Wrong-Tober 2023: Flying High #8Sunday

 

Photo by Julian Lates (jlates) on Unsplash

Flying High

As the needle touched vinyl, exuberant pop-punk blasted from the speakers. Julian Bolesław was having a fantastic birthday. Thirty wasn’t too old for fun but was mature enough to make smart decisions. Julian believed he was on his way to becoming a successful record producer able to provide for the little boy he and Úlfr had just adopted from India.

“Hey Pop, it’s time for your pills.”

Julian brushed his white hair back from his face and took the young man’s hand.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

“It’s Ashok, Pop.”

“That’s nice. I have a little son named Ashok.”

notes

I didn't submit this story to Dragon Soul Press. From my point of view, few things are more horrific than dementia, but I didn't feel the story was visceral enough to be considered horror.

No, I didn't publish a drabble yesterday. If you recall, I'm not sharing drabbles from my current project because I will be selecting fifteen of those to submit to Dragon Soul Press for their 2024 drabble anthology, The Fear Doctor. These drabbles are the ones I created this April for submission to The Damned. There are only thirty of them and I've taken one off the table because it's simply too contentious. I didn't submit it, and the only other person to see it is my brother.

Pick up your copy of The Damned here:

http://books2read.com/DamnedDrabbles

I will be giving away one copy of The Damned and one copy of the Hot and Sticky anthology from Passionate Ink during the Spooky Good Time party. 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/renesgetawaypartyroom

You can find out more about the Hot and Sticky anthology here.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C5RSJS5M

http://wewriwa.blogspot.com

30 Days of Haiga 2022: For David

 

text

ending an era

the spark has gone from his eyes

to where does it fly?

notes

With the passing of my ex-father-in-law last night, my son now only has one grandparent: my mother. 

My ex-father-in-law had developed dementia, something he always hoped wouldn't happen. My ex-husband and his live-in helper were discussing the possibility of putting "Scooby" in long-term care because his state of health had declined so sharply that they could no longer adequately provide for his needs by themselves. 

My ex-father-in-law was a retired engineer and there was nothing he loved more than doing puzzles. Sorry, but those clickbait "articles" proclaiming that one can stave off dementia give false hope and make me angry. This man was probably smarter than all of us reading this post combined. He still wound up with dementia.

If you'd like to read more of my rant about awful clickbait proclaiming magical cures that don't exist plus ways to support real research that does exist, follow the link.

http://www.naughtynetherworldpress.com/2022/09/charity-sunday-fisher-center-for.html

I didn't have an especially close relationship with my ex-father-in-law but there was no bad blood between us. There is none between my ex-husband and me either. After our divorce in 1994, we repaired our friendship, which I think helped make my son's childhood a little more stable if sometimes chaotic because of bouncing from house to house during the week courtesy of my crazy work schedule.

So, yes, it's the end of an era. The death of my ex-father-in-law wasn't unexpected, and in many ways, it was a mercy. As Glen Campbell's widow said regarding dementia, it's better to die some other way. Still, one can't help but be a little sad. At least I can't.

I used the six-sentence story prompt to inspire this Haiga and wrote a three-sentence story followed by a lot of explanation.

https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2022/09/25/sundays-six-sentence-story-word-prompt-231/

Prompt word: Spark

I created the Haiga in Pixlr.com with a free-use image by Lê Nam on Pixabay.

https://pixabay.com/photos/light-streaks-spark-smoke-trails-6899357/

I selected this image because of its simplicity and because the light creates what looks like a face on the left side of the picture.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by Erich Röthlisberger from Pixabay

The Reaper comes for us all at some point.

This Owl would be very honored to have such a fine memorial stone!

Hopefully, not for quite a while.

I still have poems to write, food experiments to make, and people to annoy!

Probably my favorite song ever about the Shadow who follows us through our entire lives, waiting for that certain moment that faces us all.

Also sharing with:

https://godoggocafe.com/2022/09/26/promote-yourself-monday-september-26-2022/

April PAD Challenge/NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 10: Catch the Rainbow and More

https://odysee.com/@classical:4/Debussy_3.Estampes_Haas:b?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16

Good morning, Poetry People. I started this morning on the Debussy train, but the poetry prompts put me in a different direction as I recalled a dream experience I had on the night of April 7 into April 8.

https://youtu.be/V5QukAC-jqE

I write often of Gem who is no longer of this world. There was pain between us at the time of his departure because of my jealous and insecure nature. I believed he wanted to put as much distance between him and me as possible, but this dream/astral experience told me something else.

