Search This Blog

Monday, October 14, 2019

I Am the Unicorn, Goo goo g'joob

I dreamed that I was meeting my friend Tim in Pittsburgh. We were staying at some posh downtown hotel. I arrived first and was unpacking, sorting through my crap. While waiting for Tim I somehow A) transformed into a unicorn/centaur and B) got swept away by an evil wizard. EW Dude was NOT a big fan of unicorns or maybe it was just me.

How did he express his displeasure? By taking a big ass knife, carving me up – slicing off my forelegs and horn and turning me back into  mundane old human. ASSHOLIAN BASTID!

Next scene – I was back in my Pittsburgh hotel, covered in blood, clutching a damask tablecloth around my now naked (and bloody – did I mention that?) self. I was fine just royally pissed and kvetching loudly (to no-one and everyone in particular) as I climbed the crowded lobby’s sweeping staircase up to the second level ballroom.

What’s this tremendously unsettlingly odd – scary too – dream mean?  What does me being a unicorn/centaur symbolize and who the fuck is that knife wielding shit bag wizard. Must ponder this deeply....later.

Meanwhile, here have some foliage shots from our trip to Townsend yesterday. Also too. some very cool, evocative headstones from the old burial ground. The town's really cleaned the joint up since I was a kid. When me, Daddy and the Buechler's were here it was totally overgrown . We crawled under vines and fallen trees to make our rubbings. It was a forgotten place full of forgotten people. No longer. I miss the spooky air of mystery.

Sunday, October 13, 2019

Just What I Needed


FYI and shit, my promise to quit whining, just so’s we're clear and all, was ENTIRELY limited to the weather.

OK, ok…so maybe I’m tired of listening to my internal pissing and moaning about health issues. I’m sick to death (OK, not death but a good looooong nap in my cozy, warm bed with Coco on top of me and Ten by my side) of these endless daily issues – red eye, extra wonky balance, headaches and totally shit handwriting. Fuck, I can’t even scrawl my signature worth a damn lately. Also too, I STILL can't hear  Cool, Cool River or Clair de Lune. Dammit.

So, all I’ll say is this – I want to come back as a free floating sentient cloud. Hell, I wanna BE that cloud NOW! Not one of those pretty but lame-ass, wispy cirrus suckers either. I’ve got my eye on a sweet cumulus crib. Maybe I’d park myself, for a time – when I’m in the mood for company, in a pleasant, sociable alto or stratus bank.

I can always bitch about the Tangerine Treasonweasel and his crew of perfidious renfields but I’m worn out after reading Shower Cap’s latest brill wrap up. All I wanna know is this – will justice be served. I’d like my justice grilled (topped with a tart up-the-river sauce) and a side of fried slammer. For dessert? Congressional Republi/Fascist Flambé, of course.

Ya know, I’d be happy, thrilled even, if every last one of these slimy, on-the-take, traitorous fucks had every last nickel taken away to pay for their myriad crimes – starting with impersonating a public servant. They can get work as prossies (hey, they already have plenty of on-their-knees experience with the NRA and The Bubonic Boob) and cleaning outhouses at state fairs.

That dough can go toward feeding the poor, caring for the sick and elderly AND finding a cure for Nf2 and cancer (for starters).

Enough about those rat winkle sucking asswipes though. The sun’s come out FINALLY (we missed you, big guy). Coco, who usually spends the morning on my lap, has been glued to the front window, watching the show. Instead of hitting Nantasket for a dawn walkie, Ten and I decided we'll motor up to Townsend again. We’ll take a stroll through the old, OLD cemetery (rubbings here I come!), have lunch at the Townsend House or Cliff’s Cafe and, just generally, soak up the ambience of this happiest of childhood homes. Oh yeah and we’ll cruise some hot foliage too.

It’s gonna be a mellow day. Just what I need.
The view before my old pal Sol showed up

Saturday, October 12, 2019


I’m done whining about the weather. NO, really I am!  Tomorrow we're getting a wee break from the wall to wall wind and rain. Naturally, this means that Ten and I will head to Nantasket at dawn for a nice long walk. We’ll say hello to the sun, ask how it spent it’s looooong vaca away from us.

My exhaustion is beginning to fade thanks to the careful ministrations of Doctor Coco. Also too, Ten. He gets my ass outta bed, makes me step away from the computer and work and hauls me to the gym.

I've got enough energy to visit the library today. For the last few days or so I've been slogging my way through a book which I'd fully expected would hit all my feebed out wants and needs.
  • Escapism!
  • Fantasy!
  • Magic!
  • Warm witty banter and droll exposition!
and mebbe most important
  • Scary monsters/villains vanquished by the plucky heroine!!!
Ya know, a real ripping yarn. Did I get that? NO!

