Thursday, December 06, 2007
I don't know many of you. Maybe, if you were all live pine needles or carpeting the forests of the world , I'd know a smidgeon of one of you. Even with the assumption we've never met, I can still have a wish or thousand for you.
I can wish that, if you have an addiction, you seek help and recovery from it before it destroys you or your co-dependents.
If you have children who are in danger from guns, gangs, or poverty, that they survive long for a shot at a good life.
There are a lot of gadgets that you don't need but might want, and there are handbags that will steal thousands of dollars from you. I wish that you don't get these things because they will diminish you one way or another in the long run.
If you can't get to sleep at night, because of pain, guilt, worry, or self-pity, I wish you would be able to sleep as soon as your head hits your pillow. I wish you a "just right' pillow.
If you are holding back, I wish you become a person who gives forth.
If there is a committee meeting in your mind that is messing with your will, I hope you can kick the creeps out so that you can listen to the single, sure voice that is yours. If your true voice is distorted or mad, I wish that it would become clear, comforting, and aware of the truth.
Truth exists. It's easy to ignore because it can either be quite soft spoken or so intense that you may not care to acknowledge it, but truth exists and loves to be discovered by you.
I wish that you are able to understand the people, places and things around you and that you learn which of these is of most value to you; I wish too, that on more than just a few marvelous occasions, the people in your life understand you.
If you are alone, I wish it to be your preference, and if you are trying to feel less alone, I hope you succeed.
I wish that you enjoy having the nose you were born with, and that you and your body are on reasonably friendly terms.
Maybe if I stop writing now, I'll be able to sleep; I'm rather tired. I wish you a good night's sleep.
Oh, of course, I wish that someday soon, (tomorrow!) that you are able to live in a peaceful world. Good-night, stranger mine.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
So today go car shopping with one of my two wimmen friends here in PC Bleach. We drive an hour to a cute country town that has a dealership with good ads in the local rag. I gets in a cream, Lincoln Town Car Executive Suite series or some damn thing . It's the most wonderful car I've ever even dreamed of driving let alone driven. Interior dove gray leather with tortoisehell dash doodads, a sound system that makes Jimmy Buffet sound ike poor dead Pavorotti, 20mpg's in town, $9,500 which I coulda gotten to $9000 because he started at $9,900, and 80,000 on it, which I own up to is a lot of miles. Kathy says she can see my head glowing as I maneuver this dreamboat (I know what that means, finally) out of a wildly crowded parking lot, even though the car is twice the size of the Cavalier 24Z I'm used to driving-WHICH IS THE WHOLE POINT. I don't want to drive a big car, but my Aged P can't bend his knees almost at all. He could slide into the back seat of this baby and his knees would barely have to creak. So I call derr Papa. NO! In his best Christopher Walken voice he hoarsely shouts, YOU DON'T NEED A BIG CAR, YOU NEED A LITTLE CAR THAT GETS 75 MPG FOR CHRISSAKES, and I says, BUT I NEED THE ROOM FOR YOU AND I CAN MANAGE THE COST. And he says, NO! YOU CAN'T AND DON'T MAKE ME A FACTA IN THIS. I'M NOT A FACTA. And I says well, then I might as well stick with the car I've got and you'll just have to bend your knees even though you can't, but of course he can't hear me he says and I hang up my friend's phone because I've lost another miniscule black cell fucking phone and she knows I'm upset and EMBARRASSED!
And my Dad and Brother P who I also live with don't think WE NEED A DOG either! But I do. I don't have anyone to sleep with. Do they understand this? Not is what I think.
So I get home and I'm gonna pout, you know, but Papa asks me if I've HAD ANYTHING TO EAT ALL DAY! And I answer him POFUCKINGLITELY even though I'm thinking OF COURSE I KNOW PEOPLE NEED TO @##$$ EAT!
And then Brother R calls and needs my help immediately and begs and I cash a check for him and he tells me he knows a guy with the same kind of Lincoln with 212,000 miles on it and HE'S STILL DRIVING IT!
So then I'm back with my family house-mates (ha) making them turkey tetrazinni and I can't even stay mad enough not to make my father a hot toddy for his cold.
And then, I try to order Christmas cards from the Met for derr Walken Papa and they take on $20 bucks to the discounted la-di-da price for shipping and HANDLING! WHAT'S WITH HANDLING? So I cancel and we will not have Childe Hassan Christmas cards from the Met, if you don't mind for CHRISSAKES! Sheesh!