is this the third?
what have you heard?
the third is the word!
don't be absurd!
the third must be heard!
what is the word?
A brief visitation by the beatnick version of Dr. Seuss and the bluesman, baby, that's it. Brace yourself, Martha, this is gonna be another bumpy ride. But did you see what happened in the blogworld of the written gardens recently? It was kinda nostalgic and lead to catharsis (or pretharsis or something like that), really it did. I even remembered dreaming of love. I real live actual dream. The first kiss all over again. If only Americans didn't get so freaking obese, alas, but not in the dream, oh, you should have see it.
The downbeat bounced so hard I was flying again. Actually, I went out for a brief, but actual run. Slow-step jogging, of course, and not far, but sneakers went on the feet (really open foot-hurting weak walled dangerous sneakers, but still) and the feet, they got to moving again. This may be the first day of the rest of my life (famous last words if I die tomorrow... hmmmm, that's the second time I wrote something about dying tomorrow... luckily it's after midnight so I have a lot of hours to retract, redact, and be alive to be exact). Pity da fool who don't understand that.
What's that about the third?
Now see here, if you click on the links and then, when you get to your destination, click on the blog entry prior to the one linked, you just might get a whiff of what we were smoking this month. A hundred entries in the brief blog and this one will be lucky to reach a dozen, for shame, sir babbler, we hearby de-knight you, earl of wishywashiness. What? You expect me to make it easy on myself? I wasn't born yesterday, you know.
This was a month of profound revelation. Too bad none of it ended up here, or anywhere, but eslewhere, a whole lot of revelation elsewhere, to be sure. Don't give up, she said. And I never did. But she never returned, no she never returned, and the poor kid never learned. He went right on waiting for the girl to come, but the girl she never returned. Hey me, me with the blurry eyes. Awake too long, long into the night, awake too long, something isn't right, the brain knows it does better when itgets eight hours sleep but there is something deeper calling, like promises I just must keep, just must, just must, just must keep just like promises I made that come back in my sleep so I stay awake too long riding promises I just must keep.
The life is mostly desk work lately, the details are the same. I do so much at work these days, I don't want to think about it when I get ak here. I just seem to watch TV and play a silly game (Level 212 on Toon Blast, thank you very much) and eat myself to death (there's that death thing again) as blow up bloated like a belly balloon. The anal fissures remain a pain in the ass. The skin is showing more signs of age. Still no dermatologist and no ass doctor gives a dam, but somehow I am still playing ball though two of my teams folded leave just Sunday and Monday and Sunday league ends in two weeks which really sucks but I have two tournaments out of town lined up and maybe the world series in the fall. Still no primary, so damn picky but the good ones are not seeing new patients as I hear yet again today from two ore first choice doctors (my first choice). The blood pressure meds ran out so I am skating on thin ice rolling the dice with stroke and heart attack and I wonder if anyone will care after that fact. I have a hematologist appointment next week and I must get labs done tomorrow and the labs I did two last week have not come back yet to tell me if C.Diff is gone (I feel it's not) but still the most time is spent at my desk lately and the least time is spent asleep.
Who still dances with the devil in the pale moon light?
The life has it's challenges, but I am not complaining about anything except the loneliness (it's such a sad affair) eve though my dreams woke up to keep me company last night and maybe that is why I am still semi-sort of wired tonight in spite of sleep being the most important thing right now, I write to put myself out here with hpe someone will read and care and end my loneliness somehow... still the same old story, aye?
So the details are boring me to death (oh not again) and yet there are more than a dozen pen pals waiting for a response but I do not organize my time or the papers piled six inches high, The X-Files marathon continues between all the other shows I watch these days. I should update the background TV blog, no doubt.
I'd list them all but I have to pee.
This certainly doesn't compare with the last few or five or more entries, but then, perhaps it is here to help the previous entries shine. I have neglected the dirt, drama, and details mostly because I am tired of writing about the pain in the ass and ever so depressing people in my immediate daily life. Obesity and negativity and selfishness and lack of awareness and filth and disease and control freak and obsessive compulsive depressive so much unappealing unhealthy immature self-destructive wasting away lives. Humanity, why?
But did you see what happened?
I have a new keyring, bt the same old wallet. I have new keys, but the same old money. The savings, by the way, has been stagnant now for at least nine months. Fool I am eating out way too much, spending money on others and softball (no fool for softball), but anything to get out of this space and not eat here and no be alone and so the moving on plan has stalled due to lack of roommate appearance in spite of spending hundreds on the roommate website. Are we all as pathetic as it seems?
Living like a street refugee for more than two years now...
Food is my only comfort
Still, it turns me on...