A bit of Louis and my own version of “It’s a Wonderful World”
(Wanna know what these entries are about? Check out here.)
RAW Journel Kernels- Louis
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Monthly Archives: December 2016
Bitter Good Byes
Bitter Man cracks me up!
Later.
Here’s a depressing fact for you: Today may be the last time you ever see someone. Think about that bitterly for a second. Whether it is someone dying, or you saw someone at a Black Friday sale for the first and last time, every single day is potentially the last day you ever see someone.
Today is the last day of class for me at my college and let’s be honest, save for one or two of those people(let’s be really honest, not even them), I will never see some of them again.
Not on Facebook.
Not when writing my terrible Book.
Not on Instagram.
Not at Thanksgiving with no ham or jam.
Not on Snapchat.
Not even when I inevitably get fat.
Not on the train.
Not on a plane.
No, not ever, not ever again.
Dr. Suess I am not. But Dr. Bitter I am. Sam I…
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Dear Russia,(note to self, omit “dear”)
I have your number in more ways than one. The tour company gave us this card before entry into your country in case of an emergency. I kept it, taped it to my Mac, the one you will probably hack.
Although my husband and I had to be caged during our tour of Moscow a year ago last summer (not allowed to roam around on our own without the Russian guide, who by the way, was more informative about you than you would have liked), we tasted some nice vodka.
But Russia and President Putin? Don’t puff up just yet.
Many buildings, except for some like this one —
were beautiful.
President Putin, below on the far left, was that you? Trying to mix in and identify with your peeps? Doubtful.
I said, was that you?
I think it was very kind of you, Russia and Mr. Putin, to post these signs of caution.
WATCH YOUR BELONGINGS, your sign said.
Well, I want to tell you this.
Watch your own damn belongings. Keep your paws off my country, out of our democracy, out of our politics and our elections.
Perhaps the Trump is your string puppet.
But I’m telling you this: Most of us Americans have VERY sharp scissors.
Oh, if you don’t hear from me again, I’m under Federal protection. I’ve heard the accommodations aren’t that bad, considering.
Eggs against Prostitution and Alcohol Reform
(1901) Meta learns, while attending the Women’s Christian Temperance Union rally, that soiled dove Sadie has snuck out of the bordello and is hiding in the background. As Meta listens to the speakers advocating for women’s rights, and the men become angry at the progressive words, something unexpected happens.
Excerpts from The Last Bordello, Chapter 28: Eggs of Folly
Meta Duecker
“Due to the efforts of the WCTU, the age of consent has been raised from thirteen to fifteen. We strive for even higher,” Miss Fisher <Minnie Fisher Cunningham, Women’s Right Activist> said. “Every day, the newspapers report acts of violence against women and remind us of men’s incapacity to cope successfully with this monster evil of society.”
“What are you saying, missy? We men ain’t capable?” The man’s words elicited angry comments from the crowd.
Miss Fisher hesitated before she continued. “We know you men are hardworking gentlemen. For women, education is the key, both in and out of the home.”
Some women clapped. Others squinted in puzzlement as if the thought of learning something other than child-rearing had never occurred to them. Her words enlightened me and affirmed my goals.
A man, close to the front, pumped his fist. “My wife don’t have time for more learning. We got six kids needing supper on the table.”
Querulous male voices erupted from the crowd.
“Why do women prostitute themselves to the abnormal passion of man?” Miss Fisher continued. “Because they are poverty-stricken, destitute above temptation, and driven by necessity. They sell themselves, in marriage or out, for bread and shelter, for the necessities of life. How can we blame them? They have no other recourse but to live in a society that dictates what they—we—can and cannot do. To solve this problem, we demand that women be allowed to exercise their inherent, personal, citizen’s right to be a voice in the government—municipal, state, and national. Then, women will have the power to protect themselves.”
“We men protect our women just fine,” a man shouted. Other men yelled their agreement.
Mayor Hicks stepped to the podium, his lips pursed. “Enough of your heckling. Save your disagreements for editorials in the newspapers. She has a right to free speech.”
“So do we,” someone yelled back.
The mayor banged a fist on the podium. “These women are invited guests. By God, we will show them our Southern hospitality.”
The raw egg came from nowhere. It narrowly missed the mayor’s head before landing on the bandstand floor. He squinted, scouring the crowd.
Poor Mrs. Fenwick held a shaky hand over her mouth.
Miss Fisher reached below the dais and pulled out a speaking trumpet. “The true relation of the sexes can never be attained until women are free and equal with men,” she said, her determination thundering above the chaos.
The second egg hit the podium dead center. The crowd either gasped or laughed. Some men took hold of their wives and scurried them away, while the women in black remained steadfast in their chairs behind the podium.
