Archives for May 2014

Nip and Tuck –

Josephine, Josephine, I say over and over again. What a beautiful name for a woman like me. No more ugly duckling like I used to be. Soon after I was born under a bad sign, in 1978, my parents and siblings knew I was different and treated me like an outsider.

My life was a lie and I had to live that lie, until now. I gaze into the mirror and see my flawless face that practically any woman would desire as her own. Amazing what a little surgery can do.

My hated name got changed to Josephine Juliana, because as a dancer a better name was needed, so I stole my sister’s. How she hates me for taking her name, but the whole family hates me for what I am, and forced me to move at eighteen. I went to live in a small apartment, all alone. I could have afforded more, but wanted to save money for the surgery. I recently had. Now, when my image reflects back at me, I almost fall in love with what I see.

I remember when I asked Evander for a date, and the look of horror that crossed his face. Well, when he sees how I look now, with the help of a scalpel or two, I know he’ll never refuse to go on a date with a woman like me.

He plays piano and tries to emulate Liberace’s mode of dress by wearing sequined and ruffled shirts. At first, I thought he was queer, but discovered he liked women better than any man.

He’s playing at a brand new club tonight, and I haven’t seen him for over a year, so I’ll dress my best to impress when I go there tonight. I look through my wardrobe and see I have at least a hundred sequined designer dresses. I choose the red one with shining rhinestones, so I’ll be the “Lady in Red” he’ll play on the piano keys after I send the waiter with my request.

I dress in red and call my limo to take me to where Evander plays. Once there I nervously approach the swinging doors with piano notes tinkling through, falling unheard onto cold cement. For a minute, I worry that I too may end up like those discarded tunes, but I firm and say, Josephine, Josephine, you’re a brand new woman, never used or abused. You can do this. Walk through that door and show Evander what he can have.

I take tiny steps until I reach the doors. I burst through and stride to the piano where Evander plays. Heck, I forgot to request him to play, “Lady in Red”, but too late now. The music stops as every head in the room turns to stare at me in my shinning red rhinestone dress. Even Evander sits dumbfounded as he drinks in my shapely figure outlined in red. I sit beside him and ask, “Don’t you recognize me, Evander?” He stares and stares until recognition opens his eyes wide.

“Is that really you, Joseph?” he breathlessly asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m Josephine now.

 

2049

I’m the first man ever to land on this beautiful azure blue world that’s almost four times as large as Earth. The bright yellow oceans are hard as steel. I look up to see 13 brilliantly shining moons illuminating the thick atmospheric sky where floating clouds of ammonia, methane, water ice, and pressures millions of times greater than on Earth, theoretically will squeeze all into liquid and then diamonds that sometimes fall as hail, and when they hit ground they sink to the core and rise again, polished and faceted by planetary pressure.

Enclosed in my craft, I can’t see outside, so I dress in heavy anti-pressure, ant-gravity gear and ease through the hatch. The blinding light of 13 moons reflects off of faceted surfaces etched into what appears to be stones.

I climb from the hatch and step onto a loose gravel like surface that gives way under my weight. I start to sink. In panic I grab my lifeline attached to the ship, but I stop sinking before I have to save myself.

I scoop up a glove full of the gravel and see it’s not gravel at all, but tiny diamonds. I’m almost blinded by the twinkling brilliance of their faceted lights. I rejoice because it’s true. Ices of methane and water are squeezed to carbon that turns to crystal lattices creating diamonds in the atmosphere.

There are more diamonds underfoot than in any mine back on Earth. One bucketful is all I’ll ever need. I look up and see a storm is brewing, and I see warning lights flashing around my ship, telling me I had better leave. I know I should, but diamonds forming in the sky is something I want to see. Maybe I can blast off before the planetary hail arrives.

Some of it will be as small as salt grains, and others as large as boulders. I’ve been told the diamonds’ cutting edges will perforate me. If I stay, I’ll be the first ever to see diamonds falling from the sky. my curiosity won’t allow me to board my ship and leave.

Brilliant light replicates throughout the sky. It isn’t falling snow, but diamond flakes reflecting starlight in the sky and on the ground. It blows into piles. I’m safe I know. The diamond snow doesn’t break through my suit, and I wait to fill another bucket with glittering pieces falling from the sky when it starts to hail diamonds bigger than my fist.

I watch the hail beat down onto my ship, and soon nothing remains. I bury myself in loose stones. The storm passes away and I pull myself out from under the diamonds that are almost dust, but were strong enough to protect my suit from getting punctured.

I have enough diamonds to buy the entire world. If only I had a way to get there.

