The Train Tracks

the train tracks of the Providence & Worcester Railroad. this was taken facing the mill village (left) and the front entrance to the Ashton Mill (right).

The Ashton Mill

this is taken from the footbridge that connects two towns and it is of the back of the mill. my place is on the second floor waaaaaayyyyy down towards the end of the building.

Smokestack/GW Bridge

view if the back of the smokestack, along the Blackstone with the George Washington Bridge in the background. this is the bridge i cross to get to work.

Entrance to A Bldg/Bell Tower

The A Building

Desk w/Bookcases

the picture hanging on the wall to the left is of Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Refridgerator

ABBA has never been to Pascoag?

okay. i will admit when i am wrong. if i am wrong, i will say, "yes, i was wrong." no big deal. this is a really, really dumb one and i had to admit i was WAY wrong in front of the entire staff of the Library and it hurt. but, it was my own fault for opening my mouth Yet Again. i should learn how to Not Speak. or Unlearn Talking or just become a mute.

i have always believed that the lyrics to the Abba song included a Rhode Island town named Pascoag (pronounced Pass-Ko). i always thought that the lyrics to the song Super Trouper went like this:

Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won't feel blue
Like I always do
cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.

I was sick and tired of everything
When I called you last night from PASCOAG
All I do is eat and sleep and sing
Wishing every show was the last show

i thought that it was unbelievably cool that this Swedish Pop group would pick out an obscure little RI town, stick it in a song AND pronounce it correctly.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???

so, the other day i was on the desk (not ON the desk but behind the circulation desk) talking with a coworker and we were singing Abba songs and i sang a little bit of Super Trouper and i sang the part about PASCOAG. my coworker gave me that strange look and said, "What? are you a crazy person? the word is GLASGOW, as in Scotland!"

oh.
god.

today, i was walking by the tech room and i heard 3 of the girls talking about "that stuff that causes hallucinations". the Computer Guru saw me and said , "wait! we'll ask Rhonda. SHE'LL know!"
like i am an expert on all things hallucinatory (just because i saw a few aliens once...or twice). well, all they wanted to know about was Absinthe. and i had a story to go with it, too.

we once had this nice kid as a page, a guy named Matt. he eventually worked part time at circ and he was soooo nice to everybody and he was a little bit in his own little world, which was just fine. he was an Artist AND a Musician (mostly in his own mind). we all liked him and he was cool. we talked about music a lot. he would sometimes go off on these wild goose chases or have some kind of new scheme or another. one day, he decided he wanted to try Absinthe but could not get any around here, of course, because it was illegal. the Real stuff. so, he sent away to England for all the ingredients to make Real Absinthe, Wormwood and all.
he waited weeks for this stuff to arrive (and we heard all about it FOR weeks). finally, the potion was had and he mixed it up in his bathtub. when it was done it was Yellow. Piss Yellow. this perplexed him to no end because we all know that Absinthe is a bright, almost psychedelic, Green.
i thought he must not have put in dye.
he thought it was a complete failure. when i asked him what he was going to do with this rather expensive batch of Piss Yellow Absinthe and he said, quite logically, "i'm going to drink it anyway". and he did.

the good news is: he did't die. the bad news is: he never could write poetry.

Library card barcode tattoo

first, the word tattoo was introduced by Captain James Cook...stolen from Polynesians who introduced the practice to sailors. i HATE Captain Cook and i am sooooo glad it was the Hawaiians that killed that SOB. i rarely hate living people, but there sure are a lot of dead people i hate.

now, i really want to get a tattoo of my Library card barcode on the inside of my left wrist. i want it to be scannable, and that may be nearly impossible to do because the UPC lines are so thin. also, i would include my Library card number, which appears just below the barcode.

there are three reasons why i would like to do this:

1) i will never be without my Library card.

2) i will never be able to cut my left wrist (again) because i would not want to wreck the tattoo.

