….why paisley???

Feral by ~Twilight-Aura on deviantART

you would think that i would be overjoyed… signed up for disability don’t have to work for three months minimum,, have a therapist i really like,, and an opportunity to get on some antidepressant meds before i get going on the interferon for the hep c… you would think that i would feel like i am on vacation. and from the standpoint of having nothing to do,, i guess i do… but more so,, i feel blank.. like really empty..
my therapist had asked me to write a summation of the parts of my life from childhood that i feel really reflect a portion of the disdain i have for both myself and my life… without even trying,, boom i had seven pages,,, and that was just from elementary school till 16…. i think that’s enough…

she is really adamant about me getting involved in AA or NA,,, but i can’t be bothered,, i don’t care about listening to people share their stories.. i refuse to believe in a higher power and the whole step work thing is a joke… besides,, i would never go…

its like i told her,, and you,, i am not interested in whether the glass is half empty or half full… i am not interested in refilling it.. what i need to learn,, is how to live with the part that is left in the glass… period.. that is my objective…

i did however contact a woman with a bunch of feral cats she needs to place before she gets thrown out of her trailer park for feeding them all… so sometime next week i will be getting four feral cats to live in uncle alvin’s cabin.. it’s just sitting there empty… since mean boy died the girls and i haven’t even had a reason to go over to that part of the property,, and that used to be their fun time,, to be out with mom,, sniffing and exploring,, so i think it will do us all some good.. we will have a reason to go over and feed in the morning and remove any left over food every night,, that keeps the raccoons out of there…

they will have to be locked in the cabin for like a month before i can open the back door and let them run free,, but by then they should be used to the dogs and the raccoons and the deer and whatever else lurks about in the night over there… they are feral tho,, so there will be no petting and such going on,, but that’s ok  .. they will have a reasonably safe place to stay,, (if they don’t run off )and moo will have some fun chasing them and barking at them,, and i will have a reason to get my poor little ky out of the house more than once a day for a little walk,, that way i can watch and see if she is pooping outside,, or just on the rug and in the car… we have had 6 such incidents in the last week or two,, and i know she is getting old,, but damn…..

the cat lady says she will call me this week sometime as son as she has successfully trapped them all.. she is in davis,, and it is like a 4 hour drive round trip… i explained to her i am not doing that,, i don’t like to leave the house,, and especially not for four hours alone,, and i wouldn’t be able to bring the dogs in the car with four feral cats,, hells no… so,, if everything aligns,, some time next week i may have four new mouths to feed… i am hoping it all works out and they stay…

i have a ton of dry god food,, and a bunch of blankets,, and when i empty the can of the dog food i will of course buy cat food,, and knowing me even little snack cans as well…they will be fine… their feral … like me… we do what we have to do to survive…..

Looking for a Geek by ~madnesslab on deviantART

it seems as tho the general consensus is that you,, my readers,, would prefer that i merge why and just paisley….

so now the search begins… my server cannot do it for me,, and i cannot do it for myself so i am in search of some amazing geek that knows how the hell to do it without losing all my data… any one know anyone??? i realize i will  have to pay someone to do this,, so i am not asking for a hand out…..

i am on the lookout for someone that can just merge all the posts in the same chronological order in which they were originally posted,,, keeping of course the image files in place as well…. if any of you have had experience in this or know someone that has done it successfully please let me know….

back later with a real post….

this post includes the words offered as prompts on this weeks three word wednesday,, Hesitate- Jealous- Neglect

my first steps by ~Catliv on deviantART

i will be the first to admit that i have,, for many years,, neglected both my health,, and my head.. i was hesitant to ever go and find out exactly what was going on with me.. physically.. i didn’t want to know the state of my hepatitis.. mentally i have always been a bit off,, ( although i much prefer the word eccentric),, but at times just plain crazy does come to mind…. so i always cut off the counseling and/or the drugs “before” the miracle.. the miracle hurts.. and miracles aren’t supposed to hurt.. at least not here in my little corner of the world….

