I looked up the path, gazing into evening mists. Wet clouds moved quickly overhead but no rain fell. The last time I saw him here we had been young. I came here by myself, not really expecting, anymore, to try to re-invent the past.

It had passed.

Distant thunder signaled coming rain. Alone, I smiled at the memories. How they had changed this place since I had been here last. All the wildness had been cleared away and everything was pruned and kept like a garden. The fine gravel crunched under my wide, old-lady-style soft shoes. In my right hand was the cane I traveled everywhere with these days: It was raw wood, sanded, and was no more than a simple hikers branch with a rubber skid-tip.

A smell of wet earth rose up from around me and the sudden cold gust raised my, now short and graying, hair. The bent kneed hobble was gracefully covered by a long gown I sewed myself. It billowed in the breeze and I suddenly had to laugh, even while the tears fell, for all that we want and desire, in the end means so little.

The way I stand, if anyone saw me, they would not be immediately aware I had not hiked miles. I have my silly pride. The bus dropped me off just a few feet away from the curb I would return to. In the ear where hearing was left I wore the aid that allowed me to hear the birds sing…


Grateful for the bench draped with Weeping Willows and I perched upon it and closed my eyes and breathed, deeply, yes…that much I can still do.

All the years of hopes and dreams and maybe’s fled away. There was no tomorrow and no yesterday there was only now. The air was heavy with water. Cold.

I love the cold.

I started to sing to myself. I sing for him all the time. I sing when no one can hear me make the ugly noises my voice has become with time.

“Can we be
Together forever?
Stay with me
Never leave my side
I will be your bride…”

But the music changes and my mind wanders. Scenes pass so quickly. Time suspends itself and I hover over ‘now’ and see everything as one thing. Here and there at the same time I know we have always been married. Just not in this world of people.

Tales of the Bus Stop

Bus_stop_shelterBold pigeons mix with bold voices and spilled drinks and ashed cigarettes while the dusty heat makes the ‘birds’ fly between drivers for the poorer and rich drivers who can take themselves.

On the bus you get to live the ambiance of third world America. A homeless father teaches his son to read while enjoying the A/C and the ride. Old women clutch bags of groceries and people packing their whole lives in suitcases with wheels board and leave in the chaos of undirected sound. The eyes of skinny kids flash quickly at the landscape moving through the windows and babies sleep in tattered laps and strollers used from the early nineties found at roadside thrift shops sporting wares being naturally cleansed from MRSA in hot bright UV light.

The bus is gone and you are late. 15 minutes more in the heat. Glad a bottle of water carried. Loud it is like spaceships taking off and cars. Plotting new courses to the stars and learning more and more what it means to be poor and still rich rich enough to write about the fight the heat the noise the breeze yes, all of these. The high rise where a friend once lived that looks over the bent chaos and hope you plot tomorrow well in late summer heat the people sweat but forked tails none are shown. I am alone: me and 800 people on my i-Phone.

Thinking I can steer the boat I call myself through tomorrow and remember I will not need a hearing aid. A crazy man barks out a laugh like hyena and a tall brown young man with a clear and serious face lifts my walker a little bit over the step and I say, “bless you.”

I saw my ethnicity spray painted on a dumpster and then laughed because I am not Irish or Cherokee but more like maybe Scottish fur trapper and Sioux and white and Jew and maybe even the sons of Ham (one or maybe two and say the same thing pretty much aren’t you?)

The kid had skulls embroidered on the drop at the next stop Spanish smooth flowed brothers signaled come and debarked they did and what some might have seen as gang and maybe were also doubled for a Latino youth ministerio or maybe that was just a name painted on a can but they loved each other.

A man got on and told the driver, “I got a gun I’m gonna kill you!” The driver said, “I got one too try me bro!”

“You think I can’t beat you down? I ran track in high-school!”
“So did I and I wrestled too so shut up and wait for your stop!”
“I’m gonna take all the money outta that…” The belligerent man with the weird high voice indicated the place where people dropped their quarters. The bus driver started to laugh, “Haw haaaawwwww it’s broken bro now just sit down and shut up!”