3) it will TERRIFY all the Fundamentalist Christians who believe the Mark of the Beast will be an UPC barcode. really. there are people who believe this. those of us who will be Left Behind (and that would be YOU, TOO!) will be forced to stand and fight the Anti-Christ and refuse his Mark OR we will just give in and get the tattoo. this idea has been ripped off from recent history when Hitler tattooed blue numerals on the arms of Jews during the Holocaust. the FC's can't even come up with an original idea. my mother-in-law is an FC, albeit, a really niceone and she has told us that the bible says we are not to mark our bodies or pierce our bodies for adornments. she has chastised Maniac Mike for his dozens of tattooes yet, when he pointed out that she had her own ears pierced, she waved it off. HA! she claims Jesus has already forgiven her. they ALL say that! say four magic words, "Jesus is my Savior!" and poof, you are heaven bound. OR just Bound.

Train!

Choo-choo passing by!

Guess Who Got Out Of Seg?

yep! Maniac Mike is no longer in the hole. he got out this morning after 21 days for having a razorblade in a book. actually, 2 pieces of a broken blade which he somehow attaches to batteries to make a spark to light cigarettes. some guys actually use twistie ties to light their contraband...they stick one end in the wall socket and, and, and...well, that's just STUPID! i think i mentioned this before.
so, at 8am, mom-in-law called to wake me and i stayed in bed until 8:15am. i was just getting up to feed and medicate the cat when MM calls and the first words i hear are "i Love you, Sweetie!" then, he wanted to talk to the cat. boy, was she happy...got all pink and purry. sickening. then, for some reason, the guards made everyone run outside, so we couldn't talk. at 8:35am, MM calls back and Angel is right on my heels, "lemme listen! lemme listen!" we spoke for 10 minutes, said our 'i love you's' and he said he'd call later in the day on the cell. YEAH!!! now i have someone to bitch to who will actually listen. sure, i bitch all day at work, but people think i'm trying to be funny but i Really am bitching to, well, Bitch! Mike knows i have to bitch about work or i will explode. although, once, he made the Very Big Mistake, a VBM, (like the Very Large Array only smaller) and asked me if i thought i was in the right line of work. HAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! i Love My Job! everyone knows that. i would't be on anti-psychotics if i didn't. or, i should be on anti-psychotics because i DO. one or the other. pick.
i thought i might be late for work (having to drive 3 minutes down the road yet walk 7 minutes to get to the car), so, i call in and the secretary answers in a tither. two staff members already called in sick and she thought i was, too, but i calmed her and told her i MIGHT be late but i will Be There. then, in a rush and not thinking, i ended the call by saying, "bye! i love you!" now i know we have all done that at some point but i sure got ribbed for it. i guess she has had such a rough time recently, she needed to hear it.
i wasn't late.
bye. i love you!

Train!

odd time for a train tonight.

Will Work For Books

Yep! sure will!

Computer Shot Today

My computer today. the last computer shot was taken before may 2007 in the old apartment.
notice yellow mug with Bush as Satan! Henry Rollins makes great wallpaper. i have not yet entirely cluttered my space, but i WILL soon enough!

Paper Bullets

i had a pretty amazing day. it was amazing for ME because i got up at 8am and STAYED awake! i spent most of the day doing computer things and turning my CDs into MP3's (yes, again and there are MANY more to go). i pick this band, Paper Bullets, (Ear Flaw Records) as my #1 listen, The New York Rel-X #2 (TKO) and Put Some Pussy in Your Punk Vol 2 (On The Rag Records) at #3 out of the 50 or so i MP3'd.

Trick or Treat is my favorite song on their CD.

7,443 and i had to stop counting

i had my current Library card number for nearly 8 years and checked out 7,443 items before we switched over to a new system that no longer keeps track of the number of check-outs over the course of a patron's Library life. that loss of statistics was a bummer. i was wondering what would happen after 9,999. it was something to look forward to.

in my mid-twenties, right around the same time i had a nervous breakdown, i was diagnosed with CFIDS or Chronic Fatigue Immune Deficiency Syndrome...or the Yuppie Flu...or Epstein-Barr...or Fibromyalgia, whatever. doesn't matter to me what it's called, it still sucks the same. i have read, whether it is true or not, that for every ten years a person has CFIDS, they lose 10 IQ points. i wonder why i can still DRIVE, let alone THINK. my 85 year old aunt has Alzheimer's and my 78 year old mother is showing signs of royal stupidity, so, i am looking forward to being able to read Every Single Agatha Christie mystery over again and NOT remember whodunnit. not EVER remember. what fun.

