20
"You've got to get up every morning with determination if
you're going to go to bed with satisfaction."--George Horace Lorimer
“Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.”--Anonymous
“Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.”--Gail Devers
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race."
--Calvin Coolidge
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
--Winston Churchill
******************************
Up at 4:44 a.m., full of Love; two dogs waiting at bed's edge, demanding to be rubbed; two cats waiting by their bowls to be fed; two turtles milling about their aquarium, happy when I turn their heat lamp on.
When someone else approaches the turtles, with food, or not, the turtles, Prynce, and Rue Paul, run to the back side of their box. When I approach the aquarium, the turtles come to me, huddling below me, waiting to see why I have come to them.
I think it beautiful how these reptiles have come to know me.
My dog, Morisson, is now at my elbow, putting his nose on it, trying to pull my hand off of this computer, and onto the back of his head. Morisson loves to be scratched.
I used to have children in my home, but they have grown. I still have children in the home, but they are of the furry persuasion. I believe that God gives us what we need when we need it, but we have to be receptive to the gifts. We can't be wanting a Rolls Royce, when riding the bus is what we are supposed to be doing at the time.
The lyrics, "Shouldn't have took more than you gave/wouldn't be in this mess, today," by the band Traffic come to mind.
I'll soon be facing some challenges of my own. The last tier of my unemployment just ran out. It took me a long time to find a job, the last time that I looked for one. I'll probably have to let my cell phone, and, maybe, the internet go. I probably won't be without a cell phone, or the internet for life. I have no inherent right to anything, of such a nature, really. I don't feel sorry for myself. As one friend of mine says frequently, "It is what it is."
This morning, I am full of what I have, these dogs, these cats, these turtles, instead of what I, maybe, don't have. I have been taught that God never gives us more than we can handle, and, in my case, that has proven to be true. I am thankful for this. I am thankful to be breathing the air of a new day, to have woken, this morning, to see a new day. May your day be blessed.
****************************************
It's 32 degrees outside, this morning. I just took the dogs outside, and their piss froze in mid-air. I had to break it from them with a stick; gosh now I know what Sarah Palin, and The Eskimos go through in Alaska. Just kidding; I have no idea what Sarah Palin goes through in Alaska.
I'm watching the movie, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," and am finding it fascinating. I love that two outcasts, of different persuasions, have gotten together for one goal. Outcasts of different persuasions are often as far apart as an outcast and a conformist are, which doesn't really make sense. You don't see no haired combat boot wearing men, hanging around with long haired sandal wearing tie dyed types; you didn't see mods, and punks, much hanging out, back in the day, in England when there were mods going about in their long jackets, on their scooters.
Do you see lawyers hanging out with doctors? Do you see accountants hanging out with car salesmen? Do people mostly stick to their own?
****************************************
I just finished watching, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." I found it to be a very powerful movie, despite the fact that I had to watch it with subtitles. I the end left me a bit flat footed; I wanted to see the two lead characters hook up, as they had for most of the movie. I am saddened that the guy who wrote the book, died before it, and the other two in his trilogy got published.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (original title in Swedish: Män som hatar kvinnor – "Men Who Hate Women") is an award-winning crime novel by Swedish author and journalist Stieg Larsson, the first in his Millennium Trilogy.
At his death in November 2004, Larsson left three unpublished novels that made up the trilogy. It became a posthumous best-seller in several European countries as well as in the United States.[1] Larsson, who was disgusted by sexual violence, witnessed the gang rape of a young girl when he was 15. He never forgave himself for failing to help the girl, whose name was Lisbeth – like the young heroine of his books, herself a rape victim, which inspired the theme of sexual violence against women in his books.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Girl_with_the_Dragon_Tattoo
***************************************
Strange things I've run across, so far, in the new year:
1) Hitler was a vegetarian? http://www.naturalnews.com/025163_Hitler_vegetarian_vegetarianism.html
2) Vegetarian serial killers? Look here: https://encrypted.google.com/search?hl=en&source=hp&biw=1024&bih=467&q=vegetarian+serial+killers&aq=f&aqi=g1&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=
********************************************
Author Brian Rosenberger is at it again!!
As The Worm Turns by Brian Rosenberger gets reviewed, and several of its stories printed here:
http://www.freewebs.com/hfrzine/january2011reviews.htm
**********************************************
Mikel, your poems are so simple, they come with a message and deliver it right away without any frills. Simplicity is beauty after all.
--Thanks, Moana
Mikel, you have a very interesting way of looking at life
--Pamela
***********************************************
K Poems of the Day
Would you have to have me?
Irish tea is stronger than English tea,
won't you send your love to me?
I thought that I had forever a few times,
I didn't, but I'm not giving up on going the distance.
Don't need no church to sanction me.
Don't need no state to validate my love,
for me.
I'm sitting here, alone,
at least you could be on the telephone.
They have video now. We could look at
each other on the computer.
Would that keep you happy,
or would you have to have me?
--Mikel K
And I Wonder Why Love Eludes Me
I want to punish her,
though she has done no wrong.
I want to kiss her,
though I have dismissed her.
I want to hold her hand,
though I have banished her
to a far away foreign land.
I want her to run to me,
though I have run from her.
I want her to turn to me,
though I have turned away from her,
and I wonder why love eludes me.
--Mikel K
******************************
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
By Traffic
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
Then we wouldn't be in this mess today
I know we've all got different ways
But the dues we've got to pay are still the same
Just trying to change the script for this old play
You're reading and not feelin' what you say
Comin' on too strong for me to stay
Interpret what you're seein' anyway
Seems the simple things are hardest to explain
We're just gonna come too soon, gettin' all the pain
Footprints in the snow will show whether things are still the same
Till you get [Incomprehensible] someone, help to live again
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
Then we wouldn't be in this mess today
I know we've all got different ways
But the dues we've got to pay, are still the same
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
Shouldn't have took more than you gave
**************************************
Please help us keep the lights on,
with a donation to The Mikel K tip jar at:
www.mikelk.com
All donations will receive an E-Copy
of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
#19
The Daily K: Freedom's Just Another Word.
"Happiness can exist only in acceptance."--Denis De Rougamont
"And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment."--Anonymous
"Acceptance of others, their looks, their behaviors, their beliefs, bring you an inner peace and tranquillity -- instead of anger and resentment."--Anonymous
"Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them."--Brendan Francis
"Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events."--Ralph Waldo Emerson
-------------------------------------------
I couldn't move my right knee this morning, when I woke, and when I did it caused me great pain. It rained yesterday, and rain most always affects my knee in a non-positive manner. The weather, outside, was warm, so I turned the heat down in the abode. Cooler temperatures affect my knee, also; so, there, I had the one two punch of cold weather, and rain. The good thing is that once I got up, and started moving, the pain went away, and the knee let me operate normally. I fed my cats, dogs, and turtles, and made a big pot of the cheap coffee that I am drinking. The coffee tastes great. It doesn't taste cheap at all. I think that cheap is, sometimes, a state of mind. After I fed my dogs, I went next door, and fed Kitty Poo, Henry and Anna. All three of them were very glad to see me.
It is 6:38, and the King and Queen are sprawled on the floor next to my bed. I took them out for the second time this morning, and then brought them over here to keep us company. Henry keeps getting up to inspect things, like the empty cat food bowls, and the toilet in the bathroom. Anna is content to lay her chin on the floor, and rest.
The Great Danes, and I, went for a walk, again, yesterday. Henry, and Anna, love to walk. Henry leads the way, Anna, and I follow. It was wet, yesterday, and there weren't many people on the sidewalk, but the day before the weather was sunny, and it is funny how many people The Great Danes will attract to them.
"Are they Great Danes?" is the most asked question. People are fascinated with the dogs. I remember being a little scared of them, when I first met them; they were so big. Now, they seem normal to me, not huge; they seem just like Henry, and Anna to me.
Henry and Anna have a feline roommate named Kitty Poo. Her official name is, "Karma," but no one much calls her that. I used to let Kitty Poo slip into our apartment, but she will not slip into it anymore ,because one of my cats, the black one, Jaggar, is such an asshole.
Kitty Poo is a black cat, also, and one might think that there would be some sort of bond between black cats, but between these two, at least on Jaggar's part, there is no bond. There is not even an inkling of friendship, or respect. It is as if Kitty Poo is a long hair, and Jaggar has no hair, and must maintain some moronic code of behavior that relates strictly to the length of one's hair.
"Oh, you are a long hair, Kitty Poo, I will not respect you, and I will try to beat the shit out of you." I have seen such behavior exhibited in humans, so I would think that it is not too far a stretch to see it in animals.
To look at Jaggar, right now, curled up on the floor next to my desk, you would not think that he was capable of such meanness. He tries to act like he doesn't care about me, but the fact that he sleeps so close to me, tells me that he does care. When he was a kitten, Jaggar was run over by a car that must have been in a hurry to buy french fries, or a cheap burger. They found him with his chest caved in in a fast food restaurant drive through lane; his mother lay dead next to him. Jaggar was rushed to a vet's office, and was raised from the near dead by the vet staff. The vet staff kept bringing him out to me, when I would come in with my pets, showing me Jaggar's progress, and then, one day, they handed him to me, saying, "We know that you will love him!"
And love him I do; I just wish that he wouldn't be a dick to Kitty Poo.
"Love" is not always what you think it is, or what you think it should be. Sometimes, love is hitting you in the face, and you don't see it. Sometimes, you think that you are in love, but you are not.
***********************************
Even though I primarily write on a laptop, I still find use for pens, and a notebook, on occaision. I have long felt that I am not doing my job if I am not very close to a means for writing down whatever comes into my head to write down. For decades, I have carried a pen, and a notebook with me, wherever I go. I have bookshelves full of these notebooks. People who visit, gasp at the amount of notebooks that I have stacked upon one another.
I'm extremely frustrated, right now; my laptop broke down, again; this time it won't let me get on the internet, it just keeps saying, "Aw snap, something went wrong with this page; try hitting restore."
I have hit restore. I have restored the computer settings back to an earlier point in time. I have prayed. I have taken an extra pill, but nothing works. I have put in a call to Wayne, the computer genius, but it is New Year's Day, and I am sure that he is busy with his family.
This, too, shall pass.
-------------------------------------
Trapped
I'm living in the corner
with the spider; he has
spun his web, I'm up to
no good. I can't leave
the spider he would be
all alone. I'd break his
web that would break
his heart, and he couldn't
eat. I'm up to no good.
I'm hiding here because
of her, she left me standing
with my mouth open. I'm
up to no good. Sympathy
is what I am after. The
spider is my friend,
but I would leave him
in an instant, I would break
his web, if she would
come back to me. I'm
up to no good.
