Monthly Archives: May 2018

So that’s how it happened

Something that has been bothering me for almost 17 years has been how I was dead, and then I was telling people to be careful because I had broken the upper end of my femur, and how I went from no pulse or respiration to Chatty Cathy. I think I might have mentioned a few times that when I have a problem I never really let it go, it just gets put in the back of my mind until I solve it.

Well, I think I solved this one. The first two times I was hit with/by trucks I was hit from the side, so I got bruises and torn pants and skinned up, but never got the wind knocked out of me. Well the last truck got me from behind and my chest and back smashed the cab so that aside from the blood and lack of plant matter it could be convincingly said a tree fell on the truck. That impact compressed my chest considerably farther than any impact I had ever felt before, enough to knock all the wind outta me, and also stop my heart because it was squeezing my heart. So for about 2 minutes I wasn’t breathing, and I had barely enough heartbeat to keep my brain alive, but not enough to detect by palpation, or to quote The Princess Bride “mostly dead, but not all dead”. When they tried to scrape me off the street enough air came in I could breathe and advise them that I was not dead yet and to be careful of the broken leg. This also explains why I didn’t get the tour when I hit the afterlife. Afterlife is for people who are all dead. Mostly dead people get the waiting room, to see if they die all the way or come back to life, and the TV in the waiting room is 3D and set on the Universe Channel and they don’t bother to tell you how it works because you aren’t going to be there long enough to change the channel anyway. I still wanna know who the guy who was telling me to become one with the universe was. Was he like me, mostly dead, but got there sooner, or was he watching to see if I stayed dead before starting my tour of the afterlife?

In a way I’m glad, because I still have the customer loyalty card from Charon’s Ferry, and also I’m you know not dead. But still I have questions about the customer loyalty card, the waiting room, the other guy, and just WTF did I experience. The fact that I did not have a heartbeat prevented me from bleeding out of the massive holes in my leg, and got me as far as the waiting room. But the lack of answers to questions for over 16 years bothers me.

It’s getting hot in here, again

“… so take off all your clothes.”

Current office temperature is 85°F with the AC going. I really need to use the extra $$ from the insurance payment withdrawal to get a new AC unit for the office, or the bedroom. I don’t want to be selfish, because I can live with an office temperature below 90°F as long as I have a fan going and the old AC unit does blow up a storm. And moving the clock with the thermometer to the bedroom has shown a drop of a full degree in about 10 minutes, and 2 degrees in about a half an hour. Knowing the response time for this particular thermometer I can safely say that the bedroom is roughly 80°F at the hottest part of the day, and high 70s at night. Mrs. the Poet and I can sleep when it’s like that, but the electronics in my office don’t perform well with sustained 85° temperatures. So, Mrs. the Poet says put the new AC in my office instead of our bedroom.

And I’m running out of cold water, and the laptop is warning about overheating. That’s my cue to cut this one short.

Am I creative because I’m depressed…

Or am I depressed because I’m creative? There is literally a plague of depression in the creative class, so that it looks like you have to be depressed to be creative.

In my case depression came first as a side effect of the PTSD I got as a military brat during the Cold War. Seriously, we should have gotten a medal for what the DOD put us through. “Hostile environment” does not even begin to describe what dependants endured in public schools outside military bases. My family was lucky, because of what my dad did we spent most of our time out in the boonies where they hadn’t developed a hatred of the base that technically didn’t exist. I mean, who expects a Navy base in Nebraska, or rural Washington state away from the water?

But my depression is not why I’m posting today. There are a bunch of other people who are not doing so good. I’m not naming names because it’s not my place, even though they left statements on their web sites about their conditions. Seriously, look beyond the entertainment content and into the other stuff posted on the sites for the stuff the creator wants to talk about. And some content creators are talking about their depression openly, not just me.

But that still doesn’t answer the question about whether depression and creativity are required roomies, or if you can keep the good one and send the other packing, or even not let it in to begin with. You know what? I don’t know because I don’t know for certain how early my depression started, I was displaying signs of creativity at an early age, and also signs of depression as a Junior in HS. So for me it would be very hard to tell. The only thing we know for sure is I’m depressed and creative.

I still need new shoes

But at least I got my hair cut. I took care of the trip to the bank, and voted, and got the burgers for dinner.

Finally a decent flattop

And this picture shows which character I used to play in Rocky Horror.You have no neck!

And maybe I should use a different light source that doesn’t shine through my hair when I’m trying to show off my hair.

Anywho, I did a lot of walking again today, I think right about my upper limit for pain. I maxed out my Sweatcoin app and I want to lie down now because about the only thing that isn’t hurting is my hair. On the way home from Whataburger I checked the projected walk time compared to the next bus arrival time and it wasn’t even close. As I got to the street I have to turn down from the main street I was passed by the bus making its outbound part of the run. So, not only did I beat the bus by walking home instead of waiting, I beat the bus going out before it got to the turnaround loop at the “maul”.

OK my legs are telling me I need to lie down or sit in a different chair, because my hammies are starting to cramp.

We need a “Gimme Shelter” video for the new Century

Seriously. There has been enough video shot since 2018-02-14 to date to make a completely new video depicting the lyricsEXACTLY as written.

That is all, just let it stew in your brains’ slow cookers for a while. I would do it myself but all I have is a broken Chromebook that I’m kludging around the broken bits, and no software. So someone else is going to have to carry the ball on this idea. Here’s what you got to work with:

Oh, a storm is threat’ning
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away
(2016 campaign montage)
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
(Syria montage)
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin’
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
(Charlottesville march?)
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
(Pick a school shooting)
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
(Pick another shooting)
Rape, murder yeah!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
(Pick another school shooting)
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away yea
(Toronto Incel murder spree with van)
The floods is threat’ning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I’m gonna fade away
(Hurricane Maria)
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
I tell you love, sister, it’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away
(Rainbow white House, marriage equality)
©Keith Richards

Well, it’s a thought, anyways.

