Breakfast Special, #44, “Heat Waves”

~Heat Waves

Lily felt deep red heat rising, streaking her cheeks as they danced. Sarge’s hand holding her’s as he led her in the small floor space wasn’t any different from all the other times they’d danced, yet it felt like the most intimate touch ever in the midst of so many people. She’d intended to send a message to the b-brigade and the other women, but she hadn’t given any thought about how anyone else might react to her actions. Sarge had grinned happily, exactly as she’d counted on him doing, when she’d asked if he felt like dancing even though no one else was. Little George had given her a quick thumbs up when she’d handed him her plate of food with encouragement to eat the remaining contents.. As she’d reached to take Sarge’s willing hand, Anton had caught her eye and nodded approvingly as had Percy Two and the other men in the group. It was clear they wanted her to finally show Sarge some preferential treatment in the midst of a very successful public gathering. There were no razing or off-color comments, just quiet approving encouragement as they moved away to make their way to the area next to the musicians.

But now whenever she caught someone’s expression as they made the most of the little floor there was for their dancing, she realized they’d attracted the attention of a lot more people than just the women she’d wanted to dissuade from even thinking of making any moves in Sarge’s direction. At the same time she was enjoying having his hand in hers and his other lightly resting on her waist as they moved. She could tell that even in this crowd of neighborhood people Sarge felt comfortable dancing and safe touching her and that felt good.

The song ended and they stood patiently waiting  without talking for another to begin while the group decided what to play next. In keeping with their own agenda to mellow out the atmosphere, the musicians put another easy-going tune into motion and Sarge responding accordingly by gathering Lily in closer for moving with the soft textured music. His hands didn’t roam, he uttered no sweet nothings into her ear, he didn’t press suggestively against her as their feet kept moving, there was plenty of polite space between them and yet Lily as if felt he was making love to her as they danced. Fixing her attention on a small section of his borrowed too large flannel shirt where green and blue lines of the pattern intersected, she noted that her vibes were happily humming with the song and let herself simply fall into sync with him via the dance. For the length of the song they moved in a sphere of their own making oblivious to everything except the music and each other.

When the music stopped Lily glanced at the quiet, intent expression on Sarge’s flushed face then she lowered her head enough to let her hair fall forward in an effort to hide her own blush. The guitar players murmured to each other, then decided to take a break in order to enjoy the bottles of beer someone had brought them. She sensed an  unfamiliar tension in the room as Sarge began leading her through the crowd towards the open space in the house’s main hall. Her hand firmly holding his, she followed closely in his wake. As they moved through the densely packed mass of humanity towards the comparatively empty and much cooler hall, Sarge’s grip on her hand tightened and tensed.

Lily’s eyes focused on the heels of Sarge’s boots as he’d set their course. In her quest for a little personal privacy while she inwardly basked in the afterglow of dancing, she kept her head down while walking close enough to his backside that if he made one step backward he’d be standing on her toes. Preoccupied with her own deep internal workings, feeling secure in the close proximity of his large form and linked by their hands, she let him lead her along through the people continuing to enter the large main room. Hence, she missed the initial bold face to face approaches by several women making aggressive efforts to get Sarge’s attention and directly draw him away from Lily. Her first clue that her effort to make a public social statement had gone awry came in the form of a young man she was barely acquainted with attempting to wedge himself between her and Sarge. Realizing that his action had nothing to do with the crowded room when he slipped an arm around her waist in an effort to pull her in the opposite direction, Lily pushed him away with a  single hard hand upward shove to his chin. The entertained and intrigued tone of his laughter and that of his friends as he retreated effectively alerted her to the highly charged, unpredictable nature of the room’s current atmosphere.

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From the documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown. Joan Osborne preforms Heatwave

 

 

 

Emotions, or, No Numb Here, Musical Theme

Emotions headline this Musical Theme per Willowdot21. I’ve chosen songs for both presentation and content.  I think each sings for itself.  There’s some frustration, some fear, a little love and gratitude, and a touch of defiance.  Nick Cave joins the ladies because he’s got a great song from a great flick.   Enjoy. 🙂

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Evanescence ~~ Bring Me To Life

EvanescenceVEVO

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Joan Osborne ~~ Crazy Baby

sampledoubt

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Katie Webster ~~ Red Negligee

Cantshaketheseblues

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Shemekia Copeland ~~ Never Going Back to Memphis

telarc

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Billie Holiday ~~Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do

