed. To the curb, to the street, to repose with discard, dropped, thrown derelicts, the fallen from the confront, the worn weary remnants  reminder of day done,  time past, light spent. A fleck of humanity unmissed, unwanted, unneeded, unnoticed, unnecessary, now  afloat into the night on echoes of the waves of a day rippling round tomorrow, remembering yesterday not quite finished with today.

Charles is WRONG

    The Catholic Church in America is  a tax free business with much of it's capital invested in hospitals and other medical facilities.

    Since Medicare and Medicaid have rules that all vendors must follow it is logical that if they wish to do business and receive federal funds they must in fact comply. They can not change the rules nor make their own. If in fact, they refuse to comply they should lose all Medicare and Medicaid eligibility.

    Catholic hospitals care for all religious sects, what right have they to enforce their views onto others. If they are operating as a business they should and must observe the mandate dictated by law and the rules for receiving public funds.

    If in fact they do not like the rules they have the choice to privatize and use their money(funded by donations from their faithful). If they try that route they will see how much of a majority they will retain.

    It is quite easy to say "they should not have to follow that rule because it is against their religious beliefs" but money talks.

    Again, if a woman's right to choose is not protected then the tenants of the constitution will not be for all the people.

    They will become third class citizens, second to men and third to a fetus. Women have rights and if your religion says it is wrong at least then the woman has the right to choose wrong, thus proving she is in fact human, with rights.

Dear Diary, Super Bowl Ads Less than 2.5.12

Dear Diary,
Today, like every other Super Bowl Sunday, anticipation awaiting
advertising. Looking forward to what usually is the best fare for
selling stuff.
Alas, we shall have to wait another year to hopefully behold the
art of advertising at its best.
Two ads are the only mentionable fare.
Samsung's touch pad, presented with singing and dancing. It was tough to
hear what they were saying. The dance routine was eye catching.
Coca Cola's ad reminded us it was winter and looked like a cartoon for
Christmas.
The rest of them were STUPID.
What WAS absent, was art, beauty, drama, poise.
What was reflected though, was the chaos of the times, the empty barrels
making noise and the slapstick assaults that disguise themselves as humor.
Nothing was funny, nothing was pretty, and nothing said anything.
When you watch an ad and you have no idea what they are saying, you
question the judgment of the company that paid someone to think of it
and then produce it.
There was no hook to grab. There is no good reason to remember any of
the offerings. A waste of money, they missed their mark. The largest
audience of the year, and they wasted the attention of the gallery.
Advertising is no longer a medium for entertaining eye catching
attractions that would impress the audience.
With a little bit of money it is possible to present a package worth
opening, too bad they did not think the audience deserved more, or
anything sophisticated.
Another good reason to turn off the television, nothing worth watching.
Advertising is adding to the disease that is seeping into the media,
mediocrity.
Like the leaders, Like the people, less is all they are willing to give.
And we are settling for mediocrity. Good bye America. Hello dumbland.
Sincerely,
miceLLe

THE GLASS STRAW

    A scene keeps repeating
It flashes by at a glimpse
    Then it fades
As it reappears, the smells return
Fifty year old aromas blend with the memories

It is always clean
It is always bright
Order and organized

The neutral patterns are appealing
they also are comforting, soothing
not the old fashioned commonplace
a contemporary picture of a modern kitchen

The room stretches the width of the house
Windows adorn both sides
The south window is bordered by cabinets
and the walls of the cabinets on opposite sides of the window
have little shelves, three each

One item stands out
It fits the whole shelf that has rounded edges
and is as tall as to almost reach the bottom of the shelf above

She has a red dress flowing to twice the width of her shoulders
her hands meet together gracefully
her smile and face and hair minor agents in the tapestry
Out of reach for the little fingers
She is for others to reach
To caress her hair, to lift the torso
with the cookie inside

At the other window only wallpaper adorns
Sweet cafe curtains lend curl, a furl soft against the wall
A narrow sill that sometime held a pack of Paulombo's

One chair sat perpendicular
open, alongside the table
ready to occupy

Atop the table, a platter covered with a paper napkin
beneath the napkin some pear wedges
the like measure provolone, also bread

A muted pattern fit the midriff of the lone glass
 it's place resting beside the platter
Water within an inch of the rim
Facing near the window
reaching two inches past the rim
and another two past the circumference of the tumbler
was the top tip
of the glass straw