so Fodon and I spent time working on our new album cover:
but we spent so much time out yakkin’ on the porch that we missed five calls from one of my friends. she wanted to know if the fire behind my house was getting close…
so we checked it out…
but we decided it wasn’t that big a deal…
and commenced a drankin’ an’ fight’n like always…
the end.
I bought one of those starbuck’s artist’s choice comps for diana krall several months ago, listened to it once and pitched it under the desk. today I pulled it out, stuck it in the puter and woah… I’m moved. crazy moved.
funny how just the right thing pops up at just the right time. funny that, and true. always true.
so here I am singing my fool head off. funny how music transforms. totally transforms. it’s a spiritual mystery.
good things come into our lives at the perfect time. bad things come right at the perfect time. hmm. guess it’s time to quit fighting the current. I either swim down to escape or upstream in the wrong direction. funny I never thought of going with the flow. I guess it’s worth a try.
Mahalia say:
smile when you happy
or smile when you sad
to the pleasin’ and mistreatin’ be forgivin’ when you are mad
be forgivin someone abuse you
or the good lord’ll look for sign
be ready stay, start on your way
it don’t cost very much
…
yes, it don’t cost very much
woah to please a gentle touch
and to give a glass of water for a pilgrim in need of some
oh you may not be an angel
and you may not go to church
but the good you do will come on back to you
and it don’t it don’t, yes, cost very much
powerful
I just wiped some errant snot on the back of one of my desk legs… ahh, it’s good to be a grownup. my kids look forward to the day when they too can drink from the carton, go to 7-11 at midnight for twinkies, and stash their boogers with impunity. parenting, it’s all about instilling goals dontcha know.
the reunion, a good time was had by all, or most, I guess. a certain someone appeared to be sloshed beyond reason. oddly enough, all I could think was, damn, I hope he gets home safely.
we-he-hell… I’m off to the seven eleven for saltines and 7up, and maybe twinkies. oh yeah, forgot to mention that I have sickies and the barfage is phenomenal. dee-dee dee dee-dee-dee, phenomenal, dee dee-dee-dee…
hey-ho rock and roll, deliver me from nowhere…
snippet from my 20 year reunion:
I’m walking by the ex-jock and he says, “hey, sexy…” I turn to look and fall down the stairs. niiiiiiiiiice. I promptly left to hang out with fodonia. she lent me a bag of frozen raspberries to put on my ankle. ah, good times.
tonight: more reunion. undoubtedly more injuries to follow…
DON’T TREAD ON ME
fuck me. there’s a rattlesnake on the back porch. I took
a pic. yikes. I know what to do. you have to chop
it’s head off with a shovel, but dayum, I’m not up to that today.
plus it’s on concrete and I don’t know how well that would work.
it’s gone now. you know, after I prodded it with a broom and
threw a log at it. I still feel guilty about that… of course I
took a piccie after looking for buttons on its tail. it didn’t
look like it had any. then I poked it with the barbeque tongs.
sometimes I am just too fucking stupid to live… too lucky to die.
fodonniedarko says it’s prolly a bullsnake. she still says I’m stoopid tho.
so once again I find myself single. and that’s okay. I had a good day. nothing special, just good. I put a profile up on match, no real reason, just funnin’. who responded? all geminis. oh my. I’ve been burned by gemini, but maybe I need to rethink it… I didn’t respond to any. I hadn’t really intended to, just a lark, you know, but it’s encouraging. makes me feel like less of a hoary troll.
and I had a lovely weekend… if you read fodonald, well, nuff said. not exactly my usual pattern, but that can be a good thing. and it was.
this weekend is my 20 year reunion. I’m not excited but I’m not fearing it anymore either. a girlfriend offerred to go with me on friday, so that’s a plus. the “girls” think I should wear my hair up but I worry about the ghetto bootay slash pinhead factor. hmm.
part of my fence had fallen down and I don’t know exactly what I was waiting for… someone to do it for me, prolly, but I clutched it up and did it myself sunday. wooo me.
After a little while the scarecrow asked: “Where is the Patchwork Girl now?”
“In my room,” replied Dorothy. “I’ve taken a fancy to her; she’s so queer and –and– uncommon.”
“She’s half crazy, I think, “ added the Shaggy Man.
“But she is so beautiful!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, as if that fact disarmed all criticism. They all laughed at his enthusiasm, but the Scarecrow was quite serious. Seeing that he was interested in Scraps they forebore to say anything against her. The little band of friends Ozma had gathered around her was so quaintly assorted that much care must be excercized to avoid hurting their feelings or making any one of them unhappy. It was this considerate kindness that held them close friends and enabled them to enjoy one another’s society.
L. Frank Baum, The Patchwork Girl of Oz
(many hearty thanks to vm and fodon for their considerate kindness when they could just as well have thrown me up on a fence and beaten me like a dirty rug. xoxo) (I usually say hearty spanks, but I’m feeling more soft than that)