Nothing much, just chillin’ and listening to Classic Rock

It’s not the same listening to digital files off the Web, but I just finished Side One of Tubular Bells, and now I’m listening to Side Two. For the really young people who may be reading this blog, a clip (sample) from the piece on Side One was used as the theme for the original Linda Blair Exorcist movie. My favorite part of Side One is the Procession of the Instruments, where instead of introducing the band Oldfield introduces the instruments he played into the multitrack recorder. When he introduces the Tubular Bells I get literal goosebumps on my arms.

I got some money out of the bank, so tomorrow I’m going to go Do Things that require money to do. Among those are getting shoes that don’t hurt my feet, and getting a haircut.

And I just got to the part at 21:35 of Side Two that he started playing the Hornpipe Jig (also called the Sailor’s Hornpipe) on a mandolin. Most people only know this as the closing theme for Popeye cartoons, but I’m a nerd that looks up the names of songs, like Merry-go-round Broke Down, Streets of Cairo, Powerhouse, all the Looney Tunes songs like that. I guess it started when my parents played a record of the William Tell Overture, long before I ever saw an episode of the Lone Ranger.

OK get back on track, I have to go vote tomorrow as well as all the other stuff, but I don’t need to spend any money to do that. And just like that I thought of a way to both fund the government and stop corruption. Since rich people think they can buy our government with bribes and massive campaign contributions, just make elections actual fundraisers for political parties and government. Primaries are decided by whichever candidate generates the most income for the party before he cutoff date, with general elections the money goes to the governing body up for grabs in the election. Sure the rich guys would decide who wins, but how is that any different than what we have now? At least this way the money goes to the Gov’t instead of the pockets of whoever is selling us out. Which means we get the benefit of rich people buying the election. Which also means this has the proverbial Snowball’s Chance.

Aughh, concentrate, I have things to do and I need to get the down or I’ll forget. Vote, deposit check for Mrs. the Poet’s plane ticket, get haircut, go to shoe store and buy shoes before getting toes done, has to be in that order. That’s the reason why my last pair hurt my toes, I got the toes done first and when the nails get long they catch on the inside of the shoe. I think maybe stop at the Whataburger and get something for Mrs. the Poet and a Jalapeño Bacon Cheese Whataburger for me.

That was weird

OK when I was transcribing that poem, I started getting into the mindset I was in when I wrote it, the same feelings of loss and grief over discovering I couldn’t fly anymore.

Musings On A Bird, Skeletonized By Ants

Author’s note: This is a performance script. Line breaks are breaths, bold or italics are emphasis, both are extra loud. This was one of my most popular pieces for performance.

Hello, Bird.
I see the heat was too much for you.
Not a glorious end to a glorious creature.
But the ants have fared well.
There is scarcely any flesh left on your fragile, hollow bones.
Did you have any dreams?
Did you know how great you had it,
Commanding flight at a mere whim?
Did you have a family?
Did you see little ones hatched.
Grow large and strong from your care,
And leave to grow little ones
Of their own?
I had dreams.
I have known flight.
I have been present at the birth
Of my little ones.
And I have watched them grow
Large and strong.
And I have watched them
And come back.
And leave
And come back.
And someday to leave
And not come back.
I had Dreams,
But now I merely dream.
Never Dream…
Don’t you dare have Dreams.
Dreams will dance along in front of you
Just out of reach.
Dreams will crush your soul
And tear out your heart,
And skip away, laughing merrily.
Much better to have mere dreams.
Mere dreams stand patiently waiting.
They say, “Here I am, come get me.”
Mere dreams are not major triumphs,
But they are not losses either.
And missing out will not leave you
Feeling like something inside you has died.
did you have friends?
Comrades, Brothers under the skin?
Do they miss you,
Or even notice you are gone?
Surely there is some member
Of your species
That knows, somehow
You are no longer there.

Opus the Poet

All-Star Weekend!

They are racing for $1,000,000 tonight at Charlotte Motor Speedway. One of the things they do with this race is test proposed changes to the rules and there are a bunch of changes this year to the aero and engine. Yesterday’s qualifying already showed the differences in the specs made for differences on the track.

OK they are running the Open, and the aero changes have the racing almost like ‘Dega or Daytona, and the restrictor plate has them all running pretty equal.

OK the Open is over and they are doing the driver introductions for the All-Star Race. Signing off now.


Did you ever hear someone say “It’s so loud I can’t hear myself think”? Well that is my current situation. My tinnitus is so loud putting sentences together is really hard. On top of that one of my Facebook and BikeJournal friends was reported dead today, nothing more than “she’s dead, that’s all we know” in the report. She had a service dog, and I’m concerned for his well-being now.

Other bad news I haven’t heard anything from the people I used to get the gigs through since I didn’t get paid for the last gig. I don’t know if that means they don’t have any new gigs, or if the company has gone belly up.

Back to the tinnitus, it has gone to a roaring combination of whistle and white noise, like being behind an old centrifugal compressor jet engine getting a run up about 20 feet away. All inside my head. For a point of reference the old Cessna T-37 had a pair of that type jet engine, earning it the nickname “Flying Dog Whistle”.

And because trying to write this with all this noise in my head is a pain, catch y’all l8er.