I'll have to make this a quick note, it's about time and the animals are restless. Even Black, the oldest cat in known space, threatening my keyboard. I try and move her, but she digs in. I tried to move he back to the sofa next to me, and she dug into the mousepad, sending it and my drink onto the floor. I guess this is a good sign I should feed them. Or pay the consequences. Either way, being a parent means paper towels.
O.K. kids fed. Mess cleaned up and all is well in the world of cats. Except, of course, I haven't cleaned their litter box yet, and it's getting pretty ripe. I just don't seem to have the energy anymore. But I'll find it. I always have, it just have to be the same way that I eat. Sneak up on it. It's been three days now, and I've managed to hold down some toast.
Valerie Carter, one of the best voices in the music business, wrote a song called "Oh So Happy," when she was rather famously being physicially abused. If a slight of a woman at a hundred pounds can do that, surely a two hundred pound man can. I sincerely believe that hope can survive, sometimes it's just so tough to find that I lose my way.
Well off to try and get the litter box.I may be able to do it without falling down. That's a plus, don't you think?
Yours from the ether.
Fearless Leader
The Virtues of hair dye
Saturday, March 27, 2010
More strange morniging tales
I swear, it's not even a quarter to three. Bubba goes off and then the little girl starts the same dance. She's been pretty much on a death bed watch most of the past couple of days. She lies with me, her head curled in my hand. Well, the one not holding a drink. I hold her. She's the only daughter I'll probably ever have. Back to the drink part. By this time of the morning, it is not always a wise move to piss off a man of my size. I swear to you, I could never harm my children. I've been there. It won't happen on my watch. I swear, I simply wouldn't let it. I'm going to have to feed the kids. They're going crazy, and Bubba is not a cat you can easily ignore.
O.K. The kids are fed. Salmon and tuna surprize in small, yet tasteful dishes. I had to take one in to the Tsarina in her chambers. She won't come into the kitchen to eat. She is royalty. I've gotten so used to this by now that I am past shock and awe. My own parents are quite dead. Hopefully their dissappointent with me died with them. I didn't mean to be what I became. Sorry. This is kind of a journal. I write what I'm thinking, and right now they're really not good thoughts.
Again. Sorry. Right now tears are running down my face and I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself. I don't mean to be weak, sometimes I just can't help it. It's not just my phsyical disabilites, it's the ones that are in what's left my mind.
So that said... Have your heard the one about the three rabbis and a sea lion in a bar in the castro, off Polk street.? So the sea lion waddles up and orders a draft. Well, you know the rest.
As always, my best from the ether.
O.K. The kids are fed. Salmon and tuna surprize in small, yet tasteful dishes. I had to take one in to the Tsarina in her chambers. She won't come into the kitchen to eat. She is royalty. I've gotten so used to this by now that I am past shock and awe. My own parents are quite dead. Hopefully their dissappointent with me died with them. I didn't mean to be what I became. Sorry. This is kind of a journal. I write what I'm thinking, and right now they're really not good thoughts.
Again. Sorry. Right now tears are running down my face and I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself. I don't mean to be weak, sometimes I just can't help it. It's not just my phsyical disabilites, it's the ones that are in what's left my mind.
So that said... Have your heard the one about the three rabbis and a sea lion in a bar in the castro, off Polk street.? So the sea lion waddles up and orders a draft. Well, you know the rest.
As always, my best from the ether.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Weird O'clock in the morning again
Was trying to write. Terri gives me the characters, and then I try and run with them. This one was hard. I had to cut down from three pages to one. It turned out this troubled character happened to be my childhood, and believe me, no one ever wants to hear about that. The story is safer now. Bubba helped out. When he desires to be fed, he is quite vocal, and walking about, on, and over the keyboard, is not a stretch. Maybe it's because I'm up all the time. It seems like he's on a four hour cycle. My eyes are open now Dad, feed me.
I did feed them, and Bubba promptly scarfed down ever bit of food he could get from his bowl, and the others, then he threw up on the arm of the love seat. Then he threw up in his cat bed. Need I go on? He's pretty calm now, he and Black are resting with me on the sofa and I'm looking for more paper towels. I've kind of got black fur bookends going on right now. Sometimes I'm rather thankful the Tsarina sleeps with Ter. There is a limit to the attention you can actually apreciate. Believe me here, Bubba is enough. There's not a book I've tried to read that he does not feel the need to sit on. There is no pillow big enough for the both of us. There is no light he can not find a way to cast a showdow. The throwing up thing? That's just a plus. He doesn't do that normally, which worries me to a degree. His eyes are clear, and his nose is cold. Take it as pure gospel that I am not going to do a rectal thermometer on a creature his size. Trying to get a cat to swallow a pill is enough. Bubba is a force of nature. If I even tried that, he'd shove it up my ass. And trust me, he could do it. That's my boy.