You're getting extra music today because I've a story to tell. I sang this second song a lot after Gem left because it reminded me of his beautiful eyes that seemed to change color depending on the light and it also speaks to the pain that remained unresolved between us. Ronnie James Dio's vocals are a treasure beyond measure.

https://youtu.be/VaRTocPWbhQ

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I don't give a rat's ass what you think about my experience. Yes, it's possible that I concocted the whole thing in my fevered subconscious, but it was real to me, so don't be a cunt. 

My experience was simply this: Gem and I danced together. He held me close while Catch the Rainbow played and I realized he didn't hate me as I feared he did. He really didn't recognize me or anyone else at the end of his life because the disease that destroyed his body also destroyed his mind, at least on a physical level. I was so grateful to him for bringing this dream to me. 

https://youtu.be/CjRas1yOWvo

At the end of our Earthly experience together, Gem's and my relationship was more Still Lovin' You than Catch the Rainbow thanks to my jealousy and insecurity. He did nothing wrong, but I feared he would find someone younger, prettier, better. He was always having to soothe my insecurities. 

https://youtu.be/piC16ss8TXY

For the people who love to plop down platitudes encouraging those who have lost a partner to "find love again," please secure that shit. Overall for me, the love game has been a losing one. I have a long and storied history of picking truly awful men. The scars on my wrists are a testament to how that shit usually ends up. 

Gem is not my sweetheart's real name. I called him that because he was a "Gem" among men. He was one of a kind and I won't find another like him. Also, in point of fact, I don't want to.

https://youtu.be/tXJ4TZSXtzc

By the way, if this experience was simply a manifestation of my subconscious, I think I would have dreamed about the person who was the inspiration behind Ketil, a hero in my Tales from the Dreamlands series. April 8 was the anniversary date of his suicide 31 years ago. 

Had "Ketil" appeared in my night visions, I would know better than to write him off as a figment of my subconscious. He wouldn't let me get away with it.

https://youtu.be/BRHDlHDhTZY

This song totally would not be Ketil/Lord Morbid's jam. He was a total metalhead.

And now, the prompts I used to create my ballad for Gem.

To Taste the Dawn

Prompts Used

https://dversepoets.com/2022/04/07/mtb-morning-has-broken/

Write an Aubade (in Ballad form)

https://www.napowrimo.net/day-ten-10/

write a love poem

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2022-april-pad-challenge-day-10

Write a taste poem

https://youtu.be/ALKNrmncCRA

I hope that today's intensive session brought you some inspiration for your own poetry. Don't trouble yourself to give me romantic advice, just keep writing! I promise you I'll return the favor.

Anyway, I'm closing in on 60 years old and I have a fuck-ton of health problems. The last damn thing I want or need is another relationship to potentially fuck up. I've had the best. The only other men out there are either related to me or they're The Rest. Either way, it's a no from me.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by EDGAR_FERCH from Pixabay

Carpe Diem Love Month: Moonlight Moving: A Fetch Story Poem

Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay

the moonlight moving

across a traumatized sky

above a dead world

~cie~

notes

I have not been well. My diabetes has decided to behave in a more completely shitty fashion than it had previously done, so not only do I find myself dealing with the frustration of contending with this garbage condition, I find myself mired in self-loathing because I learned at a young age that anything shy of physical perfection was a personal failure. I will say with unflinching honesty that if it weren't for the fact that I still serve a purpose in assisting my son, I would punch my own ticket. I realize that suicide ideation is an uncomfortable subject, but please refrain from the blah blah counseling blah and blah blah medications blah rhetoric. Counseling doesn't help, and psych meds cause me to become manic and psychotic, two things that I, shockingly, don't enjoy being.

This poem describes the dead world of Zetar 6 (Zecor), a key player in the Fetch Universe. Fetch is Team Netherworld's flagship story, which was born in early November of 2014 when I was working at the retirement community where I would work for close to 11 years. The idea was born when I learned that someone who had meant a great deal to me for many years had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. This person was only 55 years old at the time of diagnosis--the same age that I am now. 

In my shock and grief, I walked through the vast retirement community and was prompted with the idea of finally starting a project that I had envisioned taking on for close to forty years. I had always wanted to write a backstory for the Lights of Zetar, a Star Trek episode which has been universally panned by critics and which has its problems, but has, nonetheless, always fascinated (and scared the bejeezus out of ) me.

The inspiration to finally begin this project and to incorporate it with my beloved Cthulhu Mythos came from a mind other than my own. I will not go into detail except to say that this inspirational individual was noncorporeal, and you can think whatever the hell you want about that, I'm not going to argue with you. I refer to this presence as Gem, and I am deeply grateful to him for the gift he gave me. I am saddened by the fact that when I am gone, the door to this world will close. No-one enjoys my work, and I am well aware of that. My writing style is entirely unappealing to most people, and my personality even more so.

