VitaMeataRegimens

A happy bunch of things- a good soaking rain; 2 nights of sleep; a non-stressful doc visit; settling my next household move for when and to where; Beest's health returning and getting to the bottom of it; Billy helping financially with that; grief lifting from all the Spring losses; Summer being well on it's way to leaving; Gal Friday quitting the VNA (and my following her lead); and the right vitamin combo- has me in very good spirits. Bye-bye Blue Meanies.

I'm creating again! For the longest time I just didn't see the point. I'd fallen into an existential/nihilist oubliette of, "why add more crap to the world full of crap?" Well the answer to that is, because it makes me happy.

My Mom's old wind chimes, which had fallen apart and whose dingers and flapper were beyond resuscitation, are dongy-bongy-dinging again. An old bracelet, a big wooden bead, a lot of dental floss and a metal initial A for a sail... and every little breeze reminds me of Mom.

Today I will be making the t shirt I'd had in mind when several years ago I bought fabric paints. Back in 1970 when they both started out, my fave band Emerson, Lake and Palmer, had called the band Yes, "Maybe". And so Yes retaliated by calling ELP "Henderson, Snake and Charmer". Today there will be the world's first HS&C band t shirt. If it's very good, I'll send it to Greg. If it's not, I'll make a second and hope that one's good enough for himself. If not, I'll send the better of the two to Graham Seaman, my friend in England who plays in an ELP tribute band, and will get a kick out of it even if it's not perfect. And I'll wear the other for my own smiles, because nobody else will get the joke anyway.

After tomorrow's final Game of Thrones year 6 marathon, I'll get to work on the article for the Cracker Barrel newspaper. This one's about Harvest foods and cooking- mainly pumpkins. The deadline's Friday, so plenty of time for 1250 words.

I gotta say, the right vitamin combo makes a huge difference, and so does getting sleep. Be well, my fellow babies. All things must pass, even the Blue Meanies.
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The World is Dark and Full of Terrors

So let's laugh at it all. Have a fun weekend!

For 11ers everywhere...

Never trust a laughing llama.

A man in a kilt makes everything better.

I'm a hopeless Game of Thrones addict, and I don't care.

I'll take a dog over a god anytime

Ah, Theon,  there's a pair of shoes for you below.

And a tasteless gift for Theon or Varys,

Wishing you smiles and good times.
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They Come to Build a Wall Between Us

I've posted this song before, but it's been on replay in my head all month and I guess wants to be here again. Don't Dream It's Over.

We know they won't win.
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Fear is the Lock

I guess the fear of someone or something different is hardwired. Some Darwinian programming. Fear can be handy, but it's easily let out of hand. I see it with the safety armour applied by high-strung parents before kids do anything. I see it when someone new moves into the Shire. We're a fearful society. Personally I blame the Tylenol poisoning for the world being this way. Just as I can pin when the world went to shit on one single day, never to improve again- September 25, 1980- so it's clear to me that everyone's spines fell out their asses the day Tylenol was poisoned.

This begat a toxic churning miasma of insurance corps changing things, the popularity of suing anyone who has ever offended you by deed or thought, and the general paranoia that years of nuclear threats, urban legends, and unreliable street drug quality brought.

And some floating fears became reality. Terrible killers of all sorts, from the quick to the depravedly slow, from the singular to the organized group. Maybe the horrors of what people do was always this widely perpetrated, but we just didn't know so much about it. We know about it in a few seconds now. In full color, real time. And then it's replayed hundreds of times until it's all imprinted. I can recall the falling of the Twin Towers much clearer in my mind than my own mother's face.

Being programmed with this much fear must be paying off for somebody. Nothing in this modern world is promoted without a profit motive. War certainly pays off its investors. Fear is an efficient economical means of control. So the rich and the powerful get to stay that way with a regular injection of fear among the masses. Add that to the run-of-the-mill psychopathy ordinary people live in every day, and there's a steady supply of fear to suit any occasion or personality type.

This past week two killers turned the fear up. The Orlando gunman who killed 49 people in a gay disco he frequented, and the rumored Britain First nut who shot and stabbed a young British MP to death in the street. WTF. These 2 maniacs lost the plot and twisted our reality. And this happens often, not once every few years. It's bound to happen a couple more times this Summer, maybe not the exact scenario, but enough to rip off the scabs that'd just settled. There are few who'd copycat Mr. Rogers, and many who'd copycat The Zodiac Killer.



It's a pretty scary world.

Fortunately we know

At least, when we aren't threatened and not deciding between fight or flight.
I have no answers. Just an idea. Question your fears.
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Jeremiah

Jeremiah Eliot Moody Crompton
6/12/1990-5/29/2016
Jeremiah Crompton, son of Joseph and Carole (Moody) Crompton of Brattleboro, ended his own life early Sunday morning. His death followed years of frustration, sorrow, rage, fear, boredom, delusion and pain interspersed with times of brilliance and amazing humor.
Jeremiah attended Morningsong School in Putney, Canal/Oak Grove School, Neighborhood Schoolhouse, BAMS and BUHS. His gifts were musical and literary and he was also a sensitive visual artist. His unique voice was always evident in everything he created. He wrote good songs from the age of 9 and enjoyed busking for money in his tween years. School friends remember him as a witty class clown.
Diagnosed in 3rd grade with NonVerbal Learning Disorder, he was, nevertheless, found ineligible for special education services. In high school he was again tested and found to have Asperger’s Syndrome or High Functioning Autism. Jeremiah never accepted this diagnosis and consistently refused medical, therapeutic, social and vocational assistance for the challenges he faced.
In withdrawal from prescribed opiates after a boating accident in 2005, Jeremiah soon became addicted to heroin. He struggled with the effects of this and other dangerous drugs for the rest of his life.

His memory will be cherished by his parents, his sisters Phoebe Crompton-Tidd of Brattleboro and Willow Broaddus of Rochester, VT and his cousins, Ahdi Pillar, Frances and Alex Elliot, Justin Thompson and Bryan, Rachel and Katy Lane and his beloved niece and nephews: Lila Tadlock, Roclin Harris and Parker Tidd. He also leaves many aunts and uncles: Nancy Crompton of Brattleboro, Trisha Lane of Chula Vista, CA, Carrie Crompton and George Elliott of Andover, CT, Cate Crompton and Jim Beers of Newburyport, MA, and Sam Crompton and Charlotte Tabakin of Hadley, MA.

The family extends deepest thanks to all who helped Jeremiah, deepest apologies to any he hurt, and deepest sympathy to all who will miss him.
A Celebration of Jeremiah’s life will be held at the Guilford Community Church on Bee Barn Road in Guilford, at 11 am on Thursday, June 2, 2016.

Donations in Jeremiah’s memory may be made to Families First, which tried to help him manage his final days, and to the Neighborhood Schoolhouse where Jeremiah spent his happiest years.
Let Jeremiah’s life remind us that the “safety net” for those who suffer from mental illness, especially those with a dual diagnosis needs substantial weaving and mending.
- Joe Crompton, his father