When I'm not writing in the slash zone, I am keeping up with the rich characters in my fantasy life, but as I said, this is not for publication. When I die, my last act will be to hit "delete."
From the ether with respect.
I did feed them, and Bubba promptly scarfed down ever bit of food he could get from his bowl, and the others, then he threw up on the arm of the love seat. Then he threw up in his cat bed. Need I go on? He's pretty calm now, he and Black are resting with me on the sofa and I'm looking for more paper towels. I've kind of got black fur bookends going on right now. Sometimes I'm rather thankful the Tsarina sleeps with Ter. There is a limit to the attention you can actually apreciate. Believe me here, Bubba is enough. There's not a book I've tried to read that he does not feel the need to sit on. There is no pillow big enough for the both of us. There is no light he can not find a way to cast a showdow. The throwing up thing? That's just a plus. He doesn't do that normally, which worries me to a degree. His eyes are clear, and his nose is cold. Take it as pure gospel that I am not going to do a rectal thermometer on a creature his size. Trying to get a cat to swallow a pill is enough. Bubba is a force of nature. If I even tried that, he'd shove it up my ass. And trust me, he could do it. That's my boy.
When I'm not writing in the slash zone, I am keeping up with the rich characters in my fantasy life, but as I said, this is not for publication. When I die, my last act will be to hit "delete."
From the ether with respect.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Watching TV
O.K. so fine, I'm watching the Ellen show. I've mentioned this in previous posts, but seriously, Jackie Chan should kick my ass, not sing to me. I mean, I admire the man, he is a literal force of nature, but if he's going to sing to me with a horrible accent, he'd better have a fucking ring to put on my finger. Good Goddess, I'm such a bitch. Sorry, I can't help it. Do you remember the line from "Annie Hall," where Diane Keaton says, "I hate actresses who sing?" That just cracked me up. She has a very legitiment voice, and she just played with it. So cool, but then again, I'm easy to please.
Just fed the kids, not a small undertaking. I honestly think Bubba was put on this earth just to punish me. There can be no other explanation. My speedometer is like on zero now, I don't have the energy to put up with a cat who is half as tall as I am screaming for his food. Really. If you haven't been up here, you haven't seen this. Bubba is so tall, he can take the bowls off the counter when you're trying to spoon out the food. I understand the concept of a "rescue cat' but I can't understand how I came home with a 'rescue puma." He's my boy though, and I love him, but GodDamn, he can try all patience at times.
I still haven't cut my hair. The tree trimmer is charged and all I have to do is pick it up. I swear I will though. Every time I cut my hair or shave my beard, I clog my sink. Who'd think a balding man could have this much hair? I generally put a used towel over the sink, and then shake it out in the backyard. I can't even imagine what the neighbors might think, not to mention the gardener, who's probably coming to grips with two pounds of hair in his mower. He's Hispanic, he probably thinks every time he comes that when he comes into the back yard, he's either got to cover up the evidence, or run for the border. I jest, I like our gardener. I bought him a bottle of good scotch. Hey, come on, I couldn't very well buy him Tequilla, I have some sense. He probably doesn't even like scotch, shit happens. I must say, he's seen me naked more than almost anyone. We have some shrubs in the back yard, right outside my window. During warm weather, which happens, I leave the drapes open and the window too. You can see were I'm going here. He was triming the bushes about four feet away from me, and he caught me with some morning wood. He just tapped on the window and said, "Fine morning," I think that was in incredibly good taste.
Oh heavens. I still haven't cut my hair. It's coming on five now, and Ter will be home soon and I'll try and find a way to cook dinner with what be have in the house,
I don't even know where I am in the ether right now, but my best to all.
Just fed the kids, not a small undertaking. I honestly think Bubba was put on this earth just to punish me. There can be no other explanation. My speedometer is like on zero now, I don't have the energy to put up with a cat who is half as tall as I am screaming for his food. Really. If you haven't been up here, you haven't seen this. Bubba is so tall, he can take the bowls off the counter when you're trying to spoon out the food. I understand the concept of a "rescue cat' but I can't understand how I came home with a 'rescue puma." He's my boy though, and I love him, but GodDamn, he can try all patience at times.
