Reading

Anyone besides me like Studs Terkel’s writing?

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“The creak of bed springs suffering under the weight of a restless man is as lonely a sound as I know.”
― Patrick deWitt from his book The Sisters Brothers
The Sisters Brothers will be my next reread. A very good western.

Tuesday!

Sunday du jour

Much rain and some flooding across Tennessee. Even though I live atop a hill, I think I should roll-up my britches legs.

Mason went for his three-month checkup; he weighs 17 lbs (7.7 kg). He won't be three months old until tomorrow. At this rate, he will big enough to play college football when he is eight years old.

Sammy is talking more each day but most of it is still unintelligible. Mostly he says Batman and Spongebob.

I have my short poem ready to post to the The Sun; it is one I wrote a few years ago. Not counting on much but would be very disappointed in myself if I didn't try. It has been many years since I tried to sell or give away my writing. Even if this one does not sell, I'm going to submit at least one other poem (the one Mark recommended) and a story or three. I need to resurrect my rejection database and make a few voo-doo dolls and stick pins for the publishers who reject me.

I love building databases. It is the one thing I can do with techie software which makes me feel like I have accomplished something.

I am off of methotrexate at least until I can find out something from the med-squad. If by chance I am cleared for surgery, I will be one week ahead. If I am not cleared and if I have to have a heart catheterization, I will be ahead on that too because I need be off the drug for it. If I have to have a stent inserted, it will be about a year before the knee surgery can be done. Beginning in a few days, I am going to be sore and out of the real world for at least a short while.

Saturday

Does anyone care that 348 people died in Bangladesh building collapse? Tragic death only counts for news if it happens in the United States and if even in a perverted way the American Press can  make it look like terrorism. America, the cowardly selfish.

What happens to the rest of the world if the United States suddenly decides to return to some of its isolationism policies of pre-WW2. Let’s stay out of other peoples business and let each nation decide its own affairs. Keep our defense strong and in hand with some military alliances and drop others. Do away with laissez-faire trade policies and replace the lazy-fare for the rich with fairness to all parties and enforce tariffs for equality. Never take anything for granted or, as Teddy Roosevelt warned, “Walk softly and carry a big stick”.

Cool cloudy weekend so far.

Let me sleep ...

Persons 65 years of age or older should not be allowed to get out of bed before 9:00 am each day and then they should be required to cogitate for one-half hour before deciding to let their feet hit the floor. Ain’t nothing good going to happen before nine to anyone, especially geezers.

This doctor bullshit goes on and on just like I knew it would. I wish some of these s.o.b.’s understood what kind of life I am living and how much freaking pain I am living with. Pisser!

Goodbye George (Possum or No Show) Jones; I didn’t particularly like your twangy country voice but I appreciate you having balls to stick with it through the ‘pretty boy’ era of country music. George sang his life.

WEEKEND!

Obtuse reason

Our American middle-class capital economy is heading into a new recession. This is my forecast based on what I am seeing. We are once more spending our savings or going into debt for mostly unneeded big ticket items, Wall Street is tickled, the stock market is soaring; all a sign of a coming slowdown. Wages are static or falling, few good paying jobs are being created, more and more jobs are being exported, more Americans are suffering and dying because of lack of health insurance, infrastructure is still falling apart, and federal government is in partisan deadlock. Americans are talking but few are walking. Wake up America!

I’m hoping tomorrow’s echocardiogram is all I have to go through before surgery. I do not want another stress test and I damn sure don’t want a heart catheterization. The latter may mean an overnight stay in hospital but I barely will be able to afford the knee replacement. Life is a trap.

Goodbye psychiatrist Dr. Sidney Freedman (Allan Arbus). He was my favorite M*A*S*H actor with my favorite quote from the series: “Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice, pull down your pants and slide on the ice.” I think it means that we should take time to live.

I’m not as pretty today as I was day before yesterday.

On this date in 1684, a patent was granted for the thimble.

Thursday all day.

dies Martis

Salon

I’ve been rereading some of my older stories and poems on Lord Bubbha’s Blog. Some I still like, some I like a lot, some need work, and some need be put away where they can’t harm anyone. I have a few which I think I will send around to The Sun magazine and other periodicals of its kind. There are a few of the poems I really like.

