Mad Macedonian

PYTW 36: 50 Specific, & Particular, Things My Heart Loves

Prompting Yourself  To Write 36

1. My Cats

2. Scrambled Egg & Bacon, or Sausage Links, Sandwiches...The first thing I learned to cook for myself while in Middle School. :-D

 3. Sunset at Inspiration Point in Newport Beach.

4. Macaroni & Cheese 5. Writing a new poem, or story.

6. Riding my bike along a trail, or on lengthy rides on city streets.

7. The Three Stooges 8. Abbott & Costello 9. Laurel & Hardy

10. Merrie Melodies Cartoons 11. Classic Looney Tunes

12. Addams Family & The Munsters 

13. Hot Chocolate 14. Mincemeat Pie

15. Tuna Casserole 16. Visiting Museums 17. Visiting Art Galleries

18. Visiting Zoos 19. Red Suspenders

20. Brown Suspenders W/ paw prints

21. My own Crock Pot Dinner creations

22. Spaghetti & Meatballs 23. John Wayne Films

24. A Plane ride 25.  A Train ride 26. Urban hikes

 

PYTW 35: Write About a Used Cane

Prompting Yourself To Write 35

Write About a Used Cane...

( Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop. )

***Written on 4/28, while at lunch at Phillippe's the Original, in LA, a couple  hours after having reluctantly bought a Cane, as suggested by my Orthopedist who thought I should consider getting one, and use it in my left side to take the stress off the right ankle which is always painful, in the aftermath of my breaking it, and healing, due to Early Onset Arthritis of the Joints....

My name is Watson...I'm a Cane, a Leopard Spotted Mapplewood Cane with a smooth brown, hardwood, Derby Handle.

I'm light brown, with dark brown spots and, after 50 years of service I can safely, proudly, say that I've just about seen it all, & been places no Cane has been before.

My employer is 102 yrs. old, now, and gets around only a little slower than when I first met him, but I remember that day like it was yesterday.

I'd been hanging around the Horton & Converse Pharmacy in W. LA for weeks, waiting to be "Discovered", just like dozens of my compatriots shipped out to LA, & Hollywood, the "Land of Opportunity", "The Big Chance", & "Dreams of Stardom Come True"...

Every one of my neighbors on the shelf had dreams of being the Cane of the next "Charlie Chaplin", or used as a prop in the lates Sherlock Holmes film, or TV Movie, or Mini-Series...

Yeah, right, silly dreamers.

Me? I was more realistic, & settled in to patiently bide my time.

I wasn't goint to rot, or accidentally get snapped in half, like my some of my wooden counterparts might, so settled in for the long haul, figuring that when the right person came along we would both know we wer right for each otehr, & I'd be set for life.

Finally, one day in late April 2012, a middle-aged White Man, in a snazzy black fedora, with American Flag, & Don't Tread on Me pins, & a cute winged, and & haloed, Cat one, too, walked hesitantly up to the display, and looked with askance at my companions, and I.

Oh no, I thought, a Newbie!

I'd heard stories, most of them horrific, about the fate of Canes in the hands of the inexperienced but, but there was something about this man that struck my fancy, & as I watched him fondle, & examine, the others, I just had a feeling, & so waited to see how things developed.

 

PYTW 34 - Dear Mad Macedonian: A Love Letter

Prompting Yourself To Write 34

I put all the blame, for the mushiness to come, squarely on Julia Cameron!

It was her idea, afterall. :-D

There it is, in Week 5 of her book Walking in This World...

"Do I allow myself to have passion? Take pen in hand and write yourself a love letter. Be as specific and as affectionate as you can imagine."

OK, so there I was, yesterday evening, in a Del Taco, in Orange, Ca., with nothing better to do, while scarfing down my meal, but to just start writing, come what may, or april, I mean it IS april afer all. :-D

2 hours later I was spent.

Dear Mad Macedonian: A Love Letter

Dear Kiril The Mad Macedonian:

I love you! I love you! I love you!