I still haven't cut my hair. The tree trimmer is charged and all I have to do is pick it up. I swear I will though. Every time I cut my hair or shave my beard, I clog my sink. Who'd think a balding man could have this much hair? I generally put a used towel over the sink, and then shake it out in the backyard. I can't even imagine what the neighbors might think, not to mention the gardener, who's probably coming to grips with two pounds of hair in his mower. He's Hispanic, he probably thinks every time he comes that when he comes into the back yard, he's either got to cover up the evidence, or run for the border. I jest, I like our gardener. I bought him a bottle of good scotch. Hey, come on, I couldn't very well buy him Tequilla, I have some sense. He probably doesn't even like scotch, shit happens. I must say, he's seen me naked more than almost anyone. We have some shrubs in the back yard, right outside my window. During warm weather, which happens, I leave the drapes open and the window too. You can see were I'm going here. He was triming the bushes about four feet away from me, and he caught me with some morning wood. He just tapped on the window and said, "Fine morning," I think that was in incredibly good taste.
Oh heavens. I still haven't cut my hair. It's coming on five now, and Ter will be home soon and I'll try and find a way to cook dinner with what be have in the house,
I don't even know where I am in the ether right now, but my best to all.
I have got to cut my hair
It may just be coming with advanced age, but my hair, once a source of wonderful curls and body, now grows out like Einstein's. You know that great shot of him with the shock hair that looks like he'd been hit with a taser gun? I'm begining to look more and more like this. I got up from a nap on the sofa and went into the bathroom to eliminate some water and scared the hell out of myself when I looked in the mirror. Come to think of it, maybe I should just keep this look. It's a great diet tool, and virtually insures you'll never have unsafe sex. Any sex for that matter. It's quite a feat to be able to cruise porn on the internet and be so repulsed by yourself that you can't even masterbate. I just don't have the energy to keep it up anymore, and you can read that any way you want.
My friend Alan, being of the professorial nature at SDSU, is going on spring break soon and a road trip has been discussed. One minor flaw has arisen however. The right motor mount blew on his car. This is an occasion which does not happen very often. So rarely in fact that the dealership does not even carry the part. I don't know whether to feel sorry for him, or just applaud. I mean really. I've had what, maybe thirty cars in my life, and that's a new one to me. I've blown engines, exhaust systems, and one I just frankly blew up entirely, but I've never lost a motor mount. I think we're still talking about a short road trip when the sled dogs get the replacement part down here from Canada. Why would Canada be the only source of Japanese car parts? I'm just asking. Has our neighbor to the north become an acquisition of the east? Again, I'm just asking.
Black, the oldest cat in known space, turned 27 last week. I remember when we got her. She was just this little ball of fur in a box full of kittens one of the secretaries brought into the office hoping to find homes for. We took two. Demon is no longer with us, but I'm begining to believe that Black is immortal. It's tough losing your kids, but I'm having serious thoughts that she will outlive me. What actually do you put in your will making plans for a 200 year old cat? I've got a couple of great pictures of her falling asleep in her water dish. I should probably post one, but I'm afraid animal activists would be all over my ass, and my ass isn't big enough to carry much weight anymore. She's not drowning or anything, she just falls asleep mid-lick. It's really quite hysterical. She's still got her voice though. When people call she sounds off on the phone so loudly that strangers think I'm beating my children. I can't tell you how many marketing and survey callers she has terrified. "Are you between the age of 50 and 70? Yes. (insert Black screaming) Do you have any children? Yes. (insert Black screaming some more) Do you need to pick up that baby? She doesn't sound too happy". "She likes it rough," I respond. This is generally followed by an audible gasp and the clicking of the phone being disconnected. I wonder if any of my responses are ever taken down. Sad if they're not, I'm an excellent person to survey, I have a wealth and breadth of endless trivia that would make the manufacturers of Trivial Pursuit weep.
You know the sad thing about these bloging posts, they really do no not have a spell check function. You get me naked and raw, with all the flaws built right in. Please forgive me if I've misspelled something, or stepped on my dick gramatically (I do that too).
Yours from the ether.
My friend Alan, being of the professorial nature at SDSU, is going on spring break soon and a road trip has been discussed. One minor flaw has arisen however. The right motor mount blew on his car. This is an occasion which does not happen very often. So rarely in fact that the dealership does not even carry the part. I don't know whether to feel sorry for him, or just applaud. I mean really. I've had what, maybe thirty cars in my life, and that's a new one to me. I've blown engines, exhaust systems, and one I just frankly blew up entirely, but I've never lost a motor mount. I think we're still talking about a short road trip when the sled dogs get the replacement part down here from Canada. Why would Canada be the only source of Japanese car parts? I'm just asking. Has our neighbor to the north become an acquisition of the east? Again, I'm just asking.
