Follow by Email

Sunday, September 3, 2017

You've Gotta Pick Up Every Stitch

Here we are in that long exhale called September.

People make a big deal of Spring being lovey time. Not for me. This is it. There's something about this time of year, September to November, that makes me love. Love love love. It's intoxicating, it's full of life, it's like being young again.

The thinning of the veil invigorates me. It used to scare me, now I revel in it. This year I'm thinking about why being in a ghost's presence isn't as scary as say, the movie "The Haunting" (the original, not the remake). Though none of the ghosts I've encountered has been physical or threatening, just weird. I mean, that it even happens is weird. But you sort of get used to it with familiarity. And I'm sure now that those I've seen and those I've felt or heard are different things. Feeling and hearing go together, for me. Seeing is, I think, a partial time slip. Seeing doesn't much rattle me at all anymore, which surprised me when I realized it. On the other hand, to this day when I hear a chair dragging overhead my shoulders rise. But a creepy movie- or in today's case, a few episodes of "One Step Beyond"- can freak me right out. I have to go outside or call someone to get unspooked. And I love it.

It's harvest time, and friends and neighbors are kindly sharing. I traded peach preserves for tomatoes yesterday. Tomato butties make me happy.

With Game of Thrones nights over, we go back to Game Nights. This Friday we resume, Paul's game choice and Chris' belated birthday celebration. I'm making lasagna and getting a Carvel cake. We'll have a few drinks and play. I think it's important to be goofy in these direly distressing days.

This year more than other years, I'm noticing the subtle daily light change. It's softer, more relaxed. In the morning it glimmers on the plastic cover of my keyboard. I even love that.

Adapting to what my hands can do now, I'm teaching myself to draw and sew again. Typing is a chore, but it's teaching me patience and to relax. There's no need to hurry, I've stopped giving a rat's ass what anyone thinks or expects from me. It'll all get done when I get to it.

And life goes on. I hope you're well and happy. Get some fun.

Monday, August 14, 2017


I can't get past what happened this weekend and the fact that Nazis are thriving in our country. This is a dystopian novel we're living in. But while we're still able to access fun memories, entertainment and fiction, that's where you'll find me. We must hold onto, and recall to ourselves, the good stuff in life.

Last night Aunt Nancy (of the Ashram and Muffinpants family fame) and I had eats and got ready to watch Game of Thrones with Paul. We talked about what risky fun we had as little kids because our parents were busy and not keeping us wrapped in cotton batting. Sledding and biking were our top dangerous activities, and also such happy memories, despite injuries. Nancy told how she once tobogganed home down an unused road in the pitch dark, which was joyful and terrifying in a way only a 9 year-old could appreciate. And then I told her about Twiss Hill.

When I was a toddler, we lived in a small town in upstate NY. Our house was up on a hill with a lazy slope to a dirt road. Across the road were some houses, spaced widely apart. It dropped off pretty sharply there, and the houses were built into the side of the hill. Old Man Twiss (must be somehow related to Stevil) had a big parcel of land around his house right across the road from us. Every January he trudged down his hill creating a curving path. It began by the back of his garage, with a steep drop, and wound around a couple pine trees before hitting the cleared hillside. When he was done he went home and waited a day. Then he scooted down that path on a saucer, packing the snow and creating a sled run. For the finishing touch, he'd run his hose out and water down the whole thing. It was solid ice. A luge run of several hundred feet. I only remember doing it once. But that memory!

Billy and me. The Flexible Flyer. He's 10 or 11, I'm about 2, but tall. Old Man Twiss didn't stop me (which feeds the theory that he did this every year hoping to thin the herd- the run ended on Old Route 17, a highway), so Billy sat with his feet on the steering bar and I climbed in and sat between his legs. I grabbed his legs to hang on for dear life and off we went. I'm pretty sure I screamed the whole way, a crazy laughing shreik. Sandy snow hit us in the face, we were going too fast to see anything but the run, and it was suddenly over as we slowed on the salted slush along the side of the highway. Sheer joy.