--------------------------------
I am the only white person on the train
Ain't no white people on the train
at 3:40 p.m. on a Tuesday
Everyone is African-American,
except for two Asian girls.
I'm not sure what this says
about the price of eggs in China.
--Mikel K
--------------------------------
The Daily K: Freedom's Just Another Word.
"Happiness can exist only in acceptance."--Denis De Rougamont
"And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment."--Anonymous
"Acceptance of others, their looks, their behaviors, their beliefs, bring you an inner peace and tranquillity -- instead of anger and resentment."--Anonymous
"Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them."--Brendan Francis
"Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events."--Ralph Waldo Emerson
-------------------------------------------
I couldn't move my right knee this morning, when I woke, and when I did it caused me great pain. It rained yesterday, and rain most always affects my knee in a non-positive manner. The weather, outside, was warm, so I turned the heat down in the abode. Cooler temperatures affect my knee, also; so, there, I had the one two punch of cold weather, and rain. The good thing is that once I got up, and started moving, the pain went away, and the knee let me operate normally. I fed my cats, dogs, and turtles, and made a big pot of the cheap coffee that I am drinking. The coffee tastes great. It doesn't taste cheap at all. I think that cheap is, sometimes, a state of mind. After I fed my dogs, I went next door, and fed Kitty Poo, Henry and Anna. All three of them were very glad to see me.
It is 6:38, and the King and Queen are sprawled on the floor next to my bed. I took them out for the second time this morning, and then brought them over here to keep us company. Henry keeps getting up to inspect things, like the empty cat food bowls, and the toilet in the bathroom. Anna is content to lay her chin on the floor, and rest.
The Great Danes, and I, went for a walk, again, yesterday. Henry, and Anna, love to walk. Henry leads the way, Anna, and I follow. It was wet, yesterday, and there weren't many people on the sidewalk, but the day before the weather was sunny, and it is funny how many people The Great Danes will attract to them.
"Are they Great Danes?" is the most asked question. People are fascinated with the dogs. I remember being a little scared of them, when I first met them; they were so big. Now, they seem normal to me, not huge; they seem just like Henry, and Anna to me.
Henry and Anna have a feline roommate named Kitty Poo. Her official name is, "Karma," but no one much calls her that. I used to let Kitty Poo slip into our apartment, but she will not slip into it anymore ,because one of my cats, the black one, Jaggar, is such an asshole.
Kitty Poo is a black cat, also, and one might think that there would be some sort of bond between black cats, but between these two, at least on Jaggar's part, there is no bond. There is not even an inkling of friendship, or respect. It is as if Kitty Poo is a long hair, and Jaggar has no hair, and must maintain some moronic code of behavior that relates strictly to the length of one's hair.
"Oh, you are a long hair, Kitty Poo, I will not respect you, and I will try to beat the shit out of you." I have seen such behavior exhibited in humans, so I would think that it is not too far a stretch to see it in animals.
To look at Jaggar, right now, curled up on the floor next to my desk, you would not think that he was capable of such meanness. He tries to act like he doesn't care about me, but the fact that he sleeps so close to me, tells me that he does care. When he was a kitten, Jaggar was run over by a car that must have been in a hurry to buy french fries, or a cheap burger. They found him with his chest caved in in a fast food restaurant drive through lane; his mother lay dead next to him. Jaggar was rushed to a vet's office, and was raised from the near dead by the vet staff. The vet staff kept bringing him out to me, when I would come in with my pets, showing me Jaggar's progress, and then, one day, they handed him to me, saying, "We know that you will love him!"
And love him I do; I just wish that he wouldn't be a dick to Kitty Poo.
"Love" is not always what you think it is, or what you think it should be. Sometimes, love is hitting you in the face, and you don't see it. Sometimes, you think that you are in love, but you are not.
***********************************
Even though I primarily write on a laptop, I still find use for pens, and a notebook, on occaision. I have long felt that I am not doing my job if I am not very close to a means for writing down whatever comes into my head to write down. For decades, I have carried a pen, and a notebook with me, wherever I go. I have bookshelves full of these notebooks. People who visit, gasp at the amount of notebooks that I have stacked upon one another.
I'm extremely frustrated, right now; my laptop broke down, again; this time it won't let me get on the internet, it just keeps saying, "Aw snap, something went wrong with this page; try hitting restore."
I have hit restore. I have restored the computer settings back to an earlier point in time. I have prayed. I have taken an extra pill, but nothing works. I have put in a call to Wayne, the computer genius, but it is New Year's Day, and I am sure that he is busy with his family.
This, too, shall pass.
-------------------------------------
Trapped
I'm living in the corner
with the spider; he has
spun his web, I'm up to
no good. I can't leave
the spider he would be
all alone. I'd break his
web that would break
his heart, and he couldn't
eat. I'm up to no good.
I'm hiding here because
of her, she left me standing
with my mouth open. I'm
up to no good. Sympathy
is what I am after. The
spider is my friend,
but I would leave him
in an instant, I would break
his web, if she would
come back to me. I'm
up to no good.
--------------------------------
I am the only white person on the train
Ain't no white people on the train
at 3:40 p.m. on a Tuesday
Everyone is African-American,
except for two Asian girls.
I'm not sure what this says
about the price of eggs in China.
--Mikel K
--------------------------------
Saturday, January 1, 2011
#18
"Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account”--Oscar Wilde
“May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions”--Joey Adams
"I have never heard anything about the resolutions of the apostles, but a good deal about their acts."--Og Mandino
"I think in terms of the day's resolutions, not the years,"--Henry Moore
---------------------------------------------
I'll probably always see and hear rats, in whatever living space that I'm living in, after living in the last house that I lived in. Anytime that there is any sort of noise coming from the oven, these days, I think that there is a big, fat rat waiting back there for me to go to sleep, so that he can come out into my kitchen and prowl about while I am snoozing.
Several times, while living in that house, I came into the kitchen in the middle of the night seeking water, and the rat would be standing there, near the sink, staring at me, daring me to share the space with him. After I stared back at him, heart pounding, hoping that he wouldn't skyrocket through the air and land his teeth on some part of my face, he would run off.
I would hear him running in there, between the walls of that house, during the day, and it sounded as if he wasn't alone. I bought traps, and put peanut butter in them, and proved to myself that he was not alone. I never caught him. He must have been the King Rat, invincible.
Once you have lived with rats, or at least once I have lived with rats, you always feel vulnerable. When you come into your kitchen, at night, you are waiting for a big, fat rat to greet you. It causes you to drink less water in the middle of the night.
*******
I'm not sure that The Bee Gees are the group to put in the cd player when you are feeling slightly disconsolate. "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart," wasn't written to make the listener feel good, now was it? And yet, sitting here feeling a little blue, I find some relief from the slight depression that I am feeling as I listen to The Bee Gees sing that song. Sometimes a sad song makes me feel happy.
We have all had broken hearts. I refuse to talk to talk about any of mine, tonight. I prefer to focus on the women who have never really left my life, even though they left my bedroom, or they left mine. And I don't feel like talking about them, either, tonight.
Sometimes, I get depressed when I have no email, or when no one has said hello to me on Facebook, or OpenSalon.com. This probably means that I need help. I need to go to Cyberspace Social Interaction 12 Step Meetings. I really do.
When my cat, Kobain, vomits up hairballs, he always does it on my bed, on the part of the bed that sleep on. I know that I don't wash my sheets enough, but I really do not need the cat's assistance in picking the time to take the sheets down the hall to the washer Why can't he puke on the nasty carpet that we have on this floor, the carpet that looks mostly covered in puke; the carpet covered in dog and cat hair, the carpet that even I wouldn't sit or lay down on.
My other cat, Jaggar, is in a playful mood: he just knocked my pill container off of my desk onto the floor, underneath the aquarium, that houses my turtles, almost knocking over the lamp that lights the aquarium, and keeps the turtles warm.
Damn cats.
And the dogs, tonight, are scratching furiously.
*******
Sometimes, when I am alone, I don't care how much I eat, I don't care how fat I get, I don't care how high my sugar reading is in the morning, when I prick my finger, and lay my blood down on the little white strip that I have inserted into the small blue device that gives me the reading. I think that this is, perhaps the equivalent of drinking myself into a stupor, back in the old days, when self-destruction was more cut and clear. Nobody thinks that you are trying to kill yourself if you eat too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You can even fool yourself.
*******
I'm trying to not have any more caffeine, tonight. I don't want to stay up halfway through the night, so I fix myself a ginger tea, instead of a coffee, or my usual hot tea with milk. The ginger tea is refreshing, but needs a kick added to it, so I put in a teaspoon of Stevia. I try not to use sugar in my drinks, these days, because I am diabetic. In the old days, I used to load the sugar up. There was not enough of it around the way that I used it. I was always running out of it. Now, I am always running out of Stevia, and the stuff ain't cheap. It is supposed to be good for you, while sugar certainly isn't. I had a two liter plus cola beverage a day habit also. Is it any wonder that I turned out to be a diabetic. All that sugar made me fat, too. I like to eat more than I like to exercise. That is going to have to change.
A banana somehow seems in order. I bite off the ends and throw them one at a time to the dogs. Morisson catches his in his mouth, but I overthrow Bundy his, just to make him work for it. Morisson comes right back, giving me droopy eyes, indicating that he wants more banana. When I am freezing bananas he gets more banana, but, tonight, I only eating one banana and not freezing five or six of them, so he is out of luck.
(Excerpt from Mikel K's memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch," which you can buy below.
----------------------------------------
K Yoga Pose of The Day: Triangle Pose
http://www.ehow.com/video_4961265_iyengar-yoga-poses.html
----------------------------------------
K Poems of The Day
"Mikel, your writing pieces remind me of that potato chip ad "bet you can't eat just one". I enjoy your style, and humor, very much."--Barbara Moore
"Mikel K: AMEN BROTHER! I'm impressed with the way you write, and deal with, daily life."
--Annamaria Valeriano-Tussi
------------------------------------------
The big thing that can kill you
She was throwing out a bag
full of Tupperware,
and I said, happily,
that I would take it.
She had switched over
to glass,
and then I remembered
that plastic was supposed
to be bad for you.
Still, I took the bag.
Sometimes, when you can't
afford any better,
you have to go with
the small things that
might eventually add up
to the big thing that
kills you.
------------------------------
I feel free
I'm no celebrity,
but I'm not locked behind bars, either.
I am near broke, but I feel free.
I am blessed, and I know it.
Henry, the Great Dane from next door,
who is visiting us, this morning,
feels free, too;
free to bark at everyone
who walks by.
My dogs feel free to sleep,
as does Anna, the other Great Dane
from next door, who is also visiting
this morning.
A great part of freedom
is in how you feel.
