Legendary Legends

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Image: Pixabay

So, yes! I am officially an author. My first publication will go live on Amazon, January 1, 2018. This is just the tip of the iceberg, baby.

I am a legend in my own mind. Yes. And so should you be as well. It’s fine to look up to other people and commend them for their honor and bravery. But don’t sell yourself so goddamn short. You deserve a pat on the back, too, ya know.

When I hear the word legend, I think of people like Alexander the Great, George Washington, Terry Bradshaw and a rabbit named Bugs Bunny.

When I hear the word legendary, I think of timeless stories like The Ice Bowl of 1967, The Battle of the Bulge, the Blizzard of ’78 and The Fall in Frankford Crick.

Legends… they make shit happen. And while most legends are famous for doing deeds beyond the scope of good deed doing, others are legends in a small place like a family or a church. I am sure you know some legends – and legendary tales – in your hometown. Whether it is a happy story or a sad story it is a legendary tale that has trickled down the line of time to the current day. You’ll hear one person tell the story and then someone else says “Legendary.”

A quick legendary tale from my childhood:

It was the winter of ’81 and a bunch of us were playing in the woods on Ryerson Road. The one half of the street was all houses, but across the way down the hill was a part of the Frankford Creek (Crick) and Pennypack woods. We were all playing in the snow. This one kid, David was in full snowsuit gear – we thought this was ridiculous – and we talked him into walking on the frozen crick just to get across to the other side. We watched as he stepped on the ice like a soldier through a minefield. His footing so gingerly and deliberate we were sure he’d make it across, except he was going so slow. Back then it seemed like he was trying to walk halfway across the Delaware River. In reality, the crick was maybe ten feet wide.

Do I really have to tell you the rest of the story? He crept onto the ice, it cracked, we yelled for him to get off. But it was too late. David and his puffy snowsuit fell right through the ice into the frigid water. He screamed and cried, we laughed and then gasped in shock. He laid there (his head and upper body above the water) and we ran to get someone to help him.

We told that story between us for years; each year the story got a little more hyped up. And at some point, it became… a legend.

Do your best. Be your best. Live your best life and yes… be a legend in your own mind. Because sometimes that’s all it takes to become a legend in someone else’s.

But never ever walk on dark ice.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/legend/

Saintly Sinner

 

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Image: pixabay – geralt

Saintly.

We use that term when we speak of good deed doers, animal rescuers and people who keep their cool in Wal-Mart. But what about the saintly sinner? You know, humans that want to beat the ever living shit out of that asshole in Wal-Mart or impale the driver doing 35 in a 55 (this happened to me on my way to work today). Then maybe played the scenario out in vivid detail, and thought, “Is this jerk really worth ten years in prison with a seven-foot cellmate named Tiny?”

Saintly sinners are people just like you and me. They are not good deed doers per say, but they aren’t rotten bastards either. Saintly sinners are average people who go about their day not necessarily keeping tabs of all the good and bad shit they have done, but know that being a decent human – or at least trying like hell – can be a full-time job all its own in this day and age.

Saintly sinners are anti-heroes.

You know, those ten-dimensional characters like John McClaine in Die Hard or Snake Plissken in Escape From New York. Sure they’re mouthy, dirty bad boys who ventured onto the left-hand path, but we love them despite their sinner ways; they’re our angels of redemption.

On the flip side of that, some people pretend to be saintly but are really demon spawn at a sickening level. The technical term for that person is the sociopathic narcissist, and though I have dealt with one version or the other in my life, the evilest combination of the two was my ex-mother-in-law. She would gorge herself on the pain of others. Some people call them emotional vampires, others call them toxic, but I just wound up calling her a crazy b***h. The woman wasn’t happy unless she was witnessing/talking about/causing someone’s pain.

I won’t go into it because she isn’t worth the weight of her memory, but she is included in my memoir. Sometimes we need to speak the devil’s name so we can put her in her proper place.

Saintly is the way

The sinners love to sleep

They gorge on your demons

With gentle little dreams

Their thoughts heavily fasten

To all that’s good and true

Then rip it from your soul

Like gorging sinners do

So wrap your dreams up tight

In a silky woven ball

Wash them in starlight

And let them gently fall

via Daily Prompt: Saintly

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/gorge/

*I had the wrong prompt. This post may be a lame attempt at recovery, but I had to give it a shot!

The Zoo

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Image: Pixabay – Lucas FZ70

Once upon a time

When I was quite little

My mother took me to the zoo

Among bark, cold and brittle

We had to bundle up

For the air was quite chilly

We were off on an adventure

None of this seemed silly

The parking lot was packed with cars

As people filed through the turnstile

When I made it to the other side

My face and eyes did smile

There were critters everywhere

Some furry and big; some scaly and small

I stopped and stood for a time

When I approached the best one of all

I noticed it lying in the brush

Its fur was spotted in many spots

I heard it meow instead of roar

It was a beautiful ocelot.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/zoo/

Zoo

Shrooms Man…

 

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Image: Pixabay

Real quick: I love fried mushrooms with a nice, juicy steak. Other than that, not really. But every time I hear the word MUSHROOMS, I think of some skit like Cheech and Chong as they said, ‘Shrooms man, f**king shrooms.’ Though after thinking about it, I am pretty sure it was Dennis Leary in a stand-up routine Lock ‘n Load.

 

The mushrooms in the picture, however, are apparently little homes for little gnome folk! Or maybe Smurfs. I used to watch the Smurfs when I was a kid… I think they came onto the cartoon scene right about the time I was wrapping up with it.

 

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Image: parrygamepreserve.com

 

Anyway, how was your week? How much did you accomplish? I am 40,000 words into my NaNoWriMo novel, so I am hoping to be done by this weekend. Of course, it is 40,000 words of pure crap, but it is 40,000 words none the less and at the very least a blueprint in which to work with.

Wahoo!

Haiku Ode to a Fungus

Mushroom, oh fungus

You are delicious when fried

But not so healthy

Have a great weekend!

via Daily Prompt: Mushroom

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mushroom/

Honk!

 

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Image: Pexels.com

 

I’m not afraid of anything, really, but….

When I was a baby I wanted to make friends with a goose, but the goose wasn’t interested. Despite the honks and hisses, I pursued.

The goose had it up to his neck with me.

Honk!

Chomp!

Ouch! 

I went crying back to my grandmother. She called me a ‘stupid ass’ and told me that’s what I get for trying to play with a goose. This might shock some people, that a grandmother would talk this way to a little person, but that was how it was in 1978. Of course, I didn’t like it then, but I get it now.

Geese are known to be mean which I didn’t know in the 70’s when I used to try to play with geese.

I still like them. I just have more respect for them.

Sory so short, but I got to get back to work!

Blessed be and fear no goose.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/honk/

HONK

Strut

Pressed for time today… In 1981 I was eight years old and in love with music. I had a fond liking for Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band and while I didn’t get the gist of this song when I was a wee lass, I did love it for the hooks, guitar, and his amazing voice. The song was written about Jane Fonda… not so much the way she walked, but more for her confidence while speaking her mind.

I don’t strut anymore. I’m not sure if it is because I am older and mostly settled in my life or maybe somewhere along the way I lost any thread of self-confidence I ever had. I suppose some deep reflecting is in order this weekend.

Happy Friday my friends! Take it easy and be good to yourself. ❤

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Strut

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/strut/