Lulu Lunacy

http://www.usatoday.com/news/health/2009-09-22-flavored-clove-cigarettes_N.htm I know this is 'old news' the instant BAN went into effect last Sept. But I recently had to deal squarely with the reality, not only did I smoke my last Djarum, it was also the day after Peter Steele died (in his honor...thank goodness I had one left-I brought some home the last time I visited my Mom in CO. last July! See, I made them babies LAST! ) I watched Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay again last night. While they were getting stoned w/ George W. Bush, he said the wisest thing I have ever heard him say (even though it wasn't really him); H or K said ; 'I don't know if I trust my Government any more.' Fake GWB said; 'You don't have to believe in your Government, just believe in your Country.'

Why Peter Steele Mattered - Culture - The Atlantic

The theory that this has already happened aside; If ‘we’ clone a Human, and they ‘turn out’ ‘normal’…aside from being a carbon copy in looks of someone else whomever they were cloned from…I’m curious how a ‘cloned’ Human gets it’s Soul? Obviously I’m asking what the Christian/religious explanation would be. And for that matter, how do ‘test tube’/’petrie dish’ and other laboratory created embryos get their Soul? If Life starts at the moment of conception, (as some believe) does ‘God’ then zap a Soul into the dividing cells in the lab? So far they (babies/people who came into being this way) all seem to be just like everyone else conceived/born in the regular/Biblical sense. They cast reflections & don’t scream & run from churches or burn from Holy Water, so when did they get their Soul? How are the rules different for them? Then the cloning thing…do people with certain beliefs fear Human cloning for deeper reasons such as a step closer to dis-proving these beliefs? ...

Originally posted elsewhere April ‘08 In the dog world, if you own a purebred show dog, they must remain unaltered/NOT spayed or neutered, so they are referred to as a ‘Bitch’ for Females and a ‘Dog’ for Males. Although it’s taken me a while, I finally found a program that is helping me with the cost to have Toby neutered by his own vet, which I am very pleased with, because its close, and they know Toby since they are his regular doctors. His appointment is Tuesday morning. He is half Chihuahua and half Miniature Pinscher, he has an amazing personality for a ’small dog’, he loves people, isn’t shy or yappy or nippy or weird and I have been asked a few times if I am going to breed him. No. He IS a great dog, but since he’s turned one I have noticed a little change in his attitude/behavior and its typical male, testosterone induced behavior. He’ll be much happier and more relaxed being neutered, and healthier. Dogs don’t live in their minds like humans do, so he won’t be ...

I have been a member of one of the popular social sites for a few years and thought I would be content with my blog there. It seems I have not only outgrown it, but desire some degree of anonymity that is impossible on a site I’ve filled with high school friends, in-laws, ex in-laws, cousins and children. These posts are still part of what I’m trying to express of myself in a broader blog experience. Some of it is also background info I’m honestly too lazy to re-write, and don’t see a good reason to if it’s there already and I can slap it on up here easily. That’s the short answer.

I’ve been going through some old stuff I wrote and I’ve been shredding a shit-load of papers that I can’t really do anything with, they’re just taking up space. 99% of what I’ve written has never been read even by my Family, etc. even though they all know I’ve been writing since I was 6. And it’s not anything I consider publishable. I’m starting on my funky collection of books too, I have shelves & shelves of books no one else will read here, so I’ll take them to a used bookstore so somebody else can enjoy them as I have, I hope. You have no idea what a pain in the butt it is to box up and move all these books, so that’ll be a help when I move again. I hate moving. Anywho, I’m not putting them up for any reason other than maybe if they’re floating around on the internet, they’re not completely erased and it is easier to store them. There is some selfishness in that, obviously. My little collection of words will live forever in the black hole of the internet; I just can’...

