Circuit Training

Circuit Training ©

By

Michael Casey

So you expect me to talk about running around and lifting weights? I’m not the Rock, though I probably weight more than him, I just googled so we may actually be the same weight. Obviously I look so much better than him, with my silver hair, I only mentioned him because he was in the paper doing a Charity thing with kids. He really looked as if he was enjoying it, so God Bless him, and more power to his elbow as they say.

Now why mention him, because I was doing my circuit this morning, which does not involve throwing the Rock around the ring till he starts to cry because I’ve broken his best fingernail, the one he uses to scratch his scratch card with, to see has he won a few quid. My circuit is leaving the house and turning right, I cannot turn left ever since the accident.

The Zoolander accident so I just cannot turn left, that is left not Left, my Political persuasions are my own dirty secret. Though no Politician could ever persuade me, not unless it involved a lot of Cream, with a cherry on top. Just so you are not Confucius and it’s very easy to get Confucius, if the Rock throws you and you bang your head then you’ll certainly get a cherry on your top, or at least a black eye.

So where was, I let me be Blunt, Emily stop slapping the Rock we know you are Mary Poppins, but stop shoving him up the chimney, he’ll never master a Cockney accent like Dick did. He can listen to MY audio online then he’ll speak Posh Birmingham, and no don’t spray Old Spice on his bum either. I know the paper today said you did not get pay parity for your jungle film. But making a grown man cry is not the answer. He can play your Gay brother in your next film together, and you can get top billing, and he can get less dollars than you. Now I hope that has sorted everything for you.

I’m going around in circles, so is the Rock I stapled his foot to the canvas accidentally, while I was getting Emily’s autograph, I thought he was security, I didn’t even know who he was all dressed up in kinky black flight suit thingy, with Jason his best buddy. I knew who Jason was, now he IS security.

Where was I, yes here, but I need to go to the kitchen soon to get another drink, and steal what’s left of the Christmas chocolate. So I just turn right and at the end of the road I have to decide shall I nip into the woods, no not for a crafty pee, it would frighten walkers and squirrels alike. Shall I turn, no not back into Santa, I look like Santa as I’m dressed all in red, but with beard now shaved. Shall I turn this way or that, or just do a Margaret, the Lady is not for Turning, Margaret.

So I turn my other cheeks to the wind, this coat is a wee bit too short, Donald’s are much longer to hide his his his whatever. And then I walk down the hill to the shops. Now if I could go more than One Direction I’d be in a boy band, but turning left leads to another part of the woods and a bigger and steeper hill, I am a kind of Benny Hill already, well at least I have the same Twinkle, maybe one day I’ll be a star.  

As I walk down the less steep hill I observe all the houses, they could build an observatory here as it’s so dark at night, which sounds like some guilty chocolate pleasure. Please Yourselves, as Frankie Howerd might say, though you’re ahead of me already. So I truck down the hill singing an old 10cc song, concentrating on getting the words right.  Only at one corner somebody tries to kill me with his car, I’m bright red everywhere with silver hair on top. Sorry Mate, I didn’t see you he shouts as he continues on his way. It was Santa, a very drunk Santa on his way home after stopping in the woods to see Lech, Boris and Gregorgi, I’m sure he’s one of their relatives.

So I finally get to the shop and see the price of sausages. We love Richmond sausages, only my Shanghai wife does not know the difference between skinless sausages and the normal variety. So my daughter insisted I went out to get the proper Richmond sausage variety. This would aid her while she studies for her Mock A Levels. I also had to buy Chorizo and wraps, these are foods that feed Science brains.

Once I’d bought these I was able to finish my circuit by prancing onto a bus to take me up that hill, I am no Kate Bush after all, more of a Benny, without the woolly hat. I overshoot my road and then prance back down the hill again before turning again right  to get to the right road. I keep right on to the end of the road, because I am a Pilgrim Hippy after all, and Eric is always practicing up in his bedroom. Sometimes with the guitar, but mainly with Sally.

