I didn’t think twice when I saw it
The end of the season and the ritual incomplete
But you both had always been each other’s nemesis
What else would be new
So let’s see what a new season brings
Though I’m growing weary of the same routine
That wearing thin schtick
When I saw this episode in the towel I threw
I threw in the towel on watching anymore
Nine seasons would suffice
Actually more than enough
He could have died
Let it be written let it be done
Let it be
The demon made human
Interesting could have been his life
If the producers wanted to push it so
I wouldn’t have cared
Wanting him dead more times than I could count
In the way a demon dies
Relief and release
It should have ended and for me it did
You could have gone back to that place
The boys home
And to the one you’d fallen in love with
At sweet 16
Enough turmoil had passed for you to live your dream
Now was your time
And the series could have ended in dignity
As far as I knew
My opinion as such
But seasons march on
I’ve seen enough
Not sure what happened but the word document is a different size. How do I get it full screen? Why did it change? I hate it when this happens or maybe I’ll like it better.
Coffee’s up. Thank goodness for that.
An eerie silence when I first opened the door for that precious cool morning air. There’s nothing to fear from me. Wouldn’t harm a kitten but I will swat a fly. Only an idiot lets flies buzz around. Dirty germ-carrying things. Chirping had stopped, units stopped running, almost deafening straining to hear any sound but it’s over now. Units kicked on, birds chattering again, the smell of coffee fills the apartment, fan’s on low all meaning it was a simple moment of silence or it’s here, whatever it is though I certainly didn’t invite it.
Think I’ll pour.
Then again I thought because the word document had changed I was somewhere else, that indicated something had happened. Whatever it is says I should write. Am I not supposed to notice? All realms should know how aware I am and the document not covering the entire screen will tell me something. I mean duh. Higher beings indeed! I always said ‘space’ was the distance between two ears and has nothing to do with traveling through galaxies. I’m glad I got that off my chest.
Now I am getting up to pour.
The sky too dark
Where is my light
Of course there’s no sun
Too early for that
Navy should become powder
No, not so but clear
By degrees not too soon
Night is over now
The horizon lined orange
Defining the trees
Bold background begins
I glanced up and caught a glimpse of eyes but he closed them quickly so I’d think I am alone. In the hallway, watching. Told you I’m too aware for that. It’s here, but I’ll be cool. Soon enough it’ll be bright. I’ll watch something in the meanwhile pretending I don’t know, didn’t see.
Falling asleep as I type. Opened them again catching a glimpse of small white eyes peering at me. It realized I saw and shut them again. Desperate I turn around to find my sky and it’s light enough.
Putting ‘The Birdcage’ on now…
“Albinos! Why didn’t I think of that before! Albinos are the natural day walkers with their natural super sensitivity to the sun. It all makes perfect sense. Cast them as the new race but with a little something extra like the children from the ‘City Of The Damned’, a murderous torturous side as opposed to those whose whole face opens to suck the life out of their prey. Vampires who experiment on vampires to create the master race, as petty as humans sacrificing their children although the coldness makes sense but there is so much passion in making another. In keeping with tradition sunlight gets the better of everyone one way or another. It might be interesting to be able to psychically drain the blood from a victim as opposed to forcing them to hurt themselves making these new vamps who’ve naturally evolved a threat like no other. Snipers? High acuity opening up a new door as to how to stop them. Should they be able to drain the blood from super slayers, should there be an issue with that, should it be hopeless? Psycho-thriller vampires you can never get rid of worse than Michael Myers giving a whole new meaning to when blood runs cold, cold-blooded, yes and yes. Brilliant!”
Now all Marie had to do was sell the flood of ideas to Jeff and Christof.
“Was I a vampire in a past life? Why are mornings so offensive…” or at least I used to think so when I was younger. How I loved the night and never wanted the sun to come up. That’s definitely food for thought. Somehow over time I evolved to a day-walker. I love getting up early as the sun rises, even going out on the balcony to feel its warmth. I tan pretty good. Geez, why am I so groggy? Whatever I was in the past I know I wasn’t overindulging in blood last night. Sinus nosebleeds are bad enough besides I hate the taste of blood anymore. The blood is the life, ha, what does Dracula know anyway. They killed him he’s dead, so much for immortality. Yeah, if I don’t nod out typing this I’m definitely making coffee. Huh, when I yawn the keyboard gets blurry. Too dumb to go back to sleep… and I need another tissue. At least the coffee will cover the taste of blood running down my throat.”
Crazy thoughts or not but can I turn them into a story – forever the million dollar question.