OnlyJazzHQ

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Evanescence ~~ Going Under

Sara Reiko Matsu

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Nick Cave — I’ll Love You Till The End of the World

Carol Friz

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Madeleine Peyroux ~~ Dance Me To the End of Love

BOSSPRODUCCIONES

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Willow     http://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2013/11/09/musical-theme-emotions/

Johnny   http://johnnyojanpera.wordpress.com/2013/11/09/emotion-music-theme-november-9th/

Deborah http://myriad234.wordpress.com/2013/11/09/musical-theme-for-november-9-emotions/#comment-722

Peace One Day ~ Today 21 September 2013

It’s Sept. 21, 2013. Please imagine  Peace One Day expanding to Peace Every Day.

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Peace

Kevin Spacey sings Darin

Breakfast Special, #27, “Lily’s Coat”

Lily’s Coat

“Well, I’ll be damned. Hells’ bells! We’re not open for ten minutes and look who comes through Big Bob’s new door. Good to see you, Benj. You too, Patrick. How’s Nora? Your Dad? Everything good with the clan?” Stanley set up three cups of coffee, one for himself and the two men who were the first to come inside and currently the only people in Big Bob’s.

“Hey Stanley. You’re looking good.” Benj kicked the snow and rock salt from his shoes as he held the door open for Patrick doing the same behind him before crossing the threshold.

“What can we do for you two fine young fine men? Whatever you want. It’s on the house considering you’re the first folks back in here.” Stanley waved a hand indicating that the bar was empty of customers except for the two O’Mara brothers.

“Just a couple of coffees and sweet rolls,” said Patrick. He took a bar stool next to Benj and began toying with the salt and pepper shakers.

“Oh come on, you two can do better than that. You got a stomach bug or what? Huh?” Stanley poured steaming coffee into the cups.

“Nora stuffed us before we headed for Falls. Preventive breakfast I call it. In case we get stuck in a snow-bank along the way, at least we’ll be stuck with full stomachs.” Benj knocked shoulders with Patrick next to him as they laughed.

Stanley set two sweet rolls on plates for them. “That’s Nora alright. So what brings you two to our National Guard Disaster area?  Don’t you dare say it’s because you enjoy the scenery on the ride here. That would be a whole lot of snow-shit anyone can see anywhere.”

His fingers dancing around the rim of his coffee cup, Benj said, “Actually we came in thinking we might meet up with Sarge.”

“Well, he has not been here this morning. He usually comes around every so often after a shift for the breakfast special and a sweet roll. With the docks still closed, I wouldn’t expect him though.” Stanley nodded at the window view of the shoulder-high mounds of snow all along the street with only one lane cleared for traffic. “If Reggie Dawson hadn’t taken it into his head to clear the street that much on his own, I wouldn’t be open either.”

Patrick followed the direction of Stanley’s glance and nodded in understanding. “When was Sarge last in for a special?”

Stanley sipped his coffee. “Let’s see. Pretty sure it was the Friday of the week before the snow really became a bitch. Yep. It was. I remember now. He sat there right at the end. Came in at the end of us getting slammed. Had his usual over-easys.”

“He seem okay to you then?” Benj dipped his sweet roll into his coffee.

“Oh hell yeah. Right as rain. Had a book as usual. Gave me a little lip for fun.”

“You ain’t seen him since then?” said Patrick.

“No.” Stanley shook his head. “Last I saw of Sarge he was high-tailing it out the door in hot pursuit of Lily. Have no idea if he caught up with her, but he sure put a leg on after she left.”

Benj and Patrick looked at each other, then at Stanley. Patrick leaned over his coffee expectantly. “How long has Sarge been seeing this Lily?”

Stanley shrugged his shoulders. “Never saw them together before that Friday. All I can say is that he sat down next to her. They gave each other a little grief. She ate like a starving pig as usual. He ate. She left. He grabbed his sweet roll and left right after. What more can I tell you?”

Benj grinned. “So what do you know about this Lily? Besides she eats like a pig.”

Stanley shook his head. “Oh that Lily, she’s something else, Benj.”

“What? She like some hot to trot firecracker?”

“Hot to trot firecracker? Lily? Hell no, Patrick. Atomic bomb is more like it.”

Mistaking Stanley’s line of thinking, Benj and Patrick laughed with glee. “So she’s like, what, stacked to the max?”

