Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

The Curious Cops of Wales…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Cops,Depression and Hope,Friendship & Compassion,Jewish Themes,My Own Personal Hell — Bob at 10:26 am on Thursday, September 4, 2014

Originally published on © October, 2008 I was a very obscure writer. Now only slightly obscure, and hopeful

(#1 of 4 chapters, all here this time. 21 rich pages or 15,775 words. Don’t be shy. Take a chance on me)

Bendith Duw ar Bobl Cymru a`u plismyn gwaraidd!!!
(God bless the Welsh People and their civilized policemen!!!)

My original motivation to travel to Britain for the first and only time, in 2001, was to investigate Notting Hill.

Notting Hill was long famous, even before the warm-hearted film of the same name with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts, for its incredibly congested, unbroken mass of bargain-seeking and perspiring humanity crushed within its mile long length, as the best flea market in Europe.

While I did find beautiful ceramics, overflowing tables of eccentric flotsam and jetsam, and the original 1964 Beatles periodicals I was actually seeking, as well as a priced-to-sell full suit of medieval English armor for mounted combat or jousting, the memory I find that lingers longest are my three unplanned days in Wales.

The distance from London to Cardiff, the capitol of Wales, was slightly less than driving from Chicago to Madison, Wisconsin. Interesting places are much closer together in Great Britain than in the States. The approximate size of the former homeland of the world wide British Empire is about the same size as Illinois and Indiana, together.

Britannia…small, but mighty!
(Read on …)

June 8th 1964… by Robert M. Katzman

© August 22, 2014

 

Fifty years ago

This happened:

 

At five, six, seven years old

Curses and slaps

In the middle of the night

Eight, nine, ten years old

Beatings without end

And no reason

Eleven, twelve, thirteen years old

Trapped in closets,

Whipped with leather belts

Metal belt buckles

 

Fourteen: June 8, 1964

My long glass fish tank shattered

Water and dead fish everywhere

Bookshelves toppled

My face was smashed with fists

But I couldn’t hit her back

I escaped the monster

Screaming into the black night

 

(Read on …)

The Oak Street Bridge, Chicago: Summer of 1968…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Gritty Katzman Chicago Stories,Life & Death,My Own Personal Hell — Bob at 10:29 am on Saturday, August 2, 2014

© August 2, 2014

 

We were on a date late one starry night

On Rush Street near Lake Michigan

She was a pretty girl, sixteen

I was eighteen and at best, passable

 

We crossed the Oak Street Bridge to the beach

Stretching across wide Lake Shore Drive

Streams of headlights streaking each way

Beneath our feet as we moved toward the sand

Midnight, balmy and a good place to neck

(Read on …)

She was the Girl with the Band……by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Love and Romance,Obsession,subtle erotica — Bob at 1:39 pm on Friday, July 25, 2014

© 7/25/14

 

Early morning

Driving east into the rising sun

Steaming coffee fogging my window

While awakening my senses

I wipe my windshield with a rag

And I see her

(Read on …)

Sirens of Regret…by Robert M. Katzman

© June 26, 2014

I can hear it far away

Weaving in and out

Sirens

Firetruck?

Better get outa the way

Wasn’t I painting something?

Mrs. Phillips, your boy has talent

You can tell that at seven?

 

Picking red strawberries under the Iowa sun

Pretty girl, blond hair spilling over her shoulders

Sirens coming…

In a barn

Up in a hayloft

Jenny, can I unbutton that button?

No!

Please

Please

Noooo…

Please

Yes!

 

John, college or painting

Can’t do both

Choose one

You want to be a starving artist?

No?

Accounting is the smart choice

I’ll send in the application

Sirens wailing…

 

Well, John

Welcome to the firm

Your office is over there

Sorry, no window yet

Mary will be your secretary

Pretty girl, Mary

 

Mary, look at the view!

I want to paint Cape Cod!

John, forget that

Billy is getting sand in his hair

Oil painting won’t pay for fixing our roof

Or Emily’s braces

Why do you persist?

Sirens…sweet soft Jenny…hay in our hair…sirens

 

Corner office, John

Finally got your window, eh?

Meeting new clients for lunch?

Looks like a few too many lunches

Nice watercolors on your wall

You painted them?

No! I don’t believe it!

When could you spare the time?

 

Mr. Phillips, I see a problem

You’re too heavy

Too many cigarettes

You work too many hours

Stress can kill you

You don’t look happy to me

Ever consider a hobby?

Painting, maybe?

 

Sirens, louder, closer

 

John, we made you partner

There’ll be more traveling now

Clients want to press the flesh

So first Rochester

Then Buffalo

Then Davenport

Springfield

Harrisburg

Moline…

 

John,

You look so pale

Why are you still working at midnight?

Is work all there is?

I’ll get you some water

 

I need new brushes

Jenny let me paint you

God, Jenny

You’re so beautiful

Wish we had more time!

 

Wish we had more time…

 

Wish we had more time…

 

Sirens so distant…fading away…

 

John?  John??  John!!!

Last Child Leaving…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Children,Depression and Hope,Marriage and Family — Bob at 7:19 pm on Wednesday, June 25, 2014

 

© June 17, 2014

 

The last one is sleeping

On the other side of our wall

Room’s randomly strewn with:

Clothes, makeup, empty food containers

Dolls, stuffed animals

Mysterious bits and pieces of technology

Towels, towels, towels

Extinct schoolwork

Her present is passing

She is leaving

(Read on …)

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