Black, the oldest cat in known space, turned 27 last week. I remember when we got her. She was just this little ball of fur in a box full of kittens one of the secretaries brought into the office hoping to find homes for. We took two. Demon is no longer with us, but I'm begining to believe that Black is immortal. It's tough losing your kids, but I'm having serious thoughts that she will outlive me. What actually do you put in your will making plans for a 200 year old cat? I've got a couple of great pictures of her falling asleep in her water dish. I should probably post one, but I'm afraid animal activists would be all over my ass, and my ass isn't big enough to carry much weight anymore. She's not drowning or anything, she just falls asleep mid-lick. It's really quite hysterical. She's still got her voice though. When people call she sounds off on the phone so loudly that strangers think I'm beating my children. I can't tell you how many marketing and survey callers she has terrified. "Are you between the age of 50 and 70? Yes. (insert Black screaming) Do you have any children? Yes. (insert Black screaming some more) Do you need to pick up that baby? She doesn't sound too happy". "She likes it rough," I respond. This is generally followed by an audible gasp and the clicking of the phone being disconnected. I wonder if any of my responses are ever taken down. Sad if they're not, I'm an excellent person to survey, I have a wealth and breadth of endless trivia that would make the manufacturers of Trivial Pursuit weep.
You know the sad thing about these bloging posts, they really do no not have a spell check function. You get me naked and raw, with all the flaws built right in. Please forgive me if I've misspelled something, or stepped on my dick gramatically (I do that too).
Yours from the ether.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Catch up again, or is it ketchup
Been off line for a bit. Seems I'm not as strong as I used to be. Then again, maybe I'm just so funny that I amuse myself and don't want to share. Or perhaps I'm just going crazy again. That happens a lot. Regardless, I will write something here and now. I have actually been writing. Things I'll probably never share with anyone. Oh get your mind out of the gutter, not those type of things. Do you know, in my rich fantasy life I have kids, and I love them. I'm actually more maternal than paternal, its just that all of our kids have four feet. Given the way I grew up, I'm surprized I'm even entertaining having children now in my thoughts. Maybe it just comes to you when you can't do it anymore. Truth be told, my dad was about my age when he had his first and only son, but I'm a little off my game these days. Of course mom was in her thirties then, and already proven fertile. I have a couple of prized photos that stick with me. My older sister, who I had rather a tremoulus with relationship at best, was taking a 'cheesecake' type of swim suit photo for her husband, who was serving in Vietnam. Betty Grable type of shot. She was a beautiful woman who died tragically, but that seems to run in our family. But getting back to the point, she got my mom to put on a swimsuit for a photo also. Mind you, mom was only 36 at the time, and she was not an uncomly woman, but the shots from this photo series still stick with me. Mom, if she were still alive, would be very upset with me for bringing these photos up in print, but they were not that bad. I loved my sister, with as much passion as she hated me. We had a difficult relationship at times. I'm not the easiest person to love in a Morman family. Religion has always been strange to me. I've always thought you should treat people like you would want to be treated, and the rest just falls into place. I think the "good book" says that in there somewhere. I jest.
I'm watching the "Ellen" show as I write this. She has Gerard Butler on. This is totally spooky to me. Who do I want more? The incredibly (and I mean incredibly) hot man, or the unobtainable lesbian? Believe it or not, these are the thoughts that go through my head. Do I need to say again why I was so popular in a Morman family? Times past. and I mean really past, I could be very easy. Gender has nothing to do with it. To everyone who reads this; it's not the wrapping, it's the gift. Love is a lifeboat, you want to take on as many as you can.
Oh now I'm getting all preachy. At least I'm honest. I won't tell you about the bible while I'm busily feeding barbituates to a young accolate behind my wife's back. All right, maybe I would, but I'd tell you about it. I firmly believe that honesty is the best policy. Ask me anything. I'll probably answer in ways you don't want to hear.
My best to you from the ether.
I'm watching the "Ellen" show as I write this. She has Gerard Butler on. This is totally spooky to me. Who do I want more? The incredibly (and I mean incredibly) hot man, or the unobtainable lesbian? Believe it or not, these are the thoughts that go through my head. Do I need to say again why I was so popular in a Morman family? Times past. and I mean really past, I could be very easy. Gender has nothing to do with it. To everyone who reads this; it's not the wrapping, it's the gift. Love is a lifeboat, you want to take on as many as you can.
Oh now I'm getting all preachy. At least I'm honest. I won't tell you about the bible while I'm busily feeding barbituates to a young accolate behind my wife's back. All right, maybe I would, but I'd tell you about it. I firmly believe that honesty is the best policy. Ask me anything. I'll probably answer in ways you don't want to hear.
