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aldo o welles
Writing just for the sake of seeing words on paper or a computer screen. It is in this case no different than being a drug addict locked within the shallow confines of one's own mind. I have nothing to say. Really want to be making money. Really want to be doing something that has an outcome. I'm still in playschool. Classes. Start Voice and Vision class next week. For summer. Why? Why can't I force myself to take Finance or Real Estate? I am lucky and cursed at the same time. I smile and cry at the same time. O
Willie Shoemaker became paralyzed in a car wreck after he retired from horseracing. Isn't that just unbelievable? Consider ourselves lucky if we only have a little bit of chronic pain. I wonder how Christopher Reeves feels about never being able to ride a horse again. Doesn't anyone ever think about that? It is important to walk, but riding is also a part of the dream sometimes. Suzie Orman says that we flush a million dollars down the toilet when we spend on coffees and trips. We'd be rich at 65. But we'd also be close to dead or already dead?
When I first wake up in the morning there is so much to write about but then other things jump ahead…the emails, breakfast, work worries, and before I know it all of those clear insights are gone. I had some ideas about how easily I am duped…by myself…I don't have honor and integrity like people have in the movies. We like to think so and our brain tricks us.…but in reality…my cat died a slow, awful death…I couldn't put him to sleep…I put him in the freezer after he died so I could take him to the country for burial
Here's the first time I've written for a day after it's passed. An hour late. Goes to show that I have to write before the day begins. Had a back adjustment. Fell for a netsuke sales pitch. Ate leftover chicken. Went on a ghost tour. Spent hours on the internet trying to figure out how much I got taken on the netsuke figure. Now I'm looking at my great grandmother's hairpin. Her hair was always in a bun but fell to her waist when let down. Never turned grey. Summer Sorrow. Think that's the name of a book written by
We do make our own lives. Until someone decides to drop a bomb on us. Or runs into us with a car. Or an incurable illness hits. But for the most part we do have some control. Although the old person we are wishes the young person we were had lived differently. The young should be the slave for the old. Before you know it the young has disappeared and is replaced by the old. If he were back for a moment the old would want to shoot him or wring his neck for messing up. Leave me like this?
Sitting here waiting for a ghost to walk in or write something or say something or send a scent of gardenias. Only hear a muni bus, the wind pushing against the back door, the toaster oven shifting degrees. In the distance is traffic every time the green light flashes. The room is dark even though it is mid-afternoon. Husby and dog are napping. Did I say husby? I haven't made it clear whether I am a man or a woman. Maybe I seem like a woman, but I could be a man. Could be in between. Could be a ghost.
Not happy today. The Reagan administration through the CIA trained Osama Bin Ladin to fight against the Russians in Afghanistan. I am not political. Just passing along sad info. And Reagan died. That is sad, too. I love this country, but also miss Europe, even though my ancestors were there many years ago. I do love Russian people and Paris. All of France. They have the best coffee even though they seem rude sometimes. I had the best fish one time in Dover, England. Dover sole. That is why they come here complaining about our fish. Huachinango Mexican cod spelling?
Wonder if the Russians are still spending 8,000 dollars a day to keep Lenin's body preserved. I saw his body. He was small. It was quite amazing knowing that soon he would be put underground like the rest of us. Don't like the idea of ashes. My great grandmother had an urn of her boyfriend who got hit by a train. Guess it's a good way if you want to keep a loved one on your nightstand. Had to check on my peach scone. Quit wine and coffee for a few weeks but for what? I don't feel any better.
Toggling back and forth between drinking wine. Might as well I wasn't healthier without. And printing a 1930 census with ancestors all on the same block. And looking at my mostly black charcoal drawing that I want to turn into a prayer rug. I'm into saints this week. Edith Stein and Terese of Liseaux. I also sent for a statue of Blessed Mother of the Smiles. I'm wanting to see if she bleeds from her eyes or says full of grace like in that movie about the guy from the small town who took photos. Prayer rug. Drawing needs fringe.
Babatunde Olatunje is dead. Don't know how to spell his name but it is something like that. He didn't just die, but I just thought about him. Saw him in Santa Fe. He was an hour late. We were all waiting in rows with our drums. No I couldn't play a drum but I wanted to see him and hear the music. I did dance. His lead dancer was our leader. Again we were in rows. That was years ago. I'm leaving to drive to the country. The drive kills me but how else am I supposed to get there?