I recently got into a discussion with someone on a forum about suicide and why I think it really is a Personal Choice and an individual’s right and not a ‘selfish, cowardly act’ as many people want to insist. Now, I’m not arguing this point here, just expressing my own thoughts by re-posting most of what I had written on the forum our conversation here; My kids, Grandkids & eventually Great-Grandkids (I call them collectively, ‘My Babies’) are the reason I think about NOT staying around. That’s a long explanation. Its nothing they do, it’s that I perceive that I am hindering them in some way…I know exactly what I mean; it’s just hard to explain to others… Like I tell my shrink, I’m ‘here’ (alive/in this world) under protest. I want to go, but I’m too attached to a few earthly things…perhaps one day I will transcend this materialistic addiction. Like the Buddhists try to achieve. Release. Free. Me thinks some ppl outstay their usefulness here. ‘God’ (or who/whatever...

I wrote this when my First and now oldest Grandchild moved out of State to live with his Father, he was 4 and a half. He was and is the only boy, I also have 2 Granddaughters. I see them. All the blessed time. I haven’t seen him since May of this year (‘08) and because of a situation I will elaborate on in another entry, I cannot and have not spoken to him since then. Only heard his sweet, angelic voice over my Daughters’ cell phone speaker. I wrote this freethought (what I call it; you’ll soon pick up that I don’t give a whoopsie about ‘rules’ and ‘structure’ when it comes to my writing.) 11/18/2007 12:33 am My heart is breaking. I just want my heart to stop hurting and my head to stop talking… It feels like I’m screaming in my head and it won’t stop, (its constant, constant, waking, sleeping, thinking, not thinking…screaming, screaming, screaming like background music, a soundtrack that has no beginning, no end, no pauses, just goes on and on) and at the same time I’m...

I was raised generic Protestant. My Mom is Church of England my dad was raised LDS but distanced himself from it long B4 I came along. I do not know why exactly. I never knew any of his views on religion, God, etc. I grew up here in LDS Zion. Never felt the need to join (don’t believe it). I was always (from age 4 is the youngest memory) had an interest in the occult, supernatural, etc. At 20 I converted to Catholicism. I studied Demonology and also became involved with a pentecostal/evangelical break-off born again christian group(s), I essentially wanted to learn about religion. Something was still missing/not ‘clicking’ with me, there’s more out there. I started studying VouDou and Witchcraft (started w/ ‘Wicca’ and decided it was too adulterated) and reading/learning what I could about the older religions, tribal religions etc. Something seems familiar with them but I’m still searching. As for Speaking in Tongues; soon after I began doing it, there was a debate with ...

The following was written by me on or about New Years Eve 0f 2006-2007. I do not belong here. Anywhere? I am not comfortable here. I am not accepted here. I am not understood here. I am not wanted here. I am barely needed here. I am merely tolerated here. I am mostly sad here. I am not happy here. I am not doing any real job here. I am not listened to here. I am not appreciated here. I am ignored a lot here. I would not be missed here. Only briefly. It wouldn’t leave any permanent change to anything or anyone. I do not feel loved here. I do not feel safe here. I do not feel whole here. I have really tried. I have done what I could. I have asked for help, for guidance, for hope for a sign, a way, a light, an idea, for faith, to believe, to understand. I’ve searched, I’ve dug, read, pondered, dreamed, thought, wrote, talked, listened, begged, screamed, silenced, meditated, divined, wandered, prayed. I’ve gave all I could- gave it up to ...

…I’m just very empty and have nothing for anyone else.

On top of a mountain in a huge castle there lived a VAMPYRE…. And HE SUCKED! Fin~

*My Mother is British, and she knows some cute rhymes & poems I grew up hearing, this one is my very favorite, I couldn’t hear it enough…wonder why:) There were Three Wicked Old Witches Who found it a source of delight To ride off on their black brooms And carry out mischief all night Folks found their cabbage uprooted Their runner beans twined from their sticks Their watchdogs unchained from their kennels And other unspeakable tricks! One night they were chased by a policeman And tried to fly off to the moon But as upwards they dived They never arrived As they ran into a barrage balloon!