I feel blessed to have been blessed
with these animals who surround me.
I feel free.
----------------------------------
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator, with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
"Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account”--Oscar Wilde
“May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions”--Joey Adams
"I have never heard anything about the resolutions of the apostles, but a good deal about their acts."--Og Mandino
"I think in terms of the day's resolutions, not the years,"--Henry Moore
---------------------------------------------
I'll probably always see and hear rats, in whatever living space that I'm living in, after living in the last house that I lived in. Anytime that there is any sort of noise coming from the oven, these days, I think that there is a big, fat rat waiting back there for me to go to sleep, so that he can come out into my kitchen and prowl about while I am snoozing.
Several times, while living in that house, I came into the kitchen in the middle of the night seeking water, and the rat would be standing there, near the sink, staring at me, daring me to share the space with him. After I stared back at him, heart pounding, hoping that he wouldn't skyrocket through the air and land his teeth on some part of my face, he would run off.
I would hear him running in there, between the walls of that house, during the day, and it sounded as if he wasn't alone. I bought traps, and put peanut butter in them, and proved to myself that he was not alone. I never caught him. He must have been the King Rat, invincible.
Once you have lived with rats, or at least once I have lived with rats, you always feel vulnerable. When you come into your kitchen, at night, you are waiting for a big, fat rat to greet you. It causes you to drink less water in the middle of the night.
*******
I'm not sure that The Bee Gees are the group to put in the cd player when you are feeling slightly disconsolate. "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart," wasn't written to make the listener feel good, now was it? And yet, sitting here feeling a little blue, I find some relief from the slight depression that I am feeling as I listen to The Bee Gees sing that song. Sometimes a sad song makes me feel happy.
We have all had broken hearts. I refuse to talk to talk about any of mine, tonight. I prefer to focus on the women who have never really left my life, even though they left my bedroom, or they left mine. And I don't feel like talking about them, either, tonight.
Sometimes, I get depressed when I have no email, or when no one has said hello to me on Facebook, or OpenSalon.com. This probably means that I need help. I need to go to Cyberspace Social Interaction 12 Step Meetings. I really do.
When my cat, Kobain, vomits up hairballs, he always does it on my bed, on the part of the bed that sleep on. I know that I don't wash my sheets enough, but I really do not need the cat's assistance in picking the time to take the sheets down the hall to the washer Why can't he puke on the nasty carpet that we have on this floor, the carpet that looks mostly covered in puke; the carpet covered in dog and cat hair, the carpet that even I wouldn't sit or lay down on.
My other cat, Jaggar, is in a playful mood: he just knocked my pill container off of my desk onto the floor, underneath the aquarium, that houses my turtles, almost knocking over the lamp that lights the aquarium, and keeps the turtles warm.
Damn cats.
And the dogs, tonight, are scratching furiously.
*******
Sometimes, when I am alone, I don't care how much I eat, I don't care how fat I get, I don't care how high my sugar reading is in the morning, when I prick my finger, and lay my blood down on the little white strip that I have inserted into the small blue device that gives me the reading. I think that this is, perhaps the equivalent of drinking myself into a stupor, back in the old days, when self-destruction was more cut and clear. Nobody thinks that you are trying to kill yourself if you eat too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You can even fool yourself.
*******
I'm trying to not have any more caffeine, tonight. I don't want to stay up halfway through the night, so I fix myself a ginger tea, instead of a coffee, or my usual hot tea with milk. The ginger tea is refreshing, but needs a kick added to it, so I put in a teaspoon of Stevia. I try not to use sugar in my drinks, these days, because I am diabetic. In the old days, I used to load the sugar up. There was not enough of it around the way that I used it. I was always running out of it. Now, I am always running out of Stevia, and the stuff ain't cheap. It is supposed to be good for you, while sugar certainly isn't. I had a two liter plus cola beverage a day habit also. Is it any wonder that I turned out to be a diabetic. All that sugar made me fat, too. I like to eat more than I like to exercise. That is going to have to change.
A banana somehow seems in order. I bite off the ends and throw them one at a time to the dogs. Morisson catches his in his mouth, but I overthrow Bundy his, just to make him work for it. Morisson comes right back, giving me droopy eyes, indicating that he wants more banana. When I am freezing bananas he gets more banana, but, tonight, I only eating one banana and not freezing five or six of them, so he is out of luck.
(Excerpt from Mikel K's memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch," which you can buy below.
----------------------------------------
K Yoga Pose of The Day: Triangle Pose
http://www.ehow.com/video_4961265_iyengar-yoga-poses.html
----------------------------------------
K Poems of The Day
"Mikel, your writing pieces remind me of that potato chip ad "bet you can't eat just one". I enjoy your style, and humor, very much."--Barbara Moore
"Mikel K: AMEN BROTHER! I'm impressed with the way you write, and deal with, daily life."
--Annamaria Valeriano-Tussi
------------------------------------------
The big thing that can kill you
She was throwing out a bag
full of Tupperware,
and I said, happily,
that I would take it.
She had switched over
to glass,
and then I remembered
that plastic was supposed
to be bad for you.
Still, I took the bag.
Sometimes, when you can't
afford any better,
you have to go with
the small things that
might eventually add up
to the big thing that
kills you.
------------------------------
I feel free
I'm no celebrity,
but I'm not locked behind bars, either.
I am near broke, but I feel free.
I am blessed, and I know it.
Henry, the Great Dane from next door,
who is visiting us, this morning,
feels free, too;
free to bark at everyone
who walks by.
My dogs feel free to sleep,
as does Anna, the other Great Dane
from next door, who is also visiting
this morning.
A great part of freedom
is in how you feel.
I feel blessed to have been blessed
with these animals who surround me.
I feel free.
----------------------------------
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator, with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
#17
“Another fresh new year is here . . .
Another year to live!
To banish worry, doubt, and fear,
To love and laugh and give!
This bright new year is given me
To live each day with zest . . .
To daily grow and try to be
My highest and my best!
I have the opportunity
Once more to right some wrongs,
To pray for peace, to plant a tree,
And sing more joyful songs!”
--William Arthur Ward
“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”--Bill Vaughn
“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.”--Edith Lovejoy Pierce
“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.”--Oprah Winfrey
It is hard to believe that this is the first day of the year 2011. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see my writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see the end to wars. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school to get an MFA in Poetry/Memoir in Athens, Ga., and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in to any new space that I rented, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman. Then I woke up, and I was a man.
When the bathroom sink is dirty, I should probably clean it, so that I will have the joy of a clean sink, but, mostly, I only clean it when guests are coming over, which is very infrequent, so mostly I stare down at a dirty sink, when I wash my face, or brush my teeth. Does this indicate something lazy about me; something anti-social? Is this an inherited trait? I grew up in spotless homes, maybe I am rejecting the rigidity in which I was forced to live; the harshness that was hoisted upon me when it was time to clean, when it was time to keep that which had been cleaned clean. If I had joined the military, would they have excise this trait from my existence? Should keeping a clean sink my New Year's resoulution, and if it was, would I keep it?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Bill Sheffield and his music are legendary.
Here are some Bill Sheffield music videos: http://apps.facebook.com/reverbnation_fb/artist/billsheffield
and here is Bill Sheffield's Website: http://www.billsheffield.com/
-------------------------------------------------------------------
K Yoga Pose of the Day: Padmasan (Lotus).
http://www.5min.com/Video/How-to-Get-to-Lotus-Padmasana-79727444
http://www.syvum.com/cgi/online/serve.cgi/fun/yoga/lotus_padmasana.html
----------------------------------------------
K Poems of the Day
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend.
I've sold out.
I'm everything that you used to be.
I'm everything that I used to hate.
Idiots guzzling beer,
what's the message?
There is no message, man.
Rape your country.
Kill your Indian.
Buy a new car.
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend.
I've sold out.
Your band is the hit at The Whisky a Go Go.
--Mikel k
God's Will
I want to be great,
and I want to be good,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want to be proud,
and I want to be humble.
I want to give love,
and I want to receive love,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want my children to love and respect me.
I want to love and respect my children.
I want my family to prosper,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want to be good to my friends,
and I want my friends to be good to me.
I want to be trusted with friendship.
I want to be trusted with love,
and I want to follow God's will.
There's more I want,
like an end to homelessness,
and lies and poverty and fear.
I'd like to see an end to alcoholism,
and drug addiction, also.
I don't think that it is God's will
for you to stick a needle in your arm,
smoke those nasty cigarettes,
or to beat your wife or girlfriend or child.
I want you to go do something nice
for someone else.
I think that is God's will.
--Mikel K
-------------------------------------------
You can buy an E copy of one of my four memoirs, "The Delivery Guy," "Did You Write the Book of Love," "Baking Banana Bread from Scratch," or, the one that I just finished, “I’m Glad To Be Alive,” by putting $10, more, in The Mikel K Tip Jar. I can send you a chapter of each book, or of whichever book you like, to help you make up your mind. Thank you, in advance, for your purchase. You can also buy a paperback copy of, The Delivery Guy,” and one of my poetry books, by going to www.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
------------------------------------------
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator, with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
“Another fresh new year is here . . .
Another year to live!
To banish worry, doubt, and fear,
To love and laugh and give!
This bright new year is given me
To live each day with zest . . .
To daily grow and try to be
My highest and my best!
I have the opportunity
Once more to right some wrongs,
To pray for peace, to plant a tree,
And sing more joyful songs!”
--William Arthur Ward
“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”--Bill Vaughn
“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.”--Edith Lovejoy Pierce
“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.”--Oprah Winfrey
It is hard to believe that this is the first day of the year 2011. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see my writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see the end to wars. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school to get an MFA in Poetry/Memoir in Athens, Ga., and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in to any new space that I rented, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman. Then I woke up, and I was a man.
When the bathroom sink is dirty, I should probably clean it, so that I will have the joy of a clean sink, but, mostly, I only clean it when guests are coming over, which is very infrequent, so mostly I stare down at a dirty sink, when I wash my face, or brush my teeth. Does this indicate something lazy about me; something anti-social? Is this an inherited trait? I grew up in spotless homes, maybe I am rejecting the rigidity in which I was forced to live; the harshness that was hoisted upon me when it was time to clean, when it was time to keep that which had been cleaned clean. If I had joined the military, would they have excise this trait from my existence? Should keeping a clean sink my New Year's resoulution, and if it was, would I keep it?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Bill Sheffield and his music are legendary.
Here are some Bill Sheffield music videos: http://apps.facebook.com/reverbnation_fb/artist/billsheffield
and here is Bill Sheffield's Website: http://www.billsheffield.com/
-------------------------------------------------------------------
K Yoga Pose of the Day: Padmasan (Lotus).
http://www.5min.com/Video/How-to-Get-to-Lotus-Padmasana-79727444
http://www.syvum.com/cgi/online/serve.cgi/fun/yoga/lotus_padmasana.html
----------------------------------------------
K Poems of the Day
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend.