My best to you from the ether.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Another fail
O.K., So I don't sleep. That doesn't make me a bad person, does it? Or at least only sleep for short periods when it is inappropriate to do so. I still only shut my eyes for an hour or so at a time, but it is my firm belief that it is like farting. It's just your body's way of letting out the snores that would otherwise build up until you explode like a rusty steam boiler. A "red zone" relief valve as it were when the rest of your systems can't get your flow regulated.
Funny that, now that I think about it. Most people tend to anthrophomoralize their pets into people, and all I can do is equate myself to a machine. (Or a broken watch, or leaky dishwasher, or...well you get my drift. The truth is they're all damaged goods.)
I think I'll watch another movie until it's time to take out the trash. Or. If I was a snob, I could say I'll have a glass of fine cabernet' and view cinema, but let's not kid ourselves, I'm not much for wine. I'll probably just finish off the coffee I made for Ter earlier. I hate seeing a cup or two go to waste every day and I never know when she's going to arise and how much she will need, so I make nearly a full pot every morning. A tip here. When you have to take pills every morning, taking them with coffee seems to make them dissolve more easily. The instructions say to take with lots of water, but heck, what do they know? They just sell the damn things, I'm the one that takes them. Back in the olden days, when I was just a wee little schizophrenic paranoid psychotic, I worked at the Garden Shop on the base in Pt. Loma and it would always amaze me how the Lt. Commanders and such would come in and start asking me highly technical questions about the lawn mowers and such. I think it is a superiority thing. I was a minimum wage worker and my response was pretty much the same as above. I don't build the motherfuckers, I just sell them. Here's a Goddamn manual, read it yourself. I was so loved there. It's amazing I lasted a year and a half. Come to think of it though, Ter worked on the base also and my boss had been trying to get into her panties for quite some time. Maybe he kept me on so he could take out his frustrations by being rude to me, or just a way to think that he still had some control over her life. Just a thought. Men are such assholes.
My next book. "Psychology for Dummies. Understanding human nature by getting kicked in the teeth with it." Catchy? What do you think? I think I've got a best seller here. After that one hits the charts, I follow with "Poverty for Dummies. It's easy just do nothing." I could follow that with "Urinating for Dummies, A guide for men pushing 60. (That one's easy. Just give it up and sit down. Your flow is going to be irregular and as soon as you tuck it back in your pants, you're just going to dribble anyway and leave a big wet patch on the crotch of your trousers.) I think I'm on to something here. Real self-help books for real people. Gosh, maybe I'll get to meet Oprah!
Yours, unstable, from the ether.
Funny that, now that I think about it. Most people tend to anthrophomoralize their pets into people, and all I can do is equate myself to a machine. (Or a broken watch, or leaky dishwasher, or...well you get my drift. The truth is they're all damaged goods.)
I think I'll watch another movie until it's time to take out the trash. Or. If I was a snob, I could say I'll have a glass of fine cabernet' and view cinema, but let's not kid ourselves, I'm not much for wine. I'll probably just finish off the coffee I made for Ter earlier. I hate seeing a cup or two go to waste every day and I never know when she's going to arise and how much she will need, so I make nearly a full pot every morning. A tip here. When you have to take pills every morning, taking them with coffee seems to make them dissolve more easily. The instructions say to take with lots of water, but heck, what do they know? They just sell the damn things, I'm the one that takes them. Back in the olden days, when I was just a wee little schizophrenic paranoid psychotic, I worked at the Garden Shop on the base in Pt. Loma and it would always amaze me how the Lt. Commanders and such would come in and start asking me highly technical questions about the lawn mowers and such. I think it is a superiority thing. I was a minimum wage worker and my response was pretty much the same as above. I don't build the motherfuckers, I just sell them. Here's a Goddamn manual, read it yourself. I was so loved there. It's amazing I lasted a year and a half. Come to think of it though, Ter worked on the base also and my boss had been trying to get into her panties for quite some time. Maybe he kept me on so he could take out his frustrations by being rude to me, or just a way to think that he still had some control over her life. Just a thought. Men are such assholes.
My next book. "Psychology for Dummies. Understanding human nature by getting kicked in the teeth with it." Catchy? What do you think? I think I've got a best seller here. After that one hits the charts, I follow with "Poverty for Dummies. It's easy just do nothing." I could follow that with "Urinating for Dummies, A guide for men pushing 60. (That one's easy. Just give it up and sit down. Your flow is going to be irregular and as soon as you tuck it back in your pants, you're just going to dribble anyway and leave a big wet patch on the crotch of your trousers.) I think I'm on to something here. Real self-help books for real people. Gosh, maybe I'll get to meet Oprah!
Yours, unstable, from the ether.