yesterday afternoon,, i had a call from a coworker about an hour before i went to my appointment.. she said my boss had taken me off the schedule… she said she had asked him why and he said because “she never spoke directly to me about what was bothering her…”

first of all in my own defense i can say that twice i called specifically to have my coworker ask him to call me when he had a moment to talk..  i know that being short handed means who ever did actually show up is being called upon to do twice their normal workload,, and finding the right time to discuss in a somewhat logical manor, what has been going on inside my head, (with a man that practices yoga,, and meditation,, and believes most sincerely that the body has power over the mind,, and visa versa ,, (he’s totally into the disciplines of the martial arts) was not going to be easy for me.  i wanted to do it from the relative safety and security of my own home,, at a time when he actually had time to listen……. he never called.. i decided to put off calling him back until after my appointment… and i am ever so glad i did…

here’s why, my test results came back good no real concerns over cholesterol, sugar or thyroid function… my liver enzymes came back elevated but not seriously so,, and my viral load was at 4.7,, (75,000 particles per unit), whatever that means) which is just about as low as you can go,, so i am sure you will understand how relived i was…

soon after receiving the good news,, i went into meltdown phase,,  i knew would happen,, as it does every time i have contact with another human being at the moment… so, colin (my doctor,, this is a small town and we are on a first name basis) said “here is what we are going to do. i am going to put you on short term disability we will begin at three months and then extend it as needed… second,,  you need to get ben to write a rental agreement even tho one does not exist,, and take that and the disability papers back to the financial worker over at community services.. together those items should make it possible for you to get  free or as nearly free coverage from medi cal,, that will cover the cost of my therapy and psyche meds.. as currently he is bothered more by my mental state than my physical one,, go figure…..

so with all of this wonderful news as ammunition,, i felt much more confident later than evening, when i finally called my boss.. i never acknowledged that i knew he had taken me off the schedule,, and he never admitting to having done soeither.. no casualties… no bridges burned… and he even told me i am more than welcome to come back whenever i feel up to it!!!!!

so then,, this morning at 5am (as we are both early to bed early to rise) i called ben ,, and explained that for a somewhat extended period of time i will need some assistance financially… he said,, “well we have a joint account, don’t we??  just write yourself checks as you need it.. deposit it in your account,, and don”t be stingy!!! ” (he knows what a cheap ass i am. of course i would have to be to live in marin county california on a take home pay of $1080.00 a month!!!!!)

he also said he wants me,, once the free care becomes available to me to get the remaining tests taken,, and get on the “god damn medicine” i didn’t think he knew anything about hep.. i thought he would be like my mother and be convinced no matter how much literature you gave him to read on how hep c is contracted,, he would remain convinced that it is a sexually transmitted disease.. i thought he would be appalled…

i was so wrong….he couldn’t have been kinder,, or gentler,, or more generous…. he is willing to do anything i need,, even if i get sick from the treatment he offered to come stay with me till i feel better,, if i want him to… he never once brought up that part of our agreement was that he would leave me this house and the money and or salable property in order to maintain it,,  was more or less contingent on  my promise to care for him when he begins to show his age… after all he is 79…..

in a way,, i am jealous.. i want to learn be selfless like ben… i want to learn to be giving when i have no reason to believe i will ever really get anything in return,, and to do so as if having been given the opportunity to help someone,, who has no real way to repay me,, is a blessing….

so this afternoon i put in a call to my dr,, and said ben said do it.. (as i had previously told him i had no intention of treating it,, i just wanted to know what was going on in there…) so tomorrow when i go to see my therapist at three i will pick up the orders for the tests that cannot be done locally,, (which will involve me finding someone to drive me over the hill since i cannot drive that far without the the dogs with me and then leave them in the car for an extended period of time,, especially now that ky has trouble controlling her bowels…. ) but that is workable.. i will find someone…

then when the disability paperwork comes back i will take that,, and the letter from ben that says i pay $400.00 reduced rent due to the dilapidated condition of the house,, and appeal my medi cal assessment at which point,, i will have all the appropriate tests and should be able to begin the treatment,, forth with…

betwixt here and there, i have made a promise to myself that i am going to remain in therapy twice a week,, and go see the meds dr on january 6th, this time i will actually show up for the therapy,, and take the meds because i know that with hep c,, the treatment is usually worse than the disease itself.. i know enough about the process to know that one of the most common side effects is severe depression… and  knowing full well that i would probably never be able to with stand yet another major depressive episode,,, i have to use the tools that have been so lovingly made available to me by colin,, and of course my darling ben….

i remember my good friend stephanie once told me,, “baby steps.. just start off with baby steps”,, and today i feel like i have done at least that…..”

this site,, …why paisley??? gets so many more readers than just paisley…. ever does… i don’t know if it is because  some of you don’t know it exists,, or you are for the most part more interested in essay than you are poetry… but i would like to know…

if you could take a moment and in the comments let me know why it is you choose to come here and not go there i would love to know… and while your at it,, are any of my readers even interested in reading my poetry or should i keep it more or less to myself over on just paisley….????