I have loved you as far back as I can remember, probably going back to when you wrote your first story, and did your first book report and science project, in your 2nd elementary school.

Probably since you gave MLK's "I have a Dream Speech", also in that elementary school.

I loved watching you discover the joys of reading, beginning with the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, Star Trek and all those scary John Saul novels, back when all he could think to do was find gruesome ways to kill off kids and teens..

I loved watching you discover your love for history, news and politics and use your imagination to "broadcast" a baseball, or basketball game, as you tossed a tennis ball against the wall, or a basketball against the side of the roof, in your backyard.

I loved how you wrote your own extended "History of the Federation" within the pages of the first Trek reference book ever published, by erasing and writing over, much of what was in the freakin' book!

I simply adored your emerging, peculiar, sense of humor as a teen and 20-something.

Your serious side, growing up, helping your Mom and neighbors and being  a neighborhood watch volunteer, impressed me and made me proud, but your letters to the editor of local papers, or to comic books, that got published, made an even greater impression on me.

Who am I?

I'm your creative side, that part of you that loves to write...write poems and tell stories, write opinions and tell funnies and do research for essays and reports.

I'm your imagination...proud, bold, unchained and unafraid!

I was horrified and extremely worried when, by the time you had turned 30, and your parents had died, and you were alone, your creative, imaginative and adventuresome, spirit seemed to mostly take a powder.

You let yourself be "On Call" for your family for far too long, until you were almost 40!

That stiffled me, your creativity!

Except for a self portrait, published in a Star Trek Fan Anthology in 1990 and a few letters to the editor in the 90's, there was nothing for far too long.

Imagine the hope that sprang up in me when you bought a computer in 1998, adopted a kitten and turned it into your creative muse online!

Why did you let your creative passion almost die?

Even back then, in those 3 decades, some thought you weird, as they do today, but remember, The Great Creator made you to become who you are, and He didn't think the design was flawed!

I know your sense of humor flourished, despite everything. :-D

Even though your initial creative efforts were almost completely lost, you didn't let that mistake totally defeat you and when you moved to Orange County I was overjoyed when you discovered your talent for poetry and re-discovered your talent for storytelling and writing essays and doing research.

 

Prompting Yourself to Write 33: You Are In a Motel Room...

You are in a motel room...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

It was a long, tiring, day, today...

A 20 mile bike ride in the foothills, then dinner, and a movie.

I got back to my motel room at 9pm, showered, and now sit on the edge of the bed packing my bags, preparing to leave the next morning.

It's a small room, with dreary pale green walls, a small desk next to the bed, and a TV in case I want to catch up on the news.

I pick up, and thumb through the old, worn, copy of the Gideon Bible and, looking at my watch, realize  it's 11 pm, and so lay down, flat on my back, to try to get some sleep.

I lay staring at the ceiling, and gradually fall asleep, a fitful state in which I see myself standing on a platform next to a river, a sign by the side of the nearby road reads, "Welcome to Sticks! Prepare  to be transported!"

Just as I begin to wonder about the ticket I hold in my hands, and a boat approaches, I wake up to the alarm clock in my room.

It's 5am, and time for me to check out.

I gather my suitcase, open the door to my room, and step out...to find myself standing on a platform next to a river, with a sign near the entrance reqding, "Welcome to The River Styx! Prepare to be Transported!"

I look behind me, in the fog bound darkness, but the door to my motel room is not there.

As I face back to the river a boat approaches, paddled by a man in a dark, hooded, robe.

He looks solemnly at me, and says, "Welcome aboard, Sir, let me punch your ticket. Just set your suitcase under your seat, and make yourself comfortable, it's time for you to check out."

Prompting Yourself to Write 32: Write About a Wound...

Write about a wound...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

I remember the day I met my son, for the first time, like it was yesterday...

I had just left The Mad Greek Cafe, on Beach in Stanton, after closing time, on the evening of March 2nd, 3 days before my birthday.

I had stopped in for dinner, and amused the owners young daughter with a story about going for a swim in the Colorado River, when I was her age.