Luckily I can turn a deaf ear because I’ve still sot got over my ear infection. Through Eric has blind faith in his blinds, as he and Sally scale the heights with their Domino constructions. Which is something to do about making love on a mountain, though we are just a very steep hill, or it could have something to do with tops of wardrobes. But at least I have brought the frozen sausages home.

Cobwebs of Love

michaelgcasey wrote today at 7:47 AM  in Nov 2011,
something I read tonight reminded  me of this

Cobwebs of Love(c)
By Michael Casey

Kids need good parents, friends we choose for ourselves, your families you get anyway.
I'm lucky I had great parents. Faith does help, but kids get bigger and decide for themselves if their parents were talking rubbish or were worth listening too.
Kids travel and find their own way home to their faith and their families. Elastic is very important in relationships and faith. If you try to keep things set in stone then you will be in for a fall. Nothing is set in stone, friendships change and alter and our own understandings change and alter.
Have a bit of elastic in your life is my best advice. You are not in an army and getting up at 5am and doing all the marching and so forth. Yes have discipline and rules, but be aware IF you force somebody to do something when they have the chance to rebel then they will. You
cannot chain anybody to you or your faith, brainwashing is a bad idea, listen to the Genesis song Jesus we know him.......
So you bind your family and friends and faith to you by cobwebs of love and nothing stronger than cobwebs of love. Love should be like that its a cobweb of love, also be happy to have a Prodigal Son in your life, happy because you will always welcome them back. If you're lucky you'll never have any Prodigal sons
in your life but I already tell my kids I'll always love them and they can always come home, leave your doors open with cobwebs of love waiting there

Photo Shoot

Photo Shoot ©

By

Michael Casey

Where do you want me to leave my clothes, on the floor next to mine came the reply. That’s the old joke about Photo Shoots, so you can picture the scene of me naked on the floor like Barbarella with a man or should it be a woman photographing me. Though that wouldn’t explain what I did this morning, though it was a male photographer, with an assistant, who was male also. No I wasn’t being photoed for any random magazine, no inner Burt Reynolds revealing all.

No, in actual fact we were taking photos not of me but of my newly painted house. Wide angel of course to fit everything in, just like my large Kardasian size rear end, all natural of course. It was time to show my wares, or rather the house’s wares, all wide open, and ready for potential buyers.

In the end once we had fully moved out I reluctantly decided to take my clothes off, or rather repaint and touch up the house before exposing it to the camera. Then in all its made up glory it could expose itself as it really was, nice and big with plenty of space for fun and frolics. Which did remind me of several things, which I’ll leave to your imagination.

So the photographer went around flashing his laser to get the sizes of the rooms, very Stars Wars. Then he went around taking photos while I chatted to the assistant. I explained the History of this room and that room, after 32 years there was more History than a Michael Jackson album, which I’ve manages to lose during the move. I explained how I had balanced a type writer on a stool as I sat on a broken backed chaired and typed away. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker was written in the living room in front of the gas fire, then on Leap Years Day 1988 it was completed. However a few years later in an upstairs bedroom it was enlarged into 600+ pages on an Atari 1040.

All this I leave behind with just the painted walls for witnesses. The walls cannot talk though they do have ears, they cannot lie, but they do cry, Michael Casey Writer, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England was no more, well moved on.

It does feel different freshly painted and naked, no not a model but the walls, without any of my paintings on them. No stray socks or shirts or dirty girls knickers littering the bathroom, just the smell of fresh paint everywhere. Outside my Shamrock still clung on to the garden wall like mountaineers, so I grabbed some and will transplant it to the new house further up the hill.

The house itself is not totally naked a few bits and pieces we have left behind, perfect for a buy to let, or a first time buyer. We upgraded our life at the new place, it will probably be the house I die in, without many years of pain, but it’s all up to God. As the bedroom photos  were taken I spread myself on a bed and minced, you have to have a mince at Christmas after all. The assistant laughed and the photographer handed me some money, I told him I could do so much more for a few quid more. I was dressed all in red, like Santa with his beard shaved off. The photographer has a sense of humour, but he’s never getting that 30 pence back, not ever, ever. Not even for a Harry Potter’s Field.

