No Children Allowed!

Richard P. Adler: "All television is children's television."

Eye Me Me Mind!

Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. "The mind of a bigot is like the pupil of the eye. The more light you shine on it, the more it will contract."

Valley of the Dim Bulbs

(I Feel Like One Myself)

It's interesting to see how difficult life becomes when you're too unsteady to use a ladder (as I am) in the twenty-first century. You'd think that I only have to ask somebody, but there are so many "qualifiers" attached to that notion. First, not too many people pass this way. Of those, some are older than me and I don't want to impose and possibly cause an accident for others. Some are women, some of whom I am surprised to find are not fully-participating in the physical world--that is to say, that, though their health is fair, some of them are not especially at home on a ladder. I only need them to change some ordinary bulbs in the ceiling lights, but there's more than 2 or 3 of them. Teenage boys or young men would be good to impose on, but none of those healthy sons of bitches ever pass this way any more, so I guess I get what I deserve. It's odd when I consider that most men of my age would probably not have the difficulty I have with ladders--my instant dizziness, my neuropathy (can't feel my feet or feel what my feet touch)--but still no male visitors come in just the right circumstances that I could abuse (impose on them) and get the god-fucking-damn task done! Burnt-out bulbs keep piling up--kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, hallway, study! Of course, this task will only come up again and again as years go by. Some of the bulbs I'm replacing are of the new ("energy smart") kind advertised that they last five years and more, but they didn't really last that long and I don't know what you have to do to MAKE them last! Anyway, they lasted less than two. A lot of times this past year, I have been simply choosing to live in the goddamn fucking darkness (or, at the least, in poor light. Most lamps are piss-poor illumination, but are easier to reach than the ceiling light bulbs, so lamps are all I've replaced for a while.

I'm still around. After a fashion.

Broken Window (Our God)

I have seen the face of God In the gun barrel, in the garbage dump, In the tail-end of the garage, Through the broken window on my old red Mercury As viewed through sticky Coca-Cola glasses, And the stinking way that skunks always look at it— It's terrible, but it doesn't bother them Or the politicians of this or any state. And Jesus Constitution, It or He or She Was never very happy with us, anyway— But let's get on with it!

After I'm Dead

Cato the Elder: "After I'm dead I'd rather have people ask why I have no monument than why I have one."

World's Silliest Cat Question

If you had to be named for a cat, which cat would it be? For me, it'd be that smirky Cheshire Cat!

A Cross To Bear

Oscar Levant: "I once said cynically of a politician, 'He'll doublecross that bridge when he comes to it.'"

Dangerous Dance

"I couldn't hold on," I thought, Yet clearly I have done so, so far, As far as it goes and so forth... What will it all mean When it all goes down? A poet is sometimes Just a fella who can go into a trance Without good sense or without bad tremors, So what would it mean to those of us who've gone there Without taking a lunch, to just admit it And not pull strings or a stunt And not take a break from all the pain and all the ache... Oh how good she looked in tight blue jeans Or in her best red dancing pants! You can't escape, we won't get by, We're a dream and adrift in a dangerous dance And all along we are alone And always going upward in that beautiful trance...

You All (Nostalgia For Nothing)

I remember you all out there, From years ago, Wild boys and girls, callow and callous too— I do remember, but only what I can stand. I see how you all, my hopes, got fat while I got thin And so we kept (and keep) ourselves off-balance As if to stay like we always were... I guess I feel some anger yet And feel no desire to forgive all things or everyone— Why don't I? I just don't... Nixon's soldiers never killed us enough Though they blew us off and blew us away with sufficient ease. I remember Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, like yesterday, Sometimes with Joni Mitchell thrown in, for free... How could we lose? What things are left that can make us blush? You know there's some, even though we know We're about as sensitive as a cow's nose Or a badger's brash posterior. Repetition and distinction, What have we here after all?

Pardon My Creaking

If there is any place on my body these days where I don't have arthritis, it must be that I don't have a place that's called that!

Oh Shut Up It's Good For You!

Check out this poem

"Didactic In November"

at Judy Garland Blues.

---

Great Day

Today's going to seem like a great day, and that's enough for now. I heard some nitwit TV reporter talking about how great Ronald Reagan was, even on this day of Obama's inauguration, but I guess it's too much to ask for every single republican to show an iota of sensitivity. But we have the advantage at present, since Ronald Reagan is very agreeably Dead.

More Naked Bob

Listen again if you're not lazy; Bob Dylan won't mind. Hear "Every Grain of Sand" again or hear it for the first time if you missed it before.

