grutzworks3

Untitled You called out the ghost on the blank page barely breathing with dots that extend its presence those heavy black birds that landed in your yard like dumbbells waiting in the crook of time slow as feeling the escape of years you called out white noise clawing at the eardrum pulled tight through the synapses a vibration you wouldn't need to cripple the stillness with you always you settling gray clouds in a lung-made white dog sleep out and out beyond up one dream poured a little of its dripped tongue come see the white painted ones play their best red against pride of country turned tomato fight come see the dresses so holy you'd begin again s.m.g.

https://www.scottcountyiowa.com/conservation/pioneer-village

The Virus People by Sheri Grutz Enter young man wearing thick, google-like black glasses, making constant facial jerking motions. He walks up to his friend sitting on the couch, turning his way, wearing the same style glasses. NO. 1 You don't have the right interface. NO. 2 What's wrong with my interface. NO. 1 I can tell you're getting pop ups. NO. 2 I think I've got too much memory stored, it's clogging up my whole system. NO. 1 Metamucil? Lights flash on and off. NO. 2 I can't shut myself down! NO. 1 Too much uploading maybe. How many pictures you got stored? NO. 2 Over a thousand. Plus all the music. Enter next young man. NO. 3 I'm sick. I've got a virus. NO. 1 I think we need to do some serious meditation, you know, wipe the slate clean. NO. 3 I've been shutting down and restarting all day. Nothing helps. NO. 1 This is serious...we...

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome

https://nwlc.org/resources/lilly-ledbetter-fair-pay-act/ https://nwlc.org/resources/lilly-ledbetter-fair-pay-act/

Untitled I put all my fingers into the morning and pulled out the birth of the nation waiting for a cry that would make us live all these fingers can do is type Imagine the fist it takes to defend offenses you can't see but the shadow cast and what it gives off against raging sun You may think hushing away a newborn idea and sleeping the weight of the world from your eyes would make the words that much more sweet who's been a-pulling my head and yours insisting we check against wrong or illness all we do is finally open our eyes see the unknown surrounding of a working world kicking our way through our own smallness and going into arms not made for law s.m.g.

I'm into Express Temps tomorrow morning to get signed up for work. I want the job they are offering at the recycling center 2:30 pm to 6:30 pm, M thru F, and it pays 10 dollars an hour.  I hope it's still available.  Get into something steady. Mornings I'll do my writing, but I'd like to try something different, maybe creative essays on literature, that way I can learn something at the same time.  We'll see.  Maybe essays on different genres and time frames.  I might include some of my poems in them too.  I'd like to write, for instance, about James Wright out on the farm vs. the city. Here's some of my ideas for plays/sketches coming up: The static played backward is the voice of God The followers of a sunshine cult The virus people (microchips)

I set a jar of sand inside my dreams I set a jar of sand inside my dreams growing an impossible flower that no one can pick when the heat got too much and I woke with a terrible headache the jar of sand in my dreams was actually a hand trying to erase each wave of pain pool all that energy into a motor boat the hand was holding that flower tight until I could smell the morning air just after rain and nothing could be plucked out of me even the clouds took thin breaths the hand that held the dream dropped knowing just then the odds -s.m.g.

https://archive.org/details/2003SullivanUnshackledASurvivorsStoryOfMindControl https://archive.org/details/2003SullivanUnshackledASurvivorsStoryOfMindControl

he was a sports writer that I've been listening to for years on NPR, but he also wrote the book, Alex, about his daughter with CF, one of the early books, that the hospital told Dave and me not to read, but we read it anyway. He recently retired, and everyone bid him a fond farewell, then a few months later, he passed away.

What is the genetic mutation "Originally, we all had brown eyes," said Professor Hans Eiberg from the Department of Cellular and Molecular Medicine. "But a genetic mutation affecting the OCA2 gene in our chromosomes resulted in the creation of a "switch," which literally "turned off" the ability to produce brown eyes." The OCA2 gene codes for the so-called P protein, which is involved in the production of melanin, the pigment that gives colour to our hair, eyes and skin. The "switch," which is located in the gene adjacent to OCA2 does not, however, turn off the gene entirely, but rather limits its action to reducing the production of melanin in the iris -- effectively "diluting" brown eyes to blue. The switch's effect on OCA2 is very specific therefore. If the OCA2 gene had been completely destroyed or turned off, human beings would be without melanin in their hair, eyes or skin colour -- a condition known as  albinism...

