Posts Tagged ‘GeorgeFarina.net’

The 1980’s Were 30 Years Ago

January 1st, 2022

As of 2020, the 1980’s were 30 years ago. For many of us, the decade is difficult to forget.

The 80’s represent energy, Boomboxes, Breakdancing, Legwarmers, Headbands, Night Clubs, Skating Rinks, Saturday Morning Cartoons, MTV, Supercars, Arcades, Rae Bans, Heavy Metal Rock Bands and much more.

The 1980’s represent freedom. Freedom of speech. The type of freedom allowing a person to be themselves and express themselves without many of the consequences people often face from society today. Though, what I feel the 1980’s represent most is creativity. More cool, unique things were introduced in the 1980’s than any other decade I’ve either lived through or learnt about.

Supercars became a thing in the 80’s. 80’s music became a thing. Many of the tunes introduced in the 80’s are still played today. Boomboxes, Breakdancing, Legwarmers, Computers, Video Games, Saturday Morning Cartoons and Rae Bans all became things in the 1980’s. Things many of us still enjoy today.

Atari came to life in the 1980’s. The 80’s started a video gaming boom, loud enough to keep the industry booming to this very day.

Computers were introduced to the general public in the 1980’s. Many who lived through the 80’s have exceptionally good memories of the Commodore 64, early IBM and Apple computers.

During the 80’s most didn’t have to worry about hacking. Heck, I don’t even think I knew what computer hacking was till the early 1990’s. People didn’t have to worry about others intruding on their enjoyment of life. The 80’s offered a sense of freeness.

The 1980’s were also responsible for one of the greatest sports stories in history. The 1980 men’s Olympic hockey team. Nothing screams 80’s louder than a story about an unknown team or person going from the unknown to greatness.

Though, the decade wasn’t without issues. There was plenty of violence. There was drug abuse. I’m not talking about recreational drugs. Some of the drugs many used in the 80’s were much more destructive. Drugs that weren’t good. Drugs I don’t feel represented the decade.

Luckily, I didn’t see the corrupt side of the 1980’s. By the mid 1980’s I was 11. At 11, it’s difficult to see the bad. Even today, I know those things only represented a small percentage of the decade. A decade I remember today, 30 years later, with great fondness.
 

Written by George Farina

A Homeless Woman Sits In An Alley Writing

January 1st, 2022
A Homeless Woman Sits In An Alley Writing
 
These words I write late at night. These words I write without fright. Siren’s, flashing lights fly past. A couple a few apartments above argue. The pavement’s cold. The temperature’s warm. Nightclubs just closed. Plenty of clubgoers walking the streets, socializing, joking, laughing, as they make their way home. City buses are frequent. Neon signs light up the end of the alley. The moon’s bright. Stars are vast. The alley’s dark, distant. Water drips from an air conditioner in a windowsill above. The buildings are brick, vintage looking. Graffiti’s sprayed on their walls. “Drink, Laugh, Flirt, Kiss”. The silhouette of a mouse scurries into a drain pipe. The couple above stopped arguing. The streets grew quite. My eyes grew tired. With a duffel bag as a pillow, I lay my head down to sleep.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 

 
Written by George Farina

Young Couple

January 1st, 2022
Young Couple
 
A young couple dances all night. Closing time, gotta grab a bite. Early morning at a local cafe, violin music plays. Hours later, sleeping by the pool. In the evening, together they shower. Dinner at a diner. Flipping through the jukebox, a record spins. Flirtatious conversations. Cake for desert, feeding each other, eyes filled with desire. Late at night, the beach is empty. The cork pops on a bottle, close together they stay. Under the moonlight and stars, conversations about nothing, gleaming smiles, sparkling eyes. As the sun rises, intertwined, they close their eyes. Wake to whistles. Sitting up with a kiss. Shower and laundry. Sunday afternoon, the laundry mat’s filled. Driers spin, steam in the air, glistening skin. Each with a good book, neither could resist. Riding the bus, she pulls the wire. Arriving home, they finish the weekend sleeping in.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 

 
Written by George Farina

Pink Boxing Gloves

January 1st, 2022
Pink Boxing Gloves
 
Wearing pink boxing gloves, she stands in the corner of the ring.
Lathered in sweat, she knows she has to win.
Poised and calm, the nervousness is gone.
The crowd cheers. She doesn’t hear a sound.
Her heart beats steady, muscles ready.
Ding Ding.
The battle begins.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 
 
Written by George Farina

Thinking About The City

January 1st, 2022
Thinking About The City

Thinking about the city: Kids playing around a fire hydrant. Water rushes out. They’re smiling, laughing and joking. Others play stickball in the street. Fielders towards the bottom of the street chant, “a batta batta, a batta batta, swing batta”. A mother yells from her windowsill, “Time for dinner”. A kid puts down his stickball bat. Time for him to go in.
 