Carolyn has gone to hair dresser and JJ is off somewhere mowing; my knee hurts and my feet stink and together the two maladies are making me sneeze. I won’t reveal which two make me sneeze.

Tuesday, what the heck is it good for? It would be a much better and meaningful day if it was called 

“Kensday”. I’m so pretty!

Earth Day '13

Walt Kelly created these comic strip panels for Earth Day 1970. The slogan “We have met the enemy and he is us” has become the rallying cry of America’s green environmental movement
 

Be kind to Mother on Worshday and everyday

'Cause you're mine ...

Sunday morning Joe

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Happy Birthday, Chris!

I won’t tell your age because it makes me feel very old.

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Earth Day tomorrow … and everyday.

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Sunday!

Shades of Pale

These are thoughts I conceive at night between sleep periods; I sit on side of bed and type them into the tablet PC. All are unedited. The last one sounds interesting. I may use some of these in future efforts on this blog.

Mac is the kind of person who comes along too few times in life but who changes us and our futures for the good. He doesn’t dwell with us for very long but makes a subtle yet profound difference in how we live the remainder of our lives. He becomes one of the foundation blocks of whom we will become

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Final right of passage. No indifferent nursing home just because you don’t like us enough to care for us. Don’t feel obliged to us as the reason you take care of us. We are still human and we know when we are loved. It would be better to die from exposure to elements than from heartbreak of exposure to a cold heart from one we’ve loved and trusted

. —- 

Don’t try to walk in my shoes; they never were very comfortable

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Book of Numerals — The Cooties Chronicles

Get Yourself Home

I don't have faith in much at all. I don't even have faith in truth. Truth is fickle and fluid; today's absolute certainty may be tomorrow's fantasy or be an all-out lie the next day.

It makes my cynical heart happy to sometimes be right about something and be able to say 'I told you so'.

The one great thing which the ninety-eight percent have that the two percent don't have is the careless, unadulterated love of drinking beer.

Friday!
Weekend!
I'm so Pretty!

Muted

Like the Dogs of War video, I feel muted

I was planning a diatribe about our American spineless government for today, but I am so disgusted–not surprised–over yesterday’s Senate vote I’ve come to the conclusion that average Joe Six-pack don’t really care. Maybe we each should buy an AK-47 to protect ourselves from each other. Again, please read Mark’s blog poem and listen to the Monster.

After reading some of the hype about a book titled The Hunger Games, I decided to watch the movie last evening. The acting was good but the plot was much déjà vu from other sources. I hope the book is better but I doubt it. I rate it at 2.5 out of a possible 5. Talented actors saved it from being a “2″.

Thursday!

Sentenced

Once again I have been overlooked for consideration of being honored with a Pulitzer Prize and I think it is sad when a writer of any caliber has to publish an entire book of fillers like 'the' and 'them' and 'they' modified and punctuated by a paltry few words or phrases with real cognizability of purpose or clue to a semblance of a sensible or sensuous climax or an ending causing readers to crave more, or to pen an esoteric short story which stands erect and tall on its brief clarity only to be considered by a few paid dolts whom are constipated with pomposity and use skewed but semi-ambidextrous verbosity which has been handed down from generation to generation of hack newsmen calling themselves "literary" critics in an attempt to pull such lilting prose into their dark, oozing prisons of flaccid sentence phalluses all petered out and shorn of their will to make a difference in the thoughts of literati or the amusement of the paperback masses.
Ah well; there is always the Ignoble Prize for Literature to look forward to.

Mark has a very good blog today with a music video we all need to heed.

Wednesday!

Springtime from megashot photo-artists

If you can start the day without caffeine or pep pills,
If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,
If you can eat the same food everyday and be grateful for it,
If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you time,
If you can overlook when people take things out on you when,
through no fault of yours, something goes wrong,
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment,
If you can face the world without lies and deceit,
If you can conquer tension without medical help,
If you can relax without liquor,
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs,
If you can do all these things,
Then you are probably the family dog.
~Anon

Tuesday!