“How’s her ass action? She got a cute little wiggle in her walk?” Patrick shook his sweet roll to illustrate this notion.

Stanley laughed. “I hate to disappoint you guys, but you got it all wrong.”

“Awww Stanley. You’re such a tease,” said Patrick before eating half his sweet roll.

“You’re just yanking our chains with the atomic bombshell bit?” Patrick slumped dejectedly on his stool for a few moments.

“No. I’m not. I meant it. Only not like you two are thinking.”

Patrick punched Benj in the shoulder while keeping eye contact with the barkeeper. “Okay. Okay. So how did you mean it, Stanley?”

“Wait a minute.” Stanley glanced at the door and out the window. “I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. Let me lock the door. Fifteen minutes more of being closed won’t hurt anyone.”

“What the hell, Stanley?” Benj swirled on the bar stool while watching Stanley lock the entrance door. “You got FBI secrets to share or what?”

Returning to his place behind the bar, Stanley got comfortable on a stool, topped off everyone’s coffee, then looked from Benj to Patrick. “Remember when the shit hit the fan big time at St. Luke’s Church in the Flats a couple of years back?”

“You mean all that about Father John being a pedophile?”

“That’s it, Benj. That’s what I’m thinking of.”

“Oh I remember that. That was one storm that just wouldn’t blow over. So what’s this Lily got to do with that?”

“So—Lily started that shit-storm and kept it blowing for as long as it did.”

“I don’t recall reading about any Lily in the papers.” Patrick shook his head as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “I think I’d remember if Father Joseph had said anything about a Lily during Sunday Mass when he talked about St.Luke’s and Father John.”

“That’s because Holy Mother Church didn’t want it getting out who was really calling the shots in the Flats. Church didn’t want anyone finding out about what Lily knew any more than necessary. Lily knew a hell of a lot about what Father John did, when, where, who and how many times. Last thing the Church wanted was some reporter getting in deep with Lily. And they sure as hell didn’t want their own giving anyone any ideas about chatting her up. The parents were another thing. The Holy Fathers couldn’t care less about how they were carrying on. They just came across as clowns in the papers and on television because of how they looked and talked. Church could deal with the parents. Or so it thought at the time.” Stanley drank his coffee and waited for a response from either of the two men.

“But this Lily could have just gone to the papers herself. Why didn’t she?”

Stanley grimaced. “Lily wasn’t interested in getting press. What she wanted was Father John out of the Flats and out of the priesthood. She wanted him listed as a sex offender with the police and that was just for starters. She wanted him prosecuted to the full extent of the law. On top of that she had other priest fish to fry. And they weren’t in Falls. Now the only reason I know this is because my cousin Pauline manages Father Richard’s office in M-. She’s been there for two decades. She types up all the top line letters herself to keep things quiet and contained. According to Pauline, Lily and Father Richard had a meeting in person, right there in Father Richard’s office for about an entire day.  Right after that, Father Richard got busy and put some serious hurt on a priest in Minnesota, another one in Texas, and one in Washington State. Pauline doesn’t know what happened after that because only those letters went out. Nothing came in reply. Nothing in writing anyway. Everything else Father Richard did was either on the phone or face to face behind closed doors.”

Patrick hunched his shoulders and leaned over his coffee. “You’re saying he didn’t want any records or a paper trail.”

“Exactly.”  Stanley topped off his own cup of coffee and then Benj and Patrick’s. “But that didn’t put an end to what was going on in the Flats. When Father Richard’s hands were tied by higher-ups in regard to Father John, it was Lily who organized those folks to drive Father John out of business and basically shut down St. Luke’s on their own. The Sunday donations stopped. The tithes stopped coming in. The people stopped coming to mass. There were even carpools for getting people who wanted mass over to St. Teresa’s or any other church. Till this day, if anyone wants to go to confession they go to St. Teresa’s. Baby needs a christening; it’s done at St. Teresa’s. Someone needs last rites; they get the priest from St. Teresa’s to the Flats for them.  All of that is still going on. There may be a priest in residence at St. Luke’s, but only God Almighty hears him say mass. That church is a tomb.”

“Ahh ha. And this Lily is behind all that?” Benj exchanged looks and shrugs with Patrick before they both turned doubtful eyes back on the older man.

