you can stop shuffling your feet now

my mother died yesterday and it's 123 123 123 rest

of death and taxes...

my mother is dying in a slow motion kind of dance, a waltz with the famed puppet master of ceremonies himself he's beckoning and twirling and laughing with glee as he teaches my mother the steps 123 and 123 so you see it's easy once you let go... and 123 123 123 rest..
my mother is dying one frame at a time and it's 123 123 123 rest..

...and the beat goes on

oh the hemorrhaging has ceased alright with no guarantees and the corpses float the water fouled in square miles of cubic inch density and ghastly in scope as the Petroleum God extracts His due...

tis but a small speck

...and so it goes trudging trudging like refugees into the dim dusty uncertain future, weeping on our sleeves hearts in hand hoping beyond the horizon for redemption and salvation our faith severely tested patience worn thin our world slowly deflating like a bad tire poisoning the food chain leaving our thoughts aflame amidst the wonderment of such nonsense where is the divine intervention to stop it? aarrgh except there's no divine anything just the two brain cells left out and directed to procreate and nurture a lucid dream of affection

run away run away

Been awhile since I was here and there's nothing really new to comment on. The oil still pours, we still have 2 wars, Sarah Palin is still an idiot, Ann Coulter is still dangerous and Obama is still under fire. The moms is slipping away, her mind reduced to rutabaga and I'm coping with stress as well as I can. The key I think is being aware of it and to intellectualize it into portions that are more easily dealt with thus minimizing the pressure to overcome it all at once. Sometimes I think it will be a relief when this is all over.

the moms

Hallie, a scrappy farm girl from Corsicana when she came to Austin to study piano at UT right after the war, could read classical music and play like her hair was on fire. She met some knucklehead on campus one day who was fresh out of the Navy, dated him, married him and promptly followed him Out West where he was in a post-graduate program at UC Berkley. I surfaced and then we came back to Texas a couple of years later where my brother appeared.

She was the Mrs. Cleaver on the block (no pun intended) and ran the place with an iron fist since she had two sons to chase and their furry friends to chase off, a house to clean and vestments to iron and toilets to scrub and meals to fix and dishes and laundry and PTA and choir practice and scouts and taxi service ad nauseam. It kept her pretty busy.

The moms... what a piece of work; mentor, limo driver, chief cook, bottle-washer, ace batter and pinch hitter with a hair brush during the punishment phase and pastor’s wife extraordinare. She was a woman of many hats.

We never misbehaved in church (much) or the grocery store (very much) or other people’s homes (at all) and learned early on that it’s bad form to get caught anyway. She always got me up on Saturday to do the yard and didn’t care if I was dying didn’t want to hear it... she was quick with a band-aid for the bo bo, iodine for the puncture wound or enema bag as needed. It was straight to the doctor if we even looked like we were going to faint. A swim at Barton’s on a Sunday afternoon followed by pancakes and bacon or scrambled egg sandwiches with Miracle Whip at home and Bonanza on the tube before bed was a high point of the weekend. She made us go to bed early and then got us up for school, fed us lukewarm gruel, sent us off, dragged us to the doctor or the dentist whether we needed it or not, made us do our homework whether we liked it or not and, I’m happy to report, we’re none the worse for wear and I still like oatmeal. I might add that the moms knew exactly how to wield her favorite secret weapon for full effect. Her withering hiss “...just you wait until your father gets home...” worked every time. It was indeed a brilliant tactic to maintain law and order around the house short of bloodshed.

Mom was a good mom and the best mother we ever had. She knew which buttons to push, when to take our temperature, when to feed us and when we needed a hug. She deserves a medal. And many hugs.
She was a great friend to those she knew and loved and was a more than generous mother and grandmother to us and the kids. I credit her for a lot of lessons learned growing up. Sadly she was robbed a few years ago by dementia so what more can I say? She has found the peace she deserved.
We love you mom.

