Missing Brooklyn Again

My old pal the Princess went to Coney Island, rode the Wonder Wheel the RIGHT WAY, and sent me a note with a fortune from Grandma, the undead old woman in the box. And all of a sudden, I was homesick. Not for the way Brooklyn is now, but for the Brooklyn of the 60s. And the Cyclone, and Wilson's and Hinsch's, the Hammer films at the Dyker Heights Theatre. The Brooklyn of the union of mothers, of free bologna slices at the meat markets, of Mr Softy, truck rides and blackened sidewalk outside the fish & chip shop. Of sharing a small front garden with a group of boys, we with our barbie dolls and them with their tonka trucks.

When this strikes I usually go look at Bay Ridge and city videos from Christmas. I'm not letting it go that far. Brooklyn summers live in my heart. If I could go back it would ruin it. It's better to leave that innocence be.

BTW Grandma's fortune is so wonderful I'm not posting it. I do believe in magick, after all...
;)

It's Gonna Be Allright

Good news and a long-needed mission made this week better than most. In fact, both combined to get my ass outta the mud and, "sit me back at the table, proper," as Pop used to say.

First, my close friend won her case against her former hospital employer, and she'll finally get the surgery she needs. Never mind that the cause of her injury was in saving a patient who was killing herself; they didn't want to give her healthcare. A hospital who doesn't want to heal people. Says it all about the US. Well, it took 2 years, but she's got a surgery date. That part of the trip to Mordor is over. Bonus Round; her daughter-in-law and youngest grandchild are coming to help her through the surgery. Which is exactly the love she needs. And kinda payback, cuz she went to help them when the little guy was born. It's all good.

Then, having been given a Very Good bottle of vodka for my birthday, I took on a mission. It's been damn near a year since I got stinko (who can afford it?) so it was overdue, and I spilled my guts to said good friend. Just realized I'd been playing martyr/the hero by not telling her my griefs for a year or so. And they're real losses, ones I should be honoring. Ah well, it's a process. Got it outta my system, cried over the phone like the drunk I was, and woke up feeling years younger the next day. Hungover mildly, but lighter, ya know? I guess I'm at the age where alcohol can be used medicinally.
It's about as expensive.

And my good friend Stevil started a blog, which I'm looking forward to reading; he has a unique view of the world and things.
http://www.auto-de-fey.blogspot.com/

As I often say to my close friend (who shall remain unnamed) , "It's all gonna be allright, -------."

Bizarre Dreams of the Osbournes

Among the many recurrent themes in my dreams are the multiple employments I have with the Osbourne family. I have never worked for Ozzy and Sharon, never met them and probably never will. However, I have in my dreams been their cook, a roadie, an office assistant and a kind of emergency fixer to them.

Last night I dreamt I was traveling with them as some kind of aide and we were in a huge hotel. A 5 star hotel, of course. All was chaos and by the time they were settled down and I got to go have supper in the hotel dining room it was closing. And Bill Clinton beat me to the last dessert they had.

Why the Osbournes? I mean, I loved Ozzy when I was a teen and always thought we'd make a good couple. We resemble each other. He looks more like my brother than my brothers do. And I admire Sharon a great deal. If I could be anyone, I'd probably be Sharon Osbourne. But why am I working for them in my dreams?

And what the hell with Bill Clinton zooming in and getting the last dessert in the house?

Mother's Day

A well, a day late. But I wanted to share Julia Ward Howe's thoughts:

"Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
’We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.’
From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: ‘Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.’
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace."

I hope to see this in my lifetime.

Damn Hot & Death Watch

This is ridiculous. Yesterday was Beltane and today it's 88' F. My household thermometer is at the top and not moving, and neither am I. It's so hot in here I've a headache. Time to clean out the AC and have it ready.

My ill brother's wife called last night to let me know he's in the hospital. Seems he's been repeating 1969 by nodding out after taking huge amounts of pills. She had to quit her job because of his erratic (read "fucked up on pills he steals from anyone he can") behaviors. She's afraid he'll burn the house down. On entering the ER he told the nurse he was ready to die. He's also desperately trying to control what goes on after he dies. It's all bad. He'll be an addict to the end.

Today he called to say he'd signed himself outta the hospital because he's not leaving debt when he dies. Great country, America. Live a bit longer if you have the bucks, but go home and die if you don't.

I tried reasoning, but he's beyond reason. He has Medicare. my stepfather did, too, and there was no bill after his death.. I can only do so much. It's become another death watch.