Nice try
I was beat this evening, so I thought I would lie down and finish the book I've been reading, and drop off to sleep. I can only do this on the sofa, mind you. When I go to bed with a book I just read until it's time to get out and feed the kids. On the sofa, which is thankfully a full size thing and long enough for my frame, I can stretch out and generally will nod off after 30 minutes or so. Tonight, however Morpheus eludes me. I will try and find another book, I guess, but I thought I'd jot something down here first. I have a minor theory about why I can sleep on the sofa and not in bed. I think if I go to sleep in my bed, I risk dreaming. When I'm in the living room with a light on, or the TV in the background, I can relax easier because there is something to distract me from my thoughts. If I can't find a book, I'll just put the headphones on and watch a video. I've really learned that no matter how much my body wants rest, my mind is a pretty active little sucker, and is a brutal judge of character. I need to be thinking about something to trick it into being active on something other than internal perils. Normally, and logically, you'd think the best thing to do is watch a movie so many times that it is in itself somnambulatory. In my case, I find that if it is a new release which I've been waiting to see, I can drop off halfway through the video. I think this supports my theory that the greater the involvement with any outside stimulus, the easier it is for my body to take over and shut down for an hour or so. How do I apply for a grant for this study? It would sure help, and heavens know I've got the time.
I have other theories about why I've become the creature that I am today, but they are even more depressing than the last one, so I'll spare you. For now, anyway. Tune in next week.
I had one entertaining moment this morning when I logged on and looked at my e-mail. I've never really been one to write little notes like, "We're here and having a great time," or things like that. But it's entertaining that a friend I've known since High School that I have kept in contact with regularly, in the seeming amazment that eludes even me, has read all of my correspondence in these past years somehow did not register the fact that I have been out of work for years and have absolutely no resources whatsoever, e-mailed me with an urgent request to loan her 2,500 Pounds. (She's in the U.K. right now.) So. Let me get this straight...You want me to wire you about 4,000 Dollars and you'll pay me back as soon as you return to the States? I suppose I could sell an organ if I had any that were still functioning. In that my renal system is shutting down, a kidney is right out. A lung is totally out of the question, as it would be my very last charitable act. Liver calving? Oh yeah, that's a good one. I suppose I could do without my cock and balls, they're not being used for anything anyway, but they'd have to find a black man to graft them on to. (I joke, I joke.) Anyway, I just found that request hysterical. I wish her the very best of luck, but honestly, she'd be better off throwing a shilling in a fountain and making a wish.
O.K. I think I have found just the right video. Hopefully, Good Night from the ether.
I have other theories about why I've become the creature that I am today, but they are even more depressing than the last one, so I'll spare you. For now, anyway. Tune in next week.
I had one entertaining moment this morning when I logged on and looked at my e-mail. I've never really been one to write little notes like, "We're here and having a great time," or things like that. But it's entertaining that a friend I've known since High School that I have kept in contact with regularly, in the seeming amazment that eludes even me, has read all of my correspondence in these past years somehow did not register the fact that I have been out of work for years and have absolutely no resources whatsoever, e-mailed me with an urgent request to loan her 2,500 Pounds. (She's in the U.K. right now.) So. Let me get this straight...You want me to wire you about 4,000 Dollars and you'll pay me back as soon as you return to the States? I suppose I could sell an organ if I had any that were still functioning. In that my renal system is shutting down, a kidney is right out. A lung is totally out of the question, as it would be my very last charitable act. Liver calving? Oh yeah, that's a good one. I suppose I could do without my cock and balls, they're not being used for anything anyway, but they'd have to find a black man to graft them on to. (I joke, I joke.) Anyway, I just found that request hysterical. I wish her the very best of luck, but honestly, she'd be better off throwing a shilling in a fountain and making a wish.
O.K. I think I have found just the right video. Hopefully, Good Night from the ether.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Back in the saddle, sort of.
Hey folks. I know it's been awhile since I posted anything, but I just got back in the States from Paris, and boy, is my passport tired; I've been at Berlitz studying Russian languages; While practicing for my concert at Carnegie Hall, the lid on the piano fell on my hands; My Bentley needed repairs and I had to go to Crewe in the U.K. to get the right part; I've been in the hospital since that unfortunate blowfish tasting contest; O.K. the field was muddy, the sun was in my eyes, and the ball took a bad bounce.
Seriously, I've just been depressed. I had a good manic phase going for about three days, and am paying for it with ten days of low both physically and mentally. Used to be the mood swings would kind of balance out. now it seems the ratios are changing on me and for every good day, I get three shitty days in return. It makes planning in advance a real chore, as I never know who I am going to be on the date in question. It's like I'm the wheel you spin when you're playing the board game, "Life." Never know. "Sure, I'm up for that," often turns out to be a day when I am collapsed on the couch and taking my precious supply of vocodin because my chest pains will simply not go away.
