Gone To Pisgah, To See A Man About A Dog.

Inexplicable Stupidities

Inexplicable stupidities, that rad grade of a confluence of issues and situations that cannot readily, if at all, be resolved all at once. And, for some reason, the case is: “Everything Must Be Resolved, At Once!”, is the issue. In a word: Bullshit! It’s bullshit! Not the helpful, grass fertilizer, you smell on shorn to the dirt lawns, in winter, in Los Angeles, with the pieces of white linen strips, on strings, that are tied to small, soft, pine stakes, in the corners and mid-way points, of some of the large lawns, in these Hollywood bungalows, on Crescent Heights; Willoughby, and Sycamore streets, no. AND not the choice of bombers world-wide “fertilizer” incendiary (who knew?) either. NO. Bullshit, as in cut chase. Call it, this confluence of incurables, for what it is. It is a thing which is just there and for the moment is in the way and can’t be dealt with. No one wants to, in some situations of it. No one can in others. It’s overwhelming. Like that guy in the movie about the future and the past and the flying car, and how he keeps driving into piles of manure, face first, certain every time, to get it in his mouth. We’re all like that guy from time to time. Having to face bullshit, the inexplicable stupidities. {From the Handheld}

Dream:: I'm Floating ...

Flying above your courtyard of cement with little round holes cut in here there for your stupid little plants to breathe. I’m hovering around in the great uplift of wind, trying to control my body space craft, it is a challenge. Moving an arm here there to position change. And then to get down! Finally I do. Am suddenly walking along inside your cluttered and dusty multi-layered, flat, slabwork interior, courtyard, and into your house. It’s got stuff all over. The downstairs bathroom you want me to paint is most interesting as it is. I don’t consider I can improve on it, but it could use new and clean fixtures. Tapestry on the walls. Handmade. Loose, sewn slide curtains they just reveal another color another fabric below. I tear away at some of it. Tape and spray paint close to the mirror medicine cabinet. THE END. She would suggest something that, if taken seriously, would be the thing she really wants. But it’s done in such a way as to not actually be taken so. But, you never know. Do say: You Hate That. It’s that telling you to do something while asking/saying that. {{From unit # 9630}}

The Day

The day I make or buy a 10 Terabyte Processor Tower, will be a great one. I’m tired of all these incremental increases of memory/power caps and myriad and too frequent DECREASES of ability in regular normal every day computer usage. What is the “real” problem? Is the Internet just so over-loaded? Are these “browsers” just so fraught with “programming” challenges that they just cannot keep up with usage? I just must say that after I’ve done all I can to clear up the Cache and Organized the Disk for maximum usage, have Clicked and tricked the machine to bare bone graphics. I CAN’T believe that adding more RAM is going to keep my machine from freezing. No, my “Processor” can only do so much. I’d much rather get my FAVORITES filed and photos and writings, into and onto some massive memory sticks and if I can get the damn dvd writer going correct, BACK up/COPY the “essentials” (which aren’t much), and buy a new TOWER (basically a new computer, one I don’t need, made for graphics/games) and put all that data on it. See it in ops as normal every day functionings for a week or month or so, then reformat my old tower. And literally take a part physically the disk, pour acid on it, whatever I can, to make sure nothing of the old me exists somewhere, and just hope and pray that there’s NOTHING in/on my old files on the new Tower, that’s going to mucky it about, because, I gotta tell ya, I’m TIRED of its SLOW bull-fork-ship! The inexplicable freezing internet page/email software loading, Word software glitches, etc! Ugly, awful, stupid, frustrating inane-deities! {From the Handheld}

Something Inexplicably Weird To Say

Keep the “napalm” down. Buy a box of Chiggars, Ticks, and Wood Glue. {From the Handheld}

You'll Be A Woman Soon

Girl, don’t “Sir” me. I’m in “lurve” with you. Gives change. Perfect. Perfunct. Another Girl, another time, another place: She’s too young to face. (It hurts.) Gives change, does homework between transactions of beer; wine, liquor, and candy bars. {From the Handheld}

On the subject of titles that say more than they mean, this thing is less than what it appears. What I want to say I cannot or shall not. Suffice it to say that I’m suffering again physically and it’s not all in my head but because I can’t get control of my head, it’s worse. Maybe later when it’s over and I have some perspective, I can relate the tale and might even do it plain instead of through the mouth/mind of a character. Now suffice to say, my meat is burnt, frozen stiff, and it hurts. There’s no known cause and no cure as it were. Time is the genius that requires my living/suffering through it and maybe just maybe we’ll be all right, okay, coming out another “side.” {{From unit # 9630}}