I've sold out.
I'm everything that you used to be.
I'm everything that I used to hate.
Idiots guzzling beer,
what's the message?
There is no message, man.
Rape your country.
Kill your Indian.
Buy a new car.
You've got your pretty punk girlfriend.
I've sold out.
Your band is the hit at The Whisky a Go Go.
--Mikel k
God's Will
I want to be great,
and I want to be good,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want to be proud,
and I want to be humble.
I want to give love,
and I want to receive love,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want my children to love and respect me.
I want to love and respect my children.
I want my family to prosper,
and I want to follow God's will.
I want to be good to my friends,
and I want my friends to be good to me.
I want to be trusted with friendship.
I want to be trusted with love,
and I want to follow God's will.
There's more I want,
like an end to homelessness,
and lies and poverty and fear.
I'd like to see an end to alcoholism,
and drug addiction, also.
I don't think that it is God's will
for you to stick a needle in your arm,
smoke those nasty cigarettes,
or to beat your wife or girlfriend or child.
I want you to go do something nice
for someone else.
I think that is God's will.
--Mikel K
-------------------------------------------
You can buy an E copy of one of my four memoirs, "The Delivery Guy," "Did You Write the Book of Love," "Baking Banana Bread from Scratch," or, the one that I just finished, “I’m Glad To Be Alive,” by putting $10, more, in The Mikel K Tip Jar. I can send you a chapter of each book, or of whichever book you like, to help you make up your mind. Thank you, in advance, for your purchase. You can also buy a paperback copy of, The Delivery Guy,” and one of my poetry books, by going to www.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
------------------------------------------
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator, with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
#16 You must stay drunk on writing...
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia."--E.L. Doctorow
"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."--Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith
"You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."--Ray Bradbury
Up at 7:05. I'm watching the great Great Danes, who live next door, Henry, and Anna, this weekend. We are going to usher in the new year together. The weather has been beautiful: warm, and not raining. It has been nice for walks with the dogs.
It is hard to believe that this is the last day of 2010. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see the writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school in Athens, Ga. and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman.
Thoughts from Thursday: I stare into my coffee. It looks like any other coffee that I have ever drank. I stare at the wall in front of me; the wall is the same as yesterday. I play songs that are familiar. My dog is at my feet, where he usually is. Governments are still corrupt. Corporations are still screwing people, but I choose to focus on what I can do about the world. I can feed my cats, walk my dogs, turn on the heat lamp to my turtles' aquarium. We don't need another hero. I can do Yoga. I can make my bed, at least once a week. What good is it if I champion the revolution, but am an asshole to my neighbor? I'm speaking to me. I'm speaking to you.
--------------------------------------------------
Inocation to Patanjali http://www.yogagroup.org/bksinvoc.wav
--------------------------------------------------
Here's another tidbit from my book/memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch"):
I'm tired but I don't want to take a nap, so I drink a cup of coffee. Sometimes, a cup of coffee will wake me up, and sometimes I can sleep on it, and it wakes me up later.
I baked sugar cookies, last night for the first time in my life. They certainly are not the best sugar cookies to ever be pulled out of someone's oven. The recipe said to bake them at 350 for ten minutes. I think that the cooking time should have been longer. The cookies were soft, dough-like. They weren't bad to the taste for me, but I don't have a gourmet palet. I will eat most anything, except for lima beans. I have even gotten to where I eat, and mostly enjoy broccoli, which I used to find positively nasty.
I guess that is maturity, is it not: liking a vegetable that you used to hate? How mature will I be then when I start loving me some lima beans. It ain't gonna happen.
When I was a kid, my momma used to feed me peanut butter, and jelly, sandwiches, and her jelly of choice was mostly grape jelly. I used to munch out, happily, on pb and grape jelly, until one day I got a headache while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was never able to eat grape jelly again. I was about seven years old when that happened. I am now 52, and I haven't touched grape jelly since that day. It is important that you know some things; I'm not sure if this is one of them.
My daughter, Scout, got busted awhile back for text messaging in her math. class. It makes sense that it happened in her math. class because Scout hates math. This was the second time, during school hours, that she had gotten busted for using her cell phone. The penalty, this time was a two day suspension from school, and her mother had to pay a twenty five dollar fine.
Anyway, now, Scout comes by my house in the morning, and drops her phone off. This sets Bundy off, for some reason, for even though Scout comes over here almost every day, Bundy still freaks out and barks at her as though she was breaking into the house. Scout just came home from school, and interrupted my train of thought. It seems stupid, also, to be writing about Scout when Scout is here, and I could be interacting with her, instead of interacting with this computer.
****
The dogs are itching themselves furiously, and I am scratching my head, wondering what I am going to do about it. I'm out of work, waiting to get a new hip put in, living on a prayer. The vet won't take prayers: I know her; she's a friend of mine, but prayers, and "friends" who don't pay her, don't help her keep her lights on, and Lord knows that she needs to keep her lighs on. That woman has given more homeless dogs, and cats, a place to stay than my dogs have fleas.
Of course, I don't know that my dogs have fleas. It could be just itchy skin. I started feeding them the cheap dog food, again, about a month ago, and, maybe, this is the result of doing such. I couldn't afford the good food anymore; I really couldn't. I was eating rice, and macaroni myself for lunch and dinner, and I wasn't putting much else into either dish: no corn in the rice, no salmon in the rice, just rice, and no sauce, or shrimp in the pasta, just pasta in mayonnaise, and the mayonnaise was alway running out.
I'm not complaining. I chose this life style. I chose to be a writer. I chose to starve for my art, but the thing that is not fair is that the dogs did not choose to be writers, yet they feel the ramifications of my behavior.
*******
The possum was frozen in a tree next to our house, seemingly unsure of why it was in that tree. He appeared to feel vulnerable and stared at us, trying to gauge how much of a threat we were.
I was as scared of him as he was of me. I had never been that close to a possum, and was not sure if I liked being that close to him. Before this, I had always seen possums scurrying off into the distance, or laying dead in the road. It was weird to be up close to one that seemed to be going nowhere.
My neighbors found him entertaining, as my heart skipped several beats. I said, "Oh isn't that something," big smile on my face, and then I headed inside, my pace a bit faster than it usually was, when I was entering the abode.
I was thankful, when I came out later, and the possum was gone. I didn't know where he went, and I didn't care. There was something alien about being that close to a possum, and I now know that I am scared of aliens.
"Shoo alien; go away!"
*******
I worry about things, still, but not like I used to worry about them. My father used to worry about things. Worry killed him. I am on pills that help me with worry. Without the pills, I, too, would worry myself to death.
*******
I have gotten used to putting peanut butter in my oatmeal, and I ran out of peanut butter, several days ago, so I have not been having any oatmeal. I may have to have some oatmeal without peanut butter, today, as I won't have the where with all, errrr foodstamps, to buy peanut butter until Monday, and today is Friday.
When I am a successful writer, one day, i.e. one who can buy peanut butter on Friday, and not wait until Monday, I will look back on this period of my life and smile.
*******
Often I am hungry in the morning(as many of you are!)but I try not to eat, because eating zaps my urge to write. I think that I read somewhere that there is blood in your brain that help you write, and that blood rushes to your stomach when you put food in there. My morning meal makes me sleepy, and, often, leads me back into the bed for my morning nap, which I don't feel guilty about taking, because I am often up at five am, or so, to feed the animals, and write for a few hours.
*******
"Don't quit before the miracle," was a slogan that I often heard while I was getting sober. I understood the sentiment, but didn't relate to what I felt was The Grateful Dead aspect to it, as far as getting sober went. I mean, The Grateful Dead certainly didn't seem like the poster boys of sobriety who I should have hanging on my wall.
"Looking for a miracle," Deadheads would say to all gathered outside a concert venue where their band, The Grateful Dead, were about to play. What they were looking for was a way in to the show, a ticket. They had one finger in the air, and the miracle was that another dead head would often give the miracle seeker a free ticket.
There are no free tickets to sobriety. The key is to opening your ears, and shutting your mouth.
******
My email was selected from a lottery. Can you imagine that? I didn't even open it. How possibly could there be anything good inside it for me? The people who open that email must be desperate. They must think that there is a pot of gold waiting for them at the end of the rainbow, and that the sky has just opened up and sent the rainbow to them.
My state, the great state of Georgia, USA, not the one formerly attached to Russia, has a lottery. Ticket sales are brisk at liquor stores; just spend a buck with us, and your life might change. You might wind up with room service, by your own pool, instead of waking up in a trash dumpster, smelling like Mad Dog, or Listerine.
I get food stamps. I'm embarrassed to tell you this, but I do. Twenty percent of the American people are getting food stamps, at the time that I write this. I don't like being a bum. I don't like bumming money off of the government, but what can a poor boy do, at times?
More on this later, perhaps. I'm turning red, right now, with embarrassment, and I can't carry on.
(You can buy an E Copy of this book, by donating at least $10 to The K. Instructions below.)
---------------------------------------------
This is an ability that now home should be without.
How to levitate: http://www.levitation.org/
Wikipedia on levitation: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Levitation
--------------------------------------------------
Music that you will happily go mad to:
Mudcat http://www.mudcatblues.com/
Snave and The Grass http://www.reverbnation.com/snaveandthegrass
---------------------------------------------
The Daily K Yoga Pose of The Day
Shoulder Stand: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OeRz62g5rw
---------------------------------------------
The Daily K Poem
Strip
You take your clothes off, when you make love,
but you don't leave your bad attitude behind.
by Mikel K
Namaste
Peace and Love
Peace and Love
------------------------------------------------
I'm living on a prayer...
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator,with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia."--E.L. Doctorow
"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."--Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith
"You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."--Ray Bradbury
Up at 7:05. I'm watching the great Great Danes, who live next door, Henry, and Anna, this weekend. We are going to usher in the new year together. The weather has been beautiful: warm, and not raining. It has been nice for walks with the dogs.
It is hard to believe that this is the last day of 2010. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see the writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school in Athens, Ga. and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman.
Thoughts from Thursday: I stare into my coffee. It looks like any other coffee that I have ever drank. I stare at the wall in front of me; the wall is the same as yesterday. I play songs that are familiar. My dog is at my feet, where he usually is. Governments are still corrupt. Corporations are still screwing people, but I choose to focus on what I can do about the world. I can feed my cats, walk my dogs, turn on the heat lamp to my turtles' aquarium. We don't need another hero. I can do Yoga. I can make my bed, at least once a week. What good is it if I champion the revolution, but am an asshole to my neighbor? I'm speaking to me. I'm speaking to you.