“Obviously none of that would have happened if people hadn’t paid attention to her. But she’s the one who light their fuses. No doubt about it.” He watched the two brothers smirk while remaining good-naturedly attentive to him. Deciding to take advantage of their interest and the lack of anyone walking or driving down the one lane street, Stanley warmed further to his subject. “As if that wasn’t enough, after those people got a taste of what they could do, they started doing other things. They formed what they call the Neighborhood Watch out there. It’s got ex-gang bangers, retired cops, blue-collar guys, white-collar guys, blacks, whites, Hispanics, Indians, Asians, the whole nine yards. You name it, if it lives in the Flats; they got it in the Watch. Falls PD may ignore 911 calls from the Flats, but the Watch doesn’t.”

Benj stretched his arms and locked his hands behind his head. “How you know all this, Stanley? Is there a Flats newsletter going around or some such?”

“How do I know all this?” Stanley’s eyebrows arched high as he met Benj’s eyes. “I know all this because my sister’s daughter, Joyce, she’s a nurse at St.Syms, lives in the Flats. Joyce bought a house god awful cheap there some time back because she wanted something close to work. As Joyce tells it, Lily pulled all those people together when she went after Father John for those kids he was messing around with. She really put the hurt on St. Luke’s when she got up at some community meeting and made some speech about if people still wanted to go to church and listen to some priest tell them how to live their lives after what Father John had done to their children, then they needed to go find a good man, because that’s what makes a good priest. So some people started visiting the other churches to check out the priests.”

Patrick laughed. “That’s funny, Stanley. Sounds like she sent them shopping for a better deal.”

Pointing his cup at Patrick, Stanley nodded. “That’s about what it boiled down to, Patrick. Now, lots of folks had been dishing some priest at St. Teresa’s ever since he arrived because he stuttered so much. They didn’t like listening to him trying to talk right. You know how that goes, especially with the old timers who want everything just perfect. They figured the Church had given them a lemon priest. Some of the Flats people go to St. Teresa’s to check out this priest anyway. When they show up out of nowhere to have a little chat, he stops what he’s doing and gives them his undivided attention until they’re good and ready to say bye-bye. Those folks didn’t give a damn about his stuttering. They just wanted a priest who flew right and played by the rules. They wanted a good man.  Joyce said that when the people from the Flats showed up at St. Teresa’s for Sunday Mass for the first time it was like a people bomb had exploded. Church was packed from the first pew to the last and out the doors. Guess which priest was saying Mass that Sunday. After checking out all their options in Falls and M- and everywhere in between, they chose the lemon priest. Now every time the lemon priest says Sunday Mass, St. Teresa’s is stuffed to the gills. That priest doesn’t even have a chance to ask for help. Roof needs patching. It’s done. Window needs fixing. It’s done. His funny little scooter needs a repair. It’s done. St. Teresa’s food pantry needs filling. It’s filled. Why? Because when the people from the Flats call him, he answers without any bullshit.  And he doesn’t mess with their kids.” Stanley drank the rest of his coffee.   “Ever see a picture of an atomic bomb exploding?”

“With the mushroom cloud and all spreading out.” Benj illustrated with his hands. “Oh yeah.”

“Same thing with Lily.” The barkeeper spun his empty cup in its saucer. “When she delivers a payload there’s a big bang, mushroom cloud goes up and down. Ripples just keep on spreading out wider and wider.”

Scratching his head, Patrick sat up straight and frowned at his brother and Stanley. “This does not sound like a woman who’d be up Sarge’s alley.”

“Anything but. Way too labor intensive.”

“You fellas are probably right. You’re his brothers.” Seeing a certain sort of opportunity in the situation, Stanley decided to make the most of it. “But if you saw how they were checking each other out here at the counter, both of them being sly about it, you might be singing a different tune.”

Not at all buying Stanley’s line, Patrick said, “If Sarge was giving this Lily the once over, then she must have something to grab his eyes. What does she look like anyway, Stan?”

Benj backed up his older brother. “Come on Stan. Give us something besides a yarn about the freak show in the Flats.”

“Alright already. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you two are a couple of Peter Pan Pests today. Tell you what. Next time you see a Hudson Bay Blanket coat hoofing it in Falls, that’s Lily. “

“You got to be kidding. Oh Stan. I don’t know about Patrick, but you’re killing me with your bullshit. I’m thinking I’m going to take you up on that freebie breakfast just to make up for doing you the favor of listening to all this shit.”