Reaching Desperately… by ~Auralen-Laisren on deviantART

i read a post over on selma in the city this morning, called  two glasses where she spoke about the optimist verses pessimist adage about seeing a glass as half empty or half full…

as i stated in my comment there,, regardless of whether the glass appears half empty or half full,, some portion of what was once in the glass is still missing.. for me,, it is not so much whether the glass is half empty or half full,, it is the part that is missing that really bothers me..  as even if the glass were to be refilled,, i am afraid it would just  dilute the quality of whatever had originally been in the glass… to me the glass symbolizes life,, and i am not in the least intrigued by the part of life that i see as being left in my glass…

despite many a rough spot,, i have always been privileged (or cursed depending on how you choose to see it) in that i have always had the freedom to do exactly as i pleased.. often times i took liberties with my freedom,, and abruptly abandoned people and/or situations that i no longer found pleasurable… when it was time to go,, it was just time to go…

as twisted as it may seem to some of you,, i was,, more often than not completely able to dissociate my actions from the pain and/or suffering that they may have caused the people i left behind… i had me,, and as i saw it,, me was all i would ever really need… in fact,, “aint no one ever gonna take care of me,, but me…” has always been somewhat of a mantra in my life….

for the last three years,,  because it is evident i do not play well with others,, i have isolated myself… insulated myself in my own little corner of the world…. i read and i write and i meditate on all the things i have done,,, or should have done, instead… i make excuses for all of the things i probably should do,,, but don’t want to do… i have even consciously cultivated an almost agoraphobic sense of panic when i know i have to leave the house and interact in public places.. i never drive without my dogs in the car.. i don’t answer my phone,, and rarely if ever place a call… and all of this from a woman who hitchhiked,, alone, more than a few thousand miles… who has lived in six states,, twenty some odd cities,, and would guesstimate that i have called more than 100 different domiciles,, “home” …

the reason i am even going into all of this,, is that as some of you already know,, i recently started back into therapy for like the twentieth time.. it is my sincere hope that i will not pull yet another disappearing act,, and that i will stick with it until i find something that allows me to feel alive again… even if it is just the strength to send out some of the things i have written that i feel have merit,,, (as to date i never have…) i need to find a passion,, to pursue something, anything that will give me a reason leave the house,, or even to get out of bed some days..

as sick as this may sound to some of you,, i have always known that at some point,, i will take my own life…  it has never been a matter of if,, only when… nearly ten years ago i sat at my kitchen table and emptied three full prescriptions of psyche drugs (paxil, trazadone, and zyprexa) into my mouth,, but i couldn’t swallow them.. all i could think about was my dogs.. my beloved dogs… for the first time in my whole life i couldn’t just say “fuck y’all” and just leave.. i loved them more than i hated myself.. i had promised each and every one of them i would be with them until they took their last breath… it was my commitment to them,, that saved me… at that very moment, as i was spitting all the pills back on the kitchen table,,  i made a deal with myself-  i only have to live till the dogs die,, and then,, if i so choose,, i can set myself free…

one of my dogs, bubba,, my doberman,, has been gone since 2002.. the second in line, my kymarina is 11 and visibly failing,, she has noticeably painful arthritis,, and to date we are unable to find a drug that she can tolerate and gives her any noticeable relief… at times she has difficulty  controlling her bowels… but i know it is her age and not her lack of desire in either area,, so i assist her in doing anything she now finds difficult,,, and always speak to her in a kind voice,, and let her know that i know she couldn’t help it when she poops in the house or the car….

but my moo moo,, at the ripe old age of 9 seems to be my stronghold at the moment… even tho the life expectancy of a rottweiler is only 10 years,, she is still going strong.. she just may be the one that allows me the time i need to find a reason to live,, even after my obligation to care for them has been fulfilled…

so,, after careful consideration i have concluded,, that at this point in my life- i really need to be in therapy.. as i know now that its not so much that i want to die,,, i just need a reason to live…. desperately….

this is a true story… just another little fragment of my life…. poetically,, i know it sucks,, but i just didn’t want to get close enough to it to describe every minute detail…..