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/posteverything/wp/2017/08/24/people-with-down-syndrome-are-happy-why-are-we-trying-to-eliminate-them/?utm_term=.cd9e6222eeb6 https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/posteverything/wp/2017/08/24/people-with-down-syndrome-are-happy-why-are-we-trying-to-eliminate-them/?utm_term=.cd9e6222eeb6

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Charlie's Story by Sheri Grutz Charlie's wife would tell him, pretty soon, the house is going to cave in. He took her whims that there were stains on the ceiling, cracks, and pressure lines, but he saw the same in her face, and accpeted it. Charlie was retired only 3 months from Alcoa, and had to get used to waking so early to nothing but the news, the weather, and the farm report. He even ate breakfast now at 9 a.m., and would only wait for the mail, the next door neighbor teacher pulling out, the text from his sister about baby pictures and craft projects. Still, they went to shows, even late night comedy, and some concerts. He would drink anything they put in front of him, and he let his wife order everything. His wife was working for VNA doing scheduling and hiring of new workers. She was gone from 9 to 4 p.m. Every work day, and so Charlie would walk the dogs, take care of the lawn, clean out the garage, ah yes, the garage, where he could escape for a fe...

The disgruntled woman says, I have so many bug bites, man says, try New Skin, you've been waiting to patch something up all day. Boy is a big baseball fan learns to drive the equipment on the farm runs over a mouse and says, That was a clutch hit. Woman spend money on nuts and novels, tells her man, my heart is really into it. Girl addresses a crowd of people selling her bracelets, says, It even takes your pulse, but man says, until they make batteries that outlive me.

Translations (a brief sketch) by Sheri Grutz Lights up on Greeter adjusting his bow tie, standing by a closed door in back center of stage. The stage has a warm and inviting house scene on it. Couple (man and woman) come in the door, greeter says, Welcome to the Friendly House . The man pulls arm across his body, then clasps the hand of the greeter around the thumb. Greeter says, ah yes, you'll be arm wrestling while you're here. His girlfriend smiles, and greeter says to her, ah yes, Coy, won't share a lot. They go in and sit down. Next couple comes in, the man turns his fingers under and cups the fingers of the greeter, pulling toward him. Greeter says, ah yes, You'll pull your own weight while you're here . His girlfriend smiles, ah yes, Happy, Warm, you'll be motherly while you're here. They go in and sit down. Next couple comes in, man shakes greeter's hand like a politician, and greeter says, ah yes, Firm, well you...

translations coming up today for a sketch, through various handshakes, smiles, hugs, kisses, you took the words right out of my mouth they draw for a new universal language find out what it's going to be

I wrote, printed out and mailed letters to many, many county Democratic addresses in my state, telling them the mafia has taken over our party, and the politics of governing agencies have been infiltrated with them. I'm a Suspect Target caught in the trap of targeting. I spent all my own money on this effort, to inform them, to change them, to stay loyal, but educated. The soft party on crime, and injustice does just this to its citizens. I don't want to hear Rachel and her cohorts talking about nonsense conspiracy theories. they even know the truth about my story.

This is Only a Test (a brief sketch) by Sheri Grutz Lights up on small, messy living room apartment, books everywhere, a fan, and on the couch sits Chris, with various objects on the coffee table in front of him. Enter Jake from side stage. JAKE What are you doing? CHRIS I'm making water rise. I took rocks out of the landscaping. JAKE What for? CHRIS When it gets to room temperature, my finger in it will turn red. JAKE And that's proof, huh? CHRIS Just my own little experiment. I am my own light, just gotta bring it out. JAKE What about this here? (he points to things on the coffee table ) CHRIS The periwinkle will turn into a star when I told this in my hand with the red finger. JAKE Another experiment. CHRIS We're dealing with space here, right, planets and stars and satellites, you know, deep space. JAKE We could use some space in here. CHRIS It will turn into a star rig...

