Saturday, 4 May 2019

Appearances Today


Appearances Today

Appearances Today ©
By
Michael Casey

My small daughter had a few friends coming around today so I thought I had better smarten up appearance, just for appearances sake. Normally what you see is what you get, but as I had been wearing the same 2 heavy jumpers for a while I thought I’d put them in the wash and replace them with 2 different jumpers. I had been alternating which jumper was on top, to give the appearance of a different look. But finally food and toothpaste on both meant that it really was time to put them in the wash. As I speak they are spinning around the machine, Totoro our cat is getting dizzy trying to follow the garments as they spin around. It’s like when she drunk Lech, Boris, and Gregorgi’s home made vodka thinking it was water, but that’s another story.

As for me with my red outward jumper and my red trousers and my Einstein wild shock of silvery white hair I look like Santa on his long vacation after Christmas. Beardless to avoid being spotted by the kids. Though I must be visible from 200 yards. So an appearance can give an impression or look, a desired look or not, I don’t get many looks of desire. Well apart from that gay bus driver, I’d much rather his sister look at me, now she is nice.

I saw her once race for the bus and jump on, telling him he’d forgotten his lunch box, then she fell against me, so I had to stick out my hand to stop her falling over. Her brother got out the cab and was going to pound me, he is a body builder as well as bus driver. It’s ok bro she said, he’s got nice hands and they are warm.Then she winked and got off the bus, mission accomplished, lunch box delivered. The bus driver calls me old warm hands now, the other passengers raise eyebrows at that. So I always explain, it’s from when I put my hand on his sister’s behind, to stop her falling over. But half the passengers give me filthy looks, her brother thinks it’s so very funny. Then he forgot his lunchbox again, then his sister came bounding on the bus, racing like the wind. Then his sister slipped over and I put my hand out again, this time only higher, her brother braked hard, then we both fell over, and his sister fell on me, putting her hand out. My hand had gone high, hers had gone low. We end on the floor of the bus. Now we understand said the bus full of Pensioners, all laughing. It could have been foreplay but for being on a bus, and all because of a forgotten lunch box, that’s how I met Prostrate Inspection Nurse Irene. It’s strange how things happen.

Yes, appearances can be deceptive. What appears one way can actually be another. Clothes do maketh the man, or woman. However you have to see past the clothes to see the real person. A suit does not denote intelligence, nor titles too. If you listen to words and cannot see, or because it’s radio then the appearance is not there. Just the feeling, just the hopes, the emotion is in all the words, or all the songs. Appearance is what is in the emotion, not in sight. It’s all in the touch, and that is how I became friends with Nurse Irene, I felt her bum, and then I felt her breast, totally accidentally. Then she felt my nuts  totally accidentally and suggested I come to the clinic, and one thing led to another. So now I’m on a hospital ward waiting for my nuts to be examined by total strangers. Whatever they look like, lets hope they have warm hands, while I look at the flowers her brother brought.


translations  below
































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Friday, 3 May 2019

happy 3rd of May

well I did intend writing a comedy piece as promised, and The Moaner was the title too,

but when I came to write it I wrote something else instead.

That's the way with stories.

With Having a Lie in I had a path in my head but I took the other path instead

The Moaner was going to be a parody but it went elsewhere

Lying in bed last night I was thinking I need a haircut, but it gave me  an idea for a story

man sat in chair talking to barber, they are for very different cultures, and talk over each other,
but when the story is finished you realise, they really are the same, the story ends(in film) with the customer cutting the barber's hair, and the barber is the one sat in the chair.

so there's an idea for you budding film makers, or story writers, I get a screen credit too!

An idea starts, it's how it develops makes the difference. Over 30 years  ago I was told to think about

that, so I read a bit more with that idea in my head, then I wrote more.  It did take me a year via

practice to learn how to WRITE. But all the schooling in the world is no good if you don't have any

good ideas, but it is an industry Creative Writing. Personally it would kill my love of words to be

regimented and told what to do, it's like bad parents always correcting kids, things should flow.

Remember The Jungle Book from the1960s? Where the Elephants are lined up? I can remember

being given the programme and an orange by one of our lodgers over 50  years ago. It was that

lodger  who gave us a radio too, and that radio changed my life. So a memory is a story, and a story

can be written from a memory. If you cannot tell a story or have no memories, maybe you are wasting

your time doing Creative Writing courses, become a plumber you can make more money that way.

Getting Published is not reason to write either, you write because it's in you, as the writer of

The Field used to say, I asked his neice in his pub back in 1995 maybe.

Lots of rubbish gets printed, as  a page won't refuse ink as my dad used to say.

So if writing lifts your spirits keep at it, readers all over the world via your sites is a nice vibe

Even if you never make a dime, and most writers keep their day jobs too.

So I'll finish for today and maybe I'll do something new later today.

My hips decided to hurt me these past few days, they had been quiet for months.

It's a Merry Go Around of Pain.



Thursday, 2 May 2019

Michael the Moaner


Michael the Moaner ©
By
Michael Casey

Michael was such a Moaner, he moaned about everything, he even moaned when he drunk the ink from the inkwell and had a rim of blue all around his lips, as well as a very blue tongue. We all laughed in class and Mr G sent him to wash his mouth out. I suppose it was to be expected, as he did become a writer, though it took a long time for that happen. His blue tongue was in 1968.