The bus driver stopped when the man said, “I have a gun I’m gonna shoot you.” He got off the bus and called someone but the man did not get off the bus he just looked at all of us but, somehow, none of us were scared. Maybe we were all too tired to be scared or maybe it was the way the man reminded us all so much of a big kid who never grew up. Maybe he was really a kid in his head playing games thinking we were on some long ago school yard and I think the bus driver felt it too because he got back on the bus and asked the child-man where his stop was.

Everyone there had cell phones. We all could have called the police when we all heard the word, “Gun.” and the driver could have kicked the man-boy off the bus and lots of things could have happened but, somehow, it became clear the man was not armed and not living in reality so the driver just kept up a patter of bullshit that fell softly on the the rubber mats and pitched a deep rumble of an exchange of father and child and the man got off the bus still talking tall tales about beating up some unknown and unseen enemy.

By the time I made it home (right now) it was five hours on the road for five minutes of knowledge but, now that I look at what I have written, maybe it WAS five hours of knowledge!

The Land of Walls: Facebookia

It is asking me what is on my mind again and I have it set to ‘only me’, while I type, in case I don’t like it after I hit ‘post’.

Life is getting better in many ways. It is getting more challenging in many ways. It seems like I interact here to see and hear so much horrible stuff and I am thinking that even if there were over 200 mass shootings there had to be AT LEAST 200,000 GOOD things that happened in this nation alone.

We are so zeroed in on everything horrible.

It seems like we are on a collective guilt-trip if we get too happy while the world is going to hell but IS IT going to hell or is that just the news?

OK OK there are some really crummy-ass things going on no doubt but also no doubt this place makes us schizo! I realized that not very long ago when I was looking at another person’s ‘wall’, (oh how Pink Floyd goes through my head right now), and there were bombed babies and sad faces right next door to cute kittens and extreme sports and it became apparent that we are all GM’s of our own ‘news-stations’.

When we post these things what are we actually DOING, (besides getting an emotional response of some kind), that changes the world? Share this goat for no reason? I am not saying that we should never share our collective consciousness because that kind of sharing is a GOOD thing! When we do that one side of the world gets to meet the other side of the world and find out we are all pretty much the same BUT, (I read a famous essay once full of ‘but’s’ but I can’t find it), why do we share what we share? As I got around to looking at stuff I saw I was pretty much doing the same thing as everyone else.

I wonder what would happen if we realized the power of this media outlet above and beyond being the ‘postman’? When we write our own stuff and publish our own photos and share recipes and all the good stuff that has value in the real world then this is a good place. If you use it to raise money for orphans or teach someone another language or share art-forms, (yes even politics is an art-form), then maybe some good comes from it; but if all that happens at the end of the day is the idea that the world is hopeless and we should all just curl up and quit caring for reality while we let it eat us alive, maybe we should rethink why we are here and what our purpose is…????

Questions I will try to remember before I post:

1) Will this change the world for the better?
2) Will this teach someone something worth learning?
3) Will this direct people towards the ‘good, the true and the beautiful’?
4) Will this be a way to show humanity it’s errors in a way that is constructive instead of destructive?

Just some ideas…just thinking too much

We The People

apollo17_earthWe the People are from everywhere you can imagine. We the People are from all over the globe and We the People have to get over ourselves and start to work together.

We the People have to admit the horrors of our collective past instead of sweep them under the rug and say “We were not there we are not responsible.”

We ALL inherit the things from our forbears and if you are mixed ANYTHING you inherit that too! ‘Science’ has published numerous papers on the effects of drugs, alcohol, and perhaps the worst of all; the flood of bad hormones that drenches a fetus in the womb and causes it to be born with a vastly inflated potential for problems in life, so if you think that the defeated ones of this nation are SOLELY responsible for the shape they are in you are wrong.