40 mph out of the northwest

shit... this weather blows. the ions of spring are fucking with me again. at this point I say: my kingdom for the horse latitudes! becalm me so I can sleep please just make it stop.

bright and shiney

After yesterday the weather, being schizophrenic as usual, left behind today a crisp and clear new light that's hard wired to the voices within. They are all in their places with bright shining faces. A calm has appeared like an early warning. I wait and watch.

the sky is crying...

The fluid runs black against the tarmac and spreads like fibroids across brain matter while my mood reflects images of my day.

...dem bones, dem bones, dem lovely bones...

I find solace in the cemetery. There's no Frisbee golf and dogs running amok, no chatty Kathies or cyclists in tights. Only weedeaters and bobcats roam the grounds.
There is peace among the dead, the grateful dead.

So where to now St. Peter?

...papers, papers please, papers... rio de daginnero, papers... frenkfert... papers please, blin... papers please...

technology 1 me 0

Sprint 4G is coming to Austin soon among other select cities in Texas so I'm thinking next year I can upgrade to a 4G phone and really zoom. One of my perks is I can upgrade every year w/o contractual problems. Trying to squeeze all this in while I can you know. I'm not a complete Luddite. Of course there's never a free lunch really, they just want you to think that when you sign up for all this stuff that's "unlimited" but I like to think I'm getting what I'm paying for, inflated or not and I'll find the time to use it. Oh sure.
On a good night at home, which is almost all the time, I will go outside and burn incense and pray to the cell tower gods for cell tower offspring to form nearby. But WTF, I got a PC so I don't need no stinkin phone at the house anyway. What was I thinking?

There's a lot to research and I have to say other than the keys being too small to suit me, the blackberry is a serious device and a cool one for an old guy. I'm staying with Sprint because I am and I like the service and bla bla bla... next year I'll see what they're offering in 4G.

Upgrade! yay...

I will however resist an Ipod because I like hearing what's going on around me instead of being plugged into some jam and stepping off the curb in front of a speeding bus. Especially before the song's over and besides who wants to be remembered as that smear over there on the pavement?

Send in the clones

I sit and hide among alien life forms known as soccer moms and Sarah Palins mostly but sometimes Firstdudes all with their devil spawn in tow and I wonder about those brain cells that were left behind in their other pants back at the cave... no wait wait wait, never mind...

the moms

I saw my mother's pilot light blow out. She's been robbed and I can do no more. It's the saddest thing I've ever seen.

cracklinberries

the bee's knees, the king's fingers, the egg in your beer. what a great idea getting smarter...

crackenberry

First post from the pocket world. Big whoop!

Crackberry rools

not your father's telephony

who's your gerontologist?

The moms is going down fast. Moved her to Lake Travis today. By the time I'm ready for the pasture I'll be a fucking expert on Medicare and gerontology.

slow fade to black...

zaphi dell

so well what the fuck here we go again another split splat ration of 365 shots at the big time and we're coming and going with as much as ever and what the fuck you gonna do laugh or cry I mean what the fuck and here we go again but god how I love it along with all it's available options

happy all around again earthlings and peace if ya unt to...

jalopathy

it's the old age setting in, the droopy ears, the turkey waddle, sagging butt cheeks, the man tits, south-bound teeth and the otherwise flaccid self chugging along into the sunrise with tincans crossing at 2k yards off the starboard bow dogging down the datum and dealing in clogged arteries to the end of one launch after another that gives it away.

jalopathy... the getting old part. the dysfunction junction story as told by the passing Interstate on it's way either way but away don't matter where just somewhere. else.

because aging has no plausible deniability, no excuse nor alibi and gravity's cold hearth is the death grip promised to us all at sunrise on the gunline just the same, aged or not, live it up then says I

and from what I can tell there's no getting out of this thing alive no matter how hard you scratch at the lid. they can't hear you and you're only using up all your oxygen. good night...

chili today, hot tamale

pot o red on the stove, weather posed and faucets bunkered in for the onslaught. the first bug killing freeze is hitting the red zone in 12 hours and carries the threat of brain lock side effects.

oh watch out