--------------------------------------------------
Inocation to Patanjali http://www.yogagroup.org/bksinvoc.wav
--------------------------------------------------
Here's another tidbit from my book/memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch"):
I'm tired but I don't want to take a nap, so I drink a cup of coffee. Sometimes, a cup of coffee will wake me up, and sometimes I can sleep on it, and it wakes me up later.
I baked sugar cookies, last night for the first time in my life. They certainly are not the best sugar cookies to ever be pulled out of someone's oven. The recipe said to bake them at 350 for ten minutes. I think that the cooking time should have been longer. The cookies were soft, dough-like. They weren't bad to the taste for me, but I don't have a gourmet palet. I will eat most anything, except for lima beans. I have even gotten to where I eat, and mostly enjoy broccoli, which I used to find positively nasty.
I guess that is maturity, is it not: liking a vegetable that you used to hate? How mature will I be then when I start loving me some lima beans. It ain't gonna happen.
When I was a kid, my momma used to feed me peanut butter, and jelly, sandwiches, and her jelly of choice was mostly grape jelly. I used to munch out, happily, on pb and grape jelly, until one day I got a headache while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was never able to eat grape jelly again. I was about seven years old when that happened. I am now 52, and I haven't touched grape jelly since that day. It is important that you know some things; I'm not sure if this is one of them.
My daughter, Scout, got busted awhile back for text messaging in her math. class. It makes sense that it happened in her math. class because Scout hates math. This was the second time, during school hours, that she had gotten busted for using her cell phone. The penalty, this time was a two day suspension from school, and her mother had to pay a twenty five dollar fine.
Anyway, now, Scout comes by my house in the morning, and drops her phone off. This sets Bundy off, for some reason, for even though Scout comes over here almost every day, Bundy still freaks out and barks at her as though she was breaking into the house. Scout just came home from school, and interrupted my train of thought. It seems stupid, also, to be writing about Scout when Scout is here, and I could be interacting with her, instead of interacting with this computer.
****
The dogs are itching themselves furiously, and I am scratching my head, wondering what I am going to do about it. I'm out of work, waiting to get a new hip put in, living on a prayer. The vet won't take prayers: I know her; she's a friend of mine, but prayers, and "friends" who don't pay her, don't help her keep her lights on, and Lord knows that she needs to keep her lighs on. That woman has given more homeless dogs, and cats, a place to stay than my dogs have fleas.
Of course, I don't know that my dogs have fleas. It could be just itchy skin. I started feeding them the cheap dog food, again, about a month ago, and, maybe, this is the result of doing such. I couldn't afford the good food anymore; I really couldn't. I was eating rice, and macaroni myself for lunch and dinner, and I wasn't putting much else into either dish: no corn in the rice, no salmon in the rice, just rice, and no sauce, or shrimp in the pasta, just pasta in mayonnaise, and the mayonnaise was alway running out.
I'm not complaining. I chose this life style. I chose to be a writer. I chose to starve for my art, but the thing that is not fair is that the dogs did not choose to be writers, yet they feel the ramifications of my behavior.
*******
The possum was frozen in a tree next to our house, seemingly unsure of why it was in that tree. He appeared to feel vulnerable and stared at us, trying to gauge how much of a threat we were.
I was as scared of him as he was of me. I had never been that close to a possum, and was not sure if I liked being that close to him. Before this, I had always seen possums scurrying off into the distance, or laying dead in the road. It was weird to be up close to one that seemed to be going nowhere.
My neighbors found him entertaining, as my heart skipped several beats. I said, "Oh isn't that something," big smile on my face, and then I headed inside, my pace a bit faster than it usually was, when I was entering the abode.
I was thankful, when I came out later, and the possum was gone. I didn't know where he went, and I didn't care. There was something alien about being that close to a possum, and I now know that I am scared of aliens.
"Shoo alien; go away!"
*******
I worry about things, still, but not like I used to worry about them. My father used to worry about things. Worry killed him. I am on pills that help me with worry. Without the pills, I, too, would worry myself to death.
*******
I have gotten used to putting peanut butter in my oatmeal, and I ran out of peanut butter, several days ago, so I have not been having any oatmeal. I may have to have some oatmeal without peanut butter, today, as I won't have the where with all, errrr foodstamps, to buy peanut butter until Monday, and today is Friday.
When I am a successful writer, one day, i.e. one who can buy peanut butter on Friday, and not wait until Monday, I will look back on this period of my life and smile.
*******
Often I am hungry in the morning(as many of you are!)but I try not to eat, because eating zaps my urge to write. I think that I read somewhere that there is blood in your brain that help you write, and that blood rushes to your stomach when you put food in there. My morning meal makes me sleepy, and, often, leads me back into the bed for my morning nap, which I don't feel guilty about taking, because I am often up at five am, or so, to feed the animals, and write for a few hours.
*******
"Don't quit before the miracle," was a slogan that I often heard while I was getting sober. I understood the sentiment, but didn't relate to what I felt was The Grateful Dead aspect to it, as far as getting sober went. I mean, The Grateful Dead certainly didn't seem like the poster boys of sobriety who I should have hanging on my wall.
"Looking for a miracle," Deadheads would say to all gathered outside a concert venue where their band, The Grateful Dead, were about to play. What they were looking for was a way in to the show, a ticket. They had one finger in the air, and the miracle was that another dead head would often give the miracle seeker a free ticket.
There are no free tickets to sobriety. The key is to opening your ears, and shutting your mouth.
******
My email was selected from a lottery. Can you imagine that? I didn't even open it. How possibly could there be anything good inside it for me? The people who open that email must be desperate. They must think that there is a pot of gold waiting for them at the end of the rainbow, and that the sky has just opened up and sent the rainbow to them.
My state, the great state of Georgia, USA, not the one formerly attached to Russia, has a lottery. Ticket sales are brisk at liquor stores; just spend a buck with us, and your life might change. You might wind up with room service, by your own pool, instead of waking up in a trash dumpster, smelling like Mad Dog, or Listerine.
I get food stamps. I'm embarrassed to tell you this, but I do. Twenty percent of the American people are getting food stamps, at the time that I write this. I don't like being a bum. I don't like bumming money off of the government, but what can a poor boy do, at times?
More on this later, perhaps. I'm turning red, right now, with embarrassment, and I can't carry on.
(You can buy an E Copy of this book, by donating at least $10 to The K. Instructions below.)
---------------------------------------------
This is an ability that now home should be without.
How to levitate: http://www.levitation.org/
Wikipedia on levitation: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Levitation
--------------------------------------------------
Music that you will happily go mad to:
Mudcat http://www.mudcatblues.com/
Snave and The Grass http://www.reverbnation.com/snaveandthegrass
---------------------------------------------
The Daily K Yoga Pose of The Day
Shoulder Stand: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OeRz62g5rw
---------------------------------------------
The Daily K Poem
Strip
You take your clothes off, when you make love,
but you don't leave your bad attitude behind.
by Mikel K
Namaste
Peace and Love
Peace and Love
------------------------------------------------
I'm living on a prayer...
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator,with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
#15 I'm all alone on this cell phone...
“A writer works alone, indoors, in a room, on a chair, with the door shut.
It has been said that writing is a rat race in which you never get to meet the other rats.”
--Paul Theroux
Truman Capote felt that he did his best work in motel rooms.
Ben Franklin, who owned the first bathtub in America, liked to write while immersed in it.
John Cheever worked in a windowless basement room.
Raymond Carver preferred to work inside his car.
Not all writers favored a sitting position. Mark Twain and Robert Louis Stevenson wrote while recumbent. Truman Capote described himself as "a completely horizontal writer." By contrast, Lewis Carroll and Thomas Wolfe wrote standing up. So did Ernest Hemingway after injuring his back in a plane crash.
Writers with full-time jobs often have difficulty finding time to write.
Sources: http://notorc.blogspot.com/2006/05/work-habits-of-highly-successful_23.html
http://www.celineroque.com/productivity/the-writers-life-the-importance-of-solitude-and-fresh-air/
--------------------------------------------------
Excerpt from Mikel K's memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch:"
"I think you live freer than anyone I have ever met."-- Michelle Wiley
Hi Mikel, I like it how you promote the realities of life, and associate this with your art, so that your love for writing stands out.--Susan Abraham
"I could read you all day long..."--Holly
"Mikel, Lucky for us, you don't take the easy way, and get a straight job that leaves no room for writing.--Stephanie
Mikel, You are true blue (as the Aussies would say) a unique soul born to write. Thank you for the expression you provide; so many of us wish we could do the same... it's way more than just having a story to tell: it's a compulsion, a must do that won't abate. I am inspired by you.
--Gen Cole
"Ask not what your nap can do for you, ask what you can do for your nap."
--Mikel K
Baking Banana Bread From Scratch
By Mikel K
After lunch, I hear the sound of trash cans rumbling on the street; I am thankful for garbage men, just like I am thankful for the food that I have just eaten, though I forgot to pray over it. I really want to pray over my food, before I eat it; I think that it is a good idea to give thanks before eating, whether you believe in anything, or not.
Colossians 4:5-6
"Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone."
From The K Page: I like, and respect, this: "At Carcinogenic Poetry, we are not concerned with your publishing history or acquired degrees, we just want the stuff you believe in.
"Who cares if you went to Yale, or Iowa, or NYU, or Georgia State? Does your poetry have heart, and soul; and even more important, does your poetry interest me...does it grab me by the balls, and MAKE ME read it, or am I yawning through it because I'm reading it because of what school you went to, or because you are dead and "they" say that I am supposed to read you?"
This guy Carcinogenic Poetry guy makes a great deal of sense to me.
****************************************
"A Republican was somebody who couldn't enjoy eating unless he knew somebody else was hungry."
--P. 21 "The Liars' Club," by Mary Karr
I am baking the sixth banana bread, from scratch, that I have ever baked in my life, right now. A lady on the internet gave me a simple recipe, and I have been making banana bread for myself, and for my friends, and family, with great results for the past several weeks. Everybody thinks that I am a great baker of banana bread. This makes me feel good. I like it when people like me.
This banana bread that I am cooking right now, is a little different than the last five that I baked; I am experimenting a little bit. I am using Xylitol instead of sugar. I am a diabetic, so if this experiment succeeds, I will be eating banana breads that are better for me.
My sugar counts have been good, recently. Yesterday, I pricked my finger, dropped my blood on the strip, and got a reading of 95. Today, I did the same thing and my reading was 84. I am always happy when my sugar counts are low. It means that I might live longer.
I like living.
