born Russian raised American/ part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Only a few miles from town but really in another World I got involved in the recruiting activities of the local Mennonite's communities Thursday night meet and greet for recently Divorced adults. I had ventured to the outreach program desperate for attention in the hopes of meeting a few young women, the one's in the starched and meticulously ironed yellow dresses and blue bonnets who stand and sit very straight and lower their eyes when they talk to you.
The woman running the Thursday night get together had a strict corporate agenda that she kept to in running the meeting and arriving nearly late I had to decide quickly who to sit next to at the long table and glancing down at the syllabus neatly arranged at each seat how to play the first question in large bold type " Who Am I and how did I arrive to be here tonight? "
A few of the women were absorbed in the syllabus but a couple were listening politely to a man in a navy blue blazer or cardigan style sweater from the K Mart explain about his ex wife and his twenty eight years as a driver on the Frito lay truck.
An old hand at this recovery divorce business I sat down across from the facilitator of the Meeting Miss Johnston and ignoring the syllabus begin to read the copy of Albert Camus' " Lyrical and Critical essays" that I often at such times carried as a prop.
end part 1
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Friday, June 12, 2015
James Booker plays "Good Night Sweetheart"
James Booker plays "Good Night Sweetheart"
fiction
edward w pritchard
When there is nothing more to say it's time to listen to James Booker the New Orleans piano man play "Goodnight Sweetheart".
I could write a thousand words on how everything is flux and nothing stays the same or listen to James Booker's " Good Night Sweetheart". It's very poignant to hear. Matter of fact I just understood how someone felt when they made up the word poignant so long ago.
fiction
edward w pritchard
When there is nothing more to say it's time to listen to James Booker the New Orleans piano man play "Goodnight Sweetheart".
I could write a thousand words on how everything is flux and nothing stays the same or listen to James Booker's " Good Night Sweetheart". It's very poignant to hear. Matter of fact I just understood how someone felt when they made up the word poignant so long ago.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
poverty my mistress of my misfortune/ part whatever
poverty my mistress of my fortune/ part whatever
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fat old sweaty poverty came knocking at the door again early this morning. The biker gang she has been staying with over on old Kenmore blvd must have kicked Poverty out again for stealing hash and thunder-bird wine.
As soon as Poverty showed up my trac phone disappeared or went hiding. Maybe my phone got tossed out with the trash last night in preparation for the 6am junk truck's weekly visit. The trash guys always manage to bang around the plastic cans and wake me from my nightly dreams of fame and fortune.
More serious than a missing cell phone, no one calls me anyway, the car needs an oil pan replacement. It's a cheap repair, less than 75 bucks, I will have to save up for that but meanwhile it's 14 dollars a trip to drive the car anywhere for the four quarts of on sale discount 10W- 40 oil at the auto zone.
Maybe in a week or two I can save enough for the oil pan repair meanwhile the trips up to the casino are breaking me at fourteen dollars for oil each way and my mistress poverty who always has to tag along to the casino always wants the more expensive late afternoon buffet and worse she only makes maximum bet on the slot machines so she can lose faster but have a better chance for a monster jackpot.
Poverty loves the uniformed security guards at the casino especially the half Latino, half black ones and she tips them real well. Poverty won't let me tip the pretty waitresses though, she says they get a steady wage so those waitresses can just live on that.
Poverty has been doing a lot of bitching this week about the cheap cable that I have here at the house that I stay at. There's no HBO or showtime and she needs to watch a lot of pay for view porno and stuff like that and I have no credit standing at all with the cable companies because of my low credit score. In fact if I don't upgrade my cable soon mistress Poverty has threatened to move out to the West side and stay there.
Wouldn't it be a hoot if Poverty moved in with Lebron James out there on the West side, that is if Lebron lost the big basketball championship going on now by actually breaking a bone in his ankle and not keeping on playing despite the pain and having to give all the money he ever made back and sink again into the Poverty he was born to.
Even though I hate having Poverty around my house I wouldn't want her to leave to plague Lebron James. It's hard to endure poverty even for a while once you have by circumstance risen above it and ole Lebron doesn't deserve that.
Let Lebron James keep his fame and fortune, Lebron is an inspiration to the rest of us; it does us who are in Poverty now know that if a bunch of rich guys will pay over $3,000 dollars a game for a seat near the bench where Lebron sits when not risking life and limb on the basketball court at the playoff games there is hope for us at the bottom of society.
