The End

He liked to start his mornings with the paper.

Flipping open the pages, he hurried to the comics to satisfy his intellectual curiosity. Folding the section open flat on the American Maple table, he hummed a song he couldn’t name and dashed into the kitchen. From sound and habit, he knew Mr. Coffee had finished his task. A cup was poured. Half & Half paled its color. Two teaspoons of sugar were splashed in. It was gently stirred so as not to splash.

Next was cereal. “Always after my Lucky Charms,” he said, filling a bowl. Filled bowl, coffee, spoon and napkin were carried in to the waiting folded paper. He returned for to the kitchen for the milk. He used to carry them all in at the same time but that one time – he refrained from thinking about it. The milk had been hell to clean up. The imagined smell of souring, spilled milk took weeks to skulk away. Never again.

Seated, he took a sip of coffee. “Perfect.” He poured his milk over his cereal until it the bobbing cereal was at the bowl’s brim. Perfect.” Raising his spoon —

They found him with his face down in a bowl of warm, sour milk on mushy cereal. It looked like natural causes. Perhaps that would have been the end.

Except one person noticed the newspaper’s date said nineteen seventy. That discovery made everyone looked more closely at the interior decor.

It was just the beginning.

Final Post

This may be my final post; I don’t know.

I lost the argument. We’re moving out tomorrow. Going north. I don’t think it’s a smart idea and argued against it. Obviously, I lost. Yes, I already wrote that, didn’t I? I should edit it but it doesn’t matter, does it?

So, we’re going. One of our community’s rules is that we’ll stay together. We all agreed to the rules in the beginning. I argued that we need to adhere to them even if we don’t like their employment. We have safety and strength in numbers and are more likely to die if there are less of us, IMO.

We’re moving because the majority are afraid and Jeremy is persuasive. Water is low, food, all that, and it’s getting hellaciously hot. Last night, it never dipped below eighty-four. What do you expect? The world is hellaciously hot – and dry – but they think that it might be cooler and wetter up north. Nobody has come through in weeks, since those two young couples trying to get to Mexico. Jeremy and Buck believe it’s because it’s nicer up there so nobody is coming down here into the hot, dry land. Maybe they’re right. I think nobody is coming down here because they can’t or they’re dead. I mean, all that smoke that filled the valley was from fires, wasn’t it?

Well, at least the fires are out and the air is clear today. No smoke! Yes! That’s something positive. We talked about it this morning and decided it’s been at least three months since we didn’t have smoke in the valley. We still have coffee beans, too, if you want something else that’s positive, and only three died this week, with Meghan being the last.  We’ve packed up the vans, cars and RVs, and we’re taking the solar panels. You know I’m taking my computer, so you might hear from me again.

I think Meghan’s death really changed the argument. I won’t say this to anyone else, but I think they may have poisoned her for just that reason. She didn’t appear sick and her death was a surprise. But, most people don’t appear sick before dying. Someone might be poisoning all of us, for all I know. That would help the food last longer.

Wish I could hear something posted back from one of you out there.

Wish I had an internet connection and could actually post this on the Internet.

I wish…I wish…there are so many things to wish for now.

I’d begin with hope.


This was a writing exercise prompted by another’s post, what would you write for your last post. I needed a reason to write such a post, so I imagined a situation and let it flow. I honestly struggle with the idea that I’d no longer post. Writing helps me think, and posting boosts my sense of being connected to others. I plan to continue writing and posting for as long as I have the physical and mental means.


Writing & Creativity

Thinking about dreams, writing, creativity, food and sleep, I sought some outside input. Drifting into TED Talks, I found a presentation from 2009. Elizabeth Gilbert talks about creative minds and the different prevailing perception of creative people and their work. Part of this is are the dangerous assumptions that confront writers and other artists, and our anxieties and unmanageable expectations.



Today’s Theme Music

Reflective mood today from dredges of disturbing dreams. Today’s selection is a double offering from Jackson Browne’s 1977 album, ‘Running on Empty’.   Here’s ‘Load Out/Stay’.

The first song begins as a quiet and pensive reflection on touring before shifting into something more triumphant and uplifting in ‘Stay’.  They’re pleasant accompaniment to walking through the day while thinking about what is and isn’t.


A catner is a feline’s companion. This can be another cat, a human, dog or other animal (stuffed or alive).

An example of use: Pogo and Scheckter were catners in everything. Taking turns being the ginger shadow to the other, their activies caused people to pause to state in wondering realization, “Oh. There are two. That explains a lot.”

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