cole manor motel by laura41 on flickr

it started out, a day
just like any other day,
with me walking the street
just behind,
the old cole manor -
the no tell motel
yellin’,, “hey baby-
let’s go for a ride!!”

the blow job de jour
drove a black pick up truck,,
he wore a work shirt,,
with his name, dan, sewed in blue..
he said “come on,, get in..”
so i did-  after all,,
wasn’t that what i was out there to do?

he had a special place
he said,, that he always liked to go to,,
and that, in itself, wasn’t weird-
till he turned left
and then right
on an unused dirt road
lookin’ more like a overgrown field..

the truck finally stopped,,
an he flashed a quick badge
as he told me
he was the po-lice..
so i,,
assumed the position
till i felt him patting me up
like my tits and my ass..
stuff that just don’t get touched
if the five-O that busts you is real…

so,, i turned around quick
and there he stood,,
holding two sets
of plastic black cuffs-
at this point i knew
this was really fucked up..
if he got them cuffs on
dan, here,  was gonna get rough..

somehow,, i  found my composure,,
and i knew instantly
what i had to say
i had no freaking intention
of dying this day or this way,,
i said “hey man,  no problem,,
this ain’t my first time,,
but  i need to see your badge again, sir..
if i may..”

with that,, he reached into his pocket
and come out
with a pearl handled 25-
the crack ho inside me
said “bitch you best get to runin’
cuz you know you is fixin to die..”

well this ‘dan’,,
or whatever his name was
popped six caps,,
but weren’t none of ‘em mine…
so as i jumped the guardrail to safety
i wiped the last tears from my eyes-

and then what i did
is what real ho’s do,,
i slapped myself in the face with a smile.
and as the first car come by
i looked him
straight in the eye
and yelled “hey baby-
let’s go for a ride!!”

in response to this weeks three word wednesday,, i recreated a scenario surrounding a real event that happened earlier this year here in marin county….

we will never know whether or not the the inexperienced young motorcyclist realized, for even a  split second, that he would fail to negotiate the notoriously tight curve on that crisp spring afternoon,, or what he was thinking when he felt himself loosing control as he leaned too far into the turn on that ruggedly patched piece of asphalt….

what we do know,  is that upon impact,,  his helmeted head was embedded  in the shattered front end of a 1998 chevy astrovan,,  being driven by a man,, an ordinary man,,  traveling at a safe rate of speed,, very well within the limits of the sector of road demarcated by two solid yellow lines, assuring his right of passage around the same tight curve…

we may never know what song was playing on the radio, as this ordinary man navigated his way home… we may never know if in that split second, in which he attempted to swerve out of the path of the oncoming motorcycle,, he ever knew that there was no way of avoiding a head on collision..

the only thing that we do know for sure,,  is that the driver of the astrovan’s final thoughts, whatever they might have been, were punctuated  by the face first impact of the the young motorcyclist,, now embedded somewhere between the astrovan’s steaming radiator., and still idling engine-

and that life’s enemy, death,, had visited this beautiful piece of northern california,, and it carried away with it not only the broken remains of the motorcyclist that lost his precious young life,, but also the innocence  of a man that now only vaguely remembers what it ever felt like to be,, an ordinary man….

you can find the original news item here: novato man, 22, dies in motorcycle crash

The Three Graces by ~olamever on deviantART

you continue to build an alter
with the hand huned stones,,
of your own self righteousness..
you have joined
those ill wrought stones,, together,
with our ashes
with our blood
with our tears..
yes,, we your own children
have become
the burnt offerings
that you have unquestioningly
offered up to your god..
and you have done,, all this
in hopes
that in the end
that you,,  and you alone,, will
be deemed worthy of
entering your gods paradise…

mama,, if indeed you ever do
find yourself
in this earthly paradise
onto which your beloved god
has judged
your own flesh and blood
unfit to gain admittance-
at that point,,
as you are
collecting up the flesh, and
burying the bones
of those of us, sinners-
your three graces-
then,, my darling mother
will you be able to
find the words
that might explain to me
of what value
is everlasting life
in this,, or any gods
vision of paradise-
knowing,,
that you had to sacrifice
your own children
to get there?