So Lebron if Poverty comes calling out at your big house on the far west side of Akron don't let her in even for a minute. Poverty can be very hard to get rid of especially if you have known her before.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fat old sweaty poverty came knocking at the door again early this morning. The biker gang she has been staying with over on old Kenmore blvd must have kicked Poverty out again for stealing hash and thunder-bird wine.
As soon as Poverty showed up my trac phone disappeared or went hiding. Maybe my phone got tossed out with the trash last night in preparation for the 6am junk truck's weekly visit. The trash guys always manage to bang around the plastic cans and wake me from my nightly dreams of fame and fortune.
More serious than a missing cell phone, no one calls me anyway, the car needs an oil pan replacement. It's a cheap repair, less than 75 bucks, I will have to save up for that but meanwhile it's 14 dollars a trip to drive the car anywhere for the four quarts of on sale discount 10W- 40 oil at the auto zone.
Maybe in a week or two I can save enough for the oil pan repair meanwhile the trips up to the casino are breaking me at fourteen dollars for oil each way and my mistress poverty who always has to tag along to the casino always wants the more expensive late afternoon buffet and worse she only makes maximum bet on the slot machines so she can lose faster but have a better chance for a monster jackpot.
Poverty loves the uniformed security guards at the casino especially the half Latino, half black ones and she tips them real well. Poverty won't let me tip the pretty waitresses though, she says they get a steady wage so those waitresses can just live on that.
Poverty has been doing a lot of bitching this week about the cheap cable that I have here at the house that I stay at. There's no HBO or showtime and she needs to watch a lot of pay for view porno and stuff like that and I have no credit standing at all with the cable companies because of my low credit score. In fact if I don't upgrade my cable soon mistress Poverty has threatened to move out to the West side and stay there.
Wouldn't it be a hoot if Poverty moved in with Lebron James out there on the West side, that is if Lebron lost the big basketball championship going on now by actually breaking a bone in his ankle and not keeping on playing despite the pain and having to give all the money he ever made back and sink again into the Poverty he was born to.
Even though I hate having Poverty around my house I wouldn't want her to leave to plague Lebron James. It's hard to endure poverty even for a while once you have by circumstance risen above it and ole Lebron doesn't deserve that.
Let Lebron James keep his fame and fortune, Lebron is an inspiration to the rest of us; it does us who are in Poverty now know that if a bunch of rich guys will pay over $3,000 dollars a game for a seat near the bench where Lebron sits when not risking life and limb on the basketball court at the playoff games there is hope for us at the bottom of society.
So Lebron if Poverty comes calling out at your big house on the far west side of Akron don't let her in even for a minute. Poverty can be very hard to get rid of especially if you have known her before.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love
Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Author is of that type accused more ready to help a stranger than his best friend, hence he must rely on the kindness of Strangers today. Ours sins haunt us from afar. Christians without a clue.
It's so difficult to kick the children out of the nest and let them fend for themselves. Will they come to understand that life is not a free ride and no one cares if you eat today or freeze tonight?
Two philosophers who hated each other argued endlessly over how to care for a family and the role of the individual toward the State, their country. Which is the higher duty, the Father to the family or the Father to the State?
Two philosopher, German of course, Hegel and Schopenhauer, and way back when wrote and wrote about Duty, honor, and War; this Memorial Day as we fret over who to put first Family or country we republish something we wrote elsewhere, " Patriots in the Ready".
"Patriots in the ready" is about some inmates of the asylum who were recruited to save their country when no one else was available.
Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love we wait left wondering about the whys, and how's of life.
Meanwhile author worries tonight about old friends and vanished family sick in Hospital.
Everybody knows this is nowhere.- Carry on, carry on;- the inmates have left the asylum.
"Patriots in the Ready" a story about the noble Country of Turkey. A story about personal problems and Public duty to Country. Life goes on no one knows why.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Author is of that type accused more ready to help a stranger than his best friend, hence he must rely on the kindness of Strangers today. Ours sins haunt us from afar. Christians without a clue.
It's so difficult to kick the children out of the nest and let them fend for themselves. Will they come to understand that life is not a free ride and no one cares if you eat today or freeze tonight?
Two philosophers who hated each other argued endlessly over how to care for a family and the role of the individual toward the State, their country. Which is the higher duty, the Father to the family or the Father to the State?