I love you, Gem, but sometimes I am not sure if you possess much in the way of good sense. If you did, you surely would have chosen a scribe who was less of a complete and utter train wreck of a human being to be your co-conspirator.

Love,

cie

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 27: How Did I Get Here?

What I Didn't Know

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Was it fate for you to be erased?

Was it your destiny to remember nothing of your life?

Was it a fault in your chromosomes?

Was it a choice you made before birth?

You were a shining singularity

You were a rebel who rose up from nothing

But nobody here gets out alive

And nobody wins against 

A process which literally

Destroys the brain

Fuck dementia

I say it again

Because I'm powerless to do anything else

~Cie~

Notes:

I just wasn't feeling that otto-whatsit suggested form. So, have some pissed-off free verse. It's what I do best.

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 12: Painted Black

Image by kalhh from Pixabay

paint it black played the night before you

slipped into shadow, not unexpected

it was a long struggle to get to that good night

I know you had to go to bring back what you are

you were not that lost thing left behind

I have been angry at you since you left

which makes me angry at me

because I know it isn't fair

you deserved to be set free from the prison

that your body had become

fly high unpolished angel

you were not elegant, but to me you were beautiful

~Cie~

Ain't gonna explain, so please don't ask

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Forget Me Not

Image Source

I have a tattoo
of your name on my deltoid
but even without
I could never forget you
though you couldn't remember

~Cie~

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Pretty Posies, Putrid Puns, Silly Scots, and Good Stuff from Grover

Image Source

I canna say I

have seen a Canna Lily

I hope that I can

~Cie~

I'm sorry! Don't PUNish me too severely!

This post inspired by several things silly and/or Scottish in origin.

All three of these bad good boys were born in Scotland. 

Sadly, two out of three of them are no longer of this world.

It wouldnae be Star Trek without Scotty

This really cute fan art was found on Tumblr. I havenae been able to discover the creator. It wasnae me. I can hardly draw stick figures.

Admit it, Lads and Lassies.

School would have been better if Willie had been your school's groundskeeper.

This post made Grover groan

Visit the Artist

"Y'all will never make me admit that I found anything funny about this punny poetry!"

Visit the Artist

And Cactus Clem chuckle.

"Grover, ole pal, y'all can't pull the wool over my eyes. I heard ya chucklin' behind yer hat!"

Follow the adventures of Grover, Cactus Clem and the Punny Old Prune (Cie) plus get updates on the Grover Hotel renovations at the Good Stuff from Grover blog. Y'all might even find yerself something useful in Grover's General Store!

Carpe Diem Summer Challenge 2019: Sundown

Doomed version 7

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Some sundowns rise on another day of loss and one day set forever on a self ravaged by a broken mind.

~Cie~

Note:

Sundowning is a term for confusion in a dementia patient which worsens as evening comes on. Towards the end of his life, my father, who had vascular dementia, was sundowning. He confused reality with events on television. 

My father was a college professor. I have cared for more than one college professor or other people whose work revolved around using their mind who ended up with dementia. The junk science sharticles which proclaim that exercising your mind helps prevent dementia make me see liquid murder. 

You know what helps prevent dementia? Not having the DNA trigger for dementia coded in your genetic makeup. You could watch nothing but reruns of Jersey Shore and the Flavor of Love for your entire life and not end up with dementia if the trigger for dementia isn't in your DNA. I don't recommend it, but you could.

Dementia is horrible. It destroys lives. The least we could do is not insult those suffering from dementia and their caregivers and loved ones by publishing victim-blaming crap. 

Image created by The Real Cie

Copyright taysuffocation @deviantart.com
I'm hoping one day to get this tattooed on my arm in honor of my father

One-Bun: Slow Overkill

Image Source

slow overkill

The disease struck as destructively as a massive payload nuclear device, devastating body and mind

ironically working insidiously as slow poisoning

Love,

Cie

Photoshop manipulation copyright The Real Cie

Please credit me if used.

Share your World 28 March 2019

Here are some questions I've answered for Share Your World. You can read them if you want. Or not, if you don't want. No skin off my nose either way.

What is the best pick me up that you know of?  To shake you out of the blues?

The Blue Garage

Photoshop Image by The Real Cie

How about the blues? The blues is a goddamn art form! That shitty way I feel when my soul starts crashing in on itself and I feel like I'm lying dead at the bottom of a scummy trench? I think that shit should be called "the gray-green death bile from hell." But that's too long to say readily.

Here is a poem which Pepper, the main female protagonist in Team Netherworld's long-running WIP, Fetch, wrote for her beloved Gerry, the Fetch referred to in the story's title. I think it's kind of a poem about having the blues for the blues. 