Blind Artistic Endeavors

Blinding light spawns liquefied steel, like a volcano sending its molten core across the metal in front of my face. My eyes are covered with darkened glass I only see flashes of burning white light that I have to judge by touch where to point and what to melt.

My fingertips guide the flame while constructing a sculpture. I follow Picasso’s design to create an original thing with wings who will sit in my yard with Boadicea my warrior queen made from cement and her dog Spot constructed with materials like hers.

Images no one expects to see stand on my sandy desert lawn bordering a residential street. Thin, tall sculptures stretch to the sky and beyond. Cars jam on their brakes and stop at the sight. Even children stop to look and point. A little boy asks, “Can I look at the cool statues?” Unbiased judgment I couldn’t get anywhere else.

I can hardly wait to get a welder of my own. Maybe build an Eiffel Tower on my front lawn for the kids to admire and maybe climb along with the King Kong I’ll build too. Maybe I’ll sculpt the king and have him powered by the sun to light up at night so everyone can see where he climbs after dark.

What will my neighbors say, people ask. I don’t give a damn, is my reply, but I really do, and only design politically correct things to adorn my yard. Why I even turned my white queen brown when people protested a brown skinned girl being painted on a mural at a local school.

Surprising to me, she was enjoyed by many more than ever before once she changed her color. Can it be that color only makes a difference if it’s on someone’s skin?

 

Denver’s History and Science Museum

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Joe DiBuduo & Grandson Joe rafting Clear Creek in CO.

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A Doggy Kiss

The sun hid, the wind blew, and my
feet complained when I explained
I had to pad them for being bad by
putting on my running shoes.

My first uncertain step sent fire shooting
up my legs and my feet were mashed like
the yolks of a dozen eggs under 200 pounds
of pounding weight.

My brain hadn’t received its hormonal feast
and almost became deceased from eating
at a midnight meeting, and was in dire
need to achieve some uplifting endorphins.

I trudged on regardless of the burn and despair
because I learned to survive when I’ve been in
serious pain and deprived of the love hormone
known as ocytocin.

Out of nowhere came a ball of brown fur with
a deep throated bark, causing the hairs on my
arms and legs to defensively rise as it surged
toward me.

I couldn’t go back, so I braced for an attack,
I came to a stop, and got ready to drop the hound
in the first round with a powerful punch at the fur-ball
that rushed at me.

Not understanding why the universe sent a dog to get
me like some branch of a star it wanted retrieved.
Standing at the ready, I yelled, “Come on. We’ll soon
see who’s going to win.

The brown dog ran as fast as he could toward me.
I went into a crouch, ready to kick, when to
my surprise, I saw the dog was only an overgrown pup
that leaped at me and kissed me right on my lips.

Instantly my oxytocin started to flow down below.
The sun came out, the wind ceased to blow, and
the burning fire in my veins vanished like yesterday’s
sun.

To be loved by an unknown dog that wanted to run
with me, was a gift sent from somewhere, and I say
thank you for the taste of joy and for letting a dog
kiss me with only love in its heart.

Flamingo dancing to Vivaldi

Watch Nokuthula Ngwenyama play a real Stradivarious Violin.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdPMFE0-eAo&noredirect=1

Colors We Love & Hate

A tree as twisted as an electrified snake,
grew from green slime coated water,
displaying glowing red and orange flowers,
emitting wave lengths with enough strength
to vibrate throughout my brain,

compelling me to get close to the incomparable
colors that only a true artist could have created.
I prayed that I’d be brave enough to venture
into weed filled water where glowing eyes
brighter than flowers floated above the water line.

Beneath the eyes were mouths of predators, big and
small, waiting to dine on me like I was a fine wine.
Undeterred, my prayers were heard, I continued
my quest and hoped to pass any test by using my
eyes to absorb every radiant color reflected by swamp water.

My skin became arranged and changed to the flower’s colors
and forgetting my fears I had for years, I stepped into the water
and lost a leg, a hand, and then an arm to a gator that wanted
lunch. My blood shimmered in brighter colors than those of the
flowers until it stopped when I willed it too before I dropped.

I hugged the tree and we became an inseparable pair.
Our life’s blood colored everything near and far. Where
we lived became a magical place and in our space even
Van Gogh could never have begun to match and paint the
colors we love and hate.

Watch out Kids!

http://www.writestorybooksforchildren.com/?PDFCERT=PDF-CERT

 

Joe DiBuduo has been awarded a certificate for completing a course on writing children’s stories. What monsters will come from his fertile imagination?