What ever floats in my mind! Part Two

“Every writer I know has trouble writing” Joseph Heller

What ever floats in my mind!

I woke up, when I was born, no sooner, no later. That was as stupid an opening line as “Once upon a time” or “It was a cold and rainy night”, but I thought I was being clever in starting the tale with a joke. You who follow my writing may have noticed the humouristic twist in most tales, at least at some point. For the life of me, I cannot write serious, not matter how I try. Maybe I would have a career in joke writing or scetches for “Saturday Night Live” or similar shows.

OK, so the agreed process for this tale is: Absolutely no censorship in this tale, my mind freely flowing as my fingers do the typing. I am no longer in command of this vessel. What ever is written on these pages is purely fictional as produced by the army of voices living in my head. I was thinking of cheating of course, thinking before writing, plotting my way into this tale.

After emerging from the deep state I was in, I decided to finally let go, to leave it alone, to not think too much and see what will develop. Apart from the typos caused by my fingers not being able to keep up, this is all just a flow of the mind. I know it is crowded in there, despite the fact the sign implies there is “room for rent”. My occupants like to play tricks on me and those who might take a glimpse to my brain.

Funny things those renters of mine. I prefer to use that word rather than thinking this is a permanent situation. I do hope, that, at some point the other voices will take their leave and I can finally make decisions on my own. Whether that be writing or something else. Mostly it is writing though. When I do decide to let go, the writing is usually good, so I really shouldn’t be taking any credit. But someone once said, A good writer borrows, a great writer steals.

Oh, oh, I am stuck now, either the others went on a break or then they are all napping. I am actually wondering how familiar and TV-oriented this sounds. I do sound like a Borg drone from Star Trek, don’t I. “I can’t hear the others, I need the others to survive!” must be the most quoted line in the franchise when the Borg characters are in play.

But I digest, I mean digress ;P

Flow of mind or the lack there of. A while back I wrote a funny note on my mind having too many tabs open. Oddly enough, that was not fiction but fact. I do like to dabble more on the fiction than the fact side, never getting too personal, but I have a warm feeling inside of me. Guess I am safe as long as it doesn’t run down my legs! But so far so good.

So, back to fact or fiction, was that what I was talking about? No, it was the thing of too many things occupying the brain at one point, hence the tabs and open thing. OK, back on track. So yes. That actually has a link to the ever so talked about writer’s block. The only blockage I have or have had for the past fifty odd years is or was the fact that I do censor myself, a lot. I have so many ideas, causing my mind to overflow.

Currently, as I started my writing life for the third and hopefully charmed time, I will let myself write what ever I want, who ever I want and where ever I want. Sans all the self doubt, drama and excuses. Oh my! Now I am finally getting serious! I actually got a little serious there a day or so back when I poured my heart and thoughts to a few darker poems. I admit I use humour as a cover and rather than dwelling on real life issues, I crack a joke.

I freely admit to the following personality traits: I am sarcastic, pessimistic, I have a warped sense of humour, I am spontaneous yet conscious, I am lazy, but also industrious, at least when work is concerned, personal life not so much. So now you know. I like to hide but remain right in the open. I talk a lot, but say nothing.

Back to the topic again, (I seem to be loosing the track now constantly), what ever that was, I actually forgot at this point. Oh yes, free flow of the mind. So not a jogy, not a Vulcan, not logical, just your average everyday humanoid being. So that is my life story or sort of story. At least what I came up with today. I guess this is more than four hundred words. I don’t know how much of myself I have revealed in this little mind tale, but read between the lines or over the lines. Somewhere there, between, lies the truth.

Just call me, Mrs Claus

“Santa has it great. I buy all the toys. He gets all the credit.” Mrs Claus

Just call me, Mrs Claus

You may call me, Mrs Claus
Without applause
Doing my bid
Without one single payment of a quid
Yuletide
Without this, proud bride
Of Santa Claus
Would be, just empty banter
No kind of jolly
Or celebration folly
Neither for me
Or even, for you

Forty-Seven, Part three

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I no longer believe in the Easter Bunny,
and I’m beginning to wonder about Santa Claus.
But I believe wholeheartedly in 47”
Sarah Dolinar

Forty-Seven

The Culprit:

Maybe I am an alien
With a devilish plan

“Hello, I am Specialist 47
Delighted to make your acquaintance
Please find attached my credentials
For some mind maintenance”

Resident of Earth since 1947
Successfull mind melds, total of 47 000 000 047
47 more years to beat
Until my mission is complete

My contact information
4747 Galaxy Boulevard
A short promenade
A right down the hall
Or give me a call
My mobile number 555-4747
Thank you for your confirmation

Forty-Seven, Part two

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“Forty-seven, is a constant, Forty-seven will make you go far, Forty-seven, yeah, that is my number by far” Gun Roswell

Forty-Seven

The Homage:

