Not a Day of Wit and Mirth:
Quote of the Day:
The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
Hunter S. Thompson
(You know HSTs words can be used many times and in many ways)
On Crows:
The neighborhood I live in for some reason is on the migration route for crows. Now when I say crows I don’t mean just a few, I mean 1000s upon 1000s, I am here in bed and I can hear them, think of Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. Now some people are freaked out by that many, hell it’s even a news story, every year the TV stations come out and do some filler piece on it.
I like them, there is something comforting about them to me. I had an Indian once tell me that the crow was my sprit guide etc… I don’t know about all that but I always greet them with a Good Morning Little Brothers. Just one of those things that makes me stop and think. Instert Poe here...tis the raven never more...
The Wounded:
Ok, I don’t like Imus in the morning but I was just watching MSN and he is fucking going off about the quality of care of solider receive in military hospitals. Now the news always wants to talk about how good they do keeping seriously wounded troops alive. But, mother fucker when you get back you learn real quick the quality of medical care is vastly different between the military and the civilian world. They always show Walter Reed, which is the best; if you had to go there you would shit. Now don’t get me wrong, those who service there do the very best with what they have to work with (hey, I am not shitting in a bag on my hip anymore, hats off to you).
The sad part is that’s the best, fuck you should see Martin Army Hospital and a few of the others. Sorry, it just pisses my off, we can take care of our wounded, the powers that be just don’t want to. Now when these troops get out, wait until the get a load of the VA system. Its been so gutted its little better than a bad nursing home, a place you go to die.
On the continuing saga of my health:
This morning, my clock radio woke me to this cheerful little tune. Which it happens is one of the Sweet and Kind Mrs. John Q. Public’s personal favorite:
And then the ferryman said
"There is trouble ahead, So you must pay me now."
(Don't do it!)
"You must pay me now."
(Don't do it!)
And still that voice came from beyond, whatever you do;
Don't pay the ferryman!
Don't even fix a price!
Don't pay the ferryman
Until he gets you to the other side.
Don't Pay the Ferryman
(Chris de Burgh)
To answer a few questions about my health; when I was a young man and invulnerable/impervious to things I spent a great deal of time traveling throughout the third-world. I made it a point to go to the places that the tourists normally miss. It was an area that my employer at that time had a great interest.
A result other than some scars (both physical and psychological) of my adventurous life-style was several diseases that while exceedingly rare in our great land are common in those exotic lands. So, about every three or four years since leaving the service of my employer I get sick.
Which of course brings me to yesterday; I finished the grant from hell and started a federal grant that I have to have the letter of interest in on by next Friday. For the past 4 days I have been running in the evening (yes, I know, stupid, with all the ice, a bad knee and being sick) well to make a long story short, my lungs are now full of nasty shit. I now am off work for a bit, as the doctor said “dumb-ass, get to bed and stay there or I put you back in the hospital”.
Your Poem for the Week:
(Here is a fun read, I have always loved her work)
The Singing-Woman from the Wood's Edge
WHAT should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar?
Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,
What should I be but a fiend's god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog,
That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?
And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,
But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe,
As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,
You will find such flame at the wave's weedy ebb
As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother's web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn
From the love of a priest and a leprechaun,
And you never have seen and you never will see
Such things as the things that swaddled me!
After all's said and after all's done,
What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on foggy days,
My Da would come a-swishing of the drops away,
With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth,
A-mumbling of his beads for all he was worth.
And there sit my Ma, her knees beneath her chin,
A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in,
And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying
That would mean just the opposite of all he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin,
He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin,
He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil,
And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil!
Oh, the things I haven't seen and the things I haven't known,
What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown,
And yanked both ways by my mother and my father,
With a 'Which would you better?" and a "Which would you rather?"
With him for a sire and her for a dam,
What should I be but just what I am?
Edna St.Vincent Millay
On Drugs:
Man, at least I got some good drugs. They put me on the kind of pain killer that people stick up pharmacies for, plus a few shoots. I may be sick but at least I am stoned.
On Weight loss:
I have dropped 10 pounds in the past 7 days. Oh, the joys of feeling like shit. I just have not been hungry. Which sucks because my one great joy in life is food, followed by sex.
The Fucking Weather:
Ok, now we all know Indiana is a God-Forsaken place, but the weather here is really nuts. Last week an ice storm, week before two feet of snow and today its going to hit 60, then tomorrow night drop down to zero. Ok, what the fuck?
On a plus side its foggy again today. I love to take walks on foggy days. It’s like walking in a dream. I often find it’s a great time to think.
On discussions with my Spouse:
The Sweet and Nurturing Mrs. JQP came home stoned last night, in the time we have been together I often have found that that is the perfect time to talk to her about issues. Ok, I am thinking about going back in…yes, I don’t believe we did the right thing and I fucking can’t stand Cool and the Gang who seems to be running things, but I still feel a strong need to go back in.
I can’t explain it, perhaps its because I am older now and those boys are just so fucking young. I don’t know, I am sure many other men who have seen the Elephant are struggling with the same thing. So the deal, if we adopt \and/or I knock her up I am free to go. Hell, right now I know I could pass the physical but give me time, fuck I don’t know I need to think about it some more.
Plans for the Day:
Well, since I am stoned, I think I will pull a page from the John Lennon play book and have a Peace In, yep…going to stay in bed, lost in thought and memory. Memories come easy on days like today. Foggy days, murders of crows and good drugs go well together.
