But Who Is Driving The Train?
The Station this morn came to mind, maybe more so as today marks 9/11, and the last time I spoke to mom was some days after, all we spoke about was that, and 6 weeks or so later she was gone, it’s been 17 years. I wished I’d said other things, but, there you go, ya never know. That Station, originally I saw it when … Continue reading But Who Is Driving The Train?
At The Leading Bleeding Edge Of It Are We?
When I pull back the lens, and just kinda squint my eyes, what stands out is the last gasp of the angry white guys and gals. I suppose as they see it, after 8 years of being led by a black guy, they see the rumpTus as their just reward, the F U to the libtards they loathe. Corruption and all the rest, Russian interference, … Continue reading At The Leading Bleeding Edge Of It Are We?
Oh, That Mythical American Me
I grew up fed on old stories of my Dad’s ancestors, of fireballs at a crossroads, and once he told me I would have done well as an Evangelical preacher on the circuit, as I have a particular tendency, I guess, to go all preachy. Just last night the word my girlfriend used was swamy, so it must be somewhere in my blood, some preacher. … Continue reading Oh, That Mythical American Me
The Madness Of The 45th
Back in the long ago, helium sphere days, when I was still married, and we were watching our best friend have his first bipolar breakdowns, one after the other for 3 years, with all the initial chaos, horror, disbelief, and being thrown head first into this whirl of madness. I remember the moment he appeared at our door, it was just Genevieve and myself, as … Continue reading The Madness Of The 45th
Amoral Muppets Make Martyrs Matter More
So, my question is, why now? Why speak up now? Some pundits have speculated it’s to do with McCain’s funeral over the weekend, and maybe something in the words, the images, the memory of a man unafraid to speak up for what he believed, inspired them. I too felt that way, watching those who spoke, tributes, and grand words, such as patriot, hero, courage, again … Continue reading Amoral Muppets Make Martyrs Matter More
Who’s Behind The Curtain In Crazytown?
“guilt spills itself for fear of being caught” Shakespeare Ok, so, would appear as though the hens are running that white-pillared mansion down yonder south, as the Rooster’s gone loco, gone, em, er more loco. Sounds like his aides have become daycare workers, wrestling the toddler from sticking a fork in the electrical outlets, and maybe not start-off world war III due to his complete … Continue reading Who’s Behind The Curtain In Crazytown?
Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed
So, have I mentioned I hate humans? Hate might be a strong word, let’s say instead dislike. Why you ask? Well, because they can’t be trusted, have disloyal tendencies, self-interested, and you turn your back for one minute and they’re stealing your stuff and picking fights with one another, and right outside my door, trampling my garden, wrecked the Grandiflora Hosta, and left their friggin’ … Continue reading Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed
Tell The Story, Of Death And Dichotomy, Amen
I’ve always mangled directions, never had the sense of it, can never find north, or which way I’ve been in relation to where I’m going. You know, the whole mall experience could get me all tangled up in no time, basically going back and forth the same way, walking into a store, and coming out and not knowing where I’d been, in regards to which … Continue reading Tell The Story, Of Death And Dichotomy, Amen
And Your Home Is Your Fortress, Your Garden The Moat, And Your Tongue The Drawbridge
Back in the hedonistic 3 or so years I spent towards the end of a decade of wallowing in self-pity, at the Lake, a lovely cottage garden at my disposal to play with, a place, a scene, a rural route out of my imagination, surrounded by forests and those, such as myself, who shy away from the bulk and bustle of other humans, finding them, … Continue reading And Your Home Is Your Fortress, Your Garden The Moat, And Your Tongue The Drawbridge
moonlight and mom
a breeze blows through me as the temperature drops nights no longer spent drenched in sweat, summer as it turns to fall away cool breezes blow through open windows, through rooms, locked inside from hot days and nights tumbleweeds of golden Irish hair from gawd knows where, bumping into Rose’s old rubber while rising, good as new and if life were so simple admiring the … Continue reading moonlight and mom
A Week Of Red Sky’s And Anonymity
Apparently to be a biker chick one needs a bicycle pump, so off to a friend to see if he could hook me up. Well, that and tell me what sort of brakes to buy for Red as both of them are shot, and as much fun as it sounds helplessly flailing down a hill onto a busy road, decided I preferred all my body … Continue reading A Week Of Red Sky’s And Anonymity
He, We, His Ancestry, And A Soldier Dies
At one time I had a bit of an obsession, but haven’t partaken in some time, er, well I do still poke my head in once in a while when I find some website that may have new info, but otherwise for the last couple years genealogy has been somewhat off the radar. Would spend hours untangling, searching, hitting brick walls, leaping over them, eventually, … Continue reading He, We, His Ancestry, And A Soldier Dies
Just Another Lunatic With Crazy Hair?
You know, I’ve only actually ever been to Washington D.C. the once, back when I was married, and we didn’t even stay over, as we couldn’t find a hotel in our price range that wasn’t located at the edge of some crime-ridden suburban hell-hole. We instead stopped on our way back from a few days in Norfolk, Virginia, saw the sights, and stood across the … Continue reading Just Another Lunatic With Crazy Hair?
by PaulaB 