Who are these silent strangers waiting for me to know who they are?

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

absolutely nothing

blah and blah. Everyday in every way, I am getting better and better. Hehe. Fuck Dairy! Hah! I find myself on this fine rainy morning feeling quite contrary and full of piss and vinegar. (and the stubborn remains of dairy proteins) I feel like a gun slinger waiting for a chance to prove I'm the top gun. Perhaps its a good day to pay bills. (note to self: Do not fucking swear at the fucking sheep brains that are following their fucking script). AND Playdom has somehow vaporized 15 of my gold. (It's just a game. . . it's just a game . . . it's just a game) So - not even kitties will calm this raging need to swear, stomp and . . . what else? I think I will go stack and chop wood. Then I'll pay bills. Then I'll knit. Hmmmmmm. A quick trip down crap gully might lift my mood cause laxatives and coffee do not go well together.(I could try some beer) That horse farm is looking better and better. The only thing is, I want to start my own village and populate it with people I choose. Damn! my sister is calling. I am now retreating into a brain fog as I answer the phone.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Ranting - why the hell not?

It was just like any other day, at least it was when I woke up this morning. I had forgotten to start the dishwasher before bed and so, I turned the dial as I walked through the kitchen on the way to my cigarettes. Cigarette in hand, I headed for the coffee. Shit! The carafe was in the dishwasher. Did I want instant? Only if there where no other choice or a loaded gun to my head. That’s when I made the fatal mistake of not removing the carafe instantly and beginning my day correctly. (a decision that haunted me) Instead, I had a tiny can of coke, puffed my camel and moved on to my next task. I was headed into the pit of hell to buy the only dairy free margarine to be had for miles around. It was unwise to enter Walmart at any time and doubly so without at least one cup of joe under my belt. But there I went, since Thanksgiving was in a couple of days and margarine is essential to stuffing. Once inside, I was on complete autopilot since my brain automatically abdicated the moment I walked through the sliding doors. I was assaulted by endless canned Christmas carols and cinnamon fragranced pine cones. Past the fresh produce, the frozen pizza’s and the screaming infant in meat department, I plodded. Got the green package of margarine and trying not to drool and twitch, I headed for the self check out. In line ahead of me was a VERY large man, in very large puce sweat pants, with an unwashed mullet and body odor that makes dead skunk at 100 degrees on freshly tarred asphalt a pleasant enjoyable experience. He was buying cheese whiz and beer. I kept my eyes averted and still my retina were seared beyond repair from the view of his plumber’s canyon oozing something green when he bent to grab his plastic bag. As I tried to swallow I watched his size 11 XX wide purpled feet in their iridescent flip-flops squelch away.
Outside, having survived the excursion into hell, I found Mr. Universe trying to wedge himself into a Toyota truck. There was a pale young man attempting to squeeze the right bum of Mt Fuji onto the seat without actually touching anything. Next to this scene was the lovely sight of dead deer tied to the roof of a minivan with a support tata’s bumper sticker.

Why the hell not? This is my question of the day. Why the hell not? You want fish and peanuts for Thanksgiving? Why the hell not. You prefer throwback pepsi to coke? Why the hell not. Want to radically change careers? Why the hell not. You want to dance naked on the back porch? Why the hell not. What have we got to lose? Let your brain go. Have an analysis holiday and pretend that reality doesn’t exist. Who needs it anyway? As long as you only break the law in your mind and nobody gets hurt, why the hell not!

If I want to sell everything I have and buy a horse ranch, why the hell not!? If I want to burn Bridges of Madison County in my fire pit and celebrate with a frozen Mike's lemonade, why the hell not? If I want to move somewhere that the median IQ is above 80, why the hell not!? If I want to get outside my comfort zone and enjoy it!!! why the hell not? I am ranting now and not really making much sense but I don’t care. Why am I always doing what I should do? I just want to do somethings that are just because. The more I let my imagination go, the crazier my ideas get. Eventually, I will come up with the in between and then . . . why the hell not.

Friday, November 18, 2011


It's very sad when I find that the few free minutes I have during the day were spent pointlessly clicking on the playdom button hoping that I could get in and play Gardens of Time. What's up with that? I definitely need a new distraction. I reluctantly picked up a few books and researched them. I brought in more wood for the fire. I folded laundry. I even went on Facebook for the first time in almost a year. I tried meditating (and fell asleep). So - poo!

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Distilled thoughts

Today I joined the ranks of West Virginia bootleggers as I distilled months of thoughts and emotions into a cup of liquid fire and drank it in one gulp. It’s best to get it over with, splutter and cough, and move on to the next project.
All in all, the summer was bitter sweet. It was filled with hopes, friends and precious moments, punctuated by moments of intense reclaimed baggage. It was over too soon and I left WI for WV feeling gypped.
The fall has been filled with frantic cleaning, inside and out. It seemed to pass by like fart in the wind. And here it is, almost winter at last. Time for a good hibernation. Well, maybe a brief snooze will do. Anyway. After distillation, the only thing worth aging like a fine wine is living, breathing souls. Friends, family, cats, and arguably, the nature around me. All the rest is just so much window dressing and clutter. The past helps mold who we are but does not define us. I am who I am but who will I become? That will be the next project.

when is it too much?

when is it too much

shared memories, laughs and sorrows
etched by virtue of common parents
unbreakable bonds some might say
no thought of eternal tomorrows
trapped and loosed at will
like weapons of mass destruction
upon the unsuspecting sibling