I have a box frozen up shut tight It lets in the dark and squeezes out the light It holds my heart both day and night I will not let it beat again Hourglass holds god-cursed sands Spilling from my trembling hands Grains of breath encased in glass Fear not Darlingheart All ends have a start

I do not want to Feel. I want my Heart Frozen. I do not want to Love. I want my Heart Black. I want it locked in an iron box and sank to the Ocean floor. If I could live without It...

This could have just as easily been written to describe me as well. From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were - I have not seen As others saw. ~Edgar Allan Poe

Assorted quotes I am fond of from Peter Steele, the rest of Type O Negative and quotes they have passed on… “You wanna call me a pussy? I say you are what you eat!” ~Peter S. introducing the song ‘Wolf Moon’ at a concert. Had I not known I was dead already, I would have mourned my loss of life. ~Ota Dokan (1486) Betwixt birth and death, every breath regret. I pity the living, envy for the dead. ~*P.S./TON I love you for hating me, I hate you for loving me. Save yourself. ~* No Hope=No Fear. ~P.S. Place Not Your Faith in the Deeds of Others; For What is Given, can be Taken Away. ~P.S. Don’t Mistake Lack of Talent for Genius. ~* Gravity…Killing Me; Gravity…Crushing Me~* Suicide is Self Expression… ~* Cold Winter Winds that chill my heart/With sleet and snow/Not from the North, come to this glacial abode/But from your dimension/Cryogenic Limbo./I’m Freezing. I’m Frozen. Its too Late. ~* A Crimson Pool so warm and deep, lulls me to an endless sleep. Your hand in mine,...

*I wrote this for a friend who’s Dog had passed away. (Originally Written August 2008) As your tears wet her fur that in past shed so incessantly I write you these words, thinking she might approve. Bless the paws that muddied your pants Bless her nose that wet your hand with its sneaky touch Bless those velvet ears that twitched to your voice She’s being scratched on her neck by Angels this night Bless those legs that ran beside you Bless those precious noises she made only for you The snorts, the whines, the sighs the yaps… Bless that mighty tail with a life all its own How it wiggled her rear with the power of its movement… Bless the memory of all these things and all that she was to you That piece of your Soul she earlier took away with her She’s got it there waiting, for when you come to walk her again.

It takes a long while for a naturally trustful person to reconcile himself to the idea that after all God will not help him. -H.L. Mencken The Heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can know it? -BIBLE, Jeremiah 17:9 What other Dungeon is so Dark as ones own Heart? -Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables The Maxims of Men Disclose their Hearts. -French proverb

My amazing Grandbabies. I’ve loved you before I even met you, and it only grows just as you do. Transcend the dark and acrid; embrace love, honesty, family, truth and happiness. We are bound to you in blood, love, spirit and mind. My heart beats with the same strength and rhythm and soul that helped create your own. I will always be here when you need me. Gods and Angels watch over and protect you, listen to them, when they say ‘Yaya loves you’, and you smile, my heart will feel it no matter where we are, how near, how far.

The four most abused, mangled, adulterated words being used over and over again in America currently, and actually, for some time now. Its heard loudest within the political headlines and voices, but thats just because they get the most air time. I’m hearing it everywhere, in myriad situations from gossip between friends to criminal court cases. Sure enough, words and actions can be ‘taken out of context’ when one snips a brief moment from a video or audio clip and presents it as hard core proof of whatever point. But all one usually has to do is watch/listen to the full recording and get the whole picture. In these cases, its very easy to see/hear that what someone said, is, actually, exactly what they said. Why then do they still go on and on about how what they said is being ‘taken out of context’? Bullshit. How stupid do I look, seriously? Everytime you utter this phrase you insult my intelligence even more and not only piss me off, but hack away at any respect I should...