What I know is I’m enjoying the cool breeze for now; later on it’s going to be in the 90s and I’ll get the espresso pot percolating shortly. My gosh I can’t stop yawning. That crazy dream I had last night. Was there a message? It’s lost if there were, I can’t recall it at all but I dreamt. I know I did. Had to do with that movie, the obsessive boyfriend-husband, his secret lock box, and not wanting to leave the lake they went to for their honeymoon, devil’s lake. Can’t help but wonder if he didn’t kill his father but the tension was building and I had to stop watching. Maybe I’ll pick up on it with renewed stamina, stamina. I’m so groggy
In media of in media res, realities blur, and the million-dollar question remains.
The first cardinal rule in Philosophy is never assume. Isn’t it amazing in a very sad way that’s what most people do from just a glance and what piss-poor attitudes they have when it turns up they’re dead wrong? What makes it worse is everyone else’s attitude toward the assumptor / assumptorette when it becomes apparent there was 100% no truth anywhere. The vanity scale goes through the roof but there’s no one else to blame, after all; you’re the bonehead who believed without knowing a damn thing, without instinct or thought process. Is there a lecture in this? Nah, but Petra’s mind was still rattled from the last staff meeting. “Does she honestly think we’ll all believe she’s that kind of intuitive, like a mystic or something and we’ll fear our thoughts because she’ll know them before we even think them? She’s in our minds is she? If it’s a joke it’s a bad one.” The director had opened the meeting with a shocking revelation in her menopausal mind state to startle everyone into unquestionable obedience and servitude through fear. She knew everyone’s thoughts. She knew what everyone was thinking without speaking. Intangible objective knowing was simply her state of being, her job. The other side of that bad joke was Emma, the lead on the floor who got caught taking 30-minute 10-minute breaks, using her laptop to write a book instead of doing her job, and utilizing the office equipment to print everything off. She had actually gone on a tirade blaming Petra for her actions although at first it seemed like generalizations of bad excuses. It turned out it was her fault because she was efficient on the floor. She got so much work done so well that it burdened Emma and left her no other choices. There was just nothing left to do. The kicker was the director allowed it to be dumped in Petra’s lap. She hadn’t even realized it until the director’d asked, “Does anyone have anything to say?” Petra had been listening and thinking how glad she was this catty, petty complaining had nothing to do with her to get sucker-punched with a baseball bat that the meeting wasn’t an emergency staff meeting but her personal lynching trial. The director was looking right at her as Emma ranted on about how she wasn’t going to apologize to her for her abusive language and berating in front of the staff and students. “You aren’t paying attention”, the director had said. “I am… I’m listening.” “Do you have anything to say?” Petra was briefly stumped. “Well, I had no idea this was going to turn out to be a meeting about me.” Her voice cracked a little. The director and Emma thought for sure they had her. What they didn’t understand was it wasn’t an indication they were breaking Petra down, she was pissed, mortified at the utter absence of professionalism with the open-door policy permitted that if there was a complaint about another co-worker to come to the director’s office and tell her. Instead of diffusing the director would go to the person complained about and level accusations. It was as bad as allowing catfights as opposed to cockfights. The facility was run by women. There would be none of those although some of them thought they had spiritually acquired the specific appendage. “What’s next, inviting people in off the streets to place bets?”
One thing Petra knew and had been observing since she was a kid, “You learn a lot about people when they think you’re weak or stupid.” Didn’t most of them love to think she was stupid or they each were lord over her? Oh yes, they sure did. “Let them have go. Hopefully I’ll survive it.” She knew, well suspected already but would find out exactly what was running this place. If she played it right, it might just get its long time coming spring-cleaning.
Every now and again something crops up about the end of the world. Individuals get the inside scoop or an ancient calendar had predicted it long ago now here it is. The Farmers Almanac might be the only thing that hasn’t thrown in on it.
Anyway… Now that I’ve mentioned it and not that I’m worrying about it but … wayback music please …
A friend of mine and I would visit each other daily. My then 4-year old (now 40-something) and her 5-year old would play while she and I shared a bottle of Soave, enjoying the day talking about whatever popped to mind and life in general. One day though we learned it was going to end thanks to her fiancée’s parents getting the inside scoop. No, they didn’t walk up and down streets wearing placards shouting warnings, it was just they were so certain, so positive, so so so just knew it, they and many of their friends began selling all their stuff and planned to gather at a designated area – the designated area because God said – to meet the end together. As this day, place and hour approached, and that sounding biblical, his parents kept calling warning him to be prepared, and of course wanted him to be with them when it happened. I was there when some of those calls took place, and we’d sit afterward shaking our heads. He’d tried to talk them down just in case but they didn’t see it like that. With a child’s innocence, and it was childlike excitement for them, they knew they’d stumbled onto something. We knew no one really knows so it could go in either direction making chances of the world ending 50/50.
