Mill an yum!
I think a new dictionary is in order. At least a glossary.
Today's term: use
derivative: usage, useage (sic), used, usual, us
They want to use somebody's work. They will pay for the right. Not unusual atoll. What they will buy is the right to use the work, aka "use rights." "Usage," in contrast, is always meta. Always about WORDS and how they are employed. "Common usage" is what I mean. Odd, there is no "Un-common usage." but there is uncommon use.
If you take this lunatic ranting and use it to sell wicker, that's a use, Not a usage (or useage, sp, no)
No such thing as usage rights. Although it is clearly part of what language is that I can use any word I want, correctly /incorrectly ... whatevs!. There is no real penalty for messing up. Other than looking dumb. There's no vocab jail. Yet. No bed-wetter's prison either. Damp!
It's not unusual to want to be used. I learned it first from a Truffaut film. Everyone wants to be used. Opposite of useless, which no one wants. I try to keep moving. That way, no one can be sure I'm of no use.
I could use a little help. Mean it. My therapist goes just so far. He gave me succulents, some with pricks. Next week's term: Pricks
Friday, August 10, 2018
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
cookies
I have never been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Would have, but do not have such a jar. If I want cookies, by God...! The other kind, the kind you generate by visiting this page, are infinitely sweeter. Those web cookies help the Amazon Primers and Vulgar Grads in digital Silicon Valleys all over the world to know, without a doubt, that I thought about pickup trucks for 1 minute 32 seconds yesterday. And that I want a black one. Not 4WD.
Wicker chairs too. A lot wicker. And teak oil. Which contracts to T'oil.
So, we all leave this trail of desire called 'Cookies.' And the cookie monsters aka Al Gore rhythms in stuffy dig it all closet cubicles seek quasi benignly to grant our outermost wishes. Sex, not love. Recipes AND meals. The presents, not the pasts. New arms and legs, and no head.
I am told it's all about followers. And heaven help us when they actually catch us!
More sugar! doh!
Wicker chairs too. A lot wicker. And teak oil. Which contracts to T'oil.
So, we all leave this trail of desire called 'Cookies.' And the cookie monsters aka Al Gore rhythms in stuffy dig it all closet cubicles seek quasi benignly to grant our outermost wishes. Sex, not love. Recipes AND meals. The presents, not the pasts. New arms and legs, and no head.
I am told it's all about followers. And heaven help us when they actually catch us!
More sugar! doh!
Friday, March 30, 2018
Joining the other Humans
It's like there's fee for joining up - the opposite of a signing bonus.
Currently, still, I live in the country. Alone/ Sort of alone. But here in the country, there are now more mustangs (Fords), and man they must stang! And there are young boarders on their skate boards. And quiet streets full of emptiness like death. Retirees plugging in at the RV park. Or parking at the fire plug.
No one joins me. But it's not the country anymore. Not for them anyway.
My old house was moved out here, to the middle of Egypt, in 1973 - the year I crossed the Mason and Dixon line for good - and ill.
And then slowly, but then with greater and greater speed and thickness, the masses - replete with jobs and children in prisons made by the Independent School District and home entertainment centers - cluster nearby, talking about me just up the Nile from them. And wishing they could live in my house, on my few acres; to which all the deer and the antelope and the rattlers and opossums and rats and mice and bugs and smaller bugs and wasps .... have flocked. Since the new houses are 6 per acre, you see. Or 7 for luck. It's so quiet in those neighborhoods!
I mostly avoid them. When I don't, it's usually okay. Which has led me to think - "I shall leave Egypt forever and join folks in the old home town," which has grown into a pulsing deathstar of booming modern hubub. (That's Austin, TX to you)
So, yeah, there's a fee. $Half a Million. Inexorably. I am to be a neighbor among neighbors. And I will be well-liked by one or two. And my favorite city haunts will be increasingly haunted by me, on foot even. And my grandsons will visit, on holidays. And my soul will not extinguish, and I will sometimes not be sad.
Hurry! Supplies are going fast!
Currently, still, I live in the country. Alone/ Sort of alone. But here in the country, there are now more mustangs (Fords), and man they must stang! And there are young boarders on their skate boards. And quiet streets full of emptiness like death. Retirees plugging in at the RV park. Or parking at the fire plug.
No one joins me. But it's not the country anymore. Not for them anyway.
My old house was moved out here, to the middle of Egypt, in 1973 - the year I crossed the Mason and Dixon line for good - and ill.
And then slowly, but then with greater and greater speed and thickness, the masses - replete with jobs and children in prisons made by the Independent School District and home entertainment centers - cluster nearby, talking about me just up the Nile from them. And wishing they could live in my house, on my few acres; to which all the deer and the antelope and the rattlers and opossums and rats and mice and bugs and smaller bugs and wasps .... have flocked. Since the new houses are 6 per acre, you see. Or 7 for luck. It's so quiet in those neighborhoods!