Death has come knocking; not for me, but at my request. I grab my jacket and walk out the door with him. I have questions I need answered, there are things we need to talk about. He can take a few minutes and humor me over a latte or whatever it is Death sips on to keep warm. So you see, Death and I, well, he has some explaining to do to me.

He told me to rip my beating heart from my own chest and place it in his hands. And I did. He is my drug of choice, the addiction that seizes my breath within my lungs. He is my God and my endless legion of Gods. My blood forged Idol I built up and formed within my soul, with my own hands, my own voice, my own stubborn, relentless force of will. He is my created Evil. My own Monster who’s iron gates I never intended to lock. The razor I allowed to be embedded in my heart that slices with each beat. He is Mine. But He was never Mine. He is the poison near my lips I crave. The tempestic waters I step into just to drown myself over and over. He is where I will land when I finally step off and let myself fall… And He is the edge I stand on. If I let Him go…He won’t be Mine. If I let Him go…who will I be? Who was I before Him? Where will I go? Will I remember how to breathe? Think, Feel, Speak, Dream without Him? He is Mine because I call Him Mine…my Heart knows I lie. My soul k...

I write you letters I write you spells Still you insist Into my mind you must delve I hear the ticking Hear it too Is it the clock Or my heart frozen blue Sending fever written notes Bleeding my soul on the parchment The only way I can dare To whisper these things to you By candlelight Spurred by suffocation of night I sit And I write I touch you in my dreams I hear the silence of your screams Dare not let you look upon my face Frigid stare upon alabaster skin Your blood stains my chin My icy lips I resign myself to sending these letters Forever writing as I sit at this old desk Sending you pieces of me My soul…What is left of it Walking alone The wet, steaming streets Night People huddled under gas lamps In doorways, watching cautiously Flashing trash neon Beckoning the despairing ones Stench of smoke and whiskey Clinging to my dampened clothes I see them Yes, they see me But choose not to I only see you When my eyes close at daybreak The essence...

My eyes when closed See your features in perfect clarity My Guardian Come to heal my Bleeding Soul Chill of nights alone Freeze the tears in my eyes Trembling of my lips From the kiss you send on the wind I deter my sadness With numbing bottles of fragrant wine Sweet taste on my deadened tongue Seeping through my pulsing veins Clouding my jaded eyes Reforming my dark world Into swirling shapes and rippling colors Lost of brilliance Void of life I sit in silence My heart beats on But my soul bleeds When night is cloaking my world I call for you to be near My Guardian Stop the bleeding of my soul My Watcher Speaking only with your eyes Watching Breathing Nothing more Your presence is my lullaby I sleep for now That I know you’re near Essence of you Bending close Touching my face My Guardian Come to heal my Bleeding Soul

Maybe we have unfinished business, maybe its just because we’ve been there already so why beat around the bush now, maybe because the first time we wasted no time, all these years later maybe it still feels that’s what we need to do, want to do. Whose rules do we need to go by approaching it any other way? It obviously went where it went as quickly as it did almost on its own and neither of us rejected it or put the brakes on it. Maybe something needed to be finished. Maybe its simply that who we were then is still part of who we are now; we are just picking up where we left off because that’s what we do, that’s who we are. Fuck the haters. Fuck the lovers. Maybe it’s just our time to go. Finish it. Start it. Fuck it. Maybe it’s too complicated. Maybe we should open the hand holding that fist of sand and let it trickle, swirl, crash away. Maybe it’s not complicated at all. And the eye of time will blink and we’ll be gone from existence anyway, swirling dust and nothing more...

Walk, Run, Trip, Fall… Just Get To Me Talk, Yell, Sigh, Moan… Just Speak To Me Kiss, Lick, Bite, Scratch… Just Touch Me Writhe, Twist, Turn, Arch… Just Make Me Move Inhale, Catch Your Breath, Exhale… Just Feel Me.