Hold onto the crazy laughing moments. They're what makes the rest worth doing.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Forgive Me Bloggers, For I Have Wind

It's been almost 4 MONTHS since I have blogged. How did that happen?!!

Well, first I have ongoing hand issues. Typing with 3 fingers is a bother. My friend Sharon gifted me with a Dragon system, but I've yet to conquer it. There will be no medical correction of the hand issues and it's long and boring to explain. So there's that. Then I was feeling like I had nothing left to say. How much can you go over the same shit that's on everybody's mind when you've said it a hundred times? I'm active on Fecebook, which keeps me in touch with family and friends, and whatever news of the day goes on. It saves a lot of typing.

But there's also been events and projects taking my time and energy. The happiest by far has been the filming of the Herman movie, which is, despite catastrophes, in production at last!

Andy Slade (producer and director), with his crew, drove across the country interviewing all the characters who knew and worked with Herman. When we filmed here in my little apartment, it was an all day affair and exhausting as well as magickal. I hadn't seen him since 1991; he's not the skinny kid with a great mop of hair anymore. It was joy to be with him. We're hoping this will be done and released next year, and maybe will make it to Netflix. Fingers crossed. Those on FB can follow its progress here:
Horrible Herman's Warlock Shop Film

Beest has had health problems that for now seem managed.
Billy has also been up and down, and is now going through withdrawal from Lyrica. The down side is the nerve jumps. The upside is he's lost the edema and his blood sugar has steadied. Everything we take has effects. He wants to cut down the number of drugs he takes, as he thinks most do little to nothing anymore and he's spending some $700 a month on scripts. It doesn't look like he'll be moving here. His depression is lifting slowly, but his body is falling apart faster. It's hard to clean out a house you've lived in for 23 years, especially doing it with no help. But he's also stubborn about accepting help. The last time he dumped the motorcycle, in December, he broke his ankle. Refusing to go to the Dr about it, he walked on it for 7 months before it was x-rayed. That, in a nutshell, is my brother.

In 2 months I'll have been in this new abode for a year. I really like it here. The view from my windows is lovely in every season, and I'm looking forward to the Fall with cooler, drier weather (I hope).

Greg Lake's autobio finally published this Summer. Bittersweet and classy, it's quite a read.  

Aside from all that, we're in the penultimate year of the Game of Thrones tv series, and Sunday nights mean gatherings of friends here to eat, drink and yell at the screen. It'll be sad when it's over, but we still have 2 more books to go...

The state of the world is abysmal. Cheeto Von Tweeto is no saner than King Joffrey. The 'Small Folk' suffer, as ever. Be kind, find humor, stay sturdy and full of hope.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

this way

my hands are shit. i type w the middle, ring finger and pinkie of my left hand now. index is toast. when the nerve shoots i can't capitalize so here we are, not typing much. thank you for your concern, lawless.

nothing else has changed. the cheeto in charge is still on full flaming asshole to everyone but the rich. there are no words, and i couldn't type them all anyway.

still have not gotten appts w a neurologist nor an ortho. i see the auxilliary dermo in nh on weds.

beest will be on the ear smear forever. she has regained weight and sleeps a lot. i worry. she has lumps. the vet will eval her on friday.

billy carries on, bought an epiphone, got the housed resided, is struggling with all the drugs and conditions he has going on. the idea to move here is floating round again.

i really am liking the solitude here.
we got a spring snow and the guy who shovels a path for his dog didn't bother this time. it's bright today. the sky's that blue you only see this time of year or in old paint by numbers.

happy spring, be well.

sit down, life, we gotta talk

life, we've known each other as long as i can remember. i expected by now you'd have grown up some and straightened this shit out, but frankly i'm disappointed.

yes, i know it's not all your fault. it's time passings', and genes', and a descending order of culprits' faults as well. but life, you're the eldest, and should know better.

seriously, if you keep going down this path, you'll live to regret it. get your shit together.