I mostly avoid them. When I don't, it's usually okay. Which has led me to think - "I shall leave Egypt forever and join folks in the old home town," which has grown into a pulsing deathstar of booming modern hubub. (That's Austin, TX to you)
So, yeah, there's a fee. $Half a Million. Inexorably. I am to be a neighbor among neighbors. And I will be well-liked by one or two. And my favorite city haunts will be increasingly haunted by me, on foot even. And my grandsons will visit, on holidays. And my soul will not extinguish, and I will sometimes not be sad.
Hurry! Supplies are going fast!
Hum us a few bars
It's spelled HUMMUS, Or HOUMOUS. I prefer the former. People actually eat chick pea. They do not drink it. But this comes as no slurprise. Hommus (erectus). The stuff smells somehow like armpit. And it's not the tahini. As a matter of FYI, humming is perhaps the most difficult human sound to record. It's like mumbling. Speak up dammit!
Which brings up: What is a human sound? Really does not matter. I was full of piss and vinegar earlier. Then I emptied. It was transient, momentary. A burst of Spring. Because it is actually Spring today. So I looked up how to spell hummus AND Spring. Its full name is Springtime, for obvious reasons. Spring is when you wish you had your lawn mower. If you have a lawn. And especially if you have a HOA.
It is my plan to move, for my waning years, into the city, where there are an increasing number of armpits. I will mooove to a dairy barn and run the airconditioner plum out of its mind. To its utter limit.
The new house is so cool and hip, OMG. Its only obvious problems: No windows in the bathrooms. The shower is set up so when you turn it on, you get wet. (Seems like the idea... but think about it.)
And, oh yeah, it costs 5 years' pay. And it's always raining.
Sulphur.
Oh, and the septic tank is never full and therefore fails inspection.
You can expect it.
I always (used to) say, if you expect to rate, you gotta expectorate.
But it's false, as the day is longer, in Springtime. I sprang forward. Darkness waits.
Which brings up: What is a human sound? Really does not matter. I was full of piss and vinegar earlier. Then I emptied. It was transient, momentary. A burst of Spring. Because it is actually Spring today. So I looked up how to spell hummus AND Spring. Its full name is Springtime, for obvious reasons. Spring is when you wish you had your lawn mower. If you have a lawn. And especially if you have a HOA.
It is my plan to move, for my waning years, into the city, where there are an increasing number of armpits. I will mooove to a dairy barn and run the airconditioner plum out of its mind. To its utter limit.
The new house is so cool and hip, OMG. Its only obvious problems: No windows in the bathrooms. The shower is set up so when you turn it on, you get wet. (Seems like the idea... but think about it.)
And, oh yeah, it costs 5 years' pay. And it's always raining.
Sulphur.
Oh, and the septic tank is never full and therefore fails inspection.
You can expect it.
I always (used to) say, if you expect to rate, you gotta expectorate.
But it's false, as the day is longer, in Springtime. I sprang forward. Darkness waits.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
The Stock Market
The Stock Market used to be in Fort Worth. Now they have museums there. When the stock market was there, it was full, overfull, with stock. Mooooving all the time. Over time, the stock died.
Then the Stock Market got moooooved to New York (and Tokyo), and it is still overfull. But the stock mainly does not die. In fact, over time, the stock grows. Sometimes it splits, but the offshoots somehow grow heads and toenails and lead more or less normal lives.
There was often something wrong with the market in Fort Worth. Stinky. Hoof! The markets in New York and Tokyo are also stinky, but sometimes when there is something wrong (like stinky), there can be something called a "correction." Which, oddly, makes things REALLY stinky for awhile, but not forever. It has to do with methane and the president.
Who is a coward.
Well, I just said that because he grosses me out. I was on a plane this morning, coming home from Memphis (is that a song?). And I noticed that pretty much all the men and most of the women grossed me out. I am picky in the extreme. None of those people pay dividends.
It's a good day to take stock, and sell it. Or keep it, but in order to improve the heirs, make sure to have lots of death benefits.
Happy Valentines Day. !
Then the Stock Market got moooooved to New York (and Tokyo), and it is still overfull. But the stock mainly does not die. In fact, over time, the stock grows. Sometimes it splits, but the offshoots somehow grow heads and toenails and lead more or less normal lives.
There was often something wrong with the market in Fort Worth. Stinky. Hoof! The markets in New York and Tokyo are also stinky, but sometimes when there is something wrong (like stinky), there can be something called a "correction." Which, oddly, makes things REALLY stinky for awhile, but not forever. It has to do with methane and the president.
Who is a coward.
Well, I just said that because he grosses me out. I was on a plane this morning, coming home from Memphis (is that a song?). And I noticed that pretty much all the men and most of the women grossed me out. I am picky in the extreme. None of those people pay dividends.
It's a good day to take stock, and sell it. Or keep it, but in order to improve the heirs, make sure to have lots of death benefits.
Happy Valentines Day. !
Monday, February 12, 2018
Anxiety Oy Vey
I'm anxious! Yikes!
Poor thing! What triggered it?
Are you kidding? Have you seen the world today?
Oh, the world triggered it?
No, sheesh, waking up triggered it. Or maybe it woke me up...
It happens when I travel, on overpasses, in elevators, at the gym, I think I'm gonna puke, pass out, have a stroke.......
etc
I want to report progress. I believe I have had so much time living in/with clinical anxiety that I am now more or less numb to it. I have, in the language of the CBT theory, successfully removed the fear from the "uncomfortable bodily sensations."
