Wretched Beauty By Beatles

Girl

Is there anybody going to listen to my story
All about the girl who came to stay?
She's the kind of girl you want so much, it makes you sorry
Still, you don't regret a single day

Ah, girl
Girl, girl

When I think of all the times I've tried so hard to leave her
She will turn to me and start to cry
And she promises the earth to me and I believe her
After all this times I don't know why

Ah, girl
Girl, girl

She's the kind of girl who puts you down
When friends are there
You feel a fool
When you say she's looking good
She acts as if it's understood
She's cool, ooh, ooh, ooh

Girl
Girl, girl

Was she told when she was young that fame would lead to pleasure?
Did she understand it when they said
That a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure
Will she still believe it when he's dead?

Oh girl
Girl, girl

Ah, girl
Girl, girl

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Sick Diseased Bastard

I suppose I must strike many people on the Internet as a Sick Diseased Character who is self-obsessed and not kind to strangers. I know I feel that way, whatever the truth may be. If I didn’t have a sense of humor, I couldn’t be tolerated! It is hard, however, to keep my humor honed and my intelligence sharp at the same time. In the backdrop of Me, there is always this diabetes and fatigue and organ pulsations and my vision going badly.

Maybe it’s only that I notice the sick bloggers because I’m at or near those stages myself, but it does seem like a lot of bloggers have now or have had health problems. It is a curious impetus to Writing, isn’t it? I have not lately gotten appreciably better or worse, so I just drag on and usually don’t talk about it. Lately I haven’t written as much as I used to and I don’t know if the trend will reverse eventually or not. I’d like to think it will.

Maybe I should change to Blogger Beta as soon as possible, and thus have a source of anger to keep my juices flowing? That’s been my impression of it, but I’ve only been looking at it from afar, studying the kinds of questions posed on the Blogger Help Group. I may yet wait until I am forced to “migrate”, then see what happens.

I think if winter comes on and gets here, I may buy me a hat, a more expensive one, a more beautiful one. I’ll replace these $3 working hats or beach hats or whatever the hell they are. How does that sound?

Maybe I’ll change my underwear, too, while I’m at it, but No Details on that! You’re welcome.

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Are We Too Famous Yet?

Robert Benchley: "It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by that time I was too famous."

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Make It Quick

George Burns: "The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, then having the two as close together as possible."

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The Truth?

Umberto Eco: "I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth."

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A Trifle More

It’s rained so much around here the past few days, I’m dizzy. Much flooding has taken place in neighborhoods or cities all around me. I was up last night watching the water rise in the yard and then, as always, wondering if it was time to panic when the water started inching its way into the front garage. Would the house be next? The yard had disappeared, as well as the sidewalks and roads all around. It came in about 2/3 of the way into the garage, not quite to the front car tires. Fortunately the downpour ceased by midnight and I didn’t have to keep checking the water level.

When you’re a kid, you think you can make Christmas come faster if you really concentrate on it. In a similar way, stressed adults seem to think (each flood) that they can make the flood waters back off if they just obsess about it. Both anticipations are wrong, of course. I was so stressed that it felt like I’d been working all day, though I had not. Several days of dry weather are predicted, but next week there’ll be more rain! I can’t stand it. I used to seldom (or only lightly) worry about such things. I guess I believed in my power to turn the flood back. It had never happened to me before, so why would it now? I guess that false sense of security was smashed to bits by Hurricane Rita last year. Once more I dodged the bullet as far as flooding, but I had other damage. Now I’m a jumpy old geezer.

All my life, I’ve tried to at least select things to worry about, if not to just avoid any worry at all. I guess it doesn’t work any more. I can’t even narrow my worrying to myself. Others worry me, too.

I may not pray for any of you, but I worry.

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How To Treat The Arrogant

George Santayana: "To knock a thing down, especially if it is cocked at an arrogant angle, is a deep delight of the blood."

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Poetry Publication: Calliope Nerve

Once again notable blogger Nobius (see side bar Intelligent Blogs: White Rabbit-Black Hole) has printed one of my poems in his skinny publication, Calliope Nerve. Another one is supposed to follow that soon, but whether I have any poems there I have lost track. If you email him your street address, he sez he'll send you one or two. Mention what it's about in the subject line so it won't just disappear into his Spam box!

Email Nobius!

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Something

Mitch Hedberg: "I like rice. Rice is great if you're hungry and want 2000 of something."

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Rainy Day Women #12 and 35

by Bob Dylan

Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Copyright © 1966; renewed 1994 Dwarf Music

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