I was going to add another category to the excuses in the first paragraph, but it was in poor taste. You know right there, if I think it was in poor taste, it must be really in poor taste. Managed to get to Costco, and some stores and things this weekend, but not much more. I'm going to have to kick myself in the ass and get moving tomorrow. There is just too much that needs to be done about the house. On the good side though, I've been catching up on all the TV shows I've missed for one reason or another. Apparently I managed to miss two Wanda Sykes shows, but they are readily available online. Missed a CSI also, and that is rare, but not to fear, I am up to date now, and ready for the trivia quiz. Since my viewing tastes run from the sublime, to the ridiculous, to the downright soapy, I am rarely at a loss to view shows online. One question though. Have you ever been in a hospital where all the staff is sleeping with each other, fighting romantic triangles and emoting bravely as they come in to take your temperature? Who writes this shit? And yet, I watch it all the same. To me the so called "Reality" shows on TV can barely compare with the stuff you see on these real, honest to god, big budget network hit shows. Who wants to see overweight people lose weight when you can hang in the balance between doctors cheating on the wives, the nurses, the wife's nurses, first year residents, or an occasional lesbian, just for the heck of it? I don't get reality shows at all.
Well. That's enough for me right now.
My best from the ether.
Seriously, I've just been depressed. I had a good manic phase going for about three days, and am paying for it with ten days of low both physically and mentally. Used to be the mood swings would kind of balance out. now it seems the ratios are changing on me and for every good day, I get three shitty days in return. It makes planning in advance a real chore, as I never know who I am going to be on the date in question. It's like I'm the wheel you spin when you're playing the board game, "Life." Never know. "Sure, I'm up for that," often turns out to be a day when I am collapsed on the couch and taking my precious supply of vocodin because my chest pains will simply not go away.
I was going to add another category to the excuses in the first paragraph, but it was in poor taste. You know right there, if I think it was in poor taste, it must be really in poor taste. Managed to get to Costco, and some stores and things this weekend, but not much more. I'm going to have to kick myself in the ass and get moving tomorrow. There is just too much that needs to be done about the house. On the good side though, I've been catching up on all the TV shows I've missed for one reason or another. Apparently I managed to miss two Wanda Sykes shows, but they are readily available online. Missed a CSI also, and that is rare, but not to fear, I am up to date now, and ready for the trivia quiz. Since my viewing tastes run from the sublime, to the ridiculous, to the downright soapy, I am rarely at a loss to view shows online. One question though. Have you ever been in a hospital where all the staff is sleeping with each other, fighting romantic triangles and emoting bravely as they come in to take your temperature? Who writes this shit? And yet, I watch it all the same. To me the so called "Reality" shows on TV can barely compare with the stuff you see on these real, honest to god, big budget network hit shows. Who wants to see overweight people lose weight when you can hang in the balance between doctors cheating on the wives, the nurses, the wife's nurses, first year residents, or an occasional lesbian, just for the heck of it? I don't get reality shows at all.
Well. That's enough for me right now.
My best from the ether.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Brief Launch
You know. Like the test rockets that misfire or explode? I've grown up rather used to this.
My cat, Black, the oldest cat in known space, fell asleep with her head in the water cup. I didn't notice at first, but after an hour, I became somewhat worried. I've been used to her sleeping at odd hours and not taking care of her appearance anymore. She takes after me. I used to wonder about why she hits the water so often, then I realized that I am rarely without a drink in my hand. Your kids pick up on you. She's resting quietly now. I accquired her in March of 1985. She's like 200 years old now. I'm pushing 60, and sometimes I don't even try anymore. Sure. I make the moves. I pretend to be living, but it's just a sham. Water, Litter box, Eat, Sleep. Strangely enough, I get behind that. There are times, and I'm sorry to admit it, that when I am taken by the need to get up and go during the night, I have looked at the litter box in my bedroom more than once. No don't start. I have never done this. I'm just saying.
Been going crazy on Facebook and Twitter. So much you can say to people who have never met you. Sorry, I should go Southern here, to people who have yet the pleasure of meeting you in person. I follow a lot of people in these sites. It gets from the sublime to the ridiculous. Paris Hilton (belated congrats to your dad on his birthday yesterday), to President Obama. Funny thing. Conrad Hilton just had a birthday. Anybody know our sitting President's birthday? I don't. I"m thinking he is probably a Libra or Sagitarious. Don't know. Orly Taitze, another person on my Red Dress list probably would, but she would deny that he was actually born of a human mother. Do I love this bitch? Yeah, get us in same room together. She is to me the "Other White Meat."