This day is good, full of potential for positive thinking, and positive things, but I can screw it up easily, cast darkness where there is light. I have done it before, for years, decades that seemed like centuries, actually.
You can look at a jar of crunchy peanut butter and say, "This is not the type of peanut butter that I like," without trying it. Or you can try the peanut butter, and then say, "Why this peanut butter is not so bad, in fact it is good. I don't know why I remember it from my childhood as being bad."
The key is in trying. If you don't try, nothing can happen: good, or bad; and if you try, often. good things do happen.
Call me Mr. Positive.
I had to laugh, this morning, as I headed back into the kitchen, after feeding the dogs in the living room. My oldest cat, Kobain, was standing at attention, near the spot where his bowl sits; the bowl that I put a tablespoon of wet cat food in for him, each morning. His cue to stand at attention must be when I feed the dogs. How precious. I went and got his bowl out of the dish washer, and filled it for him.
I'm feeding Kobain the cheap cat food, now. Times are tough. I don't have a job. I live on food stamps, and a disability check. I haven't turned out, yet, to be the great writer that everybody keeps telling me that I am.
Many people tell me that I am going to be famous. I would just like to pay my bills with the words that I create. I have had people come up to me in the grocery store, before, and say, "Aren't you…?"
And I was, and the feeling of being approached by a stranger was an uncomfortable feeling. When I go to the grocery store, I just wanted to buy my eggs, and onions, and a few other things, and get out of there.
No one has asked for my autograph, yet, which is a relief. Can you see me buying bananas, and someone comes up wanting my autograph? I have just found the right bunch of bananas, the oldest, ripest bunch of bananas in the banana display, perfect, almost immediately, for to be mashed with a fork, and then added to a couple of eggs and some canola oil and beat about in a bowl.
I don't want to give up my bananas; I'm sure that some other banana bread baker will come along and snatch them up right in front of me, while I sign my name on this woman's oatmeal cereal box, so I ask the young lady to hold the banana bunch for me while I sign her cereal box. I see her grimace. I mean these bananas are ripe, fit to be used for baking within the hour.
My other cat, my black cat, Jaggar, doesn't much care for the cheap cat food. He will look at it. He will sniff it, and then he will, mostly, walk away from it, leaving it, either, for Kobain to eat, or one of my dogs. It is usually Bundy who sneaks up on the leftover cat food. He knows not to, but he can't help himself. The food urge overcomes the urge to be good, to listen to his master, to follow the rules as they have been established (by me) around here.
Bundy is half Labrador and half Rottweiler. I think that it is the Rottweiler half that gives Bundy the problems that he gives me.
-------------------------------------------------------T
The last wife of the notoriously wild author Hunter S Thompson,
Anita, shared his world of drink and drugs
http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/relationships/article3602025.ece
=----------------------------------------------------
K Music of The Day (You will have run listening to it).
Click for Cyndi Craven music: http://cyndicravenmusic.com/music-main/
Click for Art Linton Music: http://www.reverbnation.com/artlinton
----------------------------------------------------
K Poem of the Day
All That Matters
She’s the queen of in and out.
She’s the master of one night stands.
See her fall so gracefully onto the mattress,
with a wine glass in her hand.
In the morning, she’s not sure
if she’s been good or bad.
All that matters
is that the children don’t know.
Well, you didn’t want a virgin,
but she’s gone too far.
Will you laugh or cry
when she puts a bullet in her head?
--Mikel K
Namaste
Peace and Love
Peace and Love
--------------------------------------
Writers with full-time jobs often have difficulty finding time to write.
Do you want to feel good? Then, please help us
keep The Daily K stable with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
“A writer works alone, indoors, in a room, on a chair, with the door shut.
It has been said that writing is a rat race in which you never get to meet the other rats.”
--Paul Theroux
Truman Capote felt that he did his best work in motel rooms.
Ben Franklin, who owned the first bathtub in America, liked to write while immersed in it.
John Cheever worked in a windowless basement room.
Raymond Carver preferred to work inside his car.
Not all writers favored a sitting position. Mark Twain and Robert Louis Stevenson wrote while recumbent. Truman Capote described himself as "a completely horizontal writer." By contrast, Lewis Carroll and Thomas Wolfe wrote standing up. So did Ernest Hemingway after injuring his back in a plane crash.
Writers with full-time jobs often have difficulty finding time to write.
Sources: http://notorc.blogspot.com/2006/05/work-habits-of-highly-successful_23.html
http://www.celineroque.com/productivity/the-writers-life-the-importance-of-solitude-and-fresh-air/
--------------------------------------------------
Excerpt from Mikel K's memoir, "Baking Banana Bread From Scratch:"
"I think you live freer than anyone I have ever met."-- Michelle Wiley
Hi Mikel, I like it how you promote the realities of life, and associate this with your art, so that your love for writing stands out.--Susan Abraham
"I could read you all day long..."--Holly
"Mikel, Lucky for us, you don't take the easy way, and get a straight job that leaves no room for writing.--Stephanie
Mikel, You are true blue (as the Aussies would say) a unique soul born to write. Thank you for the expression you provide; so many of us wish we could do the same... it's way more than just having a story to tell: it's a compulsion, a must do that won't abate. I am inspired by you.
--Gen Cole
"Ask not what your nap can do for you, ask what you can do for your nap."
--Mikel K
Baking Banana Bread From Scratch
By Mikel K
After lunch, I hear the sound of trash cans rumbling on the street; I am thankful for garbage men, just like I am thankful for the food that I have just eaten, though I forgot to pray over it. I really want to pray over my food, before I eat it; I think that it is a good idea to give thanks before eating, whether you believe in anything, or not.
Colossians 4:5-6
"Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone."
From The K Page: I like, and respect, this: "At Carcinogenic Poetry, we are not concerned with your publishing history or acquired degrees, we just want the stuff you believe in.
"Who cares if you went to Yale, or Iowa, or NYU, or Georgia State? Does your poetry have heart, and soul; and even more important, does your poetry interest me...does it grab me by the balls, and MAKE ME read it, or am I yawning through it because I'm reading it because of what school you went to, or because you are dead and "they" say that I am supposed to read you?"
This guy Carcinogenic Poetry guy makes a great deal of sense to me.
****************************************
"A Republican was somebody who couldn't enjoy eating unless he knew somebody else was hungry."
--P. 21 "The Liars' Club," by Mary Karr
I am baking the sixth banana bread, from scratch, that I have ever baked in my life, right now. A lady on the internet gave me a simple recipe, and I have been making banana bread for myself, and for my friends, and family, with great results for the past several weeks. Everybody thinks that I am a great baker of banana bread. This makes me feel good. I like it when people like me.
This banana bread that I am cooking right now, is a little different than the last five that I baked; I am experimenting a little bit. I am using Xylitol instead of sugar. I am a diabetic, so if this experiment succeeds, I will be eating banana breads that are better for me.
My sugar counts have been good, recently. Yesterday, I pricked my finger, dropped my blood on the strip, and got a reading of 95. Today, I did the same thing and my reading was 84. I am always happy when my sugar counts are low. It means that I might live longer.
I like living.
This day is good, full of potential for positive thinking, and positive things, but I can screw it up easily, cast darkness where there is light. I have done it before, for years, decades that seemed like centuries, actually.
You can look at a jar of crunchy peanut butter and say, "This is not the type of peanut butter that I like," without trying it. Or you can try the peanut butter, and then say, "Why this peanut butter is not so bad, in fact it is good. I don't know why I remember it from my childhood as being bad."
The key is in trying. If you don't try, nothing can happen: good, or bad; and if you try, often. good things do happen.
Call me Mr. Positive.
I had to laugh, this morning, as I headed back into the kitchen, after feeding the dogs in the living room. My oldest cat, Kobain, was standing at attention, near the spot where his bowl sits; the bowl that I put a tablespoon of wet cat food in for him, each morning. His cue to stand at attention must be when I feed the dogs. How precious. I went and got his bowl out of the dish washer, and filled it for him.
I'm feeding Kobain the cheap cat food, now. Times are tough. I don't have a job. I live on food stamps, and a disability check. I haven't turned out, yet, to be the great writer that everybody keeps telling me that I am.
Many people tell me that I am going to be famous. I would just like to pay my bills with the words that I create. I have had people come up to me in the grocery store, before, and say, "Aren't you…?"
And I was, and the feeling of being approached by a stranger was an uncomfortable feeling. When I go to the grocery store, I just wanted to buy my eggs, and onions, and a few other things, and get out of there.
No one has asked for my autograph, yet, which is a relief. Can you see me buying bananas, and someone comes up wanting my autograph? I have just found the right bunch of bananas, the oldest, ripest bunch of bananas in the banana display, perfect, almost immediately, for to be mashed with a fork, and then added to a couple of eggs and some canola oil and beat about in a bowl.
I don't want to give up my bananas; I'm sure that some other banana bread baker will come along and snatch them up right in front of me, while I sign my name on this woman's oatmeal cereal box, so I ask the young lady to hold the banana bunch for me while I sign her cereal box. I see her grimace. I mean these bananas are ripe, fit to be used for baking within the hour.
My other cat, my black cat, Jaggar, doesn't much care for the cheap cat food. He will look at it. He will sniff it, and then he will, mostly, walk away from it, leaving it, either, for Kobain to eat, or one of my dogs. It is usually Bundy who sneaks up on the leftover cat food. He knows not to, but he can't help himself. The food urge overcomes the urge to be good, to listen to his master, to follow the rules as they have been established (by me) around here.
Bundy is half Labrador and half Rottweiler. I think that it is the Rottweiler half that gives Bundy the problems that he gives me.
-------------------------------------------------------T
The last wife of the notoriously wild author Hunter S Thompson,
Anita, shared his world of drink and drugs
http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/relationships/article3602025.ece
=----------------------------------------------------
K Music of The Day (You will have run listening to it).
Click for Cyndi Craven music: http://cyndicravenmusic.com/music-main/
Click for Art Linton Music: http://www.reverbnation.com/artlinton
----------------------------------------------------
K Poem of the Day
All That Matters
She’s the queen of in and out.
She’s the master of one night stands.
See her fall so gracefully onto the mattress,
with a wine glass in her hand.
In the morning, she’s not sure
if she’s been good or bad.
All that matters
is that the children don’t know.
Well, you didn’t want a virgin,
but she’s gone too far.
Will you laugh or cry
when she puts a bullet in her head?
--Mikel K
Namaste
Peace and Love
Peace and Love
--------------------------------------
Writers with full-time jobs often have difficulty finding time to write.
Do you want to feel good? Then, please help us
keep The Daily K stable with a donation of $10,
$20, $35 or whatever you can afford.
Donate here now www.mikelk.com
All donations of $10 or more will receive
an E-Copy of one of Mikel K's memoirs.
