| Goodbye, June, may the new month prosper, but not bury you! You were pretty chickenshit, actually, but maybe some rich princess will yet turn up before midnight. Anything's possible, but not much is likely. No, not likely. When I go to bed, it'll be tomorrow—if I could cut your throat, June, I probably would. |
Damn June Bugs
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Took off my shoes the other night and when I drew the last foot out, a roach followed right behind! It was a large American cockroach, not one of your scruffy foreign ones, so I concluded it was not an official Terrorist, though it seemed pretty terroristic that one had moved into my shoes with me still in them! I wonder how long he was in there? Ten minutes? All day? In any case, he made me mad!
I have not written a post that could be characterized as a "pest control vignette" since 2007 and before that there was one in 2005, hardly ever more than one or two a year going back a few more years. I guess it didn't take long to tell all my juicy, disgusting roach and rat stories. This one is sort of marginal, but it still qualifies in my mind! We must never cease our vigilance in the battle against pests, no matter how feeble we get!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
My overdue books wouldn't have been overdue until tomorrow, and now they won't be overdue at all, so that's some kind of achievement, I guess. It's the only one around here.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
I'd like to write a few more good poems, just good like this last one, "How I Shine". That would be so great, just that and no more. I don't care if I have readers, but that would be nice, I admit.
Provoked by witful ruminations from my good friend George Knaakone of the good Georges of the world!
"What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun."
Monday, June 23, 2008
George Carlin is dead and George Bush hasn't even been impeached! What kind of justice is that? I blame the democrats for both because I never expected Republicans to do any good for the country, but the Democrats pretended they would. I no longer care who wins the Presidency. It'll be Tweedle-dee or it'll be Tweedle-dum.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Not only have I lost most of my own degree of "cute", it seems to have faded largely in other bloggers, too. I was just reviewing most of my Bloglines list, some of which had 20, 30, 40, or 50 posts that I had not read recently! I never used to let that happen. How'd I ever let them pile up that much? Okay, how'd all those people pile them up?! They shouldn't have done it! Maybe I wasn't an innocent bystander, but I was at least a Hapless one! Or maybe I'm just that Old Man I used to beware of, the kind that falls asleep in front of the TV or in front of the monitor. I guess that's not a very good excuse, but at this rate, I'd better hire someone full-time to come up with better excuses for my old ass because I'm not catching up! I read two or three of each blog's most recent posts and then had to just blow past the rest like I was some pushy 18-wheeler passing an old Ford Escort.
Friday, June 20, 2008
even the president of the United States
Bob gets naked a different way.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
|(A Heartfelt Poem, But Short)|
You could always pull it off
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
I'm mad at everything.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
I can't seize control,
Friday, June 13, 2008
I'm ready to go on to the next subject: my study. I mean this funky room where I seldom pick up the junk and where I'm typing this crap. The place hasn't had a good cleaning since before I got diabetes five years ago. It used to be half of a garage, but was converted many years ago. It was an oversize garage my father built many years before his death with one side for a normal vehicle and the other side large enough to drive his wrecker/tow truck into. It was a spacious garage! So when you picture my study as being roomy, make it Roomy with a capital R!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Is it illegal if I play with my how
A Sunday finally arrived when all my eight immediate family was in town and not sick so that I could go ahead and fulfill my promise made a few weeks earlier to buy every one's lunch at Red Lobster. I don't go out to eat very much any more. I may order food and take it home, that's as close as I usually get. But everybody ate at the table, I had a good time, and then I had to pay. Others in the family have paid at other times, so I can only claim that it was my turn, not that it was any inordinate generosity. But I am generally too poor to be the purveyor of much generosity, so I noticed it within myself, at least. I never paid much attention to what was on every one's plate nor have I paused to see what the receipt listed. I know what cheap tastes some of us have and what other tastes others of us have. It seemed cheap enough to me. But I am a tightwad, so the topic passes through my mind, as you see. I doubt my generosity this time around would ever compensate anyone for the churl I can be at other times. But it was fun.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
George Bush (that jackass) has now admitted regret that his use of phrases such as "bring them on" and "dead or alive" had "indicated to people that I was, you know, not a man of peace."
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
These are only two of Emily's poems that make me think I should be shovelling shit instead of trying to write an occasional poem, but I may not be the only one to ever feel that way...
'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
What's different about the above Bozo? New shoes? Short pants? Loose underwear? None of the above? The correct answer will earn you an airborne disease.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
|Shorts In A Bind|
Pretend you're out there on the end of that donkey dick,
Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must have thought you'd always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found
I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
That I can't sing
I can't help listening
And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away
(Right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There's nothing you can do about it anyway)
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
Another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone
Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make a joyful sound
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
And the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know
Hear the song sung by Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
|In The Eyes Of America|
I know I'm dead boring a lot of times lately, but you get what you pay for, so don't cry. I wasn't doing well before my stroke in March and am not recovered to that "good" point yet. Everything is hard to do. I wake up and by the time I'm dressed, have shoes on, count out my daily pills, and leave the bedroom, I'm so damn tired I can't discuss it. I have recently started receiving some "home health care" paid for by some state-administered version of Medicare. They send a "provider" who does the non-nursing tasks, like cleaning rooms, doing laundry, cooking (yet to see that), etc. Not bad so far, but they keep sending a different lady each time, and this seems to me to be something that would benefit from a steady employee, such as is supposed to happen (they say) in the future. But OK so far. It's about the only help I've gotten so far from the gummint and it may continue to be that way for a long time. I don't know how "deserving" I am, but I am certainly "disabled", though perhaps not by any official government or legal definition. I can feel President Bush's tight fist pulling back on every string I attempt to pull. If there is any new democratic President in the future, the tight fist and the stinky breath will still be there a long time, I fear. The wheels of government move slow, except when about to run over orphans, widows, veterans, or cripples with a "per diem" limousine and a don't-give-a-fuck attitude.
For those of you who must have entertainment, go HERE for some music.
Friday, June 06, 2008
I have always continued to find Bob Dylan's "Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" a touching, heartbreaking song. But, evidently, I'd long forgotten that it was factual and not just one of Dylan's apocryphal songs. I feel like a moron, sorta, but I guess it's just the lucky white man in me. I didn't HAVE to remember it. I wondered if William Zantzinger is still alive. If so, I don't know why. But he was only 22 in 1963 and Wikipedia says he was alive and still rich and making trouble in 2001. Shit. Sometimes, it's bad for me to review the past, because our past in America was so hateful.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
So much of what I watch/listen to on videos the last couple of months has been reviewing artists that were already my "favorites"--Bob Dylan, Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez. Once in a while, I stray out of the areas where I have already trampled the grass down to the ground. That's the case (untrampled grass, I mean) with listening to Sinead O'Connor in various incarnations lately.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
I'm still no damn good, only worse. I still have the most cruel and treacherous thoughts about even the best of you, though I often fail in the execution. Whether you should congratulate me or I should congratulate you, I don't know. It's your good luck, I guess--myself, I don't seem to have any.