Hong Kong big readers. again. So thank you
You still have a way to go to catch up Singapore
maybe you are not as good as Singapore folks
Cat amongst pigeons there
our cat is 9 today
Totoro
a dog of I die, a cat for a heart attack
so after my quadruple heart bypass, it was booked as a triple
hence if you dig back you'll read triple
until I discovered it was a four grafts
I was not lying
i never lie
misdirect yes
but never lie
so the girls got a pet
as I check my figures daily
I read back some of the things I've written
some make me laugh or cry or smile
or even say that's clever
normally
I write and move on
so when check the figures
it may be years since I read the piece
1000s of stories
maybe 2000 stories, they are in the books
the other 2700 or so pieces are chats and an not in my books
So to know me, not biblically you have to read everything
4700 or so pieces and check the other sites too
as there may be a stray piece on my 2 other bloggers
or on my wordpress
so 3,000,000 words probably
you tell me
come type for me
you are screaming now, and vomiting into a bucket
that's the trouble with words
they have meaning and riddles
and the SAME WORDS can have totally different perceptions
context is everything
for example
I love you
1. it can mean I love you
2. it can be a question depending of tone of voice
3. it can just be an exclamation, like when somebody buys you a Pint in a bar
4. it can be said as somebody shoots you
5.Judas kissed Jesus remember that too
and on it goes, ask an. actor
so when I say I want a typist and 4 sons, Mathew Mark Luke and John
or a Kpop band with a future Oriental wife, maybe
am i serious or is it a running gag
I am totally serious, but nobody believes me
or am I just joking
you'd have to know me to find out
read everything, I am not as stupid as I pretend to be
or am I just deluded, waiting for me death to catch me
as it catches all of us
though as a writer 4 sons would be nice
though Oriental women refuse to have any kids nowadays
and they even refuse to connect with anybody in any way
hence population collapse in advanced countries
they love money more than family
and that is an absolute tragedy
they would rather read a book than
I won't add the obvious rhyming word
so here's an old piece somebody was reading today
Friday 9 October 2020
My Will
My Will ©
By Michael Casey
Well, where do I begin, at the End, at a funeral, as I did in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. So why be sad, because Sadness is the Death of the Soul. People make Wills to share out their earthly goods, to make sure they have a burial, and not a cremation, you can even book ahead, like a Saga holiday. You can have a Hippy funeral in a wicker basket and be buried under a tree, and let your body feed all Eternity.
I’d like to be buried at Trinity Rd church Smethwick, next to the Sikh temple and below the local postal sorting office. Overlooking the main road, a canal, and a trainline, and houses that used to where the Steelworks was in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. That’s where my dad used to sweat for 40 years, and also where Betty the music teacher used to teach at the school, but never met our dad just below the Albion ground. And to top it all the graveyard is closed, and is Anglican, and is half used by a funeral director, and I try to be catholic.
I feel the graveyard is too much like a filing cabinet, and another one, doesn’t suit me. The Graveyards in China are much better, or at the least the one where my father-in-law is buried, with almost Disney like statues that denote past lives spent. But I’m not Hell bent on my desire, and I could even get close to Hell’s fire. I just don’t want to follow any crowd. Though I’ll be dead and so won’t have much say in the matter, not unless I start saving for a funeral plan.
So this brings me to my Will. To those who want to snatch and grab anyof my last belongings, this is what they’ll get.
To Amanda who loves to whine, you can have my purple bucket, the one I used to pee in, as the bathroom was just too far away. Call it my bucket list to you.
To Peter who wanted to steal my jottings, I leave a blank USB, because I never make notes, just write it down till I finish, so go write your own stuff, lazybones.
To Slim who thought I had no dress sense, I leave my size 46 inch pants, but not my recently purchased elastic braces, he can use string instead.
To Judy, who once punched me for my cheek, I leave my old underpants.
To Johnnie the doorman, I leave £1000 to piss up the wall, he was a real person, not a grasping liar, I could always look him in the eye. We had much in common, such as working security.
I want my Rosary beads put in the coffin with me, as forgiveness comes through Prayer, so while in the ground I can keep on praying.
At the Wake, their will be no wake, just go to Subway and buy your own sandwich, and follow your nose to the pub next door.
Though if my readers far and wide hear of my death, will they then stop sending evil time wasting emails to me, all not in English.
Will Japanese, Korean, and Chinese girls drop rose petals on my grave, as my readers are fetched after all.
Will I have finally met another love, married and have 4 more kids, and formed Kpop band. Would they all gather around my grave and sing and dance with sadness in their eyes. Oh Fat Daddy Oh Fat Daddy, why did you leave us, so soon
Will my ashes be catapulted via my old braces over the road and rail line and end up buried at sea, in the canal in Smethwick, just by where the Cock Inn used to be. Or will my ashes be flushed down the lavatory, and will it really matter to you or me?
How do you want to be remembered, and does it really matter? Having kids laugh as they remember you, and never fear you, now that’s the best memory or all. Let them laugh, and let them smile, as your name is mentioned. Now that’s all that really matters. Remembered Laughter, so it doesn’t matter what happens to this fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. If you smile and laugh at the mention of my name Michael Casey, then I’ve not been wasting my time writing all this stuff, or have you all had enough?
No comments:
Post a Comment