… The yolk running down the front of the dais did not deter Miss Fisher. She stood firm, her voice amplified by the speaking trumpet. “As the great Susan B. Anthony said, whoever controls work and wages, controls morals. Independence is freedom. Independence means happiness. Therefore, we must have women employers, superintendents, legislators. For moral necessity, we must emancipate women, pull them out of prostitution, and safeguard our country. Thank you.”
Oh those millennials!
Please, do not kill me!
And the Bee spoke:
“Please do not let me perish. I am important to the world.
About one in three mouthful’s of your food is because I pollinated it.
My friends and I pollinate over $20 billion worth of crops each year.
Do you like flowers? We pollinate about 1/6th of all the flowers in the world.
We make a nectar called “honey.” This honey is an antioxidant and helps you improve brain function. We need you to eat this so you will remember how important we are.
Maybe because of our honey, we are very smart. We can figure out the shortest possible routes between flowers.
We work very hard. Because our wings beat 11.400 times per minute, we can buzz to our own music.
We have been around a very long time. Fossils of my ancestors date back to 150 million years ago.
WE NEED EACH OTHER! So, please, keep your poisonous pesticides away from us.
Thank you.” – Queen Bee
If Only…
Eleven-year-old Emma June just wants to Flee away from the bully and go to the flea circus . But she doesn’t listen to her instincts. And that’s when everything went wrong.
“Not over there, Carla. That boy gives me the creeps.” <Emma June>
“It’s only Rachael’s brother, for crying out loud.”
I remember the time I stayed overnight ay Rachael’s. Brandon kept peeking through her bedroom window trying to scare us by pretending to be an axe murderer.
“He’s a sixteen-yea- old bully,” I say.
“He’s not that bad. I’ve seen his good sides.”
“I’d rather go to the flea circus. They’re trained, you know. They can turn a miniature carousel two thousand times their size.”
“And they’re itchy.” Carla grabs my hand and leads me toward the Knock-Down-The-Milk-Bottle tent where Brandon stands motioning us forward with a bona-fide moonshine jug in his hand.
(excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket)
Mystery Blogger Award
Yippee! I was nominated for something! Thank you Andrei for giving me this challenge!
Okay, three things about me – I’m not much of a mystery. Since I wear my heart on my sleeve, what you see is what you get (for better or worse). I have published two novels, No Hill for a Stepper in 2011 and The Last Bordello in 2016. I have a third novel, The Moonshine Thicket, that is ready to be sent out to an agent but, so far, my finger can’t seem to press the “send” button. Another thing about me – I’m a pacifist but when I get to the gym, I plunk on my boxing gloves and pound the crap out of the pads the trainer holds for me.
Favorite blog posts? A Gift to Frame is one of my favorites. It’s awesome knowing that someone enjoyed my novel so much, they wrote me a hand-written letter. My very favorite was/is Remembering Who You Are. It includes a letter written by my sister for my milestone birthday. I also have a lot of fun going through my old journals, scanning various pages, and posting them in Raw Journal Kernels.
Okay, now on to answering Andrei’s questions:
- What makes you bored?
I don’t really get bored. If I do it’s because my creative juices have either been used up or are on short supply. Might mean I need an adult beverage or a nap.
2. What is my favorite pastime and why?
Spending time with my children and grandchildren. Why? Because I love them with every once of my being.
3. What is that one thing you would happily do again?
Helicopter rides are out. Hot air ballon ride? Nope. But I would happily return to Italy. I love the culture — the art, the artitechure, the food and mostly the people (who say what they mean and mean what they say). I studied Italian for over 4 years but I have forgotten SO much.
4. What is your favorite body part of the human body and why?
I could be snarky and ask for which gender. But I realize it doesn’t matter. Eyes. The eyes tell me all.
5. (Weird Question) If you were a bird, who would you sh*t on?
That’s a tough one. I’ve heard that it’s good luck to have a bird poop on your head . So if that’s true, the red cardinal would poop on the head of my kids and grandkids.
But, if it’s NOT good luck, I would gladly take a mighty Turkey Vulture dump on any politician that does NOT speak out against racism.
Now, for my nominations: It was hard to choose since I have so many cyber friends. For now, I nominate:
Here are my questions:
- If you could go back to one of your favorite pastimes in your childhood, what would it be?
- When you close your eyes, which of your favorite landscapes do you see? Describe.
- If you could make peace with someone in from your past, who would it be and why? (no need for a name)
- If someone wanted to recreate you from a recipe, what ingredients would they need?
- (Weird question) Can you tie a cherry stem using only your tongue?
WHAT IS MYSTERY BLOGGER AWARD?
“Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.– Okoto Enigma
RULES
- Put the award logo/image on your blog
- List the rules.
- Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
- Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well
- Tell your readers 3 things about yourself
- You have to nominate people
- Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog
- Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)
- Share a link to your best post(s)
From Silk to Brocade
I’ve been watching them all my life Those who walk in front of me The Elders While most of my childhood friends were caught up in the frenzy of their passions, the gossip of the young, the th…
Source: From Silk to Brocade
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 