The extremity of it all was mind-boggling, really.
As we were leaving on what had been slated as the last day, I asked my friend if she thought the world might really end. Reflecting for less than a second she said, “There’s no sense worrying if it is.” “True, that’s true. I’ll see you tomorrow unless the world ends but maybe we’ll wind up somewhere soave flows freely and the kids can play as long as they want.”
Did it happen?
I awoke the next morning to a gorgeous Indian-Summer day. As I stood looking down at my son sleeping so peacefully my first thought was ‘it didn’t end’. As we began our walk I noticed the only thing resembling an apocalypse was the night winds had blown more brilliant fall leaves to the ground completely covering the roads. My son and I kicked them up making our own private path. My friend’s front door was open welcoming the unseasonably warm; she already had the Soave ready. “Well, the world didn’t end.” “No, it didn’t”, but I had to know. “What about Brent’s folks? Did they get rid of everything?”
… marveling at man’s insistence at controlling a prehistoric animal. Four movies’ worth and he doesn’t learn similar to CEOs who just know their brand of embezzling is the winner and they won’t wind up in prison right up until s/he winds up in prison – remember when that was trending, from death, destruction, getting eaten, no surprise our taxes keep going up from all the damage, to someone training them through respecting them, possibly the key to making friends with raptors in particular getting to ride a dirt bike among them managing not to get eaten causing you to wonder is this finally the end? Can we stop making these movies now? The other cause for wonder is why the pterodactyl chills in a confined area instead of multiplying all over the earth destroying mankind. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who can leave the island.
But I love them, these movies, along with watching those educated Great Whites that terrorize a family even though each time the perpetrator – Great White in question – is blown to bits. Must be a family of sharks avenging the death of the last one lost, like when a Slayer dies another girl awakens as the Slayer. It’s her turn now. Vampires beware.
Who can resist franchise without end? Amen.
… And feeding dragons while I’m at it as Fat Tuesday approaches. Anyone going to Mardi Gras? Me neither, but one of these times I will get there. It’s like making sure you ‘get to Italy’ bucket list things… I will get to Mardi Gras. How hard could it be? We’re both in the same country… honestly. Traveling abroad was simpler.
Showered, feeling chilly with the heat from what was steamy wearing off and my wet hair distracting my attention. I’ll get a sweater and an espresso, put my earrings in (fill the holes in my head) while I’m at it. BRB.
That’s it; I’m getting up now… editing is the devil.
The sky is getting light and the espresso is fragrant, warming, steamy and sweet – something my son turned me on to in Italy. We sat in a café with our cappuccios and I watched him open a sugar packet or two and sprinkle it over the froth. Curiouser and curiouser but I’ve been a convert ever since…
Which vampire today? I don’t know but I’ve quite a collection from original black and white through 30 Days Of Night types or do I want moral, sappy ones trying to do the right thing, possibly classic emotional drama queens – I mean, stop the whining Louis!
It felt like plastic netting only soft. She sensed the ridges on her skin and heard “zzzip” like rolling ‘rrrrrhs” as she passed. “Spiders.” Glancing up she saw the web wasn’t damaged but glistened in the sun in a fine rough-edged sheet. A movie scene flashed through her mind of walking through seemingly harmless web and the hero’s back coated in tarantulas. “Poor things wouldn’t have a leg to stand on with this one” didn’t stop her from running her fingers through her hair and shaking off her clothing… just in case. No trespassers. She kept walking enjoying the not-too-humid-yet coolness.
He came to pick up his son. At the daycare the front doorbell rang but she was busy with the two year olds in the back room. He stood in the doorway she looked up surprised, and glanced him up and down as he did her. “We’re dressing alike. This isn’t good. He must be some kind of freaky.” Then she laughed to herself at the thought. He’d made a pass you could say the very first time she saw him running his hand along the remnant of her waist uttering a quiet rich moan as he passed her on his way to the back. In fact she could have laughed out loud at the delicious scenario, the wrestling match. “I’m an alpha. We’d argue about who’s in charge. Could be fun. He thinks he’s an alpha with that collection of concubines he’s attempting to accumulate.”
“She’s an alpha.” She heard. “She needs more love than any others.” He stood at the far end of the classroom signing his son out. He looked back. Looking ahead but just passed him she caught his full image. “Dressing alike pastels and white.” She smiled and walked toward Little Hercules, one of her favorites for sure, who’d taken the plastic broom and bent the handle close to in half. He was concentrating trying to get it to flip up and down…