I've come to rely on Charlaine Harris. I count on her scribblings to buoy me through trying times. I curl up with one her stories and for the next hour or two I'm utterly engrossed in what up with Sookie Stackouse, Fiji Cavanaugh or any of her other wonderfully relateable protagonists.  Sadly, that wasn't the case with the latest, An Easy Death,

It had everything I thought I needed. What I hadn't anticipated was the tone – sad, downbeat and too damn much like real life with its fractured US  (Russia got the West coast). I believe I've now read ALL of Ms. Harris's books.This gives me a sad, dammit!

I KNOW that she and John Scalzi (my other go-to escapism author) are prolific wordsmiths BUT write more faster please!
"Closing your eyes isn't going to change anything. Nothing's going to disappear just because you can't see what's going on. In fact, things will even be worse the next time you open your eyes. That's the kind of world we live in. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won't make time stand still."
~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
True BUT if I stare into the scalding flames of brutal reality 24/7 I can't hope to remain sane. Also too, this is a short life – let's mix in some damn fun with all that hard work of survival and triumphing over evil doers and shit. 

Huh? Good idea, right? 
"There is nothing more to be said or to be done tonight, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellowmen.”
~ Arthur Conan Doyle, The Five Orange Pips 

Friday, October 11, 2019

Rainy Day Woman

 Summer's really over, eh?

The weather here in Valhalla has been wet, blustery, with temps hovering in the low 50s ALL WEEK. The first day of this decidedly un-summery, totes season-appropriate weather was wonderful actually. It felt like Mother Nature was heralding Autumns arrival. A reason to celebrate! Pumpkins appearing EVERYWHERE, toasty warm chowders and stews with bread fresh from the oven and, my big fave, hot toddies!

By the third straight day of wind strong enough to knock me over (OK, given my usual tippiness, that really doesn't take much), rain and chill, I sank into an abyss of melancholia. I worried about absolutely EVERYthing – shit I’ve no control over (like Preznint Psycho Shitheel’s dangerous imbecilities), shit I can control (paying those three bills sitting on my desk and WHY haven’t I written those checks yet?), shit I can affect BUT not control (my health which I can’t ultimately control BUT I can help it along with near daily trips to the gym and remaining mindful and responsive to changes).

Yesterday I did things to soothe my bean. I put the cozy, warm, fluffy duvet on the bed. I had a warm slice of Ten’s wonderful blueberry bread (normally I avoid bread like I avoid Republi/Fascists). I asked Jen to call my new cornea minder with my recent concerns. I wallowed in my slothiness by giving myself a day off from the gym.It was good.

What to do today? We’re in day four of this cold blowing wind and rain shit and there’s no relief in site. Every part of my being has been permeated by this wretched weather. It feels as though life will never be different…better

HOW can I lift my spirits up?

I’ll start by getting shit done. I WILL write out the checks for those damn big bills. I’m giving myself a day off from my red eye inducing prosthetic cornea (at least until I get word from Doc Jacobs). I’ll jump back in on those two recently begun paintings. I'll go to the library for some new reads. And I WILL hit the gym and hit it hard.

I’ve started scanning some happy headlines. It appears the Bloated Tangerine Mobster's chickens are coming home to roost. Has Prez Mushroom Winkle McTiny Dick finally jumped the Republi/Fascist shark? 

I have this inchoate splinter of hope. I need to kindle it. If the flame goes out, what’s left?
Rainy Day Women #12 and 35 – Bob Dylan

Thursday, October 10, 2019

Oz the Idiot

Not enough for President Spineless Treasonweasel to terrorize and torture the families of immigrants, he’s now moved on to betraying our allies, the Kurds.

They were fierce, effective fighters in the war against the Islamic State  – they paid in blood, fer Bast' sake. That, by the by is not a war that’s over and done no matter what Prez Shit for Brains says. Hells bells, even Lindsey Graham, who’s been sucking miniature mushroom wang since McCain croaked, knows that!

The Gargantuan Imbecile defends his decision to abandon the Kurds, saying, “They didn’t help us in the second World War, they didn’t help us with Normandy for example.” 


You know this…how? We’re all aware that you don’t read and barely listen. So I’m figuring you pulled this outta that capacious ass of yours. Ya know, same place you get the rest of your lies and delusions. WWII ended 74 years ago. 74! Live in the NOW, Weaselbean! Also too, that’d be an astoundingly petty point IF it weren’t so blindingly disingenuous.