when i was in my teens, i could read a really difficult book in a day, or two sittings of a couple hours each. it took me one long afternoon to read 1984 IN 1984 and i could quote from it for years. now, i have trouble remembering the name of the main characters, the warring countries and the Newspeak but i still remember Room 101. and the author. that's about it. i would rather lose a limb than lose any more brain cells especially to a stupid 'syndrome' that the CDC thinks so little of, they stole the funding for CFIDS research and directed it elsewhere. (there will NEVER be a cure for cancer, by the way; it is too profitable a disease for the medical industry).

now, i trudge through books and it has nothing to do with aging. i know some pretty old patrons that zoom through their books. it has more to do with falling asleep while reading, losing my train of thought, drifting, rereading the same lines over and over to figure out just what they mean, and depression (because i can't read like i used to and retain info like i used to).

besides my father, whom i never knew, i have been the only reader in the family. mom's Weekly World News does NOT count as actual reading material. neither does the TV Guide. folks, if all you're reading each week is the TV Guide, you need to just stop living. Just Say No! my son was tested in the middle of 3rd grade and could read and comprehend at a 10th grade/9th month level. so, reading Kafka to your kid DOES help, just as well as How the Grinch Stole Christmas and fairy tales. however, Hino is not a reader. he is a total computer geek and can type faster than i can see his fingers move, without ever having to look at the keys. this really pisses me off because i took a year of typing classes and i still can't utilize my pinky fingers.

my father, i have been told, was one of them there Readers. he, my mom believes, was "odd" that way. he was also a loner, preferring time with a book or the dog, or time in the woods, or time contemplating life in general. he did physical labor and he was way too skinny for it. she also thought he was depressed and mom has told me many times that my paternal grandmother was once in an asylum. goodie. up until i was 11, all i had of my father's things were a few pictures, a wood planer, a knife, a set of 1950's white encyclopedias and a set of children's books. i read and reread those books and encyclopedias over and over and i could tell you then just about anything about any planet or state or country. i also had my sister's Golden Books, but they were too easy. my mother did not generally buy me books or even encourage reading, and she did not EVER take me to the Public Library (until i was 14!), but she did buy me hundreds of comic books over 10 years. mom used to read comics as a kid, so they were no threat to her and we could get them used and trade in read ones for those i hadn't read. i also did read all of the Nancy Drew mysteries while in the 3rd grade. (in comparison, Maniac Mike was reading Slaughter House Five when he nine!). she would also buy me 'workbooks' like, Learn Cursive and solve Math problems, etc, because i loved to do them. i was one of those sick, sick little kids who LOVED homework. it was school that i hated.

now Hino's father was very smart with his hands. he could build anything. he was a welder by trade at Electric Boat but when he was just 16, he cut a VW Beetle in half and redesigned it into a flat bed truck. in order for him to drive it, someone from the DMV or DOT had to come out and inspect the Beetle Truck. the truck was a hit and he drove it for awhile before selling it. he also had his own boat (which i suspect he used to run cocaine or and/or pot up and down New England) and did his own engine work. he was diagnosed with dyslexia in his sophomore year in high school...far too late for help. he WANTED to read very, very much and the ONE book he wanted to read most was The Hobbit. i bought him a large, lovely, illustrated copy and he tried his best. i have never seen someone work so hard to get through a paragraph. a little later, the book came out on cassettes and i bought those for him and he was thrilled to death. but, he could read schematics like they were bubble gum wrappers.

i was telling my coworker yesterday that i was having Barnes & Noble withdrawal and i just had to buy me some books. she thinks i am crazy because i buy books and shelve them and don't get to them right away. i buy books based on the theory that Armageddon is a-comin' and i'm going to need some good readin' materials. to HELL with canned mandarin oranges and diesel generators and gas masks and bottled water. just let me die with a good book in my hand...a nice, fun, easy read like Douglas Preston. or poetry by Dylan Thomas. there are soooooo many books and such little time. that is a crying shame. i also buy books for Maniac Mike...stuff i know he will like and that i like, too. i also have Newbury Comics withdrawal, but i will have to wait until payday to even think about any more shopping. the cat needs food.