Now that I have said that I have to say this:

STILL, no matter what has gone before we have to start listening, learning, and caring about each other. We are FAMILY.

Yeah yeah yeah I know, we are not ‘blood’ and all that but wait…you said your great grandma was Cherokee? Your Great Grandpa was Irish? What is this?


I am going to write about two mind-sets that, over the years, I have come to understand.

The first mind set is a ‘get-over-it-and-pull-yourself-up-by-your-boot-straps’ sort of attitude and it DOES work for many circumstances. This type of cultural attitude breeds tough people and survivours but it also comes with the ideas of possession and ownership.

There are many ways to look at things.

Today I saw a guy out on the road. He was a vet he had the right old stuff pinned on an old tattered hat. He was begging for a job.

When the rules for the current wealth system in our nation were implemented a man like my father, with no college degree in engineering, could become a teacher of engineering because he was smart. He started working for a company before they had to know when you go to the bathroom and when you brush your teeth in order to hire you. People were often hired and fired, on the spot, without ceremony or paper-work, because none was needed. You either worked or you didn’t.

When I was a kid no one had to pay to insure anything they owned. The idea of of retirement began when I was in kindergarten and they DRAGGED my first teacher away, in tears, and forced him to retire because that, ‘was the new law now.’

But let us go back even further in time to the days when families lived together in one big house. Some places are still like that but, mostly, America is not anymore. This system had, and has, (ask some of my Pakistani friends) the most able family members going out to get ‘the goods’ and work and do all for those who cannot do. There is no idea of social welfare because it begins at home. You work and you feed EVERYONE. You even help your lazy brother-in-law you can’t stand because he is married to your sister and the whole family lives in one place.

But let us go back even further in time to the days when a family was a small community of 2000 to 5000 people and the men went out and killed the meat and the women went out and dug up the roots and the older children tended the younger ones and repaired shoes and clothes and fetched water. Some were stronger and fetched MORE water and some were weaker and fetched less. Some hunters made big kills and some made small kills BUT when all the goods got back to the community EVERYONE got some. Yeah the mighty ones got the liver and the heart but everyone got food and water.

Take humanity back to it’s base and core and it is about family. Humanity is about inclusion. The worst punishment a criminal can have, in ‘primitive’ society, is EXCLUSION.

This is, of course, a very simplistic view and there is NO QUESTION that in EVERY CASE there is the idea of ‘merit.’

Back to the man standing by the freeway begging.

Where is his family?

Why isn’t it there?

What have we done to ourselves as a people and a nation focusing on public welfare and forgetting that out families have fallen apart or been killed, or been subjected to things that will hound their kids over the generations?

What is the definition of insanity? To do the same thing over and over an expect a different outcome?

I am not here to take a ‘side.’ I understand, although I do not agree with, those who say a symbol has no value or a human who will not work but ‘can’, (where there is no job they can just start DOING without the circus hoops and papers that say they ‘arrived’), deserves nothing. I also understand those who want the famed idea of ‘Ubuntu’ and that everyone be equal. I also cannot agree with that except on an idealist level because humanity will always have a chief, king, general, great leader (ad nauseum.)

Merit will always matter.

The bottom line is this: while both sides stand and look at each other with their clever arguments ready to shoot and their adamant reality that theirs is the only truth the world is going to hell.

As long as ‘We The People’ are at odds with each other we cannot do one single thing to change the course we have allowed ourselves to be herded into.


My rant for the day.

A Muse from Thomas Merton

It is very quiet here now.

A friend of thirty years, who decided he didn’t want to be a friend anymore, because of religion once quoted a Catholic Priest to me. The quote was a favourite of his, “No matter where you go there you are.”

This morning I did not want to wake up. Whatever I was dreaming was so awesome I wanted to stay there. I did wake up anyway.

Life is getting better. There are always things that are messed up and no doubt there will always be such things but over all life is getting better. I just need to remind myself sometimes when there is pain or exhaustion that is hard to explain.