“I’m serious. You want to know what Lily looks like and if she might trip Sarge’s trap, then go find the Hudson Bay Blanket coat. You do know what one of those looks like, don’t you?”

“What do you take us for? A couple of morons? We know what a Hudson Bay coat looks like. She can’t have the only one in Falls.”

“True. But she’s the only person I’ve seen in the last, what four or five years wearing one all winter long. If I see the coat on the street, I think, ‘there goes Lily.’ What do you know, every time I drive past that coat and see a face, it is Lily. Never yet have I been wrong about who is wearing that coat here in Falls. Not once. Okay. Now, let’s fire up the grill and have us all some eggs because I don’t think anyone else is coming through that new door until some more folks are dug out.”

Patrick and Benj banged their palms on the bar-counter in agreement. “Hell yeah, fill us up for the return trip with sunny-siders and some burnt pig, Stanley.”

After Patrick and Benj departed, Big Bob’s grill man, Murray, came out from behind the grill blind. Joining Stan in another cup of coffee at the empty counter he pulled apart a cinnamon roll and ate it piece by piece. “Stan, are you sure that was a good idea, telling those two about Lily and her coat? They might do that and give her grief she don’t need. ”

“Ah they’re harmless as far Lily is concerned. They won’t lay rough hands on a woman. A man, now that’s an entirely different story. They’ll fight any guy dumb enough to swing a dick in their direction. They don’t care who or how big in any sense of the word.  I think Sarge has given them the slip again and they’re trying to pick up his trail anyway they can. Telling them to look for Lily when who they really want to find is Sarge, is like sending them on a wild goose chase. If they’re looking for her coat, then they’re not looking for Sarge. And in my book, them not finding Sarge for as long as possible is a damn good thing all by itself.”

“No argument on that score from me. Why they don’t just let Sarge do his own thing is beyond me.”

“It’s all about control, Murray. All about control. I’ve known Dylan and Nora for years. They always held their boys pretty damn tight when they were just kids. Now they hold the boys and their families tight too. Seems like they all want it that way. Except for Sarge who has been fighting that tight hold ever since he was a little kid. Unlike his brothers, Sarge was born with a mind of his own. That’s why Sarge and crazy Kozy get along so well.”

“Stan was that legit what you told them about Lily and Father Richard or were you just blowin’ smoke up their asses?

“Oh it’s legit all right. I could tell by the looks on their faces they weren’t buying one word of it even though I was telling them the gospel truth according to Pauline. I figure, hey, truth is stranger than fiction. My conscience is clear. I didn’t lie to them. They think I did though. So they won’t be wasting any time sharing that story. They forgot it before they even went out our new door.” Stanley looked at Murray. “Probably best you forget it too.”

Murray popped the last of the cinnamon roll into his mouth. “What? You say something Stanley?”

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Breakfast Special, #28, Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 1, Les Mis:

https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/26/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-1-les-mis/

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Breakfast Special, #28, Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 2, Stealth:

https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/27/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-2-stealth/

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Breakfast Special #28,  Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 3, Two Guys On a Roof:  https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/28/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-3-just-two-guys-on-a-roof/

Awwww it’s Joan Osborne–yeah again, can you say, “voice addict”? “Why Can’t We Live Together?”

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Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like an answer to the song’s question.

Yeah, there’s a few brewing in my brainpan even as I type and think about a man on the run for telling the badass, big ugly truth. By now, anyone reads any history knows some folks just don’t live long when they don’t play the Good Old Boys’ Game. I think that game is long overdue for retirement.

Maybe Climate Change will bring about a human evolution where we live in a world where we CARE about each other more than we do about the profit margin and power trips.

Hey hey, what’s today?

 

 

 

Sensual Saturday with The ONE and ONLY Joan Osborne! O yeah, shake your hips and rattle your souls, cuz Joan is a comin’ on strong!


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I have not selected the slickest videos for Joan Osborne. This is a selection of a different sort than those for the previous Lady Voices. I was searching for some tracks that have the powerfull distinctive voice quality that I adore. Please share anything recent you discover on the tubes of you.
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Breakfast Special, fourth helping, “People?! Really now . . .” , #4

People?! Really now…

Midway down the stairs, Sarge completed his inventory by sight and sound of the presence of every person in the brownstone. Another man would have been cheered by the sight of the very pretty, leggy blonde woman admiring his mother’s collection of antique serving platters displayed on the rich mahogany hutch. At another point in time, Sarge would have gleefully set forth to get into her good graces early in the evening in order insure a mutually satisfying scenario elsewhere much later. But tonight his heart sank knowing that yet again another young woman, perfectly fine in her own right, had been coaxed here to meet a man who might be just right for her, but who knew himself that he certainly was anything but.