An older lady reels clothes in from a clothesline hung over the back alley of her apartment complex. The clothesline runs from the fifth story windowsill of a brick building on the other side of the alley to her windowsill. After unclipping her clothes, she folds them just inside her window, watching kids play outside.
 
A young couple sits on a fire escape overlooking the alley, talking, flirting, being young, enjoying life. Every once in a while he says something intriguing, she lets out a flirtatious giggle, lightly pushing her hands against his thick winter coat.
 
A man is closing his business, locking the inner door, pulling down a steel outer door covered in graffiti. A line of people wait to board a bus. A lady digs for change in her purse, stepping into the bus at the same time. Minutes later the bus takes off. A homeless lady pushes a cart down the sidewalk, wearing a thick yet torn up old coat. Her cart’s filled with bags, some clothes and cans.
 
Street lights and trees planted within the sidewalks are decorated with Christmas lights. Flashing neon signs light up storefronts. Display windows are filled with Christmas decorations. Pigeon’s peck at little bites of food near a diner.
 
A young woman talks on a payphone at the corner. She’s not paying attention to anything around her. She’s enjoying her conversation. She’s laughing. Her arms and hands move as she talks.
 
A cement building on the other side of the street is boarded up. The boards are covered in graffiti. Some boards are loose. A homeless person’s probably inside. The cold harsh realities of life most likely beat he or she down. Old, dust covered, partially rotten wooden planks as flooring. A candle for light. A cold can of beans for dinner. A dirty old blanket to keep warm. Yet, he or she is much happier sleeping in the abandon building than the streets.
 
A man in his late twenties rides his bike through the sidewalk, weaving in and out, and around those walking. He has a small radio. Hip hop plays. The music slowly fades. A lady stops at a hotdog cart on her way home from work. She skipped lunch. She’s starving, paying immediately, taking a bite before she’s given her change. She stands next to the cart, finishing her meal before hurrying home.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 
 
Written by George Farina

A Man Stands Outside his Apartment. A Lady Sits On A Bus Bench

January 1st, 2022

 

Two Heads Lay To Rest
 
A man stands outside his apartment. A pigeon nests on a nearby windowsill. The faint sound of a train in the distance is soothing. Someone down the street runs after a bus. A cassette tape turns inside a boombox. Street performers breakdance. Chicks wearing Wayfarers and Legwarmers watch. Rain drops slowly fall. Small, soft, calming raindrops. No one seems bothered. A lady sits on a bus bench, desirable, yet she sits alone.
 
Later at night, inside a nightclub the dance floor’s packed. He’s all alone, looking up, turning, yearning. Lights flash, spotlights, music blasts. Sudden warmth. Breasts against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his waist. Pressed together the music slows, moving to the sounds, hearts pound. Closing time, leaving hand and hand. Through the crowds, to the street into a small pizzeria to grab a bite to eat. Neither asks the other their name. The feelings of temptation are the same. Hours later, bodies drenched in sweat, two heads lay to rest.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 

 
Written by George Farina

Writing, Thoughts 2022, V2

January 1st, 2022
Writing, Thoughts 2022, V2

Walking in the ocean where the waves mesh with the sand. An early morning bike ride, stopping over a river, watching the fish jump out of the water. Wild horses running through a field. Art is beautiful. The art of war isn’t. Late nights, midnight snacks, flirtatious chats. Christmas lights in the city, ever so pretty. Bright stars, deep within the night sky. Lounging, holding another tight within your arms, held tight within another’s arms. Warm bodies. Kind words. Sensual scents. Heartbeats. Thriving, striving, alive, spontaneous, laughing, living, yearning, flirting. Long hair, summer dresses blowing lightly from a cool ocean breeze. Pedaling a bike through slow moving traffic on a busy city street. Messenger bags. Duffel bags, Leather shoulder strap purses.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 
 
Written by George Farina