I told her how I had stubbed my big toe on a rock, under water, and left a bit of it in the river, as blood spurted everywhere,  & I used a t-shirt belonging to my Uncle Bill to staunch the flow.

I joked that "who knows, there's probably some weird night creature wandering around in the woods that looks  a little like me, to this day."

By the wide-eyed look in her eyes I imagine she half-way believed me. :-D

As I walked across the stree to the bus stop, in the dark, I saw a figure, wrapped in a coat, and with a cap low on its head, sitting on the bench.

I approached, and sat down, reaching for a book in my bag.

The figure next to me turned around, removed its cap, opened its coat, looked me in the eyes, smiled, and said, "Good evening, Pop, how the hell are ya?"

NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.

If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D

Prompting Yourself to Write 31: Write About a Ceremony...

Write about a ceremony...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

High School graduation was a time of celebration, for my parents who never graduated from High School, and who reveled in the fact that their oldest would do so, and for me as it meant the first step taken, besides registering to vote, in my journey into adulthood, having recently turned 18, that spring of 1978.

It was a time of celebration for my school principal, Mr. Walsh, who had asked for instructions on how to properly pronounce my name, so he would not embarrass himself in front of the student body, their parents, and family, and the assembled members of the press assigned to cover the festivities. ;-D

The proud look of accomplishment, when he succeeded in his mission, and presented me with my diploma, was a wonder to behold. :-D

It was also a time of celebration, no doubt, for all my teachers.

I imagined them holding a major celebration, in the Teacher's Lounge, hoisting drinks in open relief that they had survivied 4 years of having to try to pronounce my name everyday, and failing miserably. :-D

The joy they felt was obvious, and palpable, as they cheered the notion that they would never have to deal with my last name ever again...

I didn't have the heart to tell them I had one sister 5 years younger than me, and another 8 years younger, in the pipeline! :-D

Let them have their fun...they earned it. :-D

NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.

If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D

Prompting Yourself to Write 30: 666th Blog Post Promptapalozza!

Welcome friends, fans, and strangers, alike!

This is the 666th post on Musings Of a Mad Macedonian, since I begn this blog on October 8th, 2007, after retiring my first blog after 5 1/2 years. :-D

Nikita was there, alongside me, from the beginning, as he had been with the first one.

Nikita joins me, today, submitting one of the 2 Writing Prompts to be shared in this entry.

As regulars know, he can now be found, alongside his protege, Elvira Mistress of Felinity, over at Meowsings of an Opinionated Pussycat.

My offering...

Once, when no-one was looking...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

I remember it like it was yesterday...

We had recently moved into our new home on Merrywood St., in 1969, and I was 9 years old.

Around the corner was a Shopping Bag Market, and we used to walk around the corner, my Mom, and I, so she could do grocery shopping, while Dad watched my muh younger sisters.

This was a year before he became ill, and all was hunky dory in our lives.

One day we went to the market &, as we ventured up, and down, the aisles I happened to spot an open bag of M & M's.

Woo Hoo! Jackpot! :-D

I picked it up, and as Mom continued shopping, oblivious, I munched away quite happily. ;-D

After paying, and loading up the bags, we headed out into the parking lot.

As we approached our street corner Mom suddenly noticed me, and my prize. :-D

She asked me where I got it.

I can not tell a lie!

I told her I saw the open bag on a shelf, and thought, finders keepers, losers weepers, or something along those line, typical of the thinking of a 9 year old.

She promptly marched me, and the bag, with only 2 M & M's left in it, back to the store, made me turn it in, and apologize for stealing it.

I was humuliated!

Needless to say I never, ever, stole anything again. :-D

 

Prompting Yourself to Write 29: Write About Bathing...

Write about bathing...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

Rub a dub, dub, 3 men in a tub...just not MINE!

SCRAM! Get yer own damn bathtub, dudes!

Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah...bathing. :-D

I'm 5'10", & haven't taken a bath since my college days, except for the time after my broken ankle, last year.