Walls breathe quietly Watching silently She’s sleeping Dreaming illusions That teeters on reality But brush against fantasy And tremble Then are gone So still the walls they breathe As the Hourglass must retrieve Its sands As they trickle Through her fingers As she watches But she’s sleeping Dreaming nightmares And dying in her soul For she’s lost all control Of her heart Because it’s bleeding Although the moon controls blood-tides receding Her emotions become a poison Pumping venom to her eyes She sees the world in disguise Looking for some simple answer To why her heart lays in her hands In shattered pieces still and cold In time and times of old We find ourselves in the Badlands Of the Heart And the Hourglass has lost it’s sands Once more the walls they breathe Her chest a sigh does heave Once more and still again Searching for an end… An end! Something whispers Hush now, wait Badlands always send for those who fail To beat the Hourglass Draining fast Hourglass, it spe...

I see only you My alabaster angel You who lights fire to my soul And sets my heart to thundering When my tired eyes Close in the whisper of dawning sleep It is your burnished voice I hear Lulling me in its tumbling sounds Is your ardent touch I inhale Into my own breathing flesh Drawing you into myself Intensity of your eyes Shifting in color and depth Watching me while I sleep Dreaming of you Lying next to me The moon ticks across the sky Counting our moments and breaths I let my hand touch so lightly A curl of your moonlit hair Kiss me again And know no more And know everything And need no other And need of them all Your precious life You have given for mine And mine I have given for yours

Hate the Light, Love only The Night; Hide from Horrid Morning Fear The Rising Sun.

There is that all too brief moment Lasts a second, a minute Less, more That holds the door open To the change of Fate To act or not to act To speak a word or make a motion Catching a glimpse of the possible Imprint a thought Just make that motion whatever it is… The gesture that could begin or end a relationship Begin or end a series of events Just one event A movement, a look, a sound Begin the creation of an eternity, a legend Or simply a tale.

Leave me to my Memories Both Real and Imagined Leave me in my Silence With my wretched violent screaming Leave me feeling nothing Razors through my wrists Leave me sleeping soundly Bloodied feet pacing jagged cliffs Under frozen Moonlight Just as You Left Me.

VoodooMan a’ comin’ Smokin’ on his cigar Thinkin’ ’bout what be comin’ Someone gettin’ bad luck Makin’ black marks in his book All does come full circle Who sends out the bad One way or t’other get it back Baron got his walkin’ stick He strolls out late at night Black Ol’ raven watchin’ from the fencepost Bad fates a’ comin’ To them who only sate themselves To them who hurt and deny the deed To them who speak to wound a soul Voodoo man a’ comin’ Swingin’ that fancy cane Smilin’ cuz he knows.

She made not a sound One eye closed Hammer pulled back In the sheets they lay Tangled arms and legs Sweating flesh and trembling breath The Rook cried out The trigger quivered Her lips parted Eyes darted Now its started She won’t end until its finished She whispers ‘Oui, Cheri. I have caught you. You gave me mine She got hers Now I’ll give you yours’ He got his Blood sprayed the walls Sheets red and ruined Naked Woman in the corner shaking The gun Smoking contentedly She was done Would do no more But his body twitched Her eyes darted Lips parted Now that its started She had nothing to do but end it good Bullets flew Plaster cracked, glass shattered She smiled and said as she left ‘Oui, Cheri. You have gotten yours.’ Her finger moved from the trigger And she walked away

I write, I write Out of my mind These voices sing Through my hand The words begin Sometimes streaming Endless and vivid Sometimes struggling Sluggish and yawning But still I sit At my silent, old desk My hand it cramps And it numbs And still my mind It races and swirls Visions and thoughts Inspirations and plots So I write and I write Page after page Line after line Spinning words Whispering pages Still I write I must I sweat I bleed My soul Onto Paper Still I write And I write With a Love Unrelenting