Writing when there is nothing to write about

It is Sunday afternoon and I am a bit lonely therefore I write.
This wasn’t my best weekend ever. It was good that Sammy and Mason spent some time with us Saturday, and it is always good when friends celebrate birthdays, but the remainder of the weekend was mostly a downer. I am just now getting over the ordeal at the surgeon’s office. A bunch of hobbling on crutches, no place for someone in my shape to sit therefore I stood for nearly thirty minutes in the waiting room. I propped myself in a corner and did some book reading on my phone until the pain made me nauseous and I told Carolyn I would have to leave. Luckily, they called me back just at that point. After a long walk came the x-rays; one standing and one laying down. After that, I was herded into an exam room and again started reading, however from a sitting position this time. That is when I heard someone outside say “Man, would you look at that?” I figured there was something exciting on FOX News TV at the nurse’s station. It was actually my doctor looking at pictures of my knee. It was the first one he ever saw with nothing between the knee bones; one side or the other usually has at least some cartilage left for cushioning. This little piggy had none. In some fashion or another, good or bad, I always seem to amaze people when they meet me.

Surgery will take about 55 minutes from the time they slap on the tourniquet until they remove it and I will be in hospital for three days. All this is nominal, of course. Then a couple of weeks or longer of physical therapy at home and I should be good to go after a few weeks of being very careful how I land when I jump off roofs; I’ll just do the opposite of what Mark did. Probably not long after I’m healed, it will be back to have shoulders fixed and by then, the hips which were replaced in 1994 will most likely give out–their life span is usually 12 – 15 years. My cup runneth over.

This old freak entered onto blog on this, the fourteenth day of April, 2013.

Children

Artist: Carl Vogel von Vogelstein

If I had written the Christian Bible, this would have taken care of a huge amount so scripture:

Jesus spoke to his followers saying this; “Bring unto me the children of the multitude so that I may bless them”.
And his disciples went forth into the gathering of nations and said to the many, “The Lord has commanded us to bring all the children unto him so that they be blessed by him.
When the children were gathered in front of Jesus, he called each one by name bade them come unto his bosom and he blessed them.
He said to his followers “Feed the children first for they are my Father’s children and give them drink for many are poor and have had little this day”
When the children had taken their fill, Jesus bade the disciples to provide food for the multitude and give them water to drink.
When this was done and evening approached, Jesus arose and spoke to all the nations before him, saying “Behold the children for they are first in My Father’s house.
On the day of reckoning, first judgement will be upon those who teach the small and helpless to walk in the way of worldly enlightenment and divine forgiveness.”

Happy Birthday, Jola

Happy Birthday, Jola. Hope you have many years of happy returns. Winter has been very tough but is is now time for you to step away from the cold shackles of old days and test your wings beneath warm, sunny skies. Little birds were born to fly.

I got all the taxes finished and filled yesterday. Happy it is over because the standing, pulling, and yanking my joints went through yesterday have left me in a painful stupor today. Sammy and Mason are here but I don’t have energy to play with them.

Fixing to take my weekly dose of methotrexate; I hope it will be the last one for a few weeks.

Ahhh, good times. Plenty more to come

Karma ... it comes and goes

Three well known people died this past week; one I loved, one I liked, and one I detested. Much like many other newly-teened boys, I had a crush on Annette Funicello, my darling Mouseketeer. Later on when she began starring with Frankie Avalon in Beach Party movies, I realized my dream of  marrying her were but fantasies. No wonder teenagers freak out so much. Annette died at age 70. Jonathan Winters, a comedian with wry mind and a good heart, also passed. I liked him a lot. Lastly, Margarette Thatcher passed. She was the one time Ronald Reagan clone of British politics. I won’t miss her.

Sammy and Mason are due here for the day tomorrow.

Visited orthopedic surgeon this morning; sometime between a few weeks and a year from now, I will have a new knee. If my heart passes muster the surgery will be soon but if not, it may be a year or a bit longer before the knee is fixed.

Friday the 13th comes on Saturday this month, so says Churchy’s Almanac. This is normally not a good thing unless there is a special celebration on Saturday and don’t you know, we just happen to have a birthday to observe tomorrow. We shall see.