speaking of food, i think food is a waste of money and eating is a waste of time. eating, for me, is so challenging, that i'd sometimes rather just be hungry...really hungry, until i can't stand up. not eating means a lot less pain AND more money for books and CDs. after all, i am just going to shit the food out. the books and CDs will last a LOT longer than my meal ever could dream...unless it was a Twinkie. they have an almost unlimited shelf life.

i used to take meticulous notes of the books i read or an article i found in a magazine. i have pages and pages of bibliographies complete with ISBN numbers in case i need to buy the book. for one year i had a project: record every item that i borrowed from the library and the amount it would have cost me if i had to buy it. at the end of the year, i wracked up over $9,000 in materials! i Shit You Not! this is why i LOVE Libraries. by the way, our adult books budget is $50,000 and that needs to be spent by July so pleeeease, send ideas. i am going to ask for books that are missing from otherwise complete sci-fi and mystery collections, i am going to ask for new copies of embarrassingly tattered classics and for classics that we do not have like Joan Didion, Hunter S Thompson, more Vonnegut, Anais Nin, etc. where i will put all these new books god only knows.

so, last night, after work, i went to B&N with my membership card and bought $158 worth of books. that would be my food AND vitamin budget but i don'care! (sidebar: i have a coworker who will not take advantage of the $25 membership to B&N because she said she would never spend enough money in a bookstore to recoupe her 25 bucks! sheeee-it! i'll pay to get 10 percent off all i buy...i spend over $1,000 a year there, easily. i love my membership!)

next week, CD run and i'm getting me some Dropkick Murphys in honor of the coming of the green (and Queequeg's B'day).

i accidentally took my late night meds too early, so i am going to go read in bed. i have too many good reads to stick to just one, so i jump around and i currently have, let's see: A Lee Martinez in my purse, Sitchin and a Vampire Huntress PB in bathroom, UFO mgazine in bathroom, William Henry in my work book bag (along with music by Black Sabbath, Black Flag, Marilyn Manson, Motorhead and My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult), Kevin Clash/Elmo on the tv, and two non fiction books that i am reading in bed. well, three in bed...a menage a'tois of sorts. so, nine going at once and i just read the preface to the book pictured above. gotta get those brain cells working again!

old pic of computer/test

i did this entirely by accident because i don't know what the HELL i am doing.

Have a Nice Doomsday

currently reading this book by Nicholas Guyatt "why millions of americans are looking forward to the end of the world", my mother-in-law being one of them. she is sure the bible is right; we will have the rapture and tribulation and, eventually, the second coming. she is sure it will happen in her lifetime and she is 78. and she's happy about it because she is sure she will NOT be left behind. ho hum. i am so sick of fundamentalist bible thumpers and the joy...pure bliss...they get on their faces when talking about the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD! HELLO!!!!!
me: the book of revelations was written by a guy in a cave who ate a bad quahog. also: PLEEEEAAASSSE leave me behind.

finished Rescuing Providence. it was pretty good and a really quick read. not the best i've ever read but hey, it's set INRI!

Train!

a special treat today...i was walking through the mill lot around 4:20pm when a Providence & Worcester black and red engine went by. i came home early from work due to "weather" and as i got out my my car in the parking lot, the train gate came down, the lights flashed and the bells clanged and i began to salivate like Pavlov's dogs. there is something about the imminent approach of a train that makes me very, very happy; giggly-little-girl-happy. i love trains and i can't say why. i love how they look, how they sound, how they produce a 3 on the Richter scale every time they go by my apartment. i love riding them, i love the people who ride them. trains are cool.
i live on the river side of the mill, so i can't see the train from my window, but with enough forewarning, i can run down the end-door stairs and catch a train as it goes by. i think the longest one so far has had 84 cars.
the train track is a mere four or five feet away from our parked cars, in some spots. no one is supposed to cross the track, but the idiots do. we have an underground tunnel that goes under the track...enter one building, climb down a wickedly steep set af stairs and exit on the other side by climbing a slightly let vertical set of stairs. the two buildings and the tunnel are original to the mill, not something that was added. i think it is brilliant.