If only I wouldn't be so tired when sleeping. I'd have more to write about. Whole lines are dictated to me like "life is driven by the cold, dark power of the dead." Or "the sneeze causes blood vessels to be constricted." One-liners seem important to me while I'm sleeping. My body refuses to get up to write them down. Most are gone. Dog laid down unconscious in a public restroom. Thought he died, but think it was an epileptic attack. If he's going to go soon better to have it happen here. I can bury him under a tree.
Should have written at 2:00 a.m. instead of now that I'm tired. Here's how the words really come out without thought to stringing them together: how now brown cow I don't know a thing about any of it with wwwII and so it goes without saying that it is open to the public anytime that is available in case of worry or woe and then the three stooges were Moe Larry and Curly and I did backtrack to capitalize when it would have been appropriate. When I cross out extra letters I cheat and capitalize at the beginning of sentences.
It's 1:37 a.m. past the previous day and had no time to get the entry in then so it is in now. Cheating as far as I'm concerned. I run out of time. Someone from work died maybe at the time that my dog collapsed. He didn't show up for work. I have won 2 items from ebay – a supposedly haunted wedding ring and candleholders made from slave chains. Both are probably hoaxes. I am the typical ebay buyer who falls for the goofy stuff. Bidded on many so-called haunted things except for many labeled as evil. 3 words left.
Do you realize that I not only have to get in words, but I have to put in images? I have my own website for the images. Why did I ever start this? There is no time. I'm taking a class at the art institute for the summer even though I I don't have talent in that area. I I II ay ay ay . My mother said that my cousin missed her calling. She is artistic. II looks like a 2 meaning II as in WWII. I keep pausing. Maybe it is just too. In the night.. early morning..
Loss this week. Someone from work found dead in his bed. One of my favorite houses only has a bulldozer sitting where it once was. I never took a picture of it. now I hardly remember why I liked it. My dog doesn't feel like taking a walk. much that I can't get done. Birthdays are coming, father's day, always a holiday. all pile up. Chewed 2 bromelain tablets they burned my tongue. Our lady of the smiles came in the mail, but I think she is half the size advertised. Her lip looks like it is infected with herpes.
Our lady of the smiles is standing on the desk. She's stepping on a snake. I don't believe the snake is an evil symbol. That is something that men have made up. In a dream last night I was driving in a familiar neighborhood. All of a sudden I was somewhere foreign. A snake led me. I was on foot going up a hill. An asian man was there. A teeny white lady came crawling in between slats in the wood over the water. She was newt-like. I kissed her and was handed a proclamation stating that I was healed.
Know that I'm limited because I clutter myself in. Can barely peek out. It's like being buried inside a messy collage and crude letters and drawings and cut up magazine pictures are slopped on top of me with Yes! Glue holding me down and gagging me and I need to go fix the pipe under the sink but all of these unrelated images and words are keeping me prisoner. Slept but I'm still tired. Have to get moving. Can picture the trucks outside hobbling. You hear them bouncing on their wheels and the noise says they hobble back and forth.
Ran out of time. This is 2:05 a.m. after the day I was supposed to do 100 words but according to the rules we can cheat and enter late, I think, so here it is. I've been copying old stuff to give as a birthday gift to my son. I'm not giving originals because the last time he threw out some. Here's something: Peace and Conflict Studies Class of (in the 90's) UC Berkeley. He wrote, "Internship: Co-Director of Alternatives to Chemical Engineering and the Process of Gene Splicing." He made that up for the little commencement booklet. Pretty funny.
Holy shit. It's 2:45 a.m. This is getting ridiculous. I don't have time to even bathe properly. My whole life is piling up on top of itself. It's all these damn holidays, birthdays, people dying. I'm sick of it. I'm quitting making appointments to fix myself. I'll just keep the pain. Three years of appointments maybe made me worse. Only 60 words last count and I have nothing positive to say. I'm searching. The dog didn't die. Is that positive? 83 words. I'm not on oxygen and I walk and 93 words. It's all about me because I'm the writer
Been writing poetry. Corny. fun, though. As though ghosts come to play word games. Wearing a ring from a so-called haunted estate. Could have a ghost attached. Open to any beliefs except that an Ernie doll could be evil. Don't like that evil label. People throw it around easily. Been taking a class close to where I live. Probably the last real class before this was… I took some great equestrian lessons. jumping. Language classes to play with words. French, Spanish, Japanese. traumatized that I gave up French. Married…Russian. Thought I should try to learn that. couldn't make the sounds.