Weekend!

Bitcoins

What are bitcoins and why do I not have a lot of them in my bank account instead of a few paltry dollars? Should I have bitcoins at all?
Hoping for good news at surgeon’s tomorrow.
Thursday!

Wilbur

I wanted to do a regular blog Saturday but the cable company had other ideas. Internet was off until late in the day and TV was not viewable until sometime that night. I was pissed about the net and Carolyn was pissed because she couldn’t watch Hopalong Cassidy. I really didn’t have much to do on the net anyway, but I get antsy when I know I can’t have it. I finally rigged up a useable connection via of connecting tablet Bluetooth to cell phone Bluetooth.  At least the tablet screen was big enough for most things.

I was offline most of the day yesterday. Carolyn drove me around Wilbur and Watauga lake areas; we both needed to get away from the house. Didn’t get any decent pics but I had my big zoom lens back on the Pentax. Since the time I was very sore last year until now, I’ve been using nothing but the 50mm; it is a lightweight and easier for sore fingers to hold. Every one of the photos I made was from the Escape window except I made a couple in Jonesborough through the windshield.

When you can’t get the photo you want, you must want the photo you get.

Seems we have jumped from mid-winter directly into mid-spring in just a couple of days. I am a happy boy in the sunshine of your smile.

Worshday!

A Summer Rose

In a vase beside me the last rose of summer dips its head slightly as I sit in near darkness of my flat. Earlier, I showered and made myself ready to meet a lady at my door and then we would proceed to swankier parts of town for our first date. We were introduced at a dinner party a week earlier, using up most of the evening in each other's company, finally making a date for this evening.

It is almost time for her arrival and I have been sitting here for more than an hour. Darkness has real presence and it is beginning to weigh on my shoulders but I cannot make my body rise out of the chair and turn the lamp on, light will be more oppressive than any heaviness dark can muster. Instead I sit with the only illumination coming between the closed door and threshold.

When the clock chimes and she hasn't arrived, I think maybe she won't come at all; I feel a sense of relief. As the seventh and final note fades, I hear the door opening at the end of the hall; I know it is her and my heart sinks. The click-click of her footsteps come nearer and finally I hear what I dread most; puk-puk, puk-puk as her knuckles rap against the wooden door. Puk-puk, puk-puk once more but I cannot move; I am emotionally frozen in time. After a minute, one more puk-puk and her shadow moves from the threshold, footsteps echo back down the hallway and the door to the outside opens and quickly closes.

I sit afraid and I have no idea of what or who I fear; I sit still for more than hour as my muscles stiffen and ache. I sit. Beside me, the last faded petal of the summer rose loosens its grip and quickly falls to the floor. I close my eyes from the remaining light and I am alone.

I am alone.

Saturday!

Twitches

Kilroy was here

I finally found the answer. Last night was bad; I was having spasms in my knee and could not sleep. When I can’t sleep I am guilty of thinking. For some reason I was thinking about shopping the net versus real stores. I like browsing small shops but the big stores are like Facebook; they give me the creeps. Because of the bad knee, my store of choice is Amazon.com. I was remembering how I used to shop with Carolyn at Wal-Mart and a few other impersonal big stores. While in the middle of a memory, I remembered the reason I quit accompanying her to shopping back before my knee turned bad. I was wondering why my bride is a compulsive shopper and will tackle almost anything that has a “Sale” sign on it. A sudden spasm caused me to vividly see her going down an aisle displaying things for sale. She would move along and all of a sudden she through on the brakes and start tossing things from both sided into her cart. A lot of merchandise was knocked to the floor during her unusual activity and she bothered not to pick it up. She would walk awhile more and do the same weird thing again. Last night I realized she was having spasms; shopping spasms. She is one of the latter-day compulsive-spasmatics. Other shoppers would cringe in fear as her arms went flailing like a Dutch windmill on steroids, hands grabbing and tossing. I kept lagging farther and farther behind her in the store, hoping no one would know I was with her. Finally she would fill her cart and holler for me to push it while she went for another one. Her eyes became glazed like that of a reefer freak and there was an evil glint in her eye that threatened “don’t fuck with this girl while I am shopping!”. Her strange behavior is the real reason I quit going shopping; the knee became a convenient excuse. Even now when we are browsing in Amazon or Wal-Mart web stores, she periodically begins twitching her arms and some of the old look comes back to her eyes. When it happens, I tell her that my hands are hurting and I am going to quit. It is usually at least a half-hour more before I can get away from her frightening shoulder twitches and shelf-roving evil eye.