Worcester, by the way, is pronounced Woo-stir.
someday, i'll write about the 24 hour train ride to Birmingham, Alabama.

Train!

Train going by.....

Rescuing Providence

currently reading this book about a firefighter/paramedic who saves lives in Providence. he writes about one 34 hour nonstop shift. i just love books like this...i am very nosey and like to get into the lives of other people. probably because i have no life.

TRAIN!

train just went by!

Gun, please?

so, i am trying to figure out how to put recordings (Podcasts...every time i hear that word i think of Donald Sutherland). dumb word. where?...oh...recordings on to this blog. for free. it can be done but i can't seem to do it because i have never been able to follow written (or verbal) directions. i am one of those people that require either detailed drawings with arrows and color coded charts and the big red circle with a line through if i'm not supposed to do something OR i need to be shown. i need a demonstration, of sorts. only one. i do learn fast. for instance, the first time i go to a new place, i'll get lost. like the time when Hino and i drove down to NYC. i was going to go to New Hampshire but the very logical Hino said, "If we are going to take 2 and one half hours to go to New Hampshire, then why don't we just take 3 hours and go to NYC?" ah...GREAT! so, we head down to NYC, find it and now we are in Manhattan by sheer luck and now we are looking for Ground Zero. we drive around and around and around and finally i just find a parking garage and think 'Fuck It!' and park. we'll get out, get a map, ask someone, whatever. again, by sheer luck, i found the one parking garage that is but several yards away from GZ. AMAZING! Hino and i are AT Ground Zero. WOW! the enormity, the tragedy, the suffering, the shock is so, so, so....not there. there was a whole lot of fencing, a few Caterpillers, work lights and lots and lots of concreted ground. i expected to see Holy Ground...a cherished spot...groups of people huddled together sobbing. nope. just a few flowers stuck in the chain link (which i heard is something you aren't supposed to do) and a whole lot of heavy equiptment. we do the only thing we could think of; we went to find food.
now this is NOT the story of our day in NYC. this is about getting lost the first time. the second time i need to find a location, i only get half as lost: the third time half as lost as the last time and the fourth time, i only have to make a U-Turn and the fifth time, i am a pro. my radar has now been properly calibrated to find the location with No Problem...until the DOT puts up a detour and then, i cry.

i get fed up with trying to find a way to Podcast for free, so, i thought i would go down to the gym. Mrs Celiac is still with me, thus i will not eat the can of Organic Gluten Free Chicken with Wild Rice Soup i had planned to eat. instead, i will starve to death and go to the gym.

i live in a mill. a beautifully restored 150 year old mill located on the Blackstone. my apartment faces the water and the beautifully designed bike path and The Kelly House...an old, old, old house owned by, um, Kelly? when i moved here, i was told that this is NOT a lead-free building but a lead-SAFE building. good. i want all my lead to be Safe. i do not want anyone stealing my hoard of LEAD. the mill, or, the building that i am in..the A building...we have buildings A,B,C,D,E, A being the main building, is the largest. by largest i mean, the most gargantuan. the building's entrance is in the middle section with elevators, a common room and a mail cubby (the old elevator). if you go right, you will, after a 3 hour walk, find the gym and the offices. if you go left, you will find door after door after door after door...it's like living in the Ministry of Magic's Room of Mysteries. there are 4 floors, 2 public elevators and one freight elevator. i live on the 2nd floor, to the left about, oh, 2.13 MILES down. look for the penguin.

so, i decide to go to the gym. i wash, put on sweats, my sneakers, get some money, the keys, a Sherpa and i'm ready to go. kiss the cat and i'm off. i take the elevator down...walk a few hours and, finally, i am AT the gym. i approach the Coke machine, buy two bottles off water and an iced tea, put them in my backpack and plan to make the trip back to my apartment. this time, though, i use the stairs. this will require crampons, some rope and a protein bar. i make it up to the 2nd floor and hike back home (the cat has given up all hope of ever seeing me again) and i pay the Sherpa, take off the backpack, undress, put on pajamas (the cat is always grateful when i acually PUT ON clothes. i'm and aquarian and we just don't like clothes. when we wear them, they have to be soft, old, comfy, easy to remove and cotton. don't try to give me RAYON! i live in a Fucking Cotton Mill...i want easy to wash and wear. give me a Band Shirt, some faded jeans and my Docs and that's it. however, i cannot dress like this for work, except on saturdays...but i try to get away with it now and then and i always wear Docs just in case i need to stomp a non-reading, VHS borrowing, vacant-minded asshole in the head. once, i did that and the patron turned to me and said, "i suddenly feel the NEED to read Notes From the Underground". it works. nah! kidding).