Been Back

Now for two weeks and I can’t say what a pleasure it has been. I can’t. Not for it my vacation or for time spent here these two weeks. Nope, I can’t. Still sick feeling and when I’m not that, feel weird. On top of all that heavy oppression of doubt and misery, uncertainty and confusion. Too bad too, because obviously there have been some glorious moments, both here and abroad, that have kept me…if not struggling onward, then at least piqued that some OTHER is about some where or place/state, that if I can just find the key, I can be fully occupied, or not, because I’ve just been occupied, had some fun here and there and great fun it’s been; occupied at work and other sundry. And this whole bit about my not being able to say what a pleasure it’s been, has been, or, IS, but a lie. Because I’ve had that; pleasure, leisure, relaxation, and the misery doubt confusion, uncertainty. So, I’ve had the life full of late, haven’t I? From unit # 9630

Animals & Bugambilias

WELL this time tomorrow I will be approaching 39 thousand feet or so. Something like that. Now I’m 5 thousand, 2 hundred feet, smellin’ like a winner with my eGo black men’s shampoo and used as body soap too. Washing my clothes with FOCA powder soap and oxy clean, in cold but “hard” water. Good stuff. Good times. I got here and thought; geez, I’ll never get/stay clean. So much to mucky us about. Ah well. Que su puede a’ssed eh? Pretty fat rhino beetle. Tons of “daddy long-legs” and more flying green ant or midges and what-nots as that, than I can categorize. Can’t do coffee. Pity. So many to try. That and Chocolate. Both can go in the same cup and then some fresh ground chili powder! I could even drink that cold now, and it would work, no problemo. At least now it would be no big deal. But since it requires of me days to recoup, the depression, etc? NO! Definitely NOT worth it. Damn, I sure do miss it. Inspirational trigger “drug”. So’s alcohol up to a point, but like all things: Mucho Mas = NO BUENO!!!! from the handheld

The Subject Is Sleep

For soon we’ll get some of that, we feel certain. Have to stay up in the day to do/get that organized body thing for this 2 hour ahead deal. It’s not so bad. More comfortable than at home right now. Cool. Must only rank mid seventies. Head only slightly adrift. Paracetamol and lack of sleep to blame. Upset stomach assisting quite well w/ the staying up/back routine. Want a nap but it’d ruin my clock for the whole time I’m here, no doubt. Ah well, so much for…Dunno. Nothing makes much sense right now. Tired. Have to get by till dark and reasonable time to go to bed in this time zone, two hours ahead of mine in the day. Must not fall asleep. Put some shorts on. Getting warm. Put clothes away. Settle in. Sit and read books, magazines and comics. I’m typing this from the backyard here with a view of the Lake, somewhere just east of, in the local parlance: “Joco”, short for Jocotepec, Jal. MX. From unit # 9630

Flying

On Thursday night, Friday morning, I am going to be flying south, south-east of here, for about 3 hours, with the smiling Eskimo. Right into the rising sun. Or have it on my left side, as all my seat-mates try to sleep. I however, with the light on, will be up; reading and writing, on this and other media, and hope is, I’ll be able to post with this thing from such places as Jocotepec, and San Juan Cosala, or wherever. Think I know it’ll work in the airport, at least. If it doesn’t anywhere else, so what? Too bad. Who cares? I do. I want it to work, everywhere. But just because I want it to, just because, doesn’t mean diddly in this crazy mixed up world. Just because I want the knife from the drawer I want, not the one that’s handed to me, doesn’t mean that that’s going to happen. It doesn’t mean I’m going to find the thing right away or at all. It also doesn’t mean I have to get mad at the person who hands me the knife, the one they were about to use, and because of that you did not want to use it. (Very specifically so.)No, it doesn’t mean any of that at all. And still, you can decide to (Unfortunately only now you know it.) WALK a-way. And, you should, more times than you do. Yes. That is a solution, a problem-solver, you must employ, much more often. Pity is, you don’t always know beforehand, you need to walk away, now! Even when you’re standing in one place. When that’s your post or position. Smile. Breathe. Walk! A few or a lot of steps away. It’s okay. It’s all right. If it means you don’t get mad, even in the slightest, it’s worth it. Don’t lose your stuff. Don’t lose your love; job, life! Walk away some times, and save the world! from the handheld