Friday!

Your money's worth everyday

Spring woods

You probably already know I have previously used the above photo in this blog; I posted a larger size this time. Chilly, damp, gray day. Is there no end to the winter of 2012 - 2013? N.O.A.A. is claiming that 2012 was the warmest year on record. I claim if this be true, 2012 must have borrowed warmth from 2013. I think it is time for last year to make a big payment on account Daffodils have come and gone, red buds have been blooming for a couple of weeks, and I have my thin, springtime pants on. I know there is a very good weather forecast for the weekend, but I ain't going to jinx it with wishes, hopes, and prayers. 'Nuff said.

Where has this week gone? Shouldn't today be Wednesday? My life is screwed up enough without the gods jerking a day out from under me.

Last evening I did an edit of my little story from Tuesday. I think I have forgotten how to write ... if I ever knew how. I will chew on the changes for a few days and maybe show you what I came up with. I need to read it to myself and record it and listen for uneven word flow. Problem; I can't stand to hear my own recorded voice. I sound like a bullfrog who swallowed a fiddle.

I'm thinking of beginning an online periodical, a photographic and literary one page masterpiece to begin with. Maybe title it One Cent Pieces with a sub-title of Your money's worth everyday. I'll purchase a Wordpress domain for $25 and ask readers to donate a penny to help defray costs if they can spare it. All is flexible at the moment.

Thursday?!

Should I answer the phone?

A Facebook phone is coming soon. It is basically like any other smartphone HTC makes but this one will be special in that the home screen reflects your Facebook page and it is interactive. I don’t want one, thank you. In fact I am slowly moving to Google+. I like its setup  and its “circles” of friends. Easy to connect with other people with the same likes as you. With this phone, FB should be able to know where you are 24 hours each day, know whom you are with, and know what you are doing. Imagine if you can; in the middle of having wild sex, your phone says diddle-de-blinkity and ads for Viagra, Trojans, and a Book of Lies to Tell Your Wife pops up on the screen.

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I have begun my last story and this is the first written draft:

I desire the touch of a true friend to walk this last mile with me; the path is clear but old legs seem to weaken and stumble even on the commonest ground. Please take my hand in yours. I won’t bore you with endless natter about life wasted or years enjoyed; instead, I want to listen to you speak of life, the small things which is making it be “your life”. Smile and guide me by fresh morning lilacs and afternoon roses; accompany me to pale evening irises and by midnight honeysuckle. Let soft April rain cover my face with gentle, wet kisses. There; wild strawberries along the path and I must have some of them on my tongue as I hear a little sparrow singing from the bushes. When we have made our way far enough and as I begin to feel the tug of darkness which awaits, hold my hand a little tighter. No, this is not melancholy I wipe from my cheeks but only dew drops from the cooling air. I am not afraid of the unknowable where fireflies do not play; my time is nigh to be a part of the dark. Please, one last embrace, one gentle hug from you my friend before I step over the threshold of memory. Thank you, my friend; the touch of my fingers will slip away from your hand and you must turn and go. There are others who need a friend and one day soon enough you will be asking a trusted soul to walk with you. May you passage be as sweet as you have made mine.

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Tuesday!

Pieces of April

Mason stayed with us last night. He slept in our bed. He is a very noisy little man.

Hopefully one day this week I will pen my final story. Don’t worry as it will be very short and sweet.

Seems like spring has arrived in these hills; if the forecast holds true, the weekend coming will be glorious.

Lack of sleep and eye allergies have me grounded on this first day of April. Please be patient with my blogging; I know it must be addictive for all of you.

Carolyn says I have to have a haircut and take a bath before I have surgery.

Those who are virtuous by their own mouths have little of it in their hearts.

Worshday!