Two philosopher, German of course, Hegel and Schopenhauer, and way back when wrote and wrote about Duty, honor, and War; this Memorial Day as we fret over who to put first Family or country we republish something we wrote elsewhere, " Patriots in the Ready".
"Patriots in the ready" is about some inmates of the asylum who were recruited to save their country when no one else was available.
Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love we wait left wondering about the whys, and how's of life.
Meanwhile author worries tonight about old friends and vanished family sick in Hospital.
Everybody knows this is nowhere.- Carry on, carry on;- the inmates have left the asylum.
"Patriots in the Ready" a story about the noble Country of Turkey. A story about personal problems and Public duty to Country. Life goes on no one knows why.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Patriots, In the Ready
Patriots in the Ready
fiction
edward w pritchard
Note to Greeks, story is a Metaphor, please don't take offense, moment chosen is historical, interpretation is not intended to be slanted. Author admires Greek civilization, author is ignorant of actual political situation in Cyprus in 1974 or today.
Patriots, In the Ready
Situation critical Ephesus Turkey, summer 1974.
A Greek madman was threatening, we had no army just here, the Western powers were preoccupied and Nikos Sampson, Cypriot Greek, had littered Cyprus with graves and now threatened invasion of Turkey proper.
I was in charge of our small town's defense. We sent the women and children to hide in the hills in the ancient way. Our Turkish army was at Bodum, Herachia and Iniz but here there were no troops to assist our small town directly on the coast and likely invasion spot.
I had twenty men and boys in the ready waiting to die defending our town against superior forces.
Desperate I recruited thirty patients from the nearby insane asylum. Crazy yes, all, in various ways but today each a patriotic Turk.
Dawn broke, no invasion here, Turkey was invading Cyprus, the Greek Colonels had fallen our town was safe.
My fifty men celebrated for two days. Women kissed us and we were carried food and drink on trays until we could eat no more.
I waited until late the third day to take my thirty soldiers back to the asylum.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Note to Greeks, story is a Metaphor, please don't take offense, moment chosen is historical, interpretation is not intended to be slanted. Author admires Greek civilization, author is ignorant of actual political situation in Cyprus in 1974 or today.
Patriots, In the Ready
Situation critical Ephesus Turkey, summer 1974.
A Greek madman was threatening, we had no army just here, the Western powers were preoccupied and Nikos Sampson, Cypriot Greek, had littered Cyprus with graves and now threatened invasion of Turkey proper.
I was in charge of our small town's defense. We sent the women and children to hide in the hills in the ancient way. Our Turkish army was at Bodum, Herachia and Iniz but here there were no troops to assist our small town directly on the coast and likely invasion spot.
I had twenty men and boys in the ready waiting to die defending our town against superior forces.
Desperate I recruited thirty patients from the nearby insane asylum. Crazy yes, all, in various ways but today each a patriotic Turk.
Dawn broke, no invasion here, Turkey was invading Cyprus, the Greek Colonels had fallen our town was safe.
My fifty men celebrated for two days. Women kissed us and we were carried food and drink on trays until we could eat no more.
I waited until late the third day to take my thirty soldiers back to the asylum.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Memorial day 2015; why am I supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again?
Memorial day 2015; why am I supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again?
fiction
Edward W Pritchard
The United States aren't too affiliated too much anymore.
Why is I who is always in Ohio so much and so often anymore supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again? Do I know or care enough about them and people from other of the United States to put on a military uniform, pack a rifle and march clear to Russia to fight to protect their interests?
It's a moot point me being so old anymore, my priorities have changed. Still it's an interesting question.
Can a Patriotic song be written and composed to Unite the United States if circumstance poofs up an emergency requiring patriotism, action and self sacrifice to defend and honor one's country?
People in the United States are United by us all wanting things, it's why we aren't interested in Marxism. We desperately want material stuff and the freedom to pursue and acquire a garage full of Things and items.
Our ancestors and predecessors met the challenge when duty called. They were busy with their self interest at the time I suppose but they answered the call to Duty.
Honor our ancestors this Memorial day 2015 and spend a minute trying to understand their motivations. It's a fitting and appropriate thing to do.
fiction
Edward W Pritchard
The United States aren't too affiliated too much anymore.