I thought coming to this new place would change my life in a radical way and, while there is no question life has changed radical would not be the word I would use, I am still here. I am still me. I didn’t suddenly find a miracle doctor and I didn’t meet the (very LITERAL) man of my dreams either. I met lots of people and some of them are very nice it is just that everyone is concerned with their own lives, as I also am.

It made me think how rare and precious it is, indeed, to find anyone who will share your life, as a friend, who is also compatible with you. Sometimes the compatible ones are already booked and the available ones are second to what you and I have booked for ourselves. That doesn’t mean people don’t care they DO care but it does mean there are only 24 hours in a day.

You know why people cry at weddings sometimes? It isn’t always because it is beautiful. Sometimes people cry because a profound change is taking place. Parents cry because a child they love will no longer be living in their house. Best friends cry because they know all the years spent together are now over.

We lose people to life all the time. Sometimes we lose them to death too. The only certainty in life is change. Sometimes only certainty never changes, like, “No matter where you go there you are.”

July the Fourth

I can hear the fireworks going off down at the park. Tailgaters in the grocery parking lot and everyone has their wine or beer and someone to get laid with.
Pretty colours fill the sky, such a romantic night and me inside putting away my shopping all alone.

Doesn’t feel like my holiday…but for years now none of them do….no holidays that belong to me or you, indeed it has been so long since I went to one I have no idea how to act with that time spent or what to say…

…might even sit in a corner and fade away.

They’d find a wet spot on the wall
And wonder who peed there?

Jewish Mother

What other people wanted….

Funny how we let that effect us. What ‘family’ wants and needs is particularly strong in it’s effect on us. Sometimes we don’t even know it is happening until someone dies. Family dynamics change then and things that were once hidden become very clear.

Its weird to see yourself as you never did before: ‘The Convenient Excuse.’

Everyone is someones excuse…that is human nature. No matter who we are…no matter what we do and no matter how we view ourselves we all do it….

In families one person is usually singled out to be ‘The Convenient Excuse.’ If there are several people more than one may be ‘tagged’ for polar opposition in the ‘play’. The surprising thing is that the one who directs the orchestra is not always the one who is perceived to be a leader. Sometimes the real leader is a ‘martyr’ to ‘fate’ and, while acknowledging it was based from choice, still admits that the moment that could have ‘saved the world’ passed without a fight.

We all do this as well…in various forms and degrees but we all do it.

“If _______ was not ________ all the time I would have _________.”

By the time _________ is _________ it is too late to _________ and the dream becomes a regret.

A death in the family can uncover this in such a merciless way.

The ‘tyrant’ dies. The one nicknamed ‘The Taliban’ is no longer available to blame. He may have indeed been an asshole at times but he would defend that one he was an asshole TO and no one ever knew WHY he was such an asshole until he (The Convenient Excuse) was gone and the force of a previously unknown side of the still living one became very very clear: the epitome of the stereo-typical ‘Jewish Mother’.

In between The Taliban and The Jewish Mother came five subsets of the same…four were driven to success on the wings of a desperate need to escape the insanity that was ‘home’….

….and then there was the left-over one…the second ‘Convenient Excuse’.

“I was late because _______was needing me to _______ .”
“I am too tired and sick because I have been with ________ who could not live without me to _______.”

‘Convenient Excuses’ are a vital part of every family. Without them no one would have anyone to blame for everything that was wrong….but if one convenient excuse dies the other one gets to step up and try the role the dead one left…

I am just not that great at being ‘The Taliban’…

The Definition

Sometimes I wonder why the things that are supposed to have a great result have a bad result and the regular things just have a neutral result but nothing seems to have a positive result. People have blamed me for that without being in my mind to realize that, when I embark on a new venture, I do it with my whole heart and enthusiasm and full belief, (even though I have been shown over and over again), that THIS new thing will work…

…only it doesn’t.