I did a spit take when I read
the great and unmatched wisdom
tweet. Don’t suppose the cheap shit
 would pony up for a new monitor?
Nah, he needs all that dough
to pay off the mistresses, who
hope to take Melania’s place.
Oh and Fuckface von Stupid also doesn’t understand that his little saber rattling tweet is nothing but hilarious.
if Turkey does anything that I, in my great and unmatched wisdom, consider to be off limits, I will totally destroy and obliterate the Economy of Turkey (I’ve done before!).
What…once he’s done destroying the US economy, he’s gonna move on. He'll become president of Turkey and wipe out theirs? Also, “I’ve done before” – no man, c’mon…you know that ONLY happens in your bath-time fapping sessions – not in real life.

”great and unmatched wisdom?” Dude, you have GOT to come to grips with the fact that you're NOT fooling anyone with this ridiculous, laughable (IF you weren’t the prez) big guy talk – least of all your autocrat crushes.

Erdoğan, like every other damned dictator and aspiring dicktator, has your number. They ALL know you’ve got little boy crushes and raging hard ons for them all. The only people you’re snowing are the stupendously dimbulbed rubes. They’ll buy it but then, they believe Santa and his eight tiny reindeer are real.

While reading, I found an interesting connection.
Kurds have struggled to maintain their identity, often being referred to as "Mountain Turks" in Turkey, where they were forbidden to wear traditional Kurdish outfits or speak their language. They continue to face discrimination and policies of persecution. (source)
Sound familiar?

From the Museum of the American Indian website:
Families were often forced to send their children to these schools, where they were forbidden to speak their Native languages.
Indian boarding schools were founded to eliminate traditional American Indian ways of life and replace them with mainstream American culture.
The children were forced to cut their hair and give up their traditional clothing.
Trump and Erdoğan can dish about this on their next date. OOOO, look at all the torture and abuse we have in common!

Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Night Games

Well, it was bound to happen. I’ve slept so much lately that, this morning at precisely 1:35 I woke up and that was it for me and Slumberland.

I was dreaming about a man I used to work with.

Jeff started in the warehouse division – offloading paper and other printing supplies from delivery trucks. He stood out. He was smarter, more savvy, and personable than our usual warehouse hire.

I was always on the lookout for new talent. My big thought was, if you bring an inexperienced person in, train them, show ‘em the ropes and then promote from within, we’d end up with:
A) workers who did things the way we wanted them done right outta the box
B) employees with a stake, an investment in the company. if there’s a higher paying, more prestigious position, within the company, that they’ve a shot at, boy howdy, that’s incentive!
C) much lower turnover – turnover’s some expensive shit, mes amis.
Sadly, for me, the copy department snapped him up before I was able to lure him down to the pressroom (with the sexy promise of ink fumes and never having to deal with that nasty natural light again).

a small collection of Mutants
Jeff went on to become a supervisor at one of the company’s larger stores and, from there, jumped into a gig with a prominent local book publisher.

Jeff was a good buddy of TAB’s. They had a lot in common despite being 30 years apart. They’d both survived violently abysmal childhoods and the military (TAB in Nam with the Air Force and Jeff as Czech linguist with the army). They also shared a deep, deep love of baseball.

Back before TAB’s knees and back told him NO MORE OF THIS SHIT, BUCKO, he organized, not games so much as, baseball playdates. Teams weren’t formed – the folks who showed up just took turns batting, playing the out and/or infield and catcher. One constant, TAB was always the pitcher. He had one hell of a junkball. This organic "game" worked fab for everyone. They all had loads of fun (myself included).

Yes, this amorphous “team” had a name – The Cleveland Circle All-Star Mutants. Most of the Mutants showed up for TAB’s After Party (AKA his wake) – it was great to see them. Jeff was there.

I’ve no clue why he came into my dreams last night. We hadn’t kept in touch after he left the company and I left the Mutants (Saturdays in the ceramic studio was loudly demanding my attendance). Jeff and his wife moved out to the ‘burbs, had a few kids, bought a nice house – that’s all I know.

What the dream inspired in me though were thoughts of the countless people I’ve called friend over these long years. I’ve fallen out of contact with so many. No matter how much we would like to, it’s hard to keep up. Hard for any of us.. Life throws some vicious curve and junk balls at everyone.

I wanna know – How’s Holly? What up with Burne? Is Jean finally happy? What about Arnie? Phil? Is Mike still a Republican? Is Greg still making brill sculpture?

And then a painting idea, based on all these intersecting lives entered my bean. Stay tuned!

Night Game – Paul Simon

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Is this a cold I see before me?