Your Bill for the Day:
I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. William Shakespeare
Thought of the Day:
The years teach much which the days never knew.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I remain, full of love and life, joy and peace;
JQP Congressman (D-IN)
The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
Hunter S. Thompson
(You know HSTs words can be used many times and in many ways)
On Crows:
The neighborhood I live in for some reason is on the migration route for crows. Now when I say crows I don’t mean just a few, I mean 1000s upon 1000s, I am here in bed and I can hear them, think of Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. Now some people are freaked out by that many, hell it’s even a news story, every year the TV stations come out and do some filler piece on it.
I like them, there is something comforting about them to me. I had an Indian once tell me that the crow was my sprit guide etc… I don’t know about all that but I always greet them with a Good Morning Little Brothers. Just one of those things that makes me stop and think. Instert Poe here...tis the raven never more...
The Wounded:
Ok, I don’t like Imus in the morning but I was just watching MSN and he is fucking going off about the quality of care of solider receive in military hospitals. Now the news always wants to talk about how good they do keeping seriously wounded troops alive. But, mother fucker when you get back you learn real quick the quality of medical care is vastly different between the military and the civilian world. They always show Walter Reed, which is the best; if you had to go there you would shit. Now don’t get me wrong, those who service there do the very best with what they have to work with (hey, I am not shitting in a bag on my hip anymore, hats off to you).
The sad part is that’s the best, fuck you should see Martin Army Hospital and a few of the others. Sorry, it just pisses my off, we can take care of our wounded, the powers that be just don’t want to. Now when these troops get out, wait until the get a load of the VA system. Its been so gutted its little better than a bad nursing home, a place you go to die.
On the continuing saga of my health:
This morning, my clock radio woke me to this cheerful little tune. Which it happens is one of the Sweet and Kind Mrs. John Q. Public’s personal favorite:
And then the ferryman said
"There is trouble ahead, So you must pay me now."
(Don't do it!)
"You must pay me now."
(Don't do it!)
And still that voice came from beyond, whatever you do;
Don't pay the ferryman!
Don't even fix a price!
Don't pay the ferryman
Until he gets you to the other side.
Don't Pay the Ferryman
(Chris de Burgh)
To answer a few questions about my health; when I was a young man and invulnerable/impervious to things I spent a great deal of time traveling throughout the third-world. I made it a point to go to the places that the tourists normally miss. It was an area that my employer at that time had a great interest.
A result other than some scars (both physical and psychological) of my adventurous life-style was several diseases that while exceedingly rare in our great land are common in those exotic lands. So, about every three or four years since leaving the service of my employer I get sick.
Which of course brings me to yesterday; I finished the grant from hell and started a federal grant that I have to have the letter of interest in on by next Friday. For the past 4 days I have been running in the evening (yes, I know, stupid, with all the ice, a bad knee and being sick) well to make a long story short, my lungs are now full of nasty shit. I now am off work for a bit, as the doctor said “dumb-ass, get to bed and stay there or I put you back in the hospital”.
Your Poem for the Week:
(Here is a fun read, I have always loved her work)
The Singing-Woman from the Wood's Edge
WHAT should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar?
Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,
What should I be but a fiend's god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog,
That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?
And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,
But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe,
As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,
You will find such flame at the wave's weedy ebb
As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother's web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn
From the love of a priest and a leprechaun,
And you never have seen and you never will see
Such things as the things that swaddled me!
After all's said and after all's done,
What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on foggy days,
My Da would come a-swishing of the drops away,
With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth,
A-mumbling of his beads for all he was worth.
And there sit my Ma, her knees beneath her chin,
A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in,
And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying
That would mean just the opposite of all he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin,
He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin,
He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil,
And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil!
Oh, the things I haven't seen and the things I haven't known,
What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown,
And yanked both ways by my mother and my father,
With a 'Which would you better?" and a "Which would you rather?"
With him for a sire and her for a dam,
What should I be but just what I am?
Edna St.Vincent Millay
On Drugs:
Man, at least I got some good drugs. They put me on the kind of pain killer that people stick up pharmacies for, plus a few shoots. I may be sick but at least I am stoned.
On Weight loss:
I have dropped 10 pounds in the past 7 days. Oh, the joys of feeling like shit. I just have not been hungry. Which sucks because my one great joy in life is food, followed by sex.
The Fucking Weather:
Ok, now we all know Indiana is a God-Forsaken place, but the weather here is really nuts. Last week an ice storm, week before two feet of snow and today its going to hit 60, then tomorrow night drop down to zero. Ok, what the fuck?
On a plus side its foggy again today. I love to take walks on foggy days. It’s like walking in a dream. I often find it’s a great time to think.
On discussions with my Spouse:
The Sweet and Nurturing Mrs. JQP came home stoned last night, in the time we have been together I often have found that that is the perfect time to talk to her about issues. Ok, I am thinking about going back in…yes, I don’t believe we did the right thing and I fucking can’t stand Cool and the Gang who seems to be running things, but I still feel a strong need to go back in.
I can’t explain it, perhaps its because I am older now and those boys are just so fucking young. I don’t know, I am sure many other men who have seen the Elephant are struggling with the same thing. So the deal, if we adopt \and/or I knock her up I am free to go. Hell, right now I know I could pass the physical but give me time, fuck I don’t know I need to think about it some more.
Plans for the Day:
Well, since I am stoned, I think I will pull a page from the John Lennon play book and have a Peace In, yep…going to stay in bed, lost in thought and memory. Memories come easy on days like today. Foggy days, murders of crows and good drugs go well together.
Your Bill for the Day:
I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. William Shakespeare
Thought of the Day:
The years teach much which the days never knew.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I remain, full of love and life, joy and peace;
JQP Congressman (D-IN)
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 5:20 AM
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