Beginning of a flame Starting of a fire Smoking refuse and burning substance From the ashes rises She Darker than the Night Unlit even by the Moonlight Tendrils of pale smoke Whispering, drifting upwards Spiraling to the sleeping sky Silent diamonds glitter and watch The air breathes with her Tumbling the feather light ashes Scattering them Scattering them She sighs As the darkness sinks from violet to inky black Her eyes flutter and open She sits amidst the warm ashes Touching them…stroking them Slowly she rises Gliding through the night Sleeping ancient India The ashes ignite Her fire burns through darkness til daybreak When she returns home to settle amongst them Ashes once again To wait once more for the absence of daylight

Whispers Plumes of pale smoke Voices like liquid fire on honey dipped roses A sigh that glides over flesh in a cold, serpentine caress Filling the air with movement of breathing Byzantine eyes reflecting in the velvet darkness Disembodied gems Unblinking Whispers, once more Subtle as the shifting of the Midnight wind She moves through the sleeping trees Over the damp, cold ground They hush around her, scarce daring to exhale Lest she pauses in her passing To look upon them with those eyes of torment Her soft gown moves about her in liquid motion As she glides dismally past the huddled night things A billowing, pale vision with downcast eyes Her blue, cold lips part As softly her tormented voice spills from them The air seems to shudder Those around her, they tremble Her voice grows steadily higher, haunting, ghastly In utter sadness and yet…fierceness Her wild hair, pale as her tattered gown Stirs and writhes about her with a tangled life its own Horribly she cries on Wailing in such a...

Searching for more than a lover Thousand years I have wandered In darkness and frigid cold Crying at the doors of Temples Bleeding at the foot of altars Stone Idols look away But I sigh and they hear Now I search for that lover Someone strong in their soul I left my home I left my world I shut the door and walked away I see a light in the crypt Someone’s searching around Can’t find the door to the outside They’ve been locked in there alive We all search for the door Gazing into the bowl Holding our breath for the answer To feel that fire deep in the soul Sit atop the Great Pyramids Contemplating the moon Below me the ancient sands roar Speaking lies and speaking truth Entombing the dust of long dead slaves Who whisper when the winds move Telling secrets to those who listen Open my fists let the sands blow away I sink into Synergy

I will continue to force the same smile. Spit the same bland words, make the same endless motions… What goes on inside, underneath, is nothing like you see, or want to see. If I looked on the outside the way I feel on the inside, I would be nothing less than horrifying. Every day. I live this false portrait. Its okay, its mine. I have made myself comfortable in it. Pretending, Faking…is so much easier than explaining.

Love is Fear Love is Pain Love is subjecting yourself to another’s torment Love is the Wicked Unknown And the Evil of Betrayal To Love is to set oneself for defeat And Destruction of ones Soul To Love another is to Hate yourself Love DOES hurt Love IS a lie Of all, I fear Nobody has ever really Loved anybody in Truth Deceitful and Venomous Love is never fair, always selfish The Heart is not precious to Love It is its parasitical companion Love takes and bleeds and drains This ‘Love’ is vicious and savage Primal in its needs and nature; It takes the flesh and shreds the soul It is not held sacred but abused and twisted Love is not a Cupid Darting slyly with his passion tipped arrow It is a viper, striking at the slightest twitch Sinking its fangs into soft flesh It rips away, shreds and leaves ugly gashes Open, bleeding, festering wounds It is not beautiful at all It is not pure and bright To know the truth of Love is to know the truth of Life To Suffer

I saw the blinding descent of the sun turning my eyes and my World flaming bronze You insisted you saw glittering silver snowflakes Tumbling through the velvet darkness Drifting snow and copper glow Tell me, do you know me? I have seen you In lives lived past Tell me you remember me I saw furious black clouds tumbling over one another Spilling curtains of hot rain You insisted once more Of icicles and thick, powdered snow As far as our eyes can see like a glittering sheet Please say you remember Tell me, with your eyes like a lake of ice and sparkling like the snow Tell me, do you remember me? I remember you. I’ve felt you missing from my soul I’ve seen you waiting in my dreams Watching from your castle tower high beyond the drifting snow Your shadow cast in silver by the looming, brilliant moon I saw it raining, warm , salted tears of mine I saw you catch them And throw them to the indigo sky Stars, they became, silver, shimmering lights Yes, you agree It was snow and rain and burnin...