What would be the title of your memoir?
Dark Days: Biography of a Self-Professed Cynic

Where do you like to go when you eat out?
Somewhere cheap where the food tastes good and I'll be served quickly.

Do you believe in luck?
Gratitude Question:

Aside from necessities, what is one thing you couldn’t go a day without?
My son

Notes:

I referenced my own work in this post, which for some reason makes me see the need to mention that I plan to participate in NaPoWriMo in April as I've done every year for the past several years. I'm also planning to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo. I might try to participate in the A to Z blogging challenge if it doesn't turn out to be too muckin' fuch. I haven't decided yet if my participation will be official or unofficial.

OctPoWriMo 2018: Day 2: Not a Practice Run

Electrical Messiah Version 12

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Shut your eyes and sing

There are no redrafts in life

No time for practice

Quick scribbles make your novel

Loving is a fleeting dream

~Cie~

Senryu: Golden

Copyright Sharon McCutcheon

He once was golden

Then came the disaster which

 Turned him back to dust

~Cie~

Prompt Used:

Three Line Tales

Notes:

This poem is for Team Netherworld's Fetch, the story which refuses to die no matter how many nay-sayers try to kill it. In context of the tale, the image is our protagonist, Gerry Clifford, photographed for the July 1977 issue of Loud Magazine.

Senryu: Ten of Swords

I Blinked and the World Was Gone

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

That you were so brave

 When there was no hope at all

 Is all that remains

 ~Cie~

Shadorma: Silent Voices

Postapocalyptic Sorrow Version 5

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

Can voices

 Silenced in this world

 Be heard from

 The next world

 If we open up our minds

 And open our hearts

With love from

Cie for Gem

and

Pepper for Gerry

 

Notes:

The prompt was for a poem based in sound. I guess I did that thematically. 

Senryu: I Listened, I Hear

I Blinked and the World Was Gone

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

I am listening

 I hear the song that you played

 When you were alive

~Cie~

Pepper's Fetch

Beautiful Boy Version 13

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

I can feel you near

I can see you in my mind

But not with my eyes

From Pepper

With love for Gerry

Notes:

I believe we technically followed the prompt today. We were asked to create a poem about something magical. Gerry Clifford certainly qualifies.

Pepper initially encountered Gerry while working in a retirement community on the night shift. Gerry was not a resident of said retirement community, located in Lawrence, Kansas. He was thousands of miles away in London. However, his physical brain was badly impaired. He was a spirit still attached to his body, a being described in Irish folklore as a "Fetch."

Pepper knew who Gerry was. He was drawn to her by the intensity of her sadness upon learning of his fate. However, the instant they encountered one another, it became clear that there was another force drawing them together, something which Pepper initially tried to deny for fear of being hurt again as she had been so many times before. 

Gerry was the one being in the entire Cosmos for whom Pepper would refute her vow never to allow herself to fall in love again. Her resistance didn't last long. 

A Fetchy Shadorma: The Blue Garage

The Blue Garage

Photoshop image by The Real Cie

I went down

 Went down to the blue

To the blue

Blue garage 

 Where I could hear the blues play

 But all was silent

You can still

Hear the blues playing

 A ghostly

Echo of

A voice that once was alive

A sound that rang strong

The music

Itself cannot die

Song is sung

On and on

But the blue garage is closed

Blue street is silent

From Pepper with love for Gerry

(who probably thinks this song is about him!)

Notes:

Today the prompt was to describe an abstract idea using concrete nouns, and I think I did that. The blue garage is a metaphor, at any rate. Music itself cannot die, but musicians sadly do.

Fetch is the story that won't die in spite of repeatedly being stabbed with steely knives. Check it out here if you're so inclined. 

Silent Voices II

I Blinked and the World Was Gone

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

Silent Voices II

Your voice was silenced long before your heart stopped beating

Your mind unable to process what your eyes saw before you

Everything forgotten within the blink of an eye

I grieve for you, but I can't cry

I feel enraged, indignant, offended, and afraid

Afraid to express the rage I feel at this injustice

Afraid that those who read these words will see fit to tell me

That I haven't the right to be angry

That I should try to look on the bright side of life

But what bright side is there

To a mind being erased

I think that you're aware again

In a proverbial "better place"

Although that place may not be any kind of Heaven

And it may not be that much better

It must hurt you to watch your loved ones grieve

Perhaps it even hurts to touch on the emotions of the likes of me

Things that do not matter even a little bit

I loved you in my way

You mattered to me

I wish I could have helped you

Perhaps part of me believed I could

Up until the moment that I learned

Your heart had ceased to beat and you were free

I am so sorry, dear one

You deserved better

Than to have your voice silenced

While there was still breath in your body

You were a gift to a world which did not deserve you

~Cie~

This poem was written for the Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.