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| A tuckered out blue, circa ’03 |
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to yell? “Mercy!” and they’ll stop twisting your arm? Or am I confused?
The cold showed up today – though it’s crisp at 33 degrees, the sun is pouring out of the sky, heating up the cold spots in our world. Part of today’s awesomeness is the heated mattress pad I got Boo – think it’s gonna help us through the winter…
The days come. Sun rises to the left, sets to the right, school buses squeak and rumble by, gaggles of young girls squealing on the sunny days, slump away during the rainy days. Cars keep making impressive time along the East Maynard Drag Strip that runs in front of our house.
Our house is too quiet, and everywhere I look I have the burned-in expectation of Blue … at the window in the corner in the black chair, keeping tabs on buses and mailmen and squirrels. On the divan all akimbo, chewing for the gold record on her Galileo-based shiv. Curled up on the blue sofa, under a blue blanket, a happy Blue if ever there was one.
Under Boo’s desk, her head on Boo’s foot… running in her sleep catching all the squirrels that got away…
It’s a crater in our hearts that I rationally know will ease in depth and soreness, but I don’t want that as much as I desperately want that. You’d think we’d learn not to get up, what with our getting knocked down yet again.
{“shaking the tree” sings Peter.}
Ah music. Ever want to play songs at a loudness that cracks the universe? Me too…
Blood – in yet one example of the millions of niceness-es that cause our pain to ebb surely – sent a tune for me to play, having had some success with it back in ’08 for her pain, for her healing attempts. Jakob Dylan singing ‘On Up the Mountain’.
(what does it say that even as I try to find a way to plumb my ache onto this ‘page’, into the screen via a keyboard that has been damp for days, I still do the stupid little auto-pilot crap that is soooooo important to my life? burn to disc, mark with an x; push to the NAS, mark with an n; open ACDSee and resize, push to Pictures, then move to s:my pictures … what. the. fuck.)
Music. Allows you to shout and still be not be marked ‘anti-social’. as opposed to the numerous head shots with a steel pipe I’ve been sneaking into the moments between the seconds as I trip and stumble down this path I’m on.
Couldn’t figure out how to switch places. kinda still pisses me off.
up to 37 – really warming up!
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| hugs are golden, always. however, circa ’04 |
9:09a – Etiquette question – apple pie for breakfast – it’s part of the ‘fruit’ serving, correct?
I’ve often pondered the active discriminatory power of sight – as one who’s vision is not ‘normal’, I’ve thought “if you can’t see the person, what prejudices do you roll with?” Now I’m applying it to those who’ve lost a loved one – if you can’t see the doggie dishes in the dining room, do you not react to them? Or are you tormented by your more developed ‘imagination’ (recollections?)?
Hey – wanna hear a secret? Boo and I have the best friends in the world.
No – I know, your friends are awesome, but ours are best. Really.
Want proof? See how Boo and I are still standing? Yeah, not really our ability shining through there. Just wanted to share.
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| Who really loves baths? circa ’05 |
Oh, you don’t mind if I wander a bit, do you? Didn’t think so.
After these moments of ‘acid bathing’ I always get this hint of ‘fuck it’-ness. Shall I list the numerous things I”m gonna do now because fuck it, this living shit is short and painful and what the hell am I waiting for anyways?!!
My NaNoWriMo is gonna be called ‘Filling the Hole In My Heart With 40,000 words – An Ode to Bluedog’. My intro into the Indy as a ‘correspondent’ will be auto/travel writing backed by my tech prowess – stories such as ‘Mightier Than Pen or Sword – the Humble Tire Pressure Gauge!’ & ‘Window 8 – Why All the Hate?’ Just have to get to pounding on this keyboard, eh?
That way I can send notes to VW and Mazda to review their future-oriented diesel-powered cars and ‘SkyActiv’-designed gas-powered cars. I’ll send a note to Dell to get a hi-def Latitude lappytoppy to ‘test’ and let Morgan see if it’ll do, rabbit. It’ll do.
Oh yeah – crafting witty saying regarding InfoSec – “Surely You Can Do Better” may be my byline. Like Gmail two-factor authentication – you’ve set it up right? Even an idiot like me can do it, surely you can do better.
See? Brains all a poppin’ – stand back, you might be amazed…
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| Pepper vs. Blue, circa ’06 |
9:34a – staring at cars I will never afford – 1988 BMW M5 this morning.
9:56a – oh, yeah – ‘Mother’ from Pink Floyd’s The Wall, as performed by Sinead O’Connor. Yeah … that’s right into essence, deep into the core.
“Mother will she break my heart…”
So, Boo’s up, watching Rosemary & Thyme (oh BBC, you do such a good job), drinking some coffee, the sun has warmed up the windows a good bit, music and words flow as I sit at my desk pondering the day.
This is a haphazard creation I offer, and please, no offense is intended, nor will I much care. I share because I feel loved, and can’t really tell each of the people who are holding me up the intricacies of my cracked and crackling brain. I hope my appreciation is evident, and if not, well, it’s there.
ah fuck …
‘how about a picture of blue?’ – wasn’t that part of the routine? fuck…
fuck …
{11:36a – Sinead sings ‘Thank You For Hearing Me’}
how true, how very very true…
{8:19a + 14Nov2012 = Wednesday morn || gaelle performs Mercy Street, a Peter Gabriel original}