I noted I’d never actually sat on those chairs because they were too low for me post quadruple heart bypass, so I sat like a fool in a corner on a hard wooden chair instead. As I looked around several memories came back, like deciding to get double glazing all those years ago. I carried on boring the assistant with tales of this and that, only stopping to let the photographer out to photograph the nice garden we have.

So Finally it was all over, soon the place will finally pass over to a new family. Time wasters will have been banished , and a new beginning will begin for somebody else. See if they can write17 books and have 2 beautiful daughters inside these  four walls that will become their home. So all there is for me to do now is to take my clothes off and run around the house naked for one last time. The photographer and the assistant refused to take those photographers, they are not allowed on Rightmove after all. So I’m stood here naked shivering while I wait for Lucy Lu from the Korea shop to come and take my photograph, she is such a great photographer, normally she takes snaps of dishes for the takeaway food website. Just Eat as they say.

Return of the Pain Monster

Return of the Pain Monster

Well I hope you all hade a fun Christmas. I've had a deaf ear for a couple of days, so taking antibiotics to take away the infection. Means I cannot hear the wife in my right ear, so there are advantages.

This morning had a post Christmas bath, and had breakfast, even ordered cat food for the cat.

Then suddenly from out of nowhere my left shoulder is giving massive pain, my chest hurts too, and it feels as if I've been hit with an iron bar accross the left side of my face.

So welcome to my world of pain, no kinkyness involved, no half dressed girls  spanking me or anything like that, no rolled up copies of Fortune magazine with my face on either.

Just me limping, I'm limping too around the house, to and from the kitchen.

So welcome to my ramdom arthritis and everything else.

I had been thinking the levels and frequency of pain had not been so bad lately.

But now, just as the flu finally seems to have left me, and I'm on anitibiotics for my infected ear, what happens? The pain monster returns.

So enjoy my words, while I wince. No doubt some of you will say God is punishing me, and if you believe that please leave me page and never come back because you are a philistine.

I may write something new later on when I'm breathing more easily and not  not straining to breathe, and yes I'm not making any of this up. It's almost 4 years since my heart bypass, so I've had the extra time, but with these amounts of regular pain, it  does feel like a bad bargain. Coming up to 6 years of pain, if you include the arthritis.

I would become a Hedonist if I had the energy, and anybody would care to join in.

Now is the Time

Now is the Time © 

By Michael Casey 

Now is the Time

Now is the Time to set aside our past Now is the Time to forget who came last

Now is the Time to forget our woes and dance towards our Future Now is the Time to Remember We are best when we Invest

Now is the Time to Invest in each other sister and brother Now is the Time for Hope and to get off the ropes

Now is the Time to Forgive one another for we are sister and brother Now is the Time to Dream our dreams together

Now is the Time to Laugh and Sing and Dance

Now is the Time to Dare to Better than we ever hoped

Now is the Time to Rope a Dope any difficulties and rebuild our cities Now is the Time to plan the route ahead to be positive and strong Now is the Time to have Confidence that nothing will go wrong

Now is the Time to reach out to Sister and Brother and our Mothers Now is the Time for the family that is the United States of America For WE are family, the red, the white and the blue and stars too Let us bring our shared Future into view

Let us not allow anything to dampen our Hopes no matter who won our votes For it is only together that we can once again reach for the stars

Our aspirations show the world who we are

All our hopes and dreams unite this United States of America Together we will sing together and wing our way back to the stars Back to the Stars which prove we are one United States of America Sing America Sing and Fear Not what the Future might bring

For we are family the family United, United States of America

**************

 if only Trump was like this instead of the way  he is, World War One , 100 years ago the world stumbled into war, Now History is on the verge of repeating itself, because Good Men did NOTHING.