where...??? i dunno, i lost my train of thought. god, was most of that paragraph in parentheses?

so, i have liquid refreshment. and i have forgotten why i wanted that gun. hmmmm.

Fuck It!

No more chi-chis for me, please! Well, one more...

before i mention the Chi-Chi, i just want to mention that Shonen Knife has to be the coolest Japanese band ever because they actually have an entire song about bison. last i knew, i could be very wrong, but there are no free roaming heards of buffalo in Japan.
couldn't sleep again last night. reading the book about Hawaii. in one passage, Pila writes that no one can just pick up and move to Hawaii. HA! so, i wrote NOT! NOT! NOT! under his words because my family has done it...TWICE! just hauled off, sold everything and moved. i've been thinking more and more about talking Maniac Mike out of the house in the country and the heated barn with enough land and trees to keep his imaginary chickens, reindeer, mule, Morrocan Tree Goats, two pugs and Angel happy. i love that he wants to 'settle down' and 'have a family (nnnoooooooo kids!)', but i've been static for so long that i just want to DO, GO, get-a-move-on. for a couple of years, while MM was still in Florida prison, i'd fly down to Ft Meyers every 40 days or so. Hino would come for longer stays...2 or 3 times, i don't remember. then, my body said it couldn't do it anymore and his mom did most of the work with a lawyer down there to get MM transferred up here through the Interstate Compact.
anyway, the Chi-Chi. getting there. so, it's 3am and i still can't sleep (wired on liquid azithromycin, i guess). reading about Hawaii, crying and i thought, "HEY! i could make a Chi-Chi, get a teeny little bit of a buzz and fall asleep". so, i move the cat, get up, pull out the Pina Colada mix, the pineapple juice, the Skye Vodka, the pink plastic straw with a Hello Kitty paper umbrella, and fill a glass with ice and make myself a Chi-Chi. i could have used a little orange juice and some cherries but i had to make do with the fake PC mix anyway, so, no problem. i take a nice big swig and think, "i need to know all the words to the song 'Don't Sneeze When You Eat Saimin' by Frank DeLima and i need to know them NOW!" i own the record but it is in storage but through the amazingness of the internet, i did not get ALL the words to the song, but i did find a clip of Frank singing the first chorus. i cried like a MotherFucker, hunched up in my cheap folding chair in front of the monitor, drinking this fake Chi-Chi, listening to a song i have not heard in roughly 20 years. Angel had the phone in her hand, ready to hit 911 just in case i tried to slit my wrists with the pink plastic Hello Kitty umbrella straw.
i was fine, really. i really thought i was. then, in a seemingly instantaneous burst of internal combustion, the vodka hit the cocktail called Heavy Medication and BAM! i was scouring the massive piece of furniture called the Roman Column of cds (everyone names their furniture, right?) for Jimmy Buffett. it was a new low. i Love Jimmy Buffett, but i had to kneel in a cat puke stain (ran out of Resolve carpet cleaner...just step over the path of paper towels...i'll get to them, eventually), to get all the way down to the last shelf and all the time i was singing "don't *sniff* sneeze when you *sniff* eat *sniff sniff* saiiiiimmiiiin!"
Angel has just finished typing in all the numbers to the suicide hotline and is standing by ready to hit the Call button when Mrs Celiac dials MY head and tells me "Houston (she always calls me Houston. i dunno why). Houston, we have a problem!!" and a stagger up and run as fast as i can to the toilette and made it just in time for Mrs Celiac to begin destroying the villi along my intestines and just before the Chi-Chi reconstituted intself in my toilette.
so, i fought Mrs Celiac for a couple of hours, got to bed around 5:30am and went out like a light.
mom-in-law calls at 8am, mentions that her niece is arriving tonight and they may go to the Keys, i say something i can't remember, probably, "Take meee!" and stagger awake to give Angel her insulin. her eyes were a little wider than normal when i came after her with the needle but i don't care how tired or sick or dead or asleep i am, i NEVER hurt her. i am an expert at insulin injection but only for cats. if i had to give it to someone else, i'd freeze. me: hell, i'd just close my eyes and jab at myself randomly. easy. but with Angel, i am gentle and as swift as, well, Mrs Celiac.
i found the watered down remains of the Chi-Chi in the fridge...just a mouthful, and Yeah! i drank it. then i read the ingredients on the PC mix and HEY! there is NO GLUTEN in it. Mrs Celiac LIED TO ME. or, OR there was gluten in the pink plastic Hello Kitty Umbrella straw. gluten can lurk anywhere!