Had to switch to showering because it wasn't as comfy to stretch out in the tub, anymore, for a good soak, and an hour, alone, with a good book, or the latest issue of my favorite magazine. :-D

From the time I was around 12 years old, reading in the tub was a favorite pasttime.

It began when I Drew my bath, hopped in, & invited Nancy, Bess, & George to join me for a, um, soak... Ned Nickerson, and his pals, could kiss my ass!

Getting myself clean took 2nd place in my "To Do List", at Bath Time, hee, hee! :-D

Sadly, the Good Times had to end when I got too big for the tub.

Thye probably make bigger tubs, these days, big enough to accomodate 7 ft. tall basketball players, but I'll never see one. :-D

I learned pretty quickly that reading, while standing in the shower is just not the same relaxing experience as doing so in the tub, so gave up, surrendering to the purpose showers were intended.

My life was changed forever...

Oh, woe is me...

NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.

If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D

 

Prompting Yourself to Write 28: A Year After Your Death...

A year after your death...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

A year after the death of Kiril The Mad  Macedonian, at the ripe old age of 110, friends, and fans, of the Cat stories, poems, and more, originally published on the blog of his Cats Nikita, Elvira, and those that followed, and later collected into book, and other media formats, to great acclaim, gathered at the writer's haven he founded, at age 65, called The Litter Box Cafe.

Old style Cat Bloggers, and writers, and film directors, and those in newer media forms, inspired by the work of his Felines, gathered for a weekend of poetry readings, storytelling, memory sharing, and showing off of Cats of all varieties, all to raise money for his favorite local shelter.

Although he'd been unable to have Cats in his life since the last one died, when Kiril was 100, he continued to be active in the Cat Writing Community until the day he died.

Everyone laughed, when sharing the story of how he'd died, as it was just like him to go out that way.

Seeing a Cat on the banks of the nearby river, where the rest home was, and apparently concerned about its safety, he'd grabbed his walker, slipped past his minders, and went for a look see.

It was an hour before anyone noticed he was gone, and it took seeing a cat at the windows, and following it, before someone found Kiril's body lying peacefully on the shore with 3 Kittens at his side.

A Mother Cat, and her Kittens, the last recue of his life.

As the latest in the decades old  Golden Paw Awards, named after his Tortie, the legendary Elvira Mistress of Felinity (Died age 25), were celebrated, the last evening came to a rousing conclusion.

His writing, his messages, and those of his Cats, and his mission in life, were all in good hands...and paws.

NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.

If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D

Prompting Yourself to Write 27: Write About a Day Moon...

Write  About a Day Moon...

(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)

Have you ever noticed that when a Full Moon rises during a clear blue sky afternoon...weird things tend to happen?

I know, me neither, until the day before yesterday, that is.

I got off the bus, at Mile Square Park, and just happened to glance up, and to the east, and there it was plain as the nose on your face.

As I walked along the path, in the park, I felt a cool breeze and, suddenly, felt like someone was watching me...

I turned around, and saw a large Squirrel in the path intently watching me.

 As I neared the corner I heard loud chattering behind me, turned around, and saw a dozen larger Squirrels in the path chattering at each otehr, and glancing in my direction.

Just a coincidence, I thought, your're tired after a long  morning at the Swap Meet.

When my next bus came, and I got on, I settled in for a little nap since I was going to the end of the line.

All of a sudden I was awakened by that chattering noise, and sat up to see that all the seats on the bus were full of very large chattering Squirrels, and even the bus driver was a giant Squirrel!

At the next light I got up, barged to the exit, and leaped off the bus!

I spotted a cop, at the donut shop on the corner, ran up to him, and told him about the bus, and Squirrels...

 

As I sit here, this evening, in a padded cell, writing my story down on paper, for the jail psychiatrist, I can only hope that someone, ANYONE, will believe me, since no-one here does...otherwise, I'm screwed!

 

NOTE: Squirrel photographed in the rocks, near the Richard Henry Dana Jr. Statue, at Dana Point Harbor, yesterday evening about 530pm. :-D

NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.

If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D