Why is I who is always in Ohio so much and so often anymore supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again? Do I know or care enough about them and people from other of the United States to put on a military uniform, pack a rifle and march clear to Russia to fight to protect their interests?
It's a moot point me being so old anymore, my priorities have changed. Still it's an interesting question.
Can a Patriotic song be written and composed to Unite the United States if circumstance poofs up an emergency requiring patriotism, action and self sacrifice to defend and honor one's country?
People in the United States are United by us all wanting things, it's why we aren't interested in Marxism. We desperately want material stuff and the freedom to pursue and acquire a garage full of Things and items.
Our ancestors and predecessors met the challenge when duty called. They were busy with their self interest at the time I suppose but they answered the call to Duty.
Honor our ancestors this Memorial day 2015 and spend a minute trying to understand their motivations. It's a fitting and appropriate thing to do.
Friday, May 22, 2015
this means that; Holidays are hard on some of us
this means that; Holidays are hard on some of us
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Holidays are hard on some of us. Alienation becomes center stage and disintegration from society
spoils the joyful mood.
Nothing to buy and nowhere to celebrate. It's just another weekend to us this Memorial day as we forget to think about Soldiers who have died and suffer instead ourselves in the field Hospital alone with our memories.
Here's one of those "this means that" stories below about Holidays:
roadie etiquette
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Rules of etiquette change for roadies as the original band changes. Members of the group come and go but the original band name usually stays intact. Individual band members change with the success and failures that come with a life in and out of the spotlight and fame scars people in different ways.
Over the years a roadie's stamina will wane. A roadie may work at one thousand successful gigs but one blundering failure obscures decades of diligent effort. Sadly one bad setup is how a roadie will be remembered. Ultimately no one remembers a roadie or prints his picture on an album cover.
A roadies nickname will change occasionally. The changes that a roadies nickname go through are often more revealing of a roadies reputation and status with the band than the tone of voice the band members greet the roadie with in meetings after work or the fact that the roadie must stay at a cheaper hotel than the band members or no longer rides to gigs in a limo or a taxi when hitting a new town or exotic location.
A roadie knows he has become obsolete when instead of being moon scar or boner he becomes Mr. Johnson or "nuisance" to members of the group.
Of course original members of the band who are still around after half a century don't want to be reminded of their age especially by a roadie when he is carrying their guitar cases or setting up drums. Roadies should address band members only when necessary in the course of business and not be chummy or touchy feely with them. Roadies should not talk during meet and greets and shouldn't express personal opinions unless solicited. After work don't ask band members about their health or their private lives.
Roadies don't have pension plans and no one writes books or magazine articles about retired or replaced roadies.
Rules of etiquette for roadies change over time and a good roadie will have thick skin and not confuse proximately and access to band members with friendship or fame itself.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Holidays are hard on some of us. Alienation becomes center stage and disintegration from society
spoils the joyful mood.
Nothing to buy and nowhere to celebrate. It's just another weekend to us this Memorial day as we forget to think about Soldiers who have died and suffer instead ourselves in the field Hospital alone with our memories.
Here's one of those "this means that" stories below about Holidays:
roadie etiquette
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Rules of etiquette change for roadies as the original band changes. Members of the group come and go but the original band name usually stays intact. Individual band members change with the success and failures that come with a life in and out of the spotlight and fame scars people in different ways.
Over the years a roadie's stamina will wane. A roadie may work at one thousand successful gigs but one blundering failure obscures decades of diligent effort. Sadly one bad setup is how a roadie will be remembered. Ultimately no one remembers a roadie or prints his picture on an album cover.
A roadies nickname will change occasionally. The changes that a roadies nickname go through are often more revealing of a roadies reputation and status with the band than the tone of voice the band members greet the roadie with in meetings after work or the fact that the roadie must stay at a cheaper hotel than the band members or no longer rides to gigs in a limo or a taxi when hitting a new town or exotic location.
A roadie knows he has become obsolete when instead of being moon scar or boner he becomes Mr. Johnson or "nuisance" to members of the group.
Of course original members of the band who are still around after half a century don't want to be reminded of their age especially by a roadie when he is carrying their guitar cases or setting up drums. Roadies should address band members only when necessary in the course of business and not be chummy or touchy feely with them. Roadies should not talk during meet and greets and shouldn't express personal opinions unless solicited. After work don't ask band members about their health or their private lives.