MP3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10...Aloha!

i have been turning Cds into MP3's all Fucking day and i think i have hit 50. part of the problem is that many playlists have to be typed in. i'm only complaining to complain: ignore it. in between, i have watched a really excellent DVD Doc on MC Escher. my mind has been blown. always loved Escher but this was a whole lot of new knowledge. i ate my Wheaties today with that one. while i was grabbing, watching and blogging, i have also been reading a book; The Secrets and Mysteries of Hawaii: Planetary Crossroads and the Key to Our Future, A Call to the Soul by Pila of Hawaii. actually, i just read one chapter in the middle and now i'm starting from page one.
Hawaii. wow. for the past few months, every time i think of Hawaii my heart feels weighted down by an anchor. tears just appear...the big, embarrassing ones. it can happen anywhere, anytime. i think it is called "longing". maybe reading about Obama has something to do with it. he was graduating from Punahou a year before i started at McKinley. the culture shock i felt moving to Hawaii was nothing compared to the culture shock i experienced moving back to my native RI. it seemed that i had changed/progressed and everything and all my friends here in RI stayed the same. i'm not saying i was any better, just that i had an entirely New view of the world. even in the midst of Waikiki, right on Kalakaua Blvd, the pace was nice and sssllllooooowwww. everything ran at Aloha Speed, maybe. everything on the Mainland was, as Dziadzu used to say, "Chop! Chop!".
do you know what i miss most? really dumb...and here come the tears...Plumeria. i miss the trees, the leis, the ever-present smell, the shade, the color, the peace. do you know how NICE people can be? one of our Library patrons has a daughter who had Plumeria bushes in her classroom. somehow, this lady found out how much i loved them and she GAVE me a plant! it bloomed for a long time and then, my sister killed it on me. everything dies at her house...the energy there is a cesspool of negation. so, my mother-in-law found a plant dealer who had Plumeria stalks, she planted one in her yard in Florida and it is growing like a weed...with perfect pale yellow and white blooms. i get pictures every so often. and bless my Mike's heart...he tries like hell to order Plumeria for the bouquets he sends me (yes, from prison), but INRI, it won't happen. i did get a Bird of Paradise for my birthday, though!
it's the small things that land the biggest punches.

take your medicine

ever watch other people take medicine? some take one pill at a time with a sip of something no matter how many pills they have to take: 99, 100, 101, 102...FUCK! hurry the Fuck up! and save some of that Fuckin' shit for me! me: i can take 8 or 9 of various sizes at one time with one swallow. some dolts cannot swallow pills at all and have to hide them in their applesauce...babies! or crush them...yeah, hey, crush this Oxycontin for me, 'kay Rush?
then there are those who must pour out the liquid medicine perfectly measured in the teaspoon. or, far worse, able adults who have to use the plastic spoon/tube used for infants. they have to measure the dose, slowly move the tube until the liquid fills the spoon (why? why do that? just swallow it out of the tube. it's premeasured) and then slowly bring it to their mouth and BAM! Oh, sorry. was that my elbow? freak. me: unscrew the cap, take swig. if it tastes good, i'll take another. don't need no stinkin' spoons.

Rhonda Fleming

are you in here or out there?

Sammonicus Lux

trace program: running