I have no memory of giving my consent to be placed upon this Earth. Believe what you want. And so will I. I belong to no Man, I belong to no Gods, I alone own my body, my mind, my soul, my energy, my heart, my thoughts. Where I go, what I do, is my decision alone. I’ve had enough of others telling me certain things are NOT my choice alone. I do not accept that, and no longer wish to hear their opinions of what selfishness certain actions are when NO ONE owns my life but ME! I don’t want anyone’s opinion of what I choose to do with my own destiny or even what I think about inside my own mind and heart. I need no lectures nor opinions nor condemnations. Choke on your words, I have no need of them. I am no one’s property. I am I. In all its Complexity, and all its Simplicity.

I was born April 2nd 1968 in Topeka, KS. No, I don’t know where Toto went, but I do know where Toby* is, he’s currently chasing K2* (one of my cat’s) up and down the hall. Yes, this is usual for them at 2am. We live with no rules… well, unless we have something we have to do. Or my daughter does. Or… Well anyway, at 2am we have no rules and live for the moment until bedtime (somewhere between now and 4am). *Toby is my dog. He is half Chihuahua half Mini Pin and will be 2 years old in Feb. He’s a black & tan with one erect ear and one ‘folded’ ear. His actual name is Toblerone because he kind of resembles the package/box the Toblerone candy comes in, long and high to a point at the top. He sometimes looks like a rat running along with his longish body and arched back, other times like a deer curled up in some brush with their long necks and delicate heads perched on them. *K2 is one of my (and my youngest daughters’) 3 cats. The only Male, he’s a beautiful, fluffy o...

Originally written/posted; Friday, June 20, 2008 I hate everybody and I’m never leaving the house again. So there. I mean, aside from having to take Toby out. In the dark. I have had a shitty week, plain & simple. It’s not one of those fucked up weeks, just shitty. The kind where you’re just plagued by little dumb things like dumping your purse on the floor of the car, whacking your gimpy arm (or as the girls call it; my ’strong arm’. If you’ve seen Scary Movie 2, you’ll know what I’m talking about) on door frames, your hair never going right, driving all the way to Sunset in the freakin’ heat w/ no a/c just for Chinese, thinking you’re cool because you made it before they closed and some snobby soccer mom in front of you, knowing your behind them, loudly orders the remainder of the eggrolls AND potstickers! So this is how the week started…I was walking Toby, and I had gotten brave, I went a different route and at an earlier time of day. So I’m walking past a house w...

Originally written/posted; Thursday, May 24th 2007 Just checking in to let some of you know what’s up since I haven’t been replying to messages or comments for a while, or even been online much at all. I had been taking a little vacation from here (*my old blog on another site) for a few weeks, nothing serious, just needed to sort some stuff out in my head & catch up on the outside world a bit. Then on Mother’s Day I called my Mother and got no answer. Unusual for my parents; yes, they are homebodies and border on anti-social, still they could have been off fishing or been forced to show up at some family thing. My parent’s lived out here almost my whole life, my dad was Air Force and we were stationed here still when he retired, so we just ended up staying here. He is from Colorado, the Four Corners/Durango area, and finally three years ago, having both retired, moved on down (or up) to Cortez. The next day, again, no answer, so I started hunting down my aunts phon...