Roadies don't have pension plans and no one writes books or magazine articles about retired or replaced roadies.
Rules of etiquette for roadies change over time and a good roadie will have thick skin and not confuse proximately and access to band members with friendship or fame itself.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
how can the coal industry in America all go bankrupt?
how can the coal industry all go bankrupt?
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Back in 2011 this Author predicted the Coal Industry would soon have serious problems. [1] Now in May of 2015 BTU, which is the stock symbol for Peabody energy, and WLT, which is Walter energy and ANI, and ACR are about to default on their bonds and bankruptcy will follow soon.
President Obama and the green lobby have destroyed "Prince" Coal in America and the Great State of West Virginia has lost a lot of mining jobs of Late.
How can the coal mining industry in America go Bankrupt? Easy go down to Charleston WVA and find the only one large law firm there and file a few papers and the coal industry is relieved of it's debts and only a few equity investors will suffer for a while as they lose the rest of their money they invested in coal.
That's the beauty of Capitalism, waves of Schumpeter's creative destruction. No Wars in historical site for the USA so no coal is needed. Let the coal rest in the ground for a while until it is needed again someday until tanks roll and cannons shoot again.
[1] here's what author wrote before, story is as clear as coal sledge but author sees it as a prediction that coal stocks would be in trouble. The story below was one of many about pre-Hitler Weimer Germany by same author.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Back in 2011 this Author predicted the Coal Industry would soon have serious problems. [1] Now in May of 2015 BTU, which is the stock symbol for Peabody energy, and WLT, which is Walter energy and ANI, and ACR are about to default on their bonds and bankruptcy will follow soon.
President Obama and the green lobby have destroyed "Prince" Coal in America and the Great State of West Virginia has lost a lot of mining jobs of Late.
How can the coal mining industry in America go Bankrupt? Easy go down to Charleston WVA and find the only one large law firm there and file a few papers and the coal industry is relieved of it's debts and only a few equity investors will suffer for a while as they lose the rest of their money they invested in coal.
That's the beauty of Capitalism, waves of Schumpeter's creative destruction. No Wars in historical site for the USA so no coal is needed. Let the coal rest in the ground for a while until it is needed again someday until tanks roll and cannons shoot again.
[1] here's what author wrote before, story is as clear as coal sledge but author sees it as a prediction that coal stocks would be in trouble. The story below was one of many about pre-Hitler Weimer Germany by same author.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother, the German soldier has came to our families fishing cottage here on the beautiful Lake to lecture me officially for the Family on my profligate ways.
Father's money is nearly gone says Hans. Not just because of me being a spendthrift with Father's checkbook but also because of German inflation and a series of bad investments by our Father and Hans my Brother. I must talk to Father about finances which means I must return to coal mining territory, where our Family home is. I hate the thought of going back home; the smell of our neighborhood turns my stomach for we live on the largest slag heap in the world. Coal is money, and money stinks, to me at least. But I must go home for I am good with money and finance when I am not being perverse. I must leave Berlin and return to coal country. To the mess and smell of the coal tar with it's sticky streets and pervasive smell of over-work. Men toiling dawn to dusk, and women, such as my Mother killing themselves to keep a dilapated shack clean. Back, back home to coal country to rescue the Family fortune so my Brother Hans can continue to torture the weak and I can spend my nights in a whirl of sexual deparavity in Wiemar Berlin.
end part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother, the German soldier has came to our families fishing cottage here on the beautiful Lake to lecture me officially for the Family on my profligate ways.
Father's money is nearly gone says Hans. Not just because of me being a spendthrift with Father's checkbook but also because of German inflation and a series of bad investments by our Father and Hans my Brother. I must talk to Father about finances which means I must return to coal mining territory, where our Family home is. I hate the thought of going back home; the smell of our neighborhood turns my stomach for we live on the largest slag heap in the world. Coal is money, and money stinks, to me at least. But I must go home for I am good with money and finance when I am not being perverse. I must leave Berlin and return to coal country. To the mess and smell of the coal tar with it's sticky streets and pervasive smell of over-work. Men toiling dawn to dusk, and women, such as my Mother killing themselves to keep a dilapated shack clean. Back, back home to coal country to rescue the Family fortune so my Brother Hans can continue to torture the weak and I can spend my nights in a whirl of sexual deparavity in Wiemar Berlin.
end part 5
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