You MAY have a cold if you posses:
  • Runny or stuffy nose
  • Sore throat
  • Cough
  • Congestion
  • Slight body aches or a mild headache
  • Sneezing
  • Low-grade fever
  • Generally feeling unwell (malaise)
I’m working my way through, what I think, is no more than a common cold. I fell into a three hour nap yesterday afternoon. I retired for the night at 6:30 and slept clean through to morning. But, but I’m not headachy (no more than usual anyway). My sinuses aren’t dammed up nor is my throat sore. I’ve been sneezing but this is seasonal allergy season, right? I’ve been coughing but that’s normal – I’m a chronic cougher.

I’ve got the generalized malaise down cold though – that and my forehead felt a smidge warm yesterday.

IS this a cold OR is this simply exhaustion. Would I treat them the same way? Rest?

I didn’t go to the gym yesterday (too busy sleeping) – would a session on the elliptical make me feel better or worse?

I consulted the Mayo Clinic site which advised:
Exercise is usually OK if your symptoms are all "above the neck." These signs and symptoms include those you may have with a common cold, such as a runny nose, nasal congestion, sneezing or minor sore throat.
OK cool BUT from this, it sounds like what I have is just good old fashioned exhaustion and the remedy is....dah, dah, duhhh...exercise. That feels all counter intuitive and shit but it ain’t.
SO, I’m off the Y where I’ll, post elliptical-ing, look into yoga classes.
Although almost any exercise is good, yoga may be especially effective for boosting energy. After six weeks of once-a-week yoga classes, volunteers in a British study reported improvements in clear-mindedness, energy, and confidence.

It’s never too late to try, either. University of Oregon researchers offered yoga instruction to 135 men and women ages 65 to 85. At the end of six months, participants reported an increased sense of well-being and a boost in overall energy.
A friend had given The Amazing Bob and I a “chair yoga” vid. I just couldn’t get into it. I think that’s entirely due to yoga, here in the good ol’ US of A, being the new, IN thing. Ten years ago, all these women I knew were becoming yoga instructors. It was like a hot, new religion. Like aerobics.

I’m totes suspish of any fitness craze that requires new workout togs.

BUT, if it’ll boost my energy levels I’ll give it a shot.

Also too, I already practice yoga breathing to help me chill and sleep and witnessed the bennies. Maybe, just maybe, the rest of this yoga shit will be helpful too.

“Just the usual. Aspirin, vitamin C, a shot of whiskey.” That last was my great aunt Maureen’s remedy for whatever ailed you. She usually came down with “something” once a week.”
~ Suzanne M. Trauth, Running Out of Time

Monday, October 7, 2019

Again and Again

Days since last mass shooting
If Republicans were sincere (HAH!) about gun violence being due to “mental illness” you’d think they’d be ALL over keeping guns out of the hands of violent nutters. They’d be all about getting help for the dangerously whack amongst us.

They’re not. In fact, just the opposite.
Republican-led legislatures tend to push through bills that make it easier to own and use firearms after a mass shooting, according to research from economists at Harvard Business School and UCLA. (source)
We all know that the Republi/Fascist Party’s lord and master is the NRA. What they want, they get from their bought and paid for congresscritters.
The best available evidence suggests two major National Rifle Association gun policy prescriptions — what are known as “stand your ground”self-defense laws and permissive concealed carry laws  — increase homicides and violent crime.
That is according to a massive new study by the RAND Corporation, an independent think tank. (source)
Saint Ronzo is at the heart of this. Just before Ronnie’s election President Carter signed the Mental Health Systems Act. This proposed the continuation of the federal community mental health centers program.
 It also included a provision for federal grants “for projects for the prevention of mental illness and the promotion of positive mental health,”
That was one of the first things Ray-gun ixnayed on entering the WH and then...
Two months after taking office, Reagan was shot at by John Hinckley, a man with untreated schizophrenia.  (source)
Karma, it’s gonna get’cha, get’cha, get’cha, eh?

Despite having a close call with death by a gun wielding crazy AND in the face of his friend and personal tax tipster’s two sons, BOTH developing schizophrenia (one committed suicide while the other committed matricide), he never changed his mental healthcare policy.

Reagan began his own decline into dementia WHILE IN OFFICE. Unlike us poor indigent schlubs, Ronzo had the big buckos to insure good, proper care once he slid into mental decline.

So, ya know, Nimrod Orange Nero isn’t our first mentally banjaxed Republi/Fascist prez – Ronnie beat him to the title and was a better actor too.

Now then, consider this – the Republi/Fascist Party is a bought and paid for subsidiary of the NRA who has, in turn, been working diligently, hand in hand to assist their old pal Vlad baby in tearing our country apart. What this says to me is that the Republican Party itself IS a Russian asset. It's not just Moscow Mitch.