Originally written/posted; Friday, June 01, 2007 My Father passed away May 30th at 8:26 am Wednesday Morning, in Cortez, Colorado (Four Corners region). I’ve just gotten back into Utah (it’s only a 6 1/2 hour drive, one way) and I’ll be headed back out again next Wednesday or for his service on Friday in Cortez. I didn’t want to leave my Mom but have things to take care of here, again, of course, and she has members of Dad’s family close by, plus her Sister (the only sibling she has) will be flying over from England soon. Dad is no longer in pain, and has no more worries. As for the rest of us, we go on. Now if my wonderful little Probe will hold out for me a while longer! That poor little car, she needs a bath something awful, and the usual routine maint. Not to mention a good, thorough radiator flush! And I’ve learned my lesson about procrastinating (and being thrifty) not getting the A/C charged! That’s 1st on my list B4 I hit the highway next week! Thanx for everyone’...

Originally written/posted; Saturday, July 26, 2008 Now, don’t get me wrong, my Dad wasn’t an ‘evil’ cat hater. He and my Mother owned a big Male Siamese mix ‘Brandy’ when I was little. He passed away from distemper and my Mother said she thinks Dad was very hurt by Brandy’s passing and hardened himself to cats. We had only dogs after that, until I had to move back home after a separation in ‘98. I brought with me my then 6 year old Daughter and ‘her’ one year old cat, Flower. My Daughter named her because she said she was ‘as soft and beautiful as a flower’, not after the Disney/Bambi skunk. I had owned Flower’s parents (they went to live w/ my In-laws, who already had cats as my Dad put his foot down about me bringing all the cats to his home, he only allowed Flower to come along because she was my Daughter’s (C*) cat and he ADORED her (even up until his death when C* was almost 15, he referred to her as ‘The Baby’!) so of course SHE could keep her beloved kitty with h...

Originally written/posted; Monday, May 26, 2008 I know what Memorial Day is. I know what it means. If anyone I knew were buried anywhere near me that’s where I’d be, and yes, I’ve been paying respects to Family/Friends and all those in the Military past & Present in My own way… But it does suck being alone on Memorial Day when other Families are together barbecuing, picnicking, camping or even just making taco’s (yes, I’ve been craving taco’s for days now!) and watching the Monsterquest marathon on the History channel. I’m really getting tired of pretending everything is okay. I’ve been doing that since I was 5 I think. So if I start going in another direction with things, please, feel free to stop reading. I know whiners irritate the shit outta me, so why shouldn’t I expect others to have the same aversions? Now I know why kids join Gangs. I know what I miss and loved most about being a tweeker… And what one of the appealing qualities of The Mob is… Family. In all thos...

I've grown up with this story always at the forefront of 'haunted house' or ghost stories. That large, looming, eerily beautiful house in Long Island, NY that had such a distinct and lasting impression on the whole genre of horror movies, fans, psychics, ghost hunters and ghost story writers. To me, that house is a historical landmark. To be clear, I do understand the truth behind it's history. The DeFeo murders of course, were tragically true, the Lutzes story/experience however, is still hotly debated, but after years of following the differing stories and information, I am of the opinion that the story from the Jay Anson book (and subsequent movie) was a hoax. BUT, none of that was the houses fault, and the house itself soon took on a status all its own. Sadly, the house is being changed to no longer resemble the 'house with the windows like eyes'. I find this disappointing and somewhat blasphemous! Almost like defacing a historical monument or museum artifac...

Re-Posted by the13thcynic December 18, 2008 at 1:58 AM Copied/re-posted here from my MS blog; Just a few words to check in, unfortunately, I haven’t died or been kidnapped by aliens. I am very rarely on here (MS) these days, and even less so on FB (yes, I finally caved in and made a FB page… still dunno why, since everyone is already on here…?) anywho, I’ve been fighting this damned Seasonal Depression I get and am actually doing better than in past years (which is a task, since I’m car-less and have been unanesthetically severed from contact with my beloved Grandson, and since breaking my arm in Feb. I’ve developed a healthy fear of ICE! I’ve already slipped twice, luckily didn’t fall, but in the process of trying not to fall I wrenched my back pretty good, which, of course, is already messed up!) so I’m surprised I’m doing as well as I am, but I’m doing it. Most of the reason for my absence online is the situation with my wonderful friend Tony. I’ve known him sin...