I have a story, several years old now: I was a passenger in a car that drove off the road on a drizzly evening and spun around - no one hurt, no damage. The driver turned white, palms sweaty, etc. I looked over at her and said "That was interesting....what's wrong?"
Nothing was wrong. Nothing is ever wrong, unless the human condition is wrong. Which it neither is nor isn't. If it exists.
I honestly believe my body has been so mistakenly and crazily flooded with adrenaline for so long, I am out. Out of adrenaline.
I still get the ears ringing, dizziness, disorientation/dissociation.... But I don't get scared much.
For those who still suffer: "Relax!" does not work. "Whatevs...." actually ... does.
Poor thing! What triggered it?
Are you kidding? Have you seen the world today?
Oh, the world triggered it?
No, sheesh, waking up triggered it. Or maybe it woke me up...
It happens when I travel, on overpasses, in elevators, at the gym, I think I'm gonna puke, pass out, have a stroke.......
etc
I want to report progress. I believe I have had so much time living in/with clinical anxiety that I am now more or less numb to it. I have, in the language of the CBT theory, successfully removed the fear from the "uncomfortable bodily sensations."
I have a story, several years old now: I was a passenger in a car that drove off the road on a drizzly evening and spun around - no one hurt, no damage. The driver turned white, palms sweaty, etc. I looked over at her and said "That was interesting....what's wrong?"
Nothing was wrong. Nothing is ever wrong, unless the human condition is wrong. Which it neither is nor isn't. If it exists.
I honestly believe my body has been so mistakenly and crazily flooded with adrenaline for so long, I am out. Out of adrenaline.
I still get the ears ringing, dizziness, disorientation/dissociation.... But I don't get scared much.
For those who still suffer: "Relax!" does not work. "Whatevs...." actually ... does.
More on Feelings
Oh eff! A friend name of G. Bob says that for him, after years of daily meditation, fear and anger are transitory curiosities. Bob also says "Y'know, we spend 99% of our time thinking about ourselves and there's really no such thing!" As thinking. ? No, of course, he means the self.
I now view the self, my self, as the combination of 3 things: a physical body (ever older til death), a set of beliefs which evolve over time - kind of like the stock market, and, #3, the parade of feelings. The body and the beliefs enter the consciousness as or through the, yes transitory, feelings.
Silly things. Curiosities. It amazes one how loud and painful they can be. But if I pay attention, I notice they NEVER last more than a few minutes.
There was the discussion of cravings. Bell shape. Level, ascent, peak, descent to level again. Five minutes tops. And this is what life is about? No. This is simply what life seems to be.
This kind of talk is not particularly beneficial or entertaining. But I want to document my new view of feelings (a de-emphasis, a disparagement even), because I am actually experiencing something I want to call a new strength. I can be a hero, in a good way. I might even be sober.
Arthritis doesn't go away, but at least it changes.
Some folks hate the president so much, they cannot listen to him speak or view his image without shuddering. I'm sort of one of those people. Is it fear or anger? I'll let you know....
Both. I wish he would just listen to reason! (to me). But he won't.
The signs in the yards say 'Science is Real.' With their dying gasp. Well, science is an interesting body of knowledge gained by the experimental method and inductive logic. Those of us truly inclined to revere science must consider the possibility that belligerent isolationism/protectionism + Reaganomics + disassembly of e.g. the State Department and e.g. the Dept of Energy and (another) e.g. the national parks may be just the ticket for the (still) new millenium. Clearly these guys have their finger on the pulse of some living beast!
Next: Inspiration and melody.
I now view the self, my self, as the combination of 3 things: a physical body (ever older til death), a set of beliefs which evolve over time - kind of like the stock market, and, #3, the parade of feelings. The body and the beliefs enter the consciousness as or through the, yes transitory, feelings.
Silly things. Curiosities. It amazes one how loud and painful they can be. But if I pay attention, I notice they NEVER last more than a few minutes.
There was the discussion of cravings. Bell shape. Level, ascent, peak, descent to level again. Five minutes tops. And this is what life is about? No. This is simply what life seems to be.
This kind of talk is not particularly beneficial or entertaining. But I want to document my new view of feelings (a de-emphasis, a disparagement even), because I am actually experiencing something I want to call a new strength. I can be a hero, in a good way. I might even be sober.
Arthritis doesn't go away, but at least it changes.
Some folks hate the president so much, they cannot listen to him speak or view his image without shuddering. I'm sort of one of those people. Is it fear or anger? I'll let you know....
Both. I wish he would just listen to reason! (to me). But he won't.
The signs in the yards say 'Science is Real.' With their dying gasp. Well, science is an interesting body of knowledge gained by the experimental method and inductive logic. Those of us truly inclined to revere science must consider the possibility that belligerent isolationism/protectionism + Reaganomics + disassembly of e.g. the State Department and e.g. the Dept of Energy and (another) e.g. the national parks may be just the ticket for the (still) new millenium. Clearly these guys have their finger on the pulse of some living beast!
Next: Inspiration and melody.
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