a couple of months ago,, scot,, the author of be not inhospitable to strangers issued a writing challenge. he asked us to listen to charles bukowski’s oration of a piece he wrote entitled “bluebird” and write about where that poem took us. at the time i was feeling too emotionally fragile to expend the energies that i knew it would take me to follow that path..

however, this morning, i decided to embark on that journey…

bukowski said,,
he had a bluebird
in his heart….
he tried
to drown it
in cheap whiskey-
to smother it
in the smoke,,
of a myriad
of hand rolled
cigarettes.. yet,,
in the end,
he told us,,
he knew,,
it was there…
and,, he knew-
it was a bluebird….

yet i wonder,
just how deep
he had to sink
into the quicksand
of his own
scarred psyche-
how many nights
he had to lay awake
staring into
the cold, black,
eyes of death-
before he heard
that single blessed note…
before it broke thru.
before it rose above
the mire of
life’s melancholy
monologue…

and when it did-
when, at last,
it broke thru
his distilled disillusion,,
and for the first time
he held it close
late at night
in the dark
when no one else
was around,,
and he told it
not to be sad-
that he knew,,
that it was there..
when he curled
himself around it,,
and slept with it
wrapped tightly
in his arms
that first night-

was it then
that he realized
it was never
really the bluebird
that he was trying
to drown
in cheap whiskey
or to smother
in the fog
of yet another
hand rolled cigarette..
was it then
that he realized
it was never
really the bluebird
that he desired
to hold ever so tightly
to himself
as he drifted
off to sleep
listening to
the bittersweet song
that only he
could hear
alone,, in the dark
when no one else
could see..

and if it was then,,
did he weep??
i for one
believe he did….

“you draw more flies with honey…”

Honeycomb ART by =macrojunkie on deviantART

please bare with me as i put a bit of what can only be described as a ‘paisley twist’ on the above captioned old american adage…..

ok. so we know that bees go out and gather up the nectar from all of the beautiful, sweet smelling, ornately dressed, flora and fauna,, they then come back to the hive,, where they regurgitate it into the waxy catacombs that they have created for precisely that purpose.. they seal it up,, only to come back to it at a later date, when fresh sustenance is no longer as plentiful.. in theory, at least,, it is by consuming that regurgitated matter that they will gain the strength to make it thru the barren less hospitable times..

now lets transpose this, if you will, from the bee to the human… humans go thru life gathering up little bits and pieces of information,, memories if you will.. not all as ornately dressed or seemingly delicious as the nectar that the bees collect,, but then again,, being humans,, even the unsavory nature of some of the memories cannot detour us from tucking them away..  we seal them up in the little catacombs of our brain and save them in some regurgitated form or another for the moment in time when it becomes inevitable that we will revisit them.

there are the treasured ones.. the ones we wrap ourselves around.. we hold them close to our hearts.. we  never want to have to let them go..  parting with those sweet sorrows is sometimes more painful the second time around,, as the wound,, the one that we had long ago talked ourselves into believing was healed,, is once again ripped wide open,, and we must undergo the whole painful process of healing again…

given time,, however,, even some of these little leftovers of life take on the desirability and sweetness of honey..  they draw us in…  we take them out… we stroke them.. we fondle them.. we look longingly at them and then gently put them back.. some take on an almost sacred reverence,, and just being afforded the opportunity to touch them again,, is more often than not,, as close to bliss as the mortal experience will allow….

yet, there are the also the acidic bits,, those we are fearful of revisiting.. those that we know are there,, without ever really even looking at them,, or touching them.. we can smell the stench of fear emanating from their little waxy enclosures and we want to leave them there.. to never revisit them.. to allow them to dry up and just disappear on their own… but they never do….

and yet,, much like the bees,, nature has instilled in some of us, the need to go back,, and to not only revisit those fetid bits of that what we wish we had never been called upon to collect in the first place-  but now we find ourselves forced, oft times dictated by necessity,, to ingest them, yet again…  knowing full well that expelling them as vomitus, yet again,,  is no longer an option…

it is at this juncture,,  that some of us find ourselves,, in therapy,, being force fed that which we once chose to regurgitate..  as in theory,  at least,, it is only by consuming that regurgitated matter that we will gain the strength to make it thru the barren less hospitable times..

and yet a part of me cannot help but wonder,, if it is not those parts,, those half digested, decomposing, fetid,, still fermenting parts,,  that are,, in reality what drew the flies in the first place……. and that their being there,, never had anything,, at all,, to do with honey…