About halfway through his town-hall event with CNN’s  Jake Tapper  last night, House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wis.) expressed his frustrations with his party’s inability to pass a far-right health care bill. “The House has passed its bill; we’re waiting for the Senate to pass theirs,” he said. “Who wasn’t disappointed that the Senate failed to pass that bill by one vote the other day? We all are.” At that point, Ryan was roundly booed – suggesting his assumptions about public attitudes aren’t quite right. But that’s not the only mistake the House Speaker made. From the  transcript : “The reason I’m disappointed is because the status quo is not an option. Obamacare is not working…. We’ve got dozens of counties around America that have zero  insurers  left. So doing nothing really isn’t an option.” There are two important problems with this. The first, as  New York ’s Jon Chait  explained , is that it’s the wrong argument from the wrong side of th...

The Antenna People -for Robert Stanton by Sheri Grutz 2 young men sit in cushiony chairs in the living room. They each have helmets on with antennas sticking out of them, and glasses on . No. 1 I'm being interrupted by Bayer aspirin, it's causing head pain. No. 2 What station are you on? No. 1 Fox News. They're interviewing me on conspiracy theories....I'm thinking about the song, Hit Man. No. 2 Are you broadcasting that song to them? No. 1 Yes, but I don't have it memorized, and I don't have the video. No. 2 I'm on CNN with Bill Clinton's birthday, and I'm playing Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow. They are tapping their hands. No. 1 Why do you want to be there? No. 2 It's all I can get right now. The local guys want me to do the weather report, I got that thought out of my head. No. 1 I'm going to take this head set off and go clean slate for awhile. ...

Another smart black guy I was talking with on FB said it's not about skin color, it's about race, but Michelle Obama says it all the time, skin color. If you're going to call discriminating against pigmentation of skin, you might as well call them discriminating against hair.

I'm going to write a sketch about Antenna People today. They wear glasses too, and watch and hear free news casts as if interviewing their thoughts, and day dreams. They pick up any song, and they are in every location on the map. One guy has a broken antenna so they use tin foil, and when that happens he gets cloud movement, alien movement, and moon movement, so he can't walk. Another guy has to plug himself into charger which is a massage chair. The broadcast inside the brain is stopped when they start blowing fuses, or getting angry, and then one by one, each fuse is blown, and they lose reception. we'll see what happens.

The Birthday Boy (a brief sketch) by Sheri Grutz Man sits at a booth behind a large wooden frame, with each smaller frame inside the larger frame, until you can only see his head. He is a black man, with his face painted white. On his booth is a large white frosted birthday cake with candles unlit. Enter Young Man. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? OLDER MAN I've been framed. YOUNG MAN Are you sure you don't mean famed? OLDER MAN Notice I have no background. YOUNG MAN What time did you get here? OLDER MAN 5 a.m. But don't call me Bird Brain. YOUNG MAN Do you want me to take your pic? OLDER MAN How far will you take it? YOUNG MAN How bout from 6 feet? OLDER MAN Better than 12 feet underground. Why don't you take it to the bank? Young man snaps a pic. YOUNG MAN It'll be glossy. OLDER MAN Good I'm already a door matte. YOUNG MAN Wanted dead or alive right...

The head pain started around 11:30 a.m. top center of my head, pulsating weapon and it hasn't stopped since and all the crowd today, just too much and so much standing around doing nothing they have too many people there I'm hoping a few beers will help a little bit I'm also getting olfactory hallucinations

Words I made the last bit of the moon crumble voices from the hand of time feeding any yellow bird I can't see so there's your sun there's your solar eclipse I made the last of the stars jet out unlit words you could hear sizzle in the cast iron I didn't come to cast a spell but the language has escaped into the air vapor that cracks even ice All you have to do is close your eyes and the voices will make a dim ring around the sun marrying the day or sweating glass call them wooden crosses I didn't come hear to be understood or face that creeping fear so long ago I wrote about total darkness deafness and distance when you set aside the night for 2 minutes you'll respond to a voice of your kind of God calling you pretty and blind All you have to do is put a can up to your ear even lips aren't sealed what lips what ear what makes the best way to feed with sticking words to your ribs ...