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  1. A biting peice of prose

    Every now and then I write something I think has style and punch. This one is from a thread I expect to be trimmed shortly, and I decided I wanted to save it, sort of an example to myself in the future:

    This is such self-righteous bullshit as to hardly be worth answering. But lest anyone think there is the least bit of value in such a personal attack masquerading as a diatribe....

    There's this thing called "the English language". It has rules, such
  2. No, It Isn't

    Funny, how useful dreams can be -- them, and random thoughts and imaginings that can be attached to them.

    I'd dreamed of having a hot young guy to hang with, and we were chilling in some vehicle, like a van or something. I'd just had an orgasm -- and I felt miserable.

    I've noted before in my blog -- I hope in this category, though that's not important -- that I grew up believing that sex is evil, being horny is the devil's influence, and all that. I like to ...
  3. When Family Isn't

    Proof of suspicions or beliefs can arrive in different ways.

    Right now I am without a home; I'm borrowing other people's roofs. I have the money I need, or rather the cash flow, to get an RV sufficient to serve me probably for the rest of my life. So I figure, let's do it.

    But my credit union says it doesn't finance things as old as the RV I want, regardless of the fact that the asking price is $5k under its actual value.

    While I'm trying to figure ...
  4. Who's in whose space?

    If anyone had told me that things like this would happen, I would have said, "Uh-huh -- sure".

    So I'm nearly asleep one night, with the house cozy and everything outside dark and damp -- that's what civilization's about, keeping our the dark and damp, right? My dog Bammer is curled against my feet, and I'm wondering if I'm going to fall asleep before the wind the meteorologists forecast arrives to keep me awake. I sort of hope I do; my sleep has been off a little ...
  5. So normal

    It seemed so normal:

    there I was, under the rhododendron, pulling weeds and clipping off the bluebells before they go to seed. Birds were singing from the trees, swallows swooping low over the yard in search of insects; kids walked by on the street, laughing. My stomach grumbled in the way that means it's time for lunch, but I knew I didn't have to worry, so as always, I pulled some more, clipped some more, waiting for Mom to call, "Time for lunch", and I'd call back, ...
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