Does that sound harsh? I didn't mean it that way. Would I use her thigh bones to rub against Newt's to start a fire in a post-apocolypstic world. Yeah, In the skull of Karl Rove. That one's pretty much a given. Assholes like you are driving us here, you are moving us to a bad place, and you are speeding. Again. Maybe a bit harsh. Apollogies again. I don't mean these horrible things to happen to people who pretend to be public servants, Really. I don't. Did any one see that incredible farce of Sarah Palin on the Tonight Show, now that Jay is back in the chair? What a difference. Did you see how the audience reacted to her lame attempts at comlaints against the current administration? Where did he stack this audience from? Could she try that on the Daily Show? Stewart would have eaten her alive. Colbert would have eaten her alive. Anybody outside of Fox News would have eater her alive. You've never see Ms. Palin talking to Rachel Maddow, she wouldn't eat her alive, she would quietly and calmly eviserate her. Sorry Jay. You fucked up dude. Any sane human being would probably have set the stage on fire. But your audience applauded instead. Are you happy, Asshole? Further putting a public stage to a woman that is a danger to us all? Are you as happy as a 15 year old runaway who's sucking dicks on Hollwood Boulevard just to get through the day? Are you happy that you can pander to persons who are dangerous, just for the ratings? Are you happy? I always admired you. you're a car guy, and I can get behind that. You've crossed a line here dude. I thought I'd sucked some dicks in my time, but I bow to you. You are the new master.
That's probably enough venom from the ether now. I won't sleep, but I'll be thinking of each and every one of you. Think about that.
My cat, Black, the oldest cat in known space, fell asleep with her head in the water cup. I didn't notice at first, but after an hour, I became somewhat worried. I've been used to her sleeping at odd hours and not taking care of her appearance anymore. She takes after me. I used to wonder about why she hits the water so often, then I realized that I am rarely without a drink in my hand. Your kids pick up on you. She's resting quietly now. I accquired her in March of 1985. She's like 200 years old now. I'm pushing 60, and sometimes I don't even try anymore. Sure. I make the moves. I pretend to be living, but it's just a sham. Water, Litter box, Eat, Sleep. Strangely enough, I get behind that. There are times, and I'm sorry to admit it, that when I am taken by the need to get up and go during the night, I have looked at the litter box in my bedroom more than once. No don't start. I have never done this. I'm just saying.
Been going crazy on Facebook and Twitter. So much you can say to people who have never met you. Sorry, I should go Southern here, to people who have yet the pleasure of meeting you in person. I follow a lot of people in these sites. It gets from the sublime to the ridiculous. Paris Hilton (belated congrats to your dad on his birthday yesterday), to President Obama. Funny thing. Conrad Hilton just had a birthday. Anybody know our sitting President's birthday? I don't. I"m thinking he is probably a Libra or Sagitarious. Don't know. Orly Taitze, another person on my Red Dress list probably would, but she would deny that he was actually born of a human mother. Do I love this bitch? Yeah, get us in same room together. She is to me the "Other White Meat."
Does that sound harsh? I didn't mean it that way. Would I use her thigh bones to rub against Newt's to start a fire in a post-apocolypstic world. Yeah, In the skull of Karl Rove. That one's pretty much a given. Assholes like you are driving us here, you are moving us to a bad place, and you are speeding. Again. Maybe a bit harsh. Apollogies again. I don't mean these horrible things to happen to people who pretend to be public servants, Really. I don't. Did any one see that incredible farce of Sarah Palin on the Tonight Show, now that Jay is back in the chair? What a difference. Did you see how the audience reacted to her lame attempts at comlaints against the current administration? Where did he stack this audience from? Could she try that on the Daily Show? Stewart would have eaten her alive. Colbert would have eaten her alive. Anybody outside of Fox News would have eater her alive. You've never see Ms. Palin talking to Rachel Maddow, she wouldn't eat her alive, she would quietly and calmly eviserate her. Sorry Jay. You fucked up dude. Any sane human being would probably have set the stage on fire. But your audience applauded instead. Are you happy, Asshole? Further putting a public stage to a woman that is a danger to us all? Are you as happy as a 15 year old runaway who's sucking dicks on Hollwood Boulevard just to get through the day? Are you happy that you can pander to persons who are dangerous, just for the ratings? Are you happy? I always admired you. you're a car guy, and I can get behind that. You've crossed a line here dude. I thought I'd sucked some dicks in my time, but I bow to you. You are the new master.
That's probably enough venom from the ether now. I won't sleep, but I'll be thinking of each and every one of you. Think about that.
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