“You never know what you’ll find when you rip the top sheet away.
You never know how deep the red sinks in until you pull back the other layers…”
26 August 2018
Noise, Noise, Noise
That ringing in my ears is
the constant, harrowing static of my mind
failing to find
the frequency of life.
In the Thick of It
Who are you? A pair of eyes–reading. Searching. Crying. Dying.
What are you searching for? You know. You don’t know. You know–you don’t know.
What are your questions? You’d ask– if only someone would give you all of the answers. But you know they don’t know. Any more than you. ~
28 June 2018
Another shooting. Five dead at a local newspaper in Maryland. Several injured. Will it ever end? Hey, I get the desire to own a gun. I’m a retired military (U.S. Navy) veteran and served a tour in Afghanistan. Had to qualify on the M-16 and M-9, and had to carry my Baretta everywhere I went. I understand the hunting and protection arguments (grew up on a farm, but vegan here–yo). Still, I can’t understand the NRA responses to mass school and other shootings, and the support of guns in D.C. even after these events happen.
Seriously, it is time to get control of firearms in this country. From homicides to suicides—-firearms are weapons that make killing ourselves and each other way too easy. Argue all you want. The statistics are there to show how guns are not helping our society and how our adamant support of them is hurting us overall.
On top of this, I discovered that Harlan Ellison passed away today. I always wanted to meet him. Heard so many things about him, but most notable were about his stories. I shall delve into his work as a toast to him and all of the amazing things he did in his life. He might not have been easy to get along with for some, but the man had definite “writing game.” I look forward to reading his work and hearing the stories people tell about the man, the friend and the writer they knew.
26 May 2018
I wasn’t sure what this page was going to be for, not for a long time. I had the title and the blog page just sitting there–empty–and I liked it that way because it sounded all morose, deep, dark, bloody–very gothy–and then I didn’t do anything with it.
Even now, I’m not sure what it is. Maybe a “dream” diary. Or not. There’s one lovely thing about a blog page. In the real world, I can’t get a word in edgewise without being interrupted and/or being told that I’m wrong because of something that is based on an ‘alternative fact’ or something someone’s cousin found out from a friend last year on a holiday in Austraila from the bartender who served them at 2AM. (Yes, that does sound like whining–poor me–no, I don’t want to hurt myself, or others–okay–sometimes I do, but I’m not going to–not really. Only on paper or electrons, which thankfully isn’t illegal–YET.)
Yes. The world is busy spinning around on its axis a million miles a minute– (not literally, so if anyone DOES read my friggin Bloody Sheets don’t wave the “facts” at me. It’s a bloody saying, okay?) –people are dying and being born each second–and so what? Might as well use some blank electron spaces to cyber-ink past, present and future dreams. Or random thoughts. Or a political muse–no, not politics–too controversial and scary! Okay, politics too. And throw down a theory or five in the process maybe?
And no, I’ve got no dream to throw down on the page today. Last night was too muddled. One of the reasons? I tried a freaking oral “snore-stop”/mouthpiece that’s supposed to hold your tongue in place and keep you from snoring–something that’s supposed to help a person with sleep apnea because I gave back my C-Pap machine to the VA. Why? Because I felt like the thing from Alien was glued to my face every time I used it, no matter what face-piece I tried. Because I like to sleep on my stomach and because my hips hurt and I can’t stay still at night, and that long hose attached to a box with distilled water still seems like a bubbling petri dish and the commercial that talks about how it needs to be sanitized every day doesn’t make me feel any better about it. Given all of that–, I’m not even sure I had a dream last night. I think all of that shit scared any dreams I could have had right the hell away. And there’s something else to mull. How often is it that the human scares the night terrors away? Hmmm.
Querus Abuttu 