How phenomenal
Quite Astrological
Completely magical
Oh so mythical
Like a rock star

My profound respect
I am fundamentally perplexed
How very puzzling
Even a little hustling
Quite the dazzling

You are… the Culprit

Forty-Seven, Part One

bundesstrase_47_number-svg

“I no longer believe in the Easter Bunny,
and I’m beginning to wonder about Santa Claus.
But I believe wholeheartedly in 47”
Sarah Dolinar

Forty-Seven

The Proof:

The time is now, 00.47
Roswell 1947
Film, 47 Minutes
Waterford Greenwich 47-piece Flatware Set
Exit 47
47 followers
London Bus Routes – 47/N47
4711 Eau de toilette
Level 47 Walkthrough
Agent 47
47 Ronin
U.S. Code › Title 47
The 47 Society
47 likes on Facebook page
47 mints in the box

Fences won’t keep me from coffee!

“There is nothing wrong with loving coffee, too much, that is!” Gun Roswell

Fences won’t keep me from coffee!

They built the tall fences, to keep me away from my precious
They tried hard to surround me, with something else to see
They underestimated me though, as I will surely them all show
They cannot keep me apart, from the one which holds my heart

But, no amount of impenetrable barriers so bold, will be able to let me grab a hold
Of the only special and soothing one, whom knows what I am and what I have done
The only thing in this whole wide world, with which without into turmoil I would be hurled
And being the one, keeping me sane, through all the daily hassle and underlying pain

So, I will do my best and damndest, to push though and do not care less
If cuts and bruises I will retain, all along the way, until I am finally through
And then, you my dear and sweet thing, I will finally be able to cradle
On the palms of my hands, as even if bruised they will soon be on the mend

After I have had, my first cup of coffee before the looming of the day

Coffee and Fridays

“There is nothing else to the weekend, but just drinking a lot of coffee, is all“ Gun Roswell

Coffee and Fridays

Fridays are filled with hope of the pending freedom at least for some who have worked all week long, trying to stay strong, just in the hopes of surviving until the weekend is near and without fear as coffee, has been there all the way.

But then, think of all that free time ahed, not sure as to what it to on spend, maybe taking a hike, or clearing the closets, or maybe watching the movies stacked in the recorder waiting for the perfect moment? Too many things to choose from and staying strong, ain’t easy!

With the seemingly hectic schedule for the weekend, as usually all the rest of the week is mostly with work spent, and now, when the freedom is finally there, I am quickly falling into a great despair! What to do, what to do?

There is really only one solution to this kind of dilemma:

Picking up my coat and car keys, and then steering the trusted steed towards the only place I know which is serving the good and strong stuff in this early hour; The coffee shop by the near by trucks stop. After arriving, ordering the tallest and strongest suspension they got on the menu. 

And after the first few gulps, it is all gone and clarity sets, as I remain seated at the cafe with my tall order of latte and enjoy the day off.

The blackest cat

“The black cat did not cross the road, just because it did not want to be a cliche” Gun Roswell

The blackest cat

Intimidating they tried to be, for you see, that was the reputation to upkeep
Sullen and hardcore, a fighter sworn to be to the bitter end you see
As this was the often painted totally cliched image of the black cats heritage
But what if they did not want to live up to said sad and bad reputation at all
What if the only thing in the whole wide world for them was to play with a red ball
Then after the whole day spent, in fun never to relent, they would get
A bowl of milk and some tuna, then meow at the dark night in the light of the Luna
And after a while of having spent some time doing the things they loved
Curling up in a black ball of fur, and all cliches out the open window hurl
Sleeping soundly with a loud purr, next to their best Hooman boy or girl
As this black cat never wanted to be someone bad or the unspoken omen
Only a loved and treasured member of their adoptive family not the offender
And certainly never crossing a road, just because the tale so long ago told

Phone home now, or call Dr Who!

“That’s not a telephone box! That, is a Tardis from the tv show, you know the timer traveling doc one!” Gun Roswell 

Phone home now, or call Dr Who!

The two archaic yet gorgeous monuments still standing tall, on the street corner there by that building available for the big and small, lasting us all. from the past till the very beyond…

Huh? 

What’s it called? 

A muu-seuum of sorts? 

Maybe?

Yeah and those two glass boxes with a steel frame? 

Right there in front? 

Something I heard were used to cater to people making telephone calls around the very clock? 

Those kind of retro thingies of sorts, you know insert a coin to phone home or then make it collect for mama to pay?

Well, heck no!

Those kind of boxes are props!

They are imaginary and used in movies or tv!

You see!?

It’s the exact same box, which that one Doc, you know the one on the famous tv show?

No?

What are you ignorant?

Everyone knows the Doctor.

Doctor Who.

Oh yeah!

In know that one, great show!

And I remember the box too.

But wasn’t it blue?

Whatever!

Red, blue, green!

You cannot make a call in one of those so forget about it!