The veritable flood of small children and everything hauled along for their nurturing provided ample cover for Sarge as he made his way carefully through the crowd created by the presence of all Nora and Dylan’s offspring, their mates and spawnings under one roof at the same time. Dutifully he exchanged hugs and polite kisses until he arrived at a corner in the dining room where he could settle in relative comfort with his back to the wall and a clear view of any further oncoming assaults on his person by his mother, or anyone else for that matter.

Catching sight of the day’s paper resting in the magazine holder, Sarge promptly put it to use as a means of showing his attention was occupied. It wasn’t long before he caught his mother glaring at him from the front room. He waited for her to come forth and remove the offensive text from his hands but she did not. But it wasn’t long after that the pretty blonde in the very classy blue dress appeared on the chair next to his as if on cue. “Anything good in the news?” she purred.

When he made eye contact with her sparkling baby blues she smiled and held out her hand while introducing herself as Debbie from Martine. Considering that absolute politeness was the best course at the moment, Sarge managed to respond in kind. “As for any good news, well does the entertainment section count?”

Debbie giggled a little then flicked the newspaper with her fingertips. “Irene said you had a sense of humor.”

“Oh she did, did she? Well, Irene is one very sly little minx so it must be true.” Sarge made a show of turning to the entertainment pages as if he was doing so for Debbie’s amusement.

“I guess she is rather sly.” Debbie laughed a soft little laugh that made Sarge look at her with curiosity. “She didn’t even drop a hint about you being very good-looking.” Debbie completed her sentence with a light fingernail tap to Sarge’s recently sheared chin. He noticed that her nail polish matched the blue of her dress.

Watching Debbie’s blue hued nails coyly play at the edges of the newspaper lying open on the table, Sarge briefly admired the clearly professional paint job. Then his thoughts turned to another woman’s fingers, a smaller hand with unpainted nails using toast to break egg yolks. Leaning over the entertainment section, he scanned the contents in genuine earnest until he found the little rectangle festooned with archaic curlie cued lettering announcing the upcoming performances of Ben Jonson’s Volpone, the Fox at the Orpheum Theatre. Sarge slid the paper closer towards Debbie. “Do you know anything about this play?”

Debbie glanced at the text Sarge pointed at. “Not a thing. Sorry. But I did see a performance of Joseph and his coat at church last week.” She smiled brightly at him displaying a perfect set of very white teeth.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the same sort of thing though.” He debated with himself for a moment. “What do you read, Debbie?”

“Oh I read People magazine all the time. Haven’t missed an issue since it first came out. And my bible, of course. Every day for a half hour. What about you? What do you read, Sarge? Besides the newspaper, of course.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Sarge said, “Porn. Every chance I get. I read all the porn I can lay my hands on.” Seeing Debbie lean back a little and her smile fade, he pressed onward. “Do you have any idea what you can learn about human anatomy from pornography? Debbie it’s totally mind-blowing the things a woman’s body can do. Have you ever …”

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Breakfast Special, fifth helping, “Pussy No More”–>> https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/?s=Breakfast+special+fifth+helping+Pussy+no+more

“transient” plus a touch of real Joan Osborne~ on the side for good measure

“transient”

catching number ten humboldt

eleven years riding

day begins at 6:17 am northbound

dies

then live again at 5:15 pm southbound

weekend hells

mondays through fridays swell

smiles on tuesdays

wednesdays wedging between masses

seats sharing thursdays

fretful friday exits

monday morning winks again

silent moves all around

until there’s one less in the bus crush

one tick tocker detoured

without a word

what did you expect 

 just transit affair

 @wojcik

 

 

Now for Joan Osborne as the voice was meant to be….

An Aside, The Woman with THE VOICE

Here’s an aside from the heat and the insanity of world events.  A music break with a VOICE. The incomparable, Joan Osborne delievers the heart and soul goods. If you haven’t found her voice then listen for what you like. If you know The Joan then just click and enjoy whatever trips your music traps.

Joan Osborne’s early recordings ROCK!