Hobgoblins

For several years, since my illnesses began, I got into the habit of sleeping with a night light in my bedroom. It started out as something to calm my nerves, but lately became merely a means of avoiding having to blind myself with a regular light when I get out of bed during the night! Last week the small bulb burned out and I can't remember to buy a new one, so for a few days I left the closet light on and shut the door most of the way. Last night, I made sure that I could reach my small flashlight and the bedside lamp, then dived into the darkness. No hobgoblins under the bed, no monsters in the closet! Not even a small grass snake under the bed covers. Maybe I'll remember to buy a new light bulb, maybe I won't. At least now, it won't matter.

Demmy dommi!

Quatoo! (The end of the world will shortly follow!) Some say Demi Moore; I say Demmy Less! How much you dance is up to you.

Mutterings Take Over

Yang me to death with your supple wrist or Ying me to heaven wih your ripe ruby lips! How could that cause any trouble?! (Well, anyway, what else is there? And how much could it cost?!)

It strikes me I should have a mutterings label, though sometimes they're also poems or also just regular (daily) posts... And I think I'll hold off on any Self-abuse label, regardless of any truth. I'll give the mutterings label a try and see how long it lasts.

Dear Heart

There's probably nothing to do about it in the short run and nothing that would come of it in the long run, but Christ I miss you like crazy these days...

What's He Sez Now?

So what if I'm an odious churl?! So what?

The Jabber of Small Dogs

What does it all fucking matter? Lose this, lose that, gain a pound, drop an inch, Trace a pattern in the snow, Pick the threads from a stitch, Draw a semi-circle around a flaming itch-- Memories mesmerize, memorize memories, And all future lurid awakenings Will rock us back to sleep at last In front of the TV with one sock on. Address, repress, reorient, and confess! You can bowdlerize it or jabber about God, But sometimes nothing will raise the quality Of all this crap we rave about, That bears right down on us And weighs us down like hammered shit, That beats us into the ground like spikes that never wear out And tears our throats out as if we're only small dogs Where Big Dogs were turned loose on us once again, And we all do little more than Watch ourselves fall back into regret.

Beauty Again

We all came here for beauty, whether beauty showed up or not, whether we show, place, or win.

Right and Wrong

If you came here for drivel, you came to the right place. You just came on the wrong day, that's all!

Laughs?

I wonder what ever happened to my sense of humor? It hasn't raised its ugly head here in a long while. Oh well, on and on we go.

Don't Know

I mostly don't divulge many details about myself--I don't exactly know why I should, but I guess it doesn't really matter. I don't take on over various foods, good or bad, because for five years now food has usually been bland to my taste buds or just plain tasted bad. Lately I've begun to develop bad habits (for a diabetic) of eating donuts or cookies that aren't sugar-free, but now that I'm aware of it, I feel a compulsion to drop that habit. There are a few sugar-free items available that I find pleasing enough that I don't feel deprived and I guess I need to go back to that sugar-free zone! I think I've degenerated into low-grade blather, don't you?

Bloggers Gone Awry

What was that she said? I don't think it was anything new. Besides, I have wax in my ears. I always do. But I can SEE the message! I used to know a girl like that, but she escaped me--damnable luck.

Too Many, Too Long, Too Deep!

More and More Droppings
I recently went past 1800 posts--this makes 1803, I think. Jesus, who could ever have imagined so much blather coming out of the minds and hands of non-professionals who are not being paid?! I won't attempt to explain it; I'll just grin and bear it, as you should do also!

Save The TV Sets

I finally got around to requesting my coupon worth forty bucks for a digital-TV converter from the gummint, though I understand I'm shit out of luck 'cause they're out of money. If they send it, you gotta use it within 90 days or it self-destructs like a mission-impossible tape. I only have one old TV that I never watch until I come back from some goddamn hurricane evacuation and discover that there' no cable to go along with the electricity--then I suddenly need the sorry piece of shit. I also thought it would be amusing to force the Feds to spend 40 bucks on a TV that isn't really worth two dollars. I suppose I have a depraved sense of humor sometimes, but I don't care. Let Wall St. go to hell. Let the automakers go with them! Let all the beef and chicken go bad! Just don't let the goddamn TV industry fail us!

Dog Gone It

Maurice Maeterlinck: "We are alone, absolutely alone on this chance planet: and, amid all the forms of life that surround us, not one, excepting the dog, has made an alliance with us."

Shame

George Bernard Shaw: "The more things a man is ashamed of, the more respectable he is."

Rumor

There must have been a rumor spread that I died. Eventually, it will be true, but not so far.