Barbara Postel (1938 (b. in Queens) to March 6, 2018 (d. in Point Pleasant PA)

 This is a total mishmash and repetitious. But it's bedtime for me!


 I'd posted a pic that showed a silver Subaru wrapped around a telephone pole. But the blog wouldn't publish with the pic there. Two people injured.

Was checking Times Herald in Norristown PA when this pic popped up.

This Subaru crashed into a utility pole. Two people injured inside.

Ahem! Like, okay, were you being PUSHED into the pole by a garbage truck?
Were you trying to kill yourselves?
What were you looking at when you crashed?

Now we're gonna look at a bus. The bus, which says Weber on the side, is on mom's street, and I'll pose some questions.

Pic from sister Lynn.

 I did write a poem about it. It looks like it could be a fallen airplane. Or that the bus got lost.


THE BUS THAT NEVER STOPS

The man in the mustache
and Yankees cap handled the bus
like stuntman Bill
Hickman in Bullitt,
it was a party bus
a buffet of cheese and
Triscuits, bowls of
chocolate covered
strawberries, peanuts
and almonds - careful,
don't lose that tooth
Dr Doreen put in

Wine was served in see-
thru plastic cups,
yellow paper napkins for
wiping drips, and
baba ganoush for
the Syrian refugees
lamb kebobs for the Afghans
and corn tamales wrapped in
plantains for the Hondurans.

The driver has traveled far
with his grateful passengers
who study English to the rocking
motion of the bus. Will they
land at Jamestown and start
all over again or disappear
into the depths of the sea.


Just finished my obit on Barbara Postel. It's fairly good but I didn't get any quotes from B though she was definitely hovering around as I was writing. I can hear her great laff.

Carlos sent me lotsa material for the story.


Hold on. Gotta find her 'years.' Okay, they're up top. The spacing is all screwed up cuz I copied previous blog post which would not publish.


Went to Mom's after my Writing Group and Ellen ordered Thai from Wild Ginger. I am STARVING. While writing, I biked for 15 mins, then Water Pikked.


My story was called Lydia and her Angel. Based on Carlos and Barb. Is it any good? Possibly not but I could not WAIT to start writing again.


Oh, here's an idea I had. Except I'm so F'ing freezing now I may have to go upstairs to bed and get under the covers.



I would have a column in the Times Herald. WHAT column. How about a Literature Column. Introduce the readers to a famous classic book or poem. Give them an assignment. Let them email me. What a terrible idea!

Miles got a job where he makes $3,000 a month. Tons of law students applied, they told him, but we picked you.


I try not to be sad that I don't have a paying job.

 Should I eat something before I go up?


Please speak up! Do I hear a yes? All right, then, I'll eat a banana. Plus peanut butter for protein.

Lemme see if I have some pix to share.

 I'll tell you something. I really enjoyed writing that obit. I worked very hard. My brain was stimulated, doing hand springs of joy.


There was a sentence in the Times which said young immigrants ordered to return to their countries often lose consciousness.


This is one of the most TERRIBLE things I've ever read about. Last night I spent 5 hours watching Frontline about immigrants trying to stay here and going to court, many petitions are denied. I kept imagining if it were me I'd kill myself rathan go back.


There's something I wanna say which is why I keep typing. But ya think I can remember?


Wrote postcards today to Nancy Pollack, a Yes I Can. Carlos and Barb received the two cards I sent them.


Let's end with a boom!


Greats Stars-End music. Where tis?

The D J  told us the name. This is very strange music. Very enjoyable as Floyd Johnson used to say.


IAN  BODY  - The Mechanics of Thought



Went to Mom's after my Writing Group and Ellen ordered Thai from Wild Ginger. I am STARVING. While writing, I biked for 15 mins, then Water Pikked.


My story was called Lydia and her Angel. Based on Carlos and Barb. Is it any good? Possibly not but I could not WAIT to start writing again.


Oh, here's an idea I had. Except I'm so F'ing freezing now I may have to go upstairs to bed and get under the covers.



I would have a column in the Times Herald. WHAT column. How about a Literature Column. Introduce the readers to a famous classic book or poem. Give them an assignment. Let them email me.



Miles got a job where he makes $3,000 a month. Tons of law students applied, they told him, but we picked you.



I try not to be sad that I don't have a paying job.



Should I eat something before I go up?



Please speak up! Do I hear a yes? All right, then, I'll eat a banana. Plus peanut butter for protein.


 I'll tell you something. I really enjoyed writing that obit. I worked very hard. My brain was stimulated, doing hand springs of joy.


There was a sentence in the Times which said young immigrants ordered to return to their countries often lose consciousness.


This is one of the most TERRIBLE things I've ever read about. Last night I spent 5 hours watching Frontline about immigrants trying to stay here and going to court, many petitions are denied. I kept imagining if it were me I'd kill myself rathan go back.


There's something I wanna say which is why I keep typing. But ya think I can remember?


Wrote postcards today to Nancy Pollack, a Yes I Can. Carlos and Barb received the two cards I sent them.


Let's end with a boom!


At Mom's we were talking about Barbara. We never talk about her, I said, and suddenly she's the center of conversation.