Why do I always post in the summertime? Is that when I get all melancholic and pensive?
RIP Suzanne. We hope to visit your gravestone soon. Mom feels so guilty about not going, but it hurts her so much. She cried early this morning to a perfect stranger. It never got easier for her. I think that's the real reason she went to bed early. She was never the same after you passed. You know how much she loves you because you can see it. I know you visit her too and I want to thank you for watching over her. Her health scares me sometimes and I know I haven't been the best daughter to her. She's my best friend though and I hope you see that. Oh jesus, I am going to start bawling any second now. I just want you to know that I wrote 2 stories dedicated to you. They need to be polished up, but I am hoping to post them on here soon. Mom doesn't know about them, so keep my secret. Oh, and I heard that loud ping when J and I went to do our photoshoot at your cemetary. We couldn't find you because it was dark, but we heard what direction you were in. You tried to tell us and I thank you for that. I hope to visit you soon. Happy early bday for the 29th. I hope you are eating lots of cake wherever you are shining.<3

Why yes, I am wearing dark grey leg warmers...
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Quote time! (3)
"And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt and you sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point late, late, late at night, say just a bit before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns into cool and when you briefly wake up, you notice that you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep. And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull what’s warm - whether it’s something or someone - toward us, that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being sad in the world and ready for sleep, that’s happiness." - Paul Schmidtberger, Design Flaws of the Human Condition

I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

– Maya Angelou

'Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.' -Marilyn Monroe

When I take people round to see my animals, one of the first questions they ask (unless the animal is cute and appealing) is, “what use is it?” by which they mean, “what use is it to them?” To this one can reply “What use is the Acropolis?” Does a creature have to be of direct material use to mankind in order to exist? By and large, by asking the question “what use is it?” you are asking the animal to justify its existence without having justified your own.

Gerald Durrell

I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.

– Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters

I can’t be a rose in any man’s lapel.

– Margaret Trudeau

There are no happy endings.
Endings are the saddest part,
So just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.

– Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It


RIP Curtis Odell Wright

This song came on in the car not long after...another one of life's mysteries right Pappy? This is dedicated to a man who was "no bullshit". Funny how Greenbaum's lyrics are just as straightforward.


-"Spirit In The Sky" by Norman Greenbaum

forward and reply 2

Hey! Any other day, I'd completely get what you're putting down, but today I feel as though the zombies are rapping at my door. Clawing their way into my black, unforgiving heart while I scream in agony to the Gods, "Why me?!" I know I should be grateful for what I have, but today it's just so difficult. How can I concentrate on my own life while Al Gore and Obama rule the world? I despair at the quality of their so-called rescue of human nature and recycling plans. Yes, I agree! Morpheus is knocking around in my brain like two hamsters having lunch in Leicester park! Life is all of a hologram of stupidity and ruthlessness. Peanut butter and toilet paper is correct...do not forget about the Twinkies and cockroaches. The Romans were worse. With all their violence and togas and sandals. Maybe I'm all wrong. Maybe I really do have it great. I mean what would the aliens think if I didn't appreciate life? The heresy of it all! I harked back to my scriptures for strength and Jesus has taken the wheel. Christmas is saved! I hope you have a great one as well and hug your loved ones close. Peace, love, and hippies. I'm going to lie down now in my bed of sin and pray. I have my bottle of beer (non-alcoholic of course) and my bible in both of my hands.

P.S. I fight authority and authority always wins.

forward and reply

Hey Girl, I woke up this morning, Dec. 22 and looked at myself and didn't see any flesh eating bactria consuming my body, still had electricity, phone and cable. I looked outside, didn't see any hoards of alien war ship getting ready to destroy the plant. I checked the news and all the government agencies are still heading for the fiscal cliff, who needs alien to destroy us, we have the republicans, so one can only assume we are in the matrix and this is all a hologram and the only two real things left in life is peanut butter and toilet paper. Damn those Mayans I was so looking forwards to the apocalypse. Now what are the networks going to do with all those, 12-21-2011 dooms day documentaries. They want even make good reruns, the dilemma of it all. Anyway have a great day and Merry Christmas back to ya. Remember it's not what you have but who you have, keep the ones you love close to your heart and may the Master of the universe, the grand creator of all that is, our Heavenly Father bless you with more than you expected to receive. When you turn your face to the cold bitter wind, it will dry the tears that no one is able to see and life goes on, long after the thrill of living has gone. Peace be with you Trish. Lynn


Quote time! (2)
"A lot of men thought I was as silly as I looked. I look like a woman but I think like a man. And in this world of business, that has helped me a lot. Because by the time they think that I don't know what's going on...I done got the money, and gone." -Dolly Parton "The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." -John Milton "When people show you who they are, believe them...the first time." -Maya Angelou "The best advice I ever heard is, don't take anyone else's advice." -Eddie Murphy "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." -Eleanor Roosevelt "My good opinion once lost, is lost forever." -Jane Austen                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree. -William Blake

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .                               10
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

  In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

  The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,                               20
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

  And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;                                30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

  In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

  And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—                               40
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

  For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,                       50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?

  And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?                    60
  And how should I presume?

  And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
  And should I then presume?
  And how should I begin?
      .     .     .     .     .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets              70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
      .     .     .     .     .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?                  80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

  And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,                                             90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
  Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.
  That is not it, at all."

  And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,                                           100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
  "That is not it at all,
  That is not what I meant, at all."                                          110
      .     .     .     .     .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

  I grow old . . . I grow old . . .                                              120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

  Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

  I do not think they will sing to me.

  I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

  We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown               130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown. -T.S. Eliot

gift-wrapped kitty cats

Ladies, you're damn right, you can't read a man's mind
We're living in two tribes and heading for war
Well, nobody's perfect, we all gotta work it
But fellas, we're worth it so don't break the law
Your call's late, big mistake
You gotta hang about in limbo for as long as I take
Next time, read my mind and I'll be good to you
We're gift-wrapped kitty cats
We're only turning into tigers when we gotta fight back
Let's go, Eskimo, out into the blue
Come take my hand, understand that you can
You're my man and I need you tonight
Come make my dreams, honey, hard as it seems
Loving me is as easy as pie
I'm just a love machine, feeding my fantasy
Give me a kiss or three and I'm fine
I need a squeeze a day 'stead of this negligee
What will the neighbors say this time?
I've been going crazy while you sleep
Searching for a language that the two of us can speak
So Mr. Prehistoric, make your wheel
And I'll breathe underwater 'cause I like the way it feels
-'Love Machine' Arctic Monkeys
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