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Showing posts from November, 2018

so true...

About Phil

Phil only weighs 124 pounds! She noticed two very small spots on his lungs, but wants him to come back in 3 months to do another scan. She gave him a script for Chantix, but his insurance doesn't cover it, so he didn't get it. She is referring him to a cardiologist for his heart issues. So, we'll see what they say.

Work boots (first in the series)

Work boots Broken in like a tan horse the strings are laced to be a bunker for the ankle tread that stops on dust or mud making the surface cordial and careful crinkles in them creased from long days steel toes that take a beating to drive away the cold the feet are solid in the fit loosening the flaps when they come off like a heavy thought from the head set aside together and upright the quality of craft set waiting.

What I'm hearing on NPR

So Trump's former lawyer is saying he lied to Congress to protect Trump, why is the truth so hard for these people? Trump says he's never had any business dealings with Russia, I guess to him that doesn't include real estate, the whole way that Jared and Ivanka got their money. And how the whole family gets away with not paying taxes is probably a bigger issue than this whole Russia probe.

Brain storming

I'm going to start a poetry series about shoes:  (work boots, tennis shoes, flip flops, high heels, and fashion boots) I'm going to write a short story about living in low income apartments. I'm going to write a slam poem about beer. I'm going to write an all silent play about couples playing cards for money, two teenagers having sex on side stage, a man coming in and stealing something, front stage outside a woman killing a man with a gun, priest on side stage drinking from a bottle of wine, and how does all the immorality end>?  you'll have to see.

Writing (an essay)

When you read a book of short stories, you get the raw energy of someone else's writing, inspiring you to do just the same, and some stick with you like a dream that you just can't shake.  Before I started writing plays, I read a lot of them sometimes in the car while waiting for my kids.  Then I went out and saw plays produced on stage.  I had no idea I'd try it myself, after years of doing poems, and then short stories.  Not all of them are comedies, but many are, and I sense a strong, good response to them.  I pride myself in originality. When I've been in my most productive periods, writing was an every day thing in which I just told myself, sit down and do it, almost auto pilot like any other job.  No targeting or medication has stopped me from producing all the works I have.  It's like any other exercise program, you exercise the mind, and you trust that it will turn out, even if, while writing it, you don't know how it's going to turn out,...

November 29th (a poem)

November 29th The sky is undrawn white unrolled in schools with tests of coming up with the sun bright and correct after storms the sky is a king sized bed sheet for those who went the distance long poles reaching out for space and wired to shake off sleep the sky is the back of a poster hanging on the white wall pressing a ghost against the season straight through like stuffing a hole the sky is foam and froth that spilled all over without a drip in a tall cup of hours the morning is beginning as a sail hoisted and ready.

About head pain/EM weapons

our minds might be able to turn this off, more specifically, making the decision that you've had enough and doing sort Cognitive Behavorial Therapy with yourself, changing your thoughts away from the pain, not accepting, and using the mind to switch. When I went through the worst, it was days on end, and it ended when I said, No more, I was able to come out of it. If you can't do it, try conversations in person with someone close to you, not about this, but about anything other, and get involved in how to respond, the mind will be shifted into something else.

Is that the going rate?

We had to pay a guy 75 bucks to do our driveway and sidewalk and I even cleared the front walk out of the house but Phil's got a heart condition, and I'm not in great shape, have sciatica. We had leaves, and yes it's long driveway and walk. He took us, I think.

The Devil's Son (today's poem)

The Devil's Son He grew up playing in the dirt trying to get back to any other home calling out the good kids as dandy in a world of creatures with red eyes as he grew his fingers became so long he could touch the farthest gone soul  or hold up a criminal with ease as an offering to his father his best friend the fire in his belly was a universal truth of his own hunger waiting for dead meat or trapping any passerby with his jagged vibe he became a man and sought out dominion fighting against perfect days with his own storm the anger took him to the edge with birds swarming around his head making him dizzy nearly falling only a strong wind in his face pushed him back he wore a cape that kept his cold shoulders in and roamed the earth seeking those certain friends that would literally bow to him as their only servant when he died he left people wondering if he was more human than they thought back into the ground where folklore has it ...

It's not easy being a white female writer

I look at who wins the awards and its every different race and ethnicity they want total diversity, we’re talking 10 to 50 thousand dollar awards and some of these people are so young what I couldn’t do with that kind of money I’ve got friends and teachers who could nominate me but they never have, I’m not trying to racist here but it certainly helps if your’e black. It hasn’t stopped me from writing and my works are all over Google Plus and Twitter at least I have a following, but this is all I can do and I want to see the money one day.

a few silly jokes

why did the plumber walk out the bar quickly? He didn’t want to get his pipes cleaned. The clock on the wall says 1 o’clock and the man says, Am I the only one down? Teenage girl wears heavy long dangling earrings and teenage boy says I bet you can’t weight.

Alright, let's get back to work (a poem)

I almost lost an internal organ like losing a best friend from my birthday party it was told it had to go for acting all bad and everything it was told it would be yanked from me like a bloody truth it was told it was a pain to keep it draped over this house of bones but wait, it was a false alarm, just an upper G.I. drift floating down the river so imagine how shocked everyone was when the internal organ kicked against authority and got its way all way through a lifetime ready to do what it should to please the crowd inside.

It's a fucking joke

schizophrenia.com  does frequent suspensions, you might be set up with harsh criticism, then respond, and then take the fall. The site is full of people who can't handle a strong willed woman, because every other one is too motivated to either leave you out, or solve problems with something the mods side with, all you against everyone, and such terrible insight into what would be a just cause for eliminating someone, all creation of what would be an easy fix, and not allowing  it, but instead making you feel that you are the one on the offense. The judgment of the schizophrenic mods means that the days spent on there are scorned and remiss with endless defense toward themselves, while the outspoken are given over to their supposed rules for a site that won't make any waves except to condemn and be given toward lasting authority. It's a total disgrace to even frequent there, and it does nothing toward good, or well meaning posters.

RH negative

my mother will go to her grave convinced that no RH negative caused schizophrenia. She lived a hard life with scoliosis and steel rod in her spine, I try to leave it alone. that time was very hard on all of us, she had screws in her head, and had to learn to walk all over again.  Was in a body cast for over 6 months. I was 4.