Not The Rockefellers

From the attic: Lyndsey sat on the reading rug all curled up on the big letter C. Her fists were jammed into her eyes and she was rocking a fierce "bucket lip." She was on time out. Her infraction? Kicking down a block castle. Not safe. Not kind. Not allowed. Not noted for her subtlety, Lyndsey was doing a fairly good job of letting all within viewing distance know that she was not happy with this decision. Every so often, she would stop and scan her audience for a micro-second between eye jams. "Whatsamatta Lynds?", I ask sitting next to her. "Nothing!" I could go through a detailed history of all the "nothings" ever uttered that ended up being big somethings at this point, but they would all pale in comparison to this "nothing". "Really Lynds?" "No" And not a sweet little, poor pitiful me no, but rather a head spinning, pea soup shooting no. Lyndsey was hellbent on being miserable and would have dea...

She sat high and mighty on her throne cinnamon taffy legs wrapped around the bar stool She took a meaningful drag off of her cigarette withholding the exhale Leaning in an agonizingly long male moment of time She let it dance around her nostrils tongue playing with the plumes of desire eyes flickering through the smoke those eyes saints alive those eyes the eyes of a girl who once lived in the basement of the girl next door. “Those’ll kill ya” he informed her from across the bar “Who says?”  she purred “They all do”   She met his eye, raised her left brow and whispered low, “All of them, huh?” She took a long drag and exhaled a bubble of smoke upwards inhaling through her nose contrails from a scarlet bottom lip He brushed the back of his hand across the side of her head She blew a smoke ring and remained silent Until it touched the tip of his nose and disintegrated. “Now  that’ll  kill...

everybody got a Velvet Elvis hanging up in the closet somewhere everybody got a guilty treasure saving up like a millionaire everybody got a bad lovesong they saaang along with the radio everybody got a Velvet Elvis yeah, you do but, you just don't know yeah i hear you say you don't watch much TV except for the Documentaries and Planet Earth but is that The Smokey and The Bandit Collection i see there, in VHS format in your entertainment center on the low shelf behind the brandy snifter photograph of your cat let's watch it at my place mom's at Bingo tonight everybody got a Velvet Elvis hanging up in the closet somewhere everybody got a guilty treasure saving up like a millionaire everybody got a bad lovesong they saang along with the radio everybody got a Velvet Elvis yeah you do but, you just don't know why don't you grab us a...

This was inspired by the excellent,informative Hearth & Home series on Robert Frost's Banjo this passage in particular: "At first I innocently accepted the fraternal invitations to visit the study, feeling that when my day’s work was done I earned a right to rest and read. But I soon found that this was not the idea. I was not to read; but to be read to. I was not to enjoy the flowers, pictures, fire, and books; but to keep them in order for my lord to enjoy. I was also to be a passive bucket, into which he was to pour all manner of philosophic, metaphysical, and sentimental rubbish." The first part is written by the lord of the manor, the second is the servant's voice. you are a vessel into which I pour My knowledge, My understanding My sorrows and My passion of a world you know not My sharing of it strengthens Me and enriches you i am no more than a passive bucket into which you gaze seeking your reflection i much prefer the hearth scrubbin...

I bought two pairs of shoes yesterday at DSW. The total cost was $129.00. They weren't even a flirty little pair of heels. No, folks, these were boring slip on loafers. Business shoes. And I was freaking the fook out. Paris Hilton probably spends that much on her way to buy shoes. If I suddenly became rich I wonder if I'd ever lose my blue collar girl sensibility. Would I still gasp/shriek at a $400.00 price tag on a T-shirt? I have a hard enough time paying over $10.00 for one. There is line from "Working Girl" that my sisters and I often quote. It is from a scene where Melanie Griffith and her pal ( played brilliantly by Joan Cusack), are just a couple of girls from Staten Island, NY, playing dress up in the fairytale world of Melanie's well-heeled bosses' ( Sigourney Weaver) closet. "$6,000 and it's not even leath-ah (leather)" We laugh because that is so us. The utter insanity of $6,000.00 cocktail dress. Why would you pay over $500 fo...

Neptune had a daughter her name was Marie  she  loved a boy named, Aidan born  of fire was he He danced  along the shore as she sang  songs  from the sea Jump in Aidan come dance with me I'm just a lonely girl in the great big sea Dive into to my arms sail away with me Jump in Aidan come dance with me Now Aidan really longed to  into  her dive but one dance with Marie he'd never survive so tragically the offer h e had to decline b ut his passion for her would never subside Jump in Aidan come dance with me I'm just a lonely girl in the great big sea Dive into to my arms sail away with me Jump in Aidan come dance with me Come dance with me,Aidan every night  she does call swim into me,lover  Cry her waves  as they fall though theirs is a love that will never be It is  as endless as   Eternity Peace - Rene 2009

My Father enjoying a bit of heaven on earth - photo courtesy of our family photo collection The smell Of an oxford shirt Fresh from the clothesline  Reminds Me Of You  I close my eyes As I breathe in Deeply  To Be With You  At the Kitchen table  Me with me OJ  You with your Cup of tea  Morning light Dances across Glassware Flashing Brilliantly  Taking A picture Framing the moment In my memory   In Your Memory  The smell Of an oxford shirt Fresh from the clothesline  Is Your Way Of saying Hi I love you And we'll meet again Someday Down the line   Dedicated to my father who passed away 8-19-08 And so our year of "Firsts" without our Father  comes to a close on this day.  Peace - Rene 2009

"I know I can write. A few of my stories are good...much of my diary is vivid and alive but...it remains to be seen whether I really have talent". "If I read book that impresses me, I have to take myself firmly by the hand, before I mix with other people; otherwise they would think my mind rather queer." "The nicest part is being able to write down all my thoughts and feelings, otherwise I'd absolutely suffocate ." "In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death...I think...peace and tranquility will return again". All quotations by Anne Frank I discovered the Diary Of Anne Frank in an attic of all places. It was in a stack of my older sister's school books. Growing up, the attic was one of my favorite hangouts. It was kind of cool and fort-like in it's design. There were two levels. The first level was easy to walk ar...

in the house by the leaning tree a candle in the window beckons me her front porch c asual familiar style an easy going f riendly stay a while s mile i trace her railings enter inside she is warm, w elcoming and willing to provide come,  fill me up her song  whispered   in my ear i’ll be your home while you are here she’s missed t he sound  of heartbeats  deep breaths,   d own her halls the gentle, urgent pleading in a lover's call i am your space that secret sanctuary  you desire to dream, to create let my mysteries inspire curl up  in my nooks let my charms fascinate look through my eyes meditate love me i’ll shelter you safe harbor at last cherish me; y our future wrapped in my past let me live once again come d well within me the light in my window burns for thee

In my life I have attended many wakes. Growing up Irish-Catholic they were a near weekly event that I was morally obligated to attend. If I had so much as brushed shoulders with the recently deceased at the supermarket, while they were alive of course, I was expected to be in attendance. By the age of twenty I had been inside of every single funeral parlor in my town. Each one with their own set of professional mourners. Each one rated by this same professional mourner society. See and be seen, was the Rule of Wakes. If you did not attend Jim O’Donnell’s wake you had better have been on your deathbed otherwise your absence would be duly noted and gossiped about. With all of this experience under my belt, attending wakes, for me, is something I am not unfamiliar with. I expect crying and uneasiness. I know that sometimes a silent hug is better than trying to say the right thing. And for God's sake please don’t mention how peaceful the deceased looks. All of these wakes were for p...