Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will...
And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!
Plot out a short story.
Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem.
(you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).
~~~
This is little Tommy Trinetti.
He just got his front teeth, and frankly, he's not overjoyed about it.
Truth be told, Tommy spent most of his life... just stumbling through. Nothing horrible ever really happened,
but nothing overwhelmingly good happened either... at least, not from his point of view.
Oh... he did ok.
He had a nice wife, two sons of his own... a small house in the suburbs that he cared for meticulously.
(He took great pride in having the best manicured lawn on the block.)
He drove a blue Chevy that was absolutely pristine, right down to the whitewall ties and naugahyde upholstery.
He sold cars for a living, and was known to be one of the few truly fair car salesmen in the fine state of Indiana.
He played poker on Tuesday nights with the fellows from work, and always had a big summer barbecue on the 4th of July.
His wife, Carol, would say that they lived a quiet life.
After almost 30 years of marriage, about the only thing she complained about was his penchant
for smoking stinky cigars and wearing ugly bowling shirts... and then she would laugh.
"Please pass the jello mold... I love that fruit cocktail in it. .."
This is little Tommy Trinetti.
He just got his front teeth, and frankly, he's not overjoyed about it.
Truth be told, Tommy spent most of his life... just stumbling through. Nothing horrible ever really happened,
but nothing overwhelmingly good happened either... at least, not from his point of view.
Oh... he did ok.
He had a nice wife, two sons of his own... a small house in the suburbs that he cared for meticulously.
(He took great pride in having the best manicured lawn on the block.)
He drove a blue Chevy that was absolutely pristine, right down to the whitewall ties and naugahyde upholstery.
He sold cars for a living, and was known to be one of the few truly fair car salesmen in the fine state of Indiana.
He played poker on Tuesday nights with the fellows from work, and always had a big summer barbecue on the 4th of July.
His wife, Carol, would say that they lived a quiet life.
After almost 30 years of marriage, about the only thing she complained about was his penchant
for smoking stinky cigars and wearing ugly bowling shirts... and then she would laugh.
"Please pass the jello mold... I love that fruit cocktail in it. .."