The reality for most is that is nothing can be done and things get worse whether or not we want them too. Someone special inspired me with a hadith about suffering and how there are rewards for that and something about those words was majickal…..


Sometimes this is the place to divert yourself when the pain, silence and the aloneness all in and around would drive a lesser person insane…but then…maybe….?????


Belief helps achieve things there is no doubt that it does, BUT belief alone does not make things happen without action…and sometimes even belief with action changes nothing or even makes things worse when it was supposed to make them better.

Someone who once called me ‘negative’ told me this, “You know what happened in the old days to people who did not get the kind of things you need and that they are too scared to help you with right?” (That was really so POSITIVE but she is a true angel and means well.)


I saw my fathers adoptive mother die like that with a morphine pump…that does not mean that will happen to me or not happen to me or that anything anyone says or dreams or does will or will not be.

DO DREAM! DO ACT! DO TRY! Just be cause it does not work does not mean you should lay down and give up…at the same time do not live the definition of insanity, “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome…but more even than this never judge someone for the worst, based off of what you THINK they are given, the tiny bit of knowledge you might have about them from online…EVEN IN REAL LIFE you can hardly know your own parents and all that made them who they are or even begin to understand why one human being is one way and another human being is another way.

Walk your own path…
I am the only one who can walk mine…

Hold On!

Sometimes you find out sad stuff but you still have to keep going…

Sometimes It feels like every step forward you get knocked back three more…That all the things you are doing that you are supposed to do are like the definition of insanity…but you have to keep on try and going even though it feels like nothing is happening…it’s like a raffle ticket…You might not get the prize but if you don’t buy the ticket you FOR SURE won’t get the prize. Sometimes life is about keeping on KEEPING ON through the disappointments, the lack of results, and the only thing that keeps one foot in front of the other is the hope that MAYBE tomorrow that something you do will FINALLY work…I am not just talking about love…I am also talking about getting stronger, healthier, making the docs see me over and over until one of them says, “I can” instead of “High Risk”… It might mean going through a whole 24 hours and no one touches you…it might mean getting up and putting on street clothes and makeup that no one will see…and getting on that bike, writing that story, making that piece of art work ONE MORE TIME when you feel like there is “nothing in you except the will that says to you…’hold on!’…” (Rudyard Kipling)

Barf on My Wall

“Forgive, forget, and move on.”
“He who forgets the past is doomed to repeat it.”
“Forgive, forget, and move on.”
“He who forgets the past is doomed to repeated it.”
“The definition of insanity: ‘To do the same thing over and over again and expect a different result.”
“If at first you don’t succeed: ‘Try Try AGAIN!”
“There is no such thing as ‘lie’ and ‘truth’ it’s all relative to the situation!”
“You are my best friend you liar! Why didn’t you tell me you slept with my love!”
“Your ‘love’ did not ‘love’ you so it was not a lie!”
“Ok then give me back the 1000 bucks I loaned you yesterday!”
“You did not loan me ANY money yesterday!”
“Hey…YOU said there is no such thing as a lie and the truth and it’s all relative to the situation! From what I can gather you ‘did’ my love 10 times and that is a hundred a pop! So you owe me buddy!”
Et cetera ad naseum.
We usually say what suits us at the time and 6 months later when it doesn’t suit anymore we say the opposite forgetting what we said in the first place and repeating history…
I plan to barf all over my wall daily…

Dear WordPress,

There is an option at Facebook, that some enterprising souls have come up with, to make your Facebook a hard or soft print copy of all your activity. It only disallows ‘Notes.’ (That is the only thing I would spend money on to have reproduced from that site.)

Is there any way that the same thing could be offered here for a similar price and if it already is offered can anyone tell me how to access it?

The offering at Facebook runs on the number of pages reproduced. The cost runs a rough 75.00 to 200.00 to publish one ‘book’ depending on the format. I would rather publish what I have here and pay for that than I would my Facebook Status set.

I would have contacted you in the “Howdy” pop up box but it is down for the hols.