Monday, December 27, 2010
New Book (Parts of this book were taken from The Daily K).
I just did head stand three times, a new world's record for me, and am about to do shoulder stand for five minutes. I love these upside down poses; they make me see the world differently! Jaggar watched from be bed, where he was lying on my bomber jacket, that I had thrown there, when Graem came over to help me put plastic on the windows. It's handy to have a handy son.
"DO NOT be staring at her body. Very few girls actually like this, and you staring at her breasts will turn her off of you." This is some advice that I got from a Wikipedia listing, after Googling, "How to ask a girl out." I'm 53, and I'm still not sure how it's done. I do know that I shouldn't stare at her tits, whether I am going to ask her out, ot not. I mean, it's just not polite. I wouldn't want a gal staring at my dick, now would I?
I was going to take my second walk of the day with the dogs, but the arthritis in my right knee, is letting me know that it exists, so I may just take a short walk. There is a sandwich calling to me, in the kitchen. I'm going to make chili, again, tomorrow. I could eat chili every day. My youngest son loves it, too; and I am going to use it as a lure to get him over for a visit. All is fair in love, and love.
My neck hurts a bit from doing headstand, and my legs hurt a bit from being alive. I might take a day, or two, off from doing headstand, but it will be hard as I am addicted to doing it. I love looking at the world from upside down. The blood that rushes over your brain, and your heart is supposes to be really good for you. I take great pride in the fact that I am 53 years old, and I have just learned to stand on my head. It shows me that all things are possible.
After visiting me, a friend of mine called, and said that the smell of my dogs was still on his hands, that he was having trouble getting it off. This made me think that I probably always have the smell of my dogs on my hands. So, when you meet me, is the first thing that you think of me is that I smell like dogs. If you have dogs, or if you are a dog lover, this is probably alright, but if you don't love dogs, you might not love me.
I am having vegetable soup for dinner, but it is a special vegetable soup that Wayne Myers, the computer genius, taught me to make by taking a regular sized can of vegetable soup, and adding a can of mixed vegetables to it. I also add a can of kernel corn. This is a tasty treat, and, somehow, gives me the illusion that my food is being stretched. I am a day away from being out of food, again.
I just had for dinner what I had for lunch: rice. Jim Croce is singing to me. I wonder how he would have turned out if he had lived. And what about Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain; how would they have turned out? Jerry Garcia maintained an audience until his death. Would Morrison and Cobain have grown old so gracefully?
Henry, the great, Great Dane, who lives next door is visiting. Yesterday, Henry blew liquid crap from one end of my apartment to the other. He tried to warn me, I guess: I was in the bathroom, seated on the throne, and Henry came in and let loose two little farts. When I was done with my crap, I came out into my castle, and found what Henry had done. I didn't get mad. Henry has done this before, and I have become quite proficient at wiping up his crap. If I say that I love him, I have to take the good with the bad in his behaviors. It's not like Henry was out to screw me by shitting all over my home; he had an upset stomach, and had to go, so he went.
My dog, Morisson, is a very wise looking dog. He just worked his nose under my hand, and got me to give him a head rub. Morisson hasn't run away in a long time. I can, now, trust him to walk with me outside to take care of business without him runnining off. I m happy for this. In the 2 1/2 yeats that we have lived in this apartment, Mo has run off only once. He was found on a busy street, dodging traffic. I could have lost my Mo. I, now, keep him close with voice commands. My main command is, "Morisson I love you."
I was doing Tadasana(Mountain pose), in the kitchen, and I looked up to see Morisson facing me, doing downward facing dog. Have you ever yawned, and then seen your dog start to yawn?
When the bathroom sink is dirty, I should probably clean it, so that I will have the joy of a clean sink, but, mostly, I only clean it when guests are coming over, which is very infrequent, so mostly I stare down at a dirty sink, when I wash my face, or brush my teeth. Does this indicate something lazy about me; something anti-social? Is this an inherited trait? I grew up in spotless homes, maybe I am rejecting the rigidity in which I was forced to live; the harshness that was hoisted upon me when it was time to clean, when it was time to keep that which had been cleaned clean. If I had joined the military, would they have excise this trait from my existence?
I make a nice cup of coffee, and stick it under my cat, Kobain's nose. He moves his head forward a little bit, as if he is really smelling it, perched as he is on a stool at the edge of the kitchen. Kobain has become a mooch. I have turned Kobain into a mooch, a ruthless panhandler, looking for scraps of food off of my plate before I have even eaten. He gets up on his back legs, often, and stretches his front paws towards me, towards the food that he can smell on my plate. Kobain knows when I am eating something that he will want. Meat is his game; fix a salad, and he is off in the apartment doing something else.
Up at 7:05. I'm watching Henry, and Anna, this weekend. We are going to usher in the new year together. The weather has been beautiful: warm, and not raining. It has been nice for walks with the dogs.
It is hard to believe that this is the last day of 2010. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see the writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school in Athens, Ga. and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman.
I stare into my coffee. It looks like any other coffee that I have ever drank. I stare at the wall in front of me; the wall is the same as yesterday. I play songs that are familiar. My dog is at my feet, where he usually is. Governments are still corrupt. Corporations are still screwing people, but I choose to focus on what I can do about the world. I can feed my cats, walk my dogs, turn on the heat lamp to my turtles' aquarium. We don't need another hero. I can do Yoga. I can make my bed, at least once a week. What good is it if I champion the revolution, but am an asshole to my neighbor? I'm speaking to me. I'm speaking to you.
I just walked The Great Danes around the wet block. Anna, and Henry, both love to walk. Bundy barked at us as we were leaving; he likes to walk, also, and was jealous that Anna, and Henry, were getting to walk, and he wasn't. He will get his turn, as soon as I finish getting The Daily K for today together, as soon as I finish this cup of coffee. Patience, Henry; patience.
I couldn't move my right knee this morning, when I woke, and when I did it caused me great pain. It rained yesterday, and rain most always affects my knee in a non-positive manner. The weather, outside, was warm, so I turned the heat down in the abode. Cooler temperatures affect my knee, also; so, there, I had the one two punch of cold weather, and rain. The good thing is that once I got up, and started moving, the pain went away, and the knee let me operate normally. I fed my cats, dogs, and turtles, and made a big pot of the cheap coffee that I am drinking. The coffee tastes great. It doesn't taste cheap at all. I think that cheap is, sometimes, a state of mind. After I fed my dogs, I went next door, and fed Kitty Poo, Henry and Anna. All three of them were very glad to see me.
It is 6:38, and the King and Queen are sprawled on the floor next to my bed. I took them out for the second time this morning, and then brought them over here to keep us company. Henry keeps getting up to inspect things, like the empty cat food bowls, and the toilet in the bathroom. Anna is content to lay her chin on the floor, and rest.
The Great Danes, and I, went for a walk, again, yesterday. Henry, and Anna, love to walk. Henry leads the way, Anna, and I follow. It was wet, yesterday, and there weren't many people on the sidewalk, but the day before the weather was sunny, and it is funny how many people The Great Danes will attract to them.
"Are they Great Danes?" is the most asked question. People are fascinated with the dogs. I remember being a little scared of them, when I first met them; they were so big. Now, they seem normal to me, not huge; they seem just like Henry, and Anna to me.
Henry and Anna have a feline roommate named Kitty Poo. Her official name is, "Karma," but no one much calls her that. I used to let Kitty Poo slip into our apartment, but she will not slip into it anymore ,because one of my cats, the black one, Jaggar, is such an asshole.
Kitty Poo is a black cat, also, and one might think that there would be some sort of bond between black cats, but between these two, at least on Jaggar's part, there is no bond. There is not even an inkling of friendship, or respect. It is as if Kitty Poo is a long hair, and Jaggar has no hair, and must maintain some moronic code of behavior that relates strictly to the length of one's hair.
"Oh, you are a long hair, Kitty Poo, I will not respect you, and I will try to beat the shit out of you." I have seen such behavior exhibited in humans, so I would think that it is not too far a stretch to see it in animals.
To look at Jaggar, right now, curled up on the floor next to my desk, you would not think that he was capable of such meanness. He tries to act like he doesn't care about me, but the fact that he sleeps so close to me, tells me that he does care. When he was a kitten, Jaggar was run over by a car that must have been in a hurry to buy french fries, or a cheap burger. They found him with his chest caved in in a fast food restaurant drive through lane; his mother lay dead next to him. Jaggar was rushed to a vet's office, and was raised from the near dead by the vet staff. The vet staff kept bringing him out to me, when I would come in with my pets, showing me Jaggar's progress, and then, one day, they handed him to me, saying, "We know that you will love him!"
And love him I do; I just wish that he wouldn't be a dick to Kitty Poo.
"Love" is not always what you think it is, or what you think it should be. Sometimes, love is hitting you in the face, and you don't see it. Sometimes, you think that you are in love, but you are not.
I am eating chili; it is the last of this batch of chili, and I am sad, because this was the best batch of chili that I have made yet. Last night, I finished watching the movie, Glengarry Glen Ross. It was, possibly, the most boring movie that I have ever seen in my life. It was the type of movie that you watch until the end, because you keep wondering if it is going to get any better; but it doesn't. The feeling that I got when it was over, I liken to the end of a bad acid trip.
I am out on Love Porch. I have four dogs with me: Henry and Anna, the great, Great Danes, Bundy, my semi-psychotic pooch, and Morisson, the best dog in the whole wide world. Kitty poo, my neighbor's small black cat just escaped back into her apartment, as she had escaped out of it, about an hour before. Kitty Poo loves the great outdoors, but she found her passage way blocked, as I made sure to keep The Love Porch screen door shut, tight, well aware I am of her tendency towards the great escape, and her proclivity to wander.
Including my two cats, Kobain, one of the best cats in the world, and Jaggar, a bit psychotic, himself, and my two turtles, Rue Paul, and Prynce, I am responsible for the sustenance, and entertainment of nine living beings this afternoon, not a single one of them human. This probably doesn't occur by chance; I am either rabidly anti-social, or absolutely no fun to be around; or both.
I don't have hardly a dollar in savings, and I just realized that an item, that I have in a bag, with a receipt to be returned, such as this scale that doesn't work when I stand on it, is kind of a savings plan; while the money is tied up in it, I can't spend it!!
I just did head stand three times, a new world's record for me, and am about to do shoulder stand for five minutes. I love these upside down poses; they make me see the world differently! Jaggar watched from be bed, where he was lying on my bomber jacket, that I had thrown there, when Graem came over to help me put plastic on the windows. It's handy to have a handy son.