These days the incredible voice  of Joan Osborne seems repressed and supressed by gentle pop tones in sad contrast to her intense versitility on  Relish–which apparently was was too diverse both musically and content-wise for some easy marketing audiences.   But I still hold out hope that one day Joan’s pipes will once again bellow with the beautiful unrestrained passions that rip through the songs on Joan Osborne: early recordings.  Oh yeah, what power! What depth! What guts! With a voice like that she ought to take over the music world at large.  “If God Were One of Us” was the palest shadow on Relish and holds no candle to any track on ‘early recordings’ .  “Fingertips” ain’t no wishy washy lovey dovey song, but one hot no holds barred yell from a  headlong fall in to an abyss of passion. “Match Burn Twice” shows there are no flukes when it comes to expressing physical love’s glories. She makes “Son of a Preacher Man” all her own.  If “What You Gonna  Do” doesn’t chill you to your core, then you ain’t listening.  “Flyaway” –what can I say about the lead song? She got my attention immediately the very first time I heard this album and held it for whatever was coming next.  I don’t think a singer can lose such distinctive qualities forever so I hold out for the album when Joan’s voice again goes full blast no matter what the lyrics—a sort of ode to the true power of song. Quit ‘hiding’ Joan—SING SING SING like your life depends on it again! Like on “His Eyes Are a Blue Million Miles.”

Grist

Working toward a planet that doesn’t burn, a future that doesn’t suck

RevolutionResource.org

Agitate, Educate, and Organize ~OO~

Deceleration

Adaptation. Mitigation. Justice.

Lgambill48's Blog

a place for reflective expression.

Shechaim's News of the Day

MY MASK HELPS YOU - - YOUR MASK HELPS ME! Will you please wear your mask to help save my heart?

Free Alabama Movement

National Movement Against Mass Incarceration and Prison Slavery

Books Can Save A Life

"Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive." Barry Lopez

The Greenery

Ideas That Grow and Bloom

The Case for Global Film

Films from everywhere

LRInspire

Wellness Leadership Education

Tales from the Conspiratum

Warning: This site may contain conspiracies

Make No Bones About It

The Quest for the Truth

Beyond Extreme Energy

No new permits for fossil fuel infrastructure. Renewable energy NOW.

Mugilan Raju

Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time

ipekseyhan

Asla İdeallerinden Vazgeçme Asla! Never Give Up Your İdeals Never!

Cheri Lucas Rowlands

Editor in Northern California. Interested in tiny things, nineties nostalgia, old jungle mixtapes, punctuation, and my cats. Not to be fed after midnight.

interestingliterature.wordpress.com/

A Library of Literary Interestingness

Portraits of Wildflowers

Perspectives on Nature Photography

Science Fiction and Other Suspect Ruminations

Reviews of Vintage Science Fiction (1950s to mid-1980s)

Cynthia Reyes

The blog of Canadian author Cynthia Reyes

1EarthUnited

Uniting the world, One Love at a time. :D

The Stay-at-home Scientist

Science, Gardening, Work-Life Balance

People Powered Machines

Our business is committed to saving energy, reducing emmissions and waste.

drwilda

Just another WordPress.com site

Tubularsock

". . . first hand coverage, second hand news"

Espen Stenersrød- From Pen To Heart

Jack Kerouac with a scent of Henry Vaughn

Army at Wounded Knee

A blog dedicated to documenting through primary sources, the Army's actions at Wounded Knee

yadadarcyyada

Vague Meanderings of the Broke and Obscure

Ekostories

Essays and stories by Isaac Yuen

Red Wolf Journal

A literary compass for finding your voice..."You turn toward me, your lips move, wanting to speak."--Stephen Dobyns, "Wolves In The Street"

poet4justicedotwordpressdotcom

The poet can reach where the sun cannot. -HINDU PROVERBThe greatest WordPress.com site in all the land!

"OUR WORLD"

Working together to make the world a better place to live! A fine WordPress.com site

Spirit In Action

Change IS coming. WE can make it GOOD.

Creek Cat

Crazy like a Cat

Rezinate's Blog

Just another WordPress.com site

Through the Peacock's Eyes

Insights for Spiritual Living

Heila

Living Mental Health Rehab in Israel

the zen space

a space for zen words

We Write Poems

a community of people reading & writing poems, moving words

shelbycourtland

Bringing Social Issues To The Forefront

R. L. Culpeper

Sapere Aude

THE ONENESS of HUMANITY

For Peace On Earth In This Generation

InkPaperPen

You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.