Thursday, January 7, 2016

Pain pain go away.


I have found an intelligent woman doctor whose office I can walk to when I am better. And although the robot machines were there, operated by smiling helpers, Doctor does actual examination of her patient. Very efficient.

She finally took care of my chief complaint = unending pain. I do not hurt while I type now. Maybe I can get some writing done. I have enough pain meds to keep me from continuing pain. Constant pain saps all energy. All I feel is very tired. I have not slept well in days. Now I will sleep.

Ms. Tucker, please write on these pages please, how you truly are. And peanut cat? Confess. I am sending good wishes to all the wounded. Thank you for sharing with me.








Thursday, December 31, 2015

Happy New Year!


Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole,
n'aria serena doppo na tempesta!
Pe' ll'aria fresca pare giĆ  na festa...
Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole.
What a beautiful thing is a sunny day!
The air is serene after a storm,
The air is so fresh that it already feels like a celebration.\
What a beautiful thing is a sunny day!


Thursday, December 17, 2015

Mourning, Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth. I have got to cut it out.

I am/was going to write about Ted Cruz calling for carpet bombing. Something...

But every time I type carpet bombing, tears roll down my cheeks.

It is the concussion not worked out yet. I just cry like a fool.
This is what the Lord says: “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” Jeremiah 31:15
It is the awful photos of Dresden. Dresden had no strategic value. We broke it because we could. It is what Kurt Vonnegut wrote about being there and here:

“The corpses, most of them in ordinary cellars, were so numerous and represented such a health hazard that they were cremated on huge funeral pyres, or by flamethrowers whose nozzles were thrust into the cellars, without being counted or identified,” Vonnegut wrote in “Fates Worse Than Death.


“America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves. To quote the American humorist Kin Hubbard, 'It ain’t no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be.' It is in fact a crime for an American to be poor, even though America is a nation of poor. Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters. The meanest eating or drinking establishment, owned by a man who is himself poor, is very likely to have a sign on its wall asking this cruel question: 'if you’re so smart, why ain’t you rich?' There will also be an American flag no larger than a child’s hand – glued to a lollipop stick and flying from the cash register.

Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves. This inward blame has been a treasure for the rich and powerful, who have had to do less for their poor, publicly and privately, than any other ruling class since, say Napoleonic times. Many novelties have come from America. The most startling of these, a thing without precedent, is a mass of undignified poor. They do not love one another because they do not love themselves.”
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five




Wednesday, December 9, 2015

I was born today in December on the 9th in 1943.

I am going to have steamed Alaskan Crab with Drawn Butter for birthday supper. I am eating an almond croissant. Nothing hurts me at the moment although I seem rather dim. God bless us every one.