I'm dragging myself around here. Received a special surprise in the mail, though, today. An old book and old photos. There are some very kind people in the world. A relative who I have never met sent me a book that has a story my greatgrandmother would read to her children. The copyright is 1886. Unbelievable isn't it. It's as though there really are angels in the world. I just flipped it open to a page showing an old print of children facing a teacher? Under the picture it says, "I want ter see how yer goin' to behave." Page44
Life is much more fun if you believe in ghosts, saints, and a god. That is why they were invented. I'm wearing a ghost ring. Spouse says "alright if it makes you happy." The lights have dimmed and gone bright a few times more than they usually do. Spouse says that's just PG&E fooling around. The clocks used to stop at different times when I'd be stressed. That hasn't happened in a long time. One time when I was crying in my car the oil burst and the mechanic told me that the cap had to be off. It wasn't.
Dreams all night were of ghosts. A mansion. In a room in the dark a small lamp turned on and off. Told the ghost to lift an object. It lifted. Outside told others. Went inside a side room. My clothing was being pulled in. Told the ghost "in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost be released" or something like that. The entranceway of the main house also had problem ghosts who liked one girl but didn't like others. The one could go into the dining room. I said words like a priest.
Don't know what's wrong with me. Haven't gone to bed yet and it's 5:40 a.m. Put together a crappy bookcase. Has doors that are uneven. My arms are rashy and scratched. Eyes are maybe scratched, too. Feel like I've aged so much that it doesn't matter if I sleep or not. This is the day of my son's birth. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. He's a grown man now but maybe subconsciously I'm back in time. It's light out now and I'll be going to sleep like a vampire climbing into a coffin. Hope I sleep as soundly. zzzzzzzz
It's 3:20 in the morning. Been xeroxing teeth. fingers are stained black. Have Lourdes water in a little font? Is that the word for a mini fountain. A little holder? Font I know is the word for letters on the keyboard. Isn't it also a little holy water holder? Take one line from each person's entry. Not each but a few. string them together. You have a dada poem? A I forget what it is poem. A not Ah. Long sound. The kind that British can't make. I'm really into not sleeping at night. I think people die this way.
June 26, 2004 had to enter date so it would complete itself and tell me what day it is Saw another person's entry on the way Mentioned syphilis but can't remember how to spell it People always had that years ago One of my grandfather's had a glass eye because of it Washed his face with bath water and he was splashing it His eyes And little spirochettes found their way into his cornea? He always cheated on my grandmother She always made the sign of the cross before having sex He was a short man but had a big
Haven't watched TV lately. Don't read the newspaper. Don't know much about what's happening in the world. Same old stuff whenever I catch a glimpse. My brush smells funny. Old Fuller Brush Company. Just ate a banana but still hungry. Hair's wet. Had a hole in the butt of my pants but fixed it. Friend is going to church but told him I don't really like church. Stopped liking it when it turned into English from Latin. Don't like the part when you have to shake hands. The brush smells like an old person's breath. Or is that my breath?
If only I really could write. I don't know how to weed out all the excess. Tonight I won a Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist puppet on ebay. My uncle was the … I believe he was the godfather…no I think Edgar Bergen was the godfather of one of my cousins. There is a lot of sadness in my family. An interesting history. I won a 1930's or 1940's Charlie McCarthy. Without a monocle. I know I'm a bit odd. Odd but not really odd considering the circumstances. You have to look at a life as a whole. Or a boysenberry pie.
It seems that the difference between a Russian and an American is that the Russian has no hostility day-to-day. He can kill someone in a heartbeat if he has to without dwelling on it later. An American has hostility daily yet if he has to kill someone he lets it ruin his life. This is why it is good to marry a Russian instead of an American. A Russian will only kill you if you really deserve it, but an American will kill you in the heat of passion. This is why so many Americans end up fleeing to Mexico.
My brother was in trouble with the nuns when we were young. He took the blame for writing in a slam book under the name of Linda B. Supposedly it showed that he was perverted and in need of therapy. My father told the nun that she should have better ways to spend her time and that his son had nothing wrong with him. That nun used to call the boys queerdicks? She was the same nun who put ribbons in their hair as punishment. I liked her, though. She sang "Jump down turn around pick a bale of cotton."
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