Sunday

Thematic Photographic 81 - Feet

















[click to enlarge]
{My Feet with Cons by O'Dasor De, LAM}




prompted by
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thematic Photographic 81 - Feet









we'd been wearing Chucks since we were kids.

you know how kids are, they bind their identity
 to their fashion.


 in this vein,
 if you were from Brooklyn or, heaven forbid,
from Queens, you wore PF Fliers.
the Bronx denizens wore Pro Keds,
Manhattan was the land of Converse's Chuck Taylors;
and we didn't know anyone who actually lived on
Staten Island. (for that matter,
wazzat Staten Island?)

what one wore on one's feet determined
where one had safe passage, and where
 one would get his ass handed to him on
a platter. {pretty much the way colors function
 now}

as time passed, we grew up,
 and athletic shoes came into
their own following the Great Transit Strike
in the early eighties {a story for another
 day.}, and prices went to unaffordable.

we continued to wear our Chucks.
they were the cheapest, American, union-made
 sneakers out there and we loved.

then Nike bought-out Converse and
now they're made in China by virgins
(child labor). and they're not so cheap.

hipsters, being kids, have come back to
Converse (and Pabst Blue Ribbon) as badges
 of anti-consumerism. (ironic).

yet, the Boat-Rockers have drifted over to
 New Balance because they are STILL union-made,
and the only American-made sneaker on the market.
{made in canada and England as well}

us? well, it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks,
so, we've continued the habit of wearing Chucky's.

..
.ero

go and check out more
 Thematic Photographic images at the Written Inc Site!

..
.




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Thursday

The Soccer Mom Files

this one rox!

check it out. :-)

..
.ero

..
.
The Soccer Mom Files:
"Caption This, Christmas Edition
Merry Christmas to all! May the spirit of the season be with everyone!"

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Friday

Weekend Wordsmith 129. Knead

Weekend Wordsmith:
"Friday, December 4, 2009
129. Knead"


















I wish I could touch you inside,
 somewhere where you remember me,
 somewhere,
 where  you and I are the same....

That time is gone, isn't it?
 How do you make oxtail stew?

 I see your recognition.
 You see that I need you.
 You’re grateful. I can tell.
 You’re proud. You need me too.

 But it’s late for that.
Isn’t it?
  How do I do? How do I say?
 What can I do? I went away.
 I still love you.
 Though,  . . . goodbye.


..
.ero
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