So what say y’all?

You want any money for a print form of my stuff?



…………. Amusix

Went to the pool today and when I got there was full of the Y kids. All of us, both the oldies and the championship swimmers, who share each lane on all the lap swims were ‘consternated.’ No one told us the kids would be there. Now we don’t mind, mind you, but we let the kids have the pool to themselves on their days because hey, there are 50 of them and they need every square foot of that indoor pool. Now none of this is actually spoken out loud but everyone just sort of knows what to do without being told. Like if there are two fast swimmers and two slow swimmers like pairs to like in the lanes without even asking.

Anyway we were all consternated. Some got out of the pool and left and some plowed through the kids games single mindedly, not giving a thought to the space the kids needed. Some waited until the kids left and some, like me, stayed off on the sidelines and did ‘edge exercises.’

I was minding my own business when the second batch of fifty kids came in and I saw her…actually I saw myself.

A girl, not a Y girl but a ‘why?’ girl, from among those fifty kids, went and sat at the far end of the bench, as far away from the crowd as she could get. No one noticed her. I watched myself as I detached myself from reality and went ‘somewhere else.’

In that ‘somewhere else’ I watched myself make movements that made no sense and did not fit the rest of the group and I watched as the other kids instinctively avoided me. It was odd to watch myself like this but then she WAS me for a moment.

She never smiled. Not once.

She let the world happen around her as if she was a rag doll and she stayed where ever it was she was and then she looked at me.

Our eyes met for a moment and I looked at myself and she looked at herself and she seemed to be a 1000 years old to the child she saw she would someday be. It was a profound moment. They told her it was time to get into the water and I watched myself walk away from me with the classic ‘pigeon toe’ I used to have to wear corrective shoes for. Then she was lost in the crowd of screaming kids and floaties.

*Written Two Months Before My Papa Died In 2012: Whippin’ Girl

Papa cries and says that only one child really loves him: the one he didn’t teach to be a drunk or almost beat to death but then who knows. Papa is really sick these days and Mama cries and says that only my youngest sister loves her because they agree he is a monster. The old Monster is gonna die soon.

Our whole family; they step back from me and they don’t see, no they can’t see it that I am the one that was tagged long ago with way too much I know to much know….
I know my papa beat my mama…I know he got drunk and saw whores. I know my Mama never loved him. She married him for pity’s sake on the church floor. I know we all grew up wild…but of all them I was THE child: Tag you’re it! You only hear of whippin’ boys…well I’m the whippin’ girl.

Papa don’t like me ’cause he sees himself in me…Mama she always says the same: “You’re like your father…”

That hurts sooooo bad…he’s the only Papa I ever had…and If I am just like him and she never loved him…but Mama is like a child and she can’t see what she says and what it means.

I don’t wanna take a side. I don’t wanna say who lied. I don’t wanna back just Mama or Papa. See both of them are people who came from screwed up homes and both of them have been sad all their lives.

Mama gave up everything she had for my life she never held back anything…
I know every skeleton in the family closet I know who and what and where and everything. Her other kids tell her to shut up ’cause they don’t wanna hear. They don’t want to remember how it was back then.

Life is better for them now then it was way back, they have moved on from the past and left…

…The Whippin’ Girl

………….A Muse F’ Hive

At the main terminal. It is hot and getting hotter. On the way we passed a little house and it brought back a montage of memories. I have been in many houses, just like that one, in the now-decades of my life.

Tiny frame house about to fall into the ground propped up only by the will of the people who live within the flimsy walls. Old frame house painted a strange colour of pink that was free paint from someone else’s wall project and it was only enough paint to cover the front half. The back half shows the gray slat wood siding bleached by the sun. The front yard is full of trash, cleverly disguised into art. This sort of yard is never watered so no lawn mower needed but also so overgrown with native plants that there is no need to worry how it looks. Nature makes it beautiful.

I imagine it is two stoners who live there. They have an amazing ganja plant in the back yard. They know me.

