I got a story like that

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For Sale…

windshield

Oh honey, just look at it, it’s perfect.

Yes it is my love. It’s a bit pricey though huh?

Oh silly stop worrying about the price. Aren’t we worth it?

Yes, of course we are honey; it’s just that with my new job and the End of the World coming on December 21st.  I was hoping we could just rent something and see how things go.

But, I really want this house. It has everything we dreamed of, look at the landscaping; the trees are the right size. And these steps, I’ll be the envy of every housewife around.  Besides, if the planet does crumble we’ll be safe living up here, right?

I guess you’re right. It would be nice to be floating instead of being swallowed up by the Earth. Okay, let’s get the realtor on the phone. I’m buying my honey a house.

Oh yeah, you’re the best husband a girl could ask for. Oh and one more thing sweetie, can we not tell anyone where we live?

Sure, okay. But why?

Well, once we move in I’ll have so much to do; I simply won’t have time for an End of the World Party.

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I hope you enjoyed this story- this is what happens when I see a picture and begin to THINK…

-peace

STEEL TREES

STEEL TREES

“Well, you did it again Steve, are you happy?”

“Aw come on Anne, why must you always make a big deal out of nothing?”

“NOTHING, NOTHING, are you serious Steve? You call this nothing?  All you had to do was ask for directions, BUT NOOOO, you had to keep going straight, when we both knew perfectly well that we were heading in the wrong direction. We are “TREES STEVE”, trees need to be in the forest, and this is exactly why I hate leaving the forest. I don’t mind when you get the urge to wander and get away once in awhile, in fact I like it myself. But we have to get back as soon as possible; we need to be in our own environment.”

“Look honey, I know I have been wrong once or twice in the past, but I’m sure we are going to be fine this time. Trust me sweetie, okay?”

“I’m sorry Steve, but I cannot help but think that you’ve finally lost your mind. We are NOT, I repeat NOT FINE.  LOOK AT WHERE WE ARE RIGHT NOW.”

“Aright alright, I’ll ask the next person that we see for directions.”

“FINALLY my husband sees the light. Hallelujah we might be saved after all.”

“But honey, just one more thing, before we get back on our way?”

“WHAT Steve, don’t push it I’m pretty pissed right now?”

“Since we’re already stuck up here; can we light up this wall a little longer before we head home to the forest?”

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The photo represents a recent architectural design from the very talented Patricia Canfield who is Owner/Founder of deCamville Design, a Texas-based full-service architectural and interior design consulting firm. http://decamvilledesign.wordpress.com/

I asked Patricia if I could write something about her work and she sent me the above photo.

I hope my words, due her work some justice. By the way the Tree named Steve is me and the Tree named Anne is my co-founder here at “I got a story like that.”

I’m pretty sure that if Anne and I were trees and I really was driving us around, I would most likely drive her up a wall similar to the trees in the design.

-Peace

THE HALF BLIND DATE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

“RING,RING”, went the phone in the cabin of Shelia’s houseboat. “Okay Okay I’m coming,” Shelia yelled as she reached over the bunk bed/kitchen table to get to the pink princess phone in the center of the boats cabin. Phone in hand and half out of breath she spoke, “Hello?”

“Hi is this Shelia?” asked the voice on the other end.

“Yes it is,” Shelia replied ,“who’s calling please?”

“Hi My name is Eddie, I’m Alan’s friend, and he gave me your phone number. Alan did tell you about me didn’t he?” Eddie asked hesitantly, Eddie was very nervous about meeting someone new. With him being a Pirate on the open seas, he really never had time for a girlfriend. His sword buckling scars and the loss of his left eye always scared woman off.

Shelia said to herself for a moment, Eddie, Eddie, “Oh my, she exclaimed, yes, yes Eddie, Alan’s friend, of course. I’m sorry the call took me by surprise.” Shelia started thinking to herself “I hate these blind dates; you never know anything about the other person”.

Eddie started talking,” I guess our friends thought we might get along?”

He sounds polite enough, she thought. Shelia suddenly realized that they had been talking for almost 2 hours, laughing and joking about previous blind dates and experiences they have had. Eddie really sounded like a great guy; she was happy and relaxed for a change. Shelia smiled at the prospect of getting along with someone. It had been so long since her tragic boating accident that anyone would even give her a second glance these days. Most folks just stared at her when she walked into town to get supplies. The two of them acted like teenagers on the phone talking about their favorite music and their mutual love of sailing. Before she knew it they were sharing everything about themselves, well almost everything. Shelia didn’t have the courage to tell Eddie everything about herself. She wasn’t ready to tell him about what had happened that fateful day last year on her boat. Thinking to herself, “How do you tell someone you just met that you lost your right eye and that you now have to wear an eye patch?

 

This incredibly thought engaging artwork was submitted by our good friend Edilio Cicostile http://ediliociclostile.wordpress.com/

 

The words and the title “The Half Blind Date” is from my brain as I wrote this story.http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/

I hope you all enjoy it… Steve

 

-Peace

 

 

 

ATTENTION ALL ARTISTS AND WORDSMITHS !!!