"DO NOT be staring at her body. Very few girls actually like this, and you staring at her breasts will turn her off of you." This is some advice that I got from a Wikipedia listing, after Googling, "How to ask a girl out." I'm 53, and I'm still not sure how it's done. I do know that I shouldn't stare at her tits, whether I am going to ask her out, ot not. I mean, it's just not polite. I wouldn't want a gal staring at my dick, now would I?
I was going to take my second walk of the day with the dogs, but the arthritis in my right knee, is letting me know that it exists, so I may just take a short walk. There is a sandwich calling to me, in the kitchen. I'm going to make chili, again, tomorrow. I could eat chili every day. My youngest son loves it, too; and I am going to use it as a lure to get him over for a visit. All is fair in love, and love.
My neck hurts a bit from doing headstand, and my legs hurt a bit from being alive. I might take a day, or two, off from doing headstand, but it will be hard as I am addicted to doing it. I love looking at the world from upside down. The blood that rushes over your brain, and your heart is supposes to be really good for you. I take great pride in the fact that I am 53 years old, and I have just learned to stand on my head. It shows me that all things are possible.
After visiting me, a friend of mine called, and said that the smell of my dogs was still on his hands, that he was having trouble getting it off. This made me think that I probably always have the smell of my dogs on my hands. So, when you meet me, is the first thing that you think of me is that I smell like dogs. If you have dogs, or if you are a dog lover, this is probably alright, but if you don't love dogs, you might not love me.
I am having vegetable soup for dinner, but it is a special vegetable soup that Wayne Myers, the computer genius, taught me to make by taking a regular sized can of vegetable soup, and adding a can of mixed vegetables to it. I also add a can of kernel corn. This is a tasty treat, and, somehow, gives me the illusion that my food is being stretched. I am a day away from being out of food, again.
I just had for dinner what I had for lunch: rice. Jim Croce is singing to me. I wonder how he would have turned out if he had lived. And what about Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain; how would they have turned out? Jerry Garcia maintained an audience until his death. Would Morrison and Cobain have grown old so gracefully?
Henry, the great, Great Dane, who lives next door is visiting. Yesterday, Henry blew liquid crap from one end of my apartment to the other. He tried to warn me, I guess: I was in the bathroom, seated on the throne, and Henry came in and let loose two little farts. When I was done with my crap, I came out into my castle, and found what Henry had done. I didn't get mad. Henry has done this before, and I have become quite proficient at wiping up his crap. If I say that I love him, I have to take the good with the bad in his behaviors. It's not like Henry was out to screw me by shitting all over my home; he had an upset stomach, and had to go, so he went.
My dog, Morisson, is a very wise looking dog. He just worked his nose under my hand, and got me to give him a head rub. Morisson hasn't run away in a long time. I can, now, trust him to walk with me outside to take care of business without him runnining off. I m happy for this. In the 2 1/2 yeats that we have lived in this apartment, Mo has run off only once. He was found on a busy street, dodging traffic. I could have lost my Mo. I, now, keep him close with voice commands. My main command is, "Morisson I love you."
I was doing Tadasana(Mountain pose), in the kitchen, and I looked up to see Morisson facing me, doing downward facing dog. Have you ever yawned, and then seen your dog start to yawn?
When the bathroom sink is dirty, I should probably clean it, so that I will have the joy of a clean sink, but, mostly, I only clean it when guests are coming over, which is very infrequent, so mostly I stare down at a dirty sink, when I wash my face, or brush my teeth. Does this indicate something lazy about me; something anti-social? Is this an inherited trait? I grew up in spotless homes, maybe I am rejecting the rigidity in which I was forced to live; the harshness that was hoisted upon me when it was time to clean, when it was time to keep that which had been cleaned clean. If I had joined the military, would they have excise this trait from my existence?
I make a nice cup of coffee, and stick it under my cat, Kobain's nose. He moves his head forward a little bit, as if he is really smelling it, perched as he is on a stool at the edge of the kitchen. Kobain has become a mooch. I have turned Kobain into a mooch, a ruthless panhandler, looking for scraps of food off of my plate before I have even eaten. He gets up on his back legs, often, and stretches his front paws towards me, towards the food that he can smell on my plate. Kobain knows when I am eating something that he will want. Meat is his game; fix a salad, and he is off in the apartment doing something else.
Up at 7:05. I'm watching Henry, and Anna, this weekend. We are going to usher in the new year together. The weather has been beautiful: warm, and not raining. It has been nice for walks with the dogs.
It is hard to believe that this is the last day of 2010. It took me a long time to get used to writing 2010, and not 2009, and I am sure that it will take me a long time to get used to writing 2011, instead of 2010.
I have no new year's resolutions, as of yet. I would like to continue on the path that I am on, a path of peace, and peace of mind. I would like to see the writing pay. I would like to continue with my Yoga. I would like to see my family stay healthy, and happy. I would like to see peace on earth, happiness where there is homelessness, and lack of food. I would like to see all alcoholics put down the bottle, and quit suffering. I would like to see all drug addicts quit fixing, snorting, inhaling. I would like to see hookers find a better job.
I had the weirdest dream, last night. I dreamed that I was wanting to go to school in Athens, Ga. and that I was walking about the town with several suit cases, completely lost. I found myself inside the apartment of this man, who said that there was a space for rent upstairs from his. I started worrying about Bundy. I knew that Morisson would fit in, and my cats, and turtles, but Bundy was a barker; he would disturb all the other residents. I didn't know what to do. In this dream, I was a woman.
I stare into my coffee. It looks like any other coffee that I have ever drank. I stare at the wall in front of me; the wall is the same as yesterday. I play songs that are familiar. My dog is at my feet, where he usually is. Governments are still corrupt. Corporations are still screwing people, but I choose to focus on what I can do about the world. I can feed my cats, walk my dogs, turn on the heat lamp to my turtles' aquarium. We don't need another hero. I can do Yoga. I can make my bed, at least once a week. What good is it if I champion the revolution, but am an asshole to my neighbor? I'm speaking to me. I'm speaking to you.
I just walked The Great Danes around the wet block. Anna, and Henry, both love to walk. Bundy barked at us as we were leaving; he likes to walk, also, and was jealous that Anna, and Henry, were getting to walk, and he wasn't. He will get his turn, as soon as I finish getting The Daily K for today together, as soon as I finish this cup of coffee. Patience, Henry; patience.
I couldn't move my right knee this morning, when I woke, and when I did it caused me great pain. It rained yesterday, and rain most always affects my knee in a non-positive manner. The weather, outside, was warm, so I turned the heat down in the abode. Cooler temperatures affect my knee, also; so, there, I had the one two punch of cold weather, and rain. The good thing is that once I got up, and started moving, the pain went away, and the knee let me operate normally. I fed my cats, dogs, and turtles, and made a big pot of the cheap coffee that I am drinking. The coffee tastes great. It doesn't taste cheap at all. I think that cheap is, sometimes, a state of mind. After I fed my dogs, I went next door, and fed Kitty Poo, Henry and Anna. All three of them were very glad to see me.
It is 6:38, and the King and Queen are sprawled on the floor next to my bed. I took them out for the second time this morning, and then brought them over here to keep us company. Henry keeps getting up to inspect things, like the empty cat food bowls, and the toilet in the bathroom. Anna is content to lay her chin on the floor, and rest.
The Great Danes, and I, went for a walk, again, yesterday. Henry, and Anna, love to walk. Henry leads the way, Anna, and I follow. It was wet, yesterday, and there weren't many people on the sidewalk, but the day before the weather was sunny, and it is funny how many people The Great Danes will attract to them.
"Are they Great Danes?" is the most asked question. People are fascinated with the dogs. I remember being a little scared of them, when I first met them; they were so big. Now, they seem normal to me, not huge; they seem just like Henry, and Anna to me.
Henry and Anna have a feline roommate named Kitty Poo. Her official name is, "Karma," but no one much calls her that. I used to let Kitty Poo slip into our apartment, but she will not slip into it anymore ,because one of my cats, the black one, Jaggar, is such an asshole.
Kitty Poo is a black cat, also, and one might think that there would be some sort of bond between black cats, but between these two, at least on Jaggar's part, there is no bond. There is not even an inkling of friendship, or respect. It is as if Kitty Poo is a long hair, and Jaggar has no hair, and must maintain some moronic code of behavior that relates strictly to the length of one's hair.
"Oh, you are a long hair, Kitty Poo, I will not respect you, and I will try to beat the shit out of you." I have seen such behavior exhibited in humans, so I would think that it is not too far a stretch to see it in animals.
To look at Jaggar, right now, curled up on the floor next to my desk, you would not think that he was capable of such meanness. He tries to act like he doesn't care about me, but the fact that he sleeps so close to me, tells me that he does care. When he was a kitten, Jaggar was run over by a car that must have been in a hurry to buy french fries, or a cheap burger. They found him with his chest caved in in a fast food restaurant drive through lane; his mother lay dead next to him. Jaggar was rushed to a vet's office, and was raised from the near dead by the vet staff. The vet staff kept bringing him out to me, when I would come in with my pets, showing me Jaggar's progress, and then, one day, they handed him to me, saying, "We know that you will love him!"
And love him I do; I just wish that he wouldn't be a dick to Kitty Poo.
"Love" is not always what you think it is, or what you think it should be. Sometimes, love is hitting you in the face, and you don't see it. Sometimes, you think that you are in love, but you are not.
I am eating chili; it is the last of this batch of chili, and I am sad, because this was the best batch of chili that I have made yet. Last night, I finished watching the movie, Glengarry Glen Ross. It was, possibly, the most boring movie that I have ever seen in my life. It was the type of movie that you watch until the end, because you keep wondering if it is going to get any better; but it doesn't. The feeling that I got when it was over, I liken to the end of a bad acid trip.
I am out on Love Porch. I have four dogs with me: Henry and Anna, the great, Great Danes, Bundy, my semi-psychotic pooch, and Morisson, the best dog in the whole wide world. Kitty poo, my neighbor's small black cat just escaped back into her apartment, as she had escaped out of it, about an hour before. Kitty Poo loves the great outdoors, but she found her passage way blocked, as I made sure to keep The Love Porch screen door shut, tight, well aware I am of her tendency towards the great escape, and her proclivity to wander.
Including my two cats, Kobain, one of the best cats in the world, and Jaggar, a bit psychotic, himself, and my two turtles, Rue Paul, and Prynce, I am responsible for the sustenance, and entertainment of nine living beings this afternoon, not a single one of them human. This probably doesn't occur by chance; I am either rabidly anti-social, or absolutely no fun to be around; or both.
I don't have hardly a dollar in savings, and I just realized that an item, that I have in a bag, with a receipt to be returned, such as this scale that doesn't work when I stand on it, is kind of a savings plan; while the money is tied up in it, I can't spend it!!
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