Michael moaned about the draught at home, so he taught the cat and dog to lie by the back door, as a living draft excluder. The cat and dog took turns as to who would be right next the door, then swapped over. They’d put their warm chin on the belly of the other, they were such clever animals. But still Michael Moaned and commanded them to keep the draft off his back. He did feed them chips though, which made both animals fart, that and left over kebab. Michael lived next door to the chip shop so always had the left overs, lots of left overs, as Angel fancied him, Angel was tattooed on her knuckles on one hand, and Right was tattooed on the other knuckles. No unless it was Right Angle and was something to do with maths, she was very quick adding up after all.

Michael Moaned about his knuckle too, he hurt it on a stapler, an industrial one from a print room. Everybody in the Print Room just said “SHUT UP” especially John Boy, who looked like one of the Waltons. So Michael muttered, but got no sympathy there.

Michael went ice skating and fell over, it was very slippery after all. He broke the strap on his stretch strap. He did not moan, they all went for beer and chips afterwards.However in the morning he discovered his left elbow hurt. He went to the hospital, only to discover he’d fractured his left elbow. So he had to put his arm in a sling for a month. This slowed him down as he danced around the computer room, this was 1985. He moaned about being slowed down. Years later he’d moan about his elbow twitching in cold weather.

Michael bent down to pick up some paper as he got up he twinged his back, and pulled a muscle or something. Ang who was an Angel, said move out the way old man and I’ll sort it. And so she did, I think she is now the boss there. As for Michael from 2009 onwards he had bouts of bad back, and yes he really did moan about that. He’s such a moaner,in fact he was “crawling like a worm in the dirt” which is another story you can find, but don’t moan to me if you cannot.

Michael’s left hip hurt so much, then finally after much moaning his old GP sent him for surgery. It’s really like putting a Rhino on a trolley then they inject you, it takes a few minutes but you have to have some form of anaesthetic so you have to wait for it  to wear off. Michael didn’t moan about that because he met a giant who was in Gladiator as an extra, who spent a day walking up and down a field being filmed. So that was very interesting, so Michael did not moan about that.

Michael had loads of tests on his back when he wanted the other hip  zapped, a Chinese doctor said its you back not your hip as such. Michael should have moaned but he did not. He’d just have to wait for an Orthopaedic appointment. Then he continued to take the kids up the steep  hill to school, but he loved his kids, so he did not moan.

However he was panting as much as a stalker, so he went to his old GP. The nurse decided to send him for heart tests. And she saved his life.so he’ll never moan about that. Michael  has several tests and waited for the results. One test made the doctor look worried and he stroked back his hair. You will be seeing the specialist sooner rather than later he said.

Then one Saturday 3rd Jan 2015 Michael’s hips both exploded in pain, after dithering he called 999, and he said his heart was ok. Finally as Michael explained he had lots of tests recently done the ambulance man took him in. And in the hospital they all said his heart was ok, finally Michael Moaned have you looked at the recent tests.

The doctors looked at the recent tests, and said something MUST be done. 10 days later Michael had an unplanned Quadruple Heart bypass. So Michael does not moan about that. Though Michael now gets post operative skeletal muscular pain, and arthritis to scream for, and CKD to use loads of toilet paper for. As well as waking every 2 hours like clockwork, and just for fun Tinnitus has joined the band on the symbols. And if you haven’t guessed I’m Michael, apart from the drinking of the ink, Michael Mone actually did that. So I hope you understand why I moan. However I hope I have turned into a good writer, with ink in my veins, or do you want to shove the quill up my bum, now that would really make me moan.
      




Wednesday, 1 May 2019

Let my Heart Sing


Let My Heart Sing©
By
Michael Casey

Let my heart sing
Let my smile shine
Let my laughter ring
Let my joy spread
Let my light fill my life
Let my words be wise
Let my ears never deaf to your needs
Let my eyes always see the good
Let my shoulders never buckle under any weight
Let my feet always bring me back home
Let my fingers never need to be crossed
Let there always be one thing to be remembered by
Love and Charity for Others, my sisters and brothers
So when I am dust, remember me for what I tried to be
A singer singing a song even though I always sung badly,
Because in my heart I  was Singing as we all should in Harmony.




Egypt and Argentina

Egypt and Argentina are reading me today over on my Wordpress

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker   in Spanish Translation always does  well.

other full Translations are over there on Wordpress

The English, my mother tongue  is on Amazon where you can BUY it

for a few quid or any other currency

https://www.amazon.co.uk/l/B00571G0YC

Wordpress has the more far flung countries usually

but  Japan and Russia and many more are on Blogger

It would be nice to finally get recognition and reward

I won't be alive in 10 years time, with my various  diseases.

Though I may pass the 3,000,000 Words by then, pain permitting.

If I took the amount of pain killers I need I'd be a zombie, so

I moan about all the pain, but at least I'm still able to  write

as I'm saving my brain.

No heckling please, you won't spot any difference

you should not upset your Writer.

Shakespeare never had any trouble nor Dickens

anyway my hips decided it was their turn to hurt me today.

ttfn

something funny in the morning

and no not a naked selfie of me.

Michael







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