I Got A Story Like That

Is looking for artists and writers to meet.

I have had a tremendous amount of fun and personal satisfaction with artists that I have never met sending me selected pieces of their work. Then I create a story/poem about that art.

Visit our site and see the results of our collaborations.

You don’t have to be an artist/writer to see whats happening here.

You might just have a little fun or maybe too much fun.

 

-Peace

INTO THE RED

 

INTO THE RED

I was told that this war would end all wars and that poets and artists from all the lands would tell of this day for centuries to come. I was told that we would all be immortalized and that our children’s children would be forever honored as the ancestors of us warriors. I was told that the glory of this war would come to me whether I died or survived this battlefield I stand upon today. I was told that dying was a great honor and the warriors to the left of my shield and to the right of my sword would gladly lay down their lives for that honor. I was told that my father, his father and his father fought bravely on this same battlefield and that some here today fought alongside them. I was told that I was born to be what I am, a warrior, here today. I have trained all of my young life for this war. I was told that to be truly happy in this life, one must be true to oneself inherited destiny. I was told these things by the gray haired soldiers’ of past wars who sit on the gilded thrones that float above the snow capped hills high atop the clouds that cover the huts and caves where we live. I was told at the great gathering that I would have the honor to fight. I was told that all who left their homes on this day would share the glory forever and as we marched to the border of our lands we march into history. I was told that the following morning sunrise would signal the start of the war. I was told to make peace with my god and with myself and that upon arrival at the field of battle that I was to kneel and pray to the heroes past, pray for forgiveness of my sins, pray for courage and strength.  I was told that upon the rising suns warmth on my shoulder I was to approach my enemy as he approached me. I was told that the fighting would commence upon contact, that there would be one instantaneous clash of bodies and souls. I was told that this battle would last no longer than a breath, a breath taken in and then exhaled outward. I was told that I would know that I had survived the fighting if I rode upon the wave of those who died from the impact.

I remember I was told this just as I felt the sun.

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The incredible artwork titled “War 1990” is submitted from our friend Marina Kanavaki http://marinakanavaki.wordpress.com/

The words and the title “Into The Red” is the result of my view

of Marinas work. http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/

Thank you for the opportunity to write.

Steve O’Brien

NEVER AGAIN

Here is another wonderful piece of art that was sent to me. I asked this talented artist to send me any artwork they wanted and that I would write  my interpretation of  that piece.

I call this story Never Again.

“Never again, NEVER NEVER NEVER,” I said out loud. “That’s it, it’s over. I’m done. I’m finished with you and I’m finished with this, this so called life. I have no life, all I do is work work work”

***His reply reeked of boredom and was very low toned  “Ha ha, you can’t just up and leave like that. Just like me you’re stuck. You’ve given this thing of ours more than you care to admit. You’re in too deep. You can’t walk away, just like I can’t walk away, nobody just walks away!” He said in a very convincing voice that flowed like sweet wine being poured into my out stretched glass of “whatever this is that I have become.”

I replied through a long sip of me.“Maybe you can’t quit this, this thing we have become, but I can and I will,”

My mind drifted and I thought back at all “that I had now become.” What I had gone through, the rehearsals, the shows, the before and after parties, the ass-kissing and begging for auditions.

Sure, I was a HUGE success.

Sure I have all the money and awards one person should ever have, more than I’ll ever need.  

Was all that necessary, just to get here? Was it worth it to get here to this moment, this place and time, with him?

Who was he to tell me what is or is not good for me? I could stop this anytime I choose to, couldn’t I?

***Suddenly He whispered quickly and firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can forget about it, right now.”

There was an unpleasant pause in the air as I squeezed my eyes closed in an attempt to isolate and compose my thoughts and reply. I was determined not to be bullied anymore. It was time for me to take back control, be myself, for myself, for my survival!

Still alone in my dressing room as I had been from the start of this conversation. I stood and looked directly into the mirror smiled and said,” Okay one more show, one more, then, I’m quitting,”

My reflection in my mirror just smiled back at me and whispered, “Sure, sure it’s your last show, it’s always you’re last show, you go and knock ’em dead.

***I’ll be right here when you get back, then WE can talk some more like we always do”

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The words came from  Steve O’Brien   sobnyc.wordpress

The art is from Crenguta Mirela Bacaoanu

I love this collaboration, please challenge me !!!!

WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN

WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN

 

I am in the middle

 

Of who I am

 

I am not the same

 

Do you understand?

 

Is my “not”

 

What you can see?

 

Or is it just

 

What’s meant to be?

 

How shall I share

 

What I’ll become?

 

With those who’ve seen

 

What I’ve undone?

 

Reach out to touch

 

Or simply graze

 

It is your eyes

 

That show your daze

 

Do not fear

 

Or cry inside

 

Be of full heart

 

Thou will not hide

 

Remember your life

 

Is not your own

 

Remember to reap

 

What you have sown

 

Painting courtesy of http://dutchtouchart.com/#_cnum=1868&_cat=4

Words by Steve O’Brien http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/