“Hey Miss Mary where you been all these years! We missed you from WAAAYYYYY back in the day! My ol’ man is on over 200 generations of selective plant breed in’ they ain’t caught us out yet! Man you should pack a bong with this shit you ain’t never comin’ down ’til you reach…say you still callin’ yerself a Martian?” I am grinning, “Haha I know’ you was still crazy! Here have some sun tea! Here he comes look in’ all proud of his bad ol’ self!”

I watch him saunter up the broken concrete walk that lead to the crumbling slantisider stairs. The walk looks deliberate and Kimmy noticed.

“When that last quake happin’d it done busted the walk and the foundation but the Lawd is good ain’t none of th’ plumbin’ messed up. He took a sledge hammer to the walk then and made it look a lot prettier since it was done broke. He brangs back all kinda stuff and we git real high and he gits his arc welder and I tell him how I want it put.”

Been thirty years since I saw them. They always kid me about my ‘accent’ I just let her talk.

“Hey Kimmy look what I found!” He holds out two rusty old wrought iron chairs, “Kimmy who is…Lawd it ain’t you it? After all these years? Man I KNOW I am gitt’n old! Kimmy break out my best we gonna celebrate and then she kin hep us arrange the new stuff!”

But that never happened it is just my imagination as it flies back through time to bring an old vet and his old lady into the present moment where I am passing a tiny frame house and I can almost taste the sun tea running cool down my throat while the smell of ganja drifts through a front yard lost in time.

………… A Muse For…

Thinking lots of things.

I don’t own a TV and people keep reminding me why I don’t own one. Now, where I live, if you want more than mind-numbing mass tripe you have to pay for the levels of ‘premium channels’ you get and the less mind-numbing it is the more you pay. Basic cable, which is available to all proles, is nothing but 24/7 ‘two minutes hate’ training for sheep.

Today I woke up.


These days I am sleeping ten hours like there is some kind of zombie ELF ray aimed at the medical plaza. I live in the middle of said medical plaza. Where I used to live there must be some evil ELF ray aimed there because people homicide and suicide if that is their habitual abode. OK granted the sleep is preferable to killing someone but SHEESH AHHHHH!!!!! Ten hours???? Where are you Royal Rife man I need a ray gun! Get Tesla and come over! I will cook!

Thinking, “Oh crap it’s prayer time and people will think I am not really doing it because I can’t get up off the floor so there is no way to do a normal salat so my prayers go faster than a normal person’s and people used to ‘check up on me’ online which made me mad and so I messed up prayer time just to screw with them and… GAHHHHHH! … WHO CARES!

Just pray Allah/God knows and if people have nothing better to do than try to stalk the prayer times of an old woman I feel bad for them they must have no life. Each one of us has our own thing with The Creator of All Things and no one else can walk each road but the one who was born on that road so chill…no need to woory about the ‘others.’

I am doing alot better, Allhamdulillah/Praise God and I am starting to woory now if I don’t get to swim because of rain or the pool is down or it’s Sunday and the bus isn’t running that people will think I am not trying hard enough and THERE IT IS AGAIN!

Caring what other people think because I am not normal like they are “GAHHHHHH!!!!”  They are not like me so what they think makes no difference. The only people whose opinion should matter are those who help me and take care of me the rest of the people can go take a hike. I might need to explain things to Mom or Azam or Sofia but that’s about it! No one else needs the explanation!

Opinions and people…Why am I friends with assholes? Originally the reason for having a 700 plus, and growing, list of friends was to get me more exposure and yeah I get that. If you want fans you have to be nice to assholes but SHEESH…That is why I opened this group back up. It’s easier than having two profiles and I DO have two profiles. It is just a pain in the patooty to log in and out of two profiles!

(Yes I am THAT lazy!)

The best times I ever had in my life I was stoned, drunk or sinning. This is the test of Life I guess. How to get through it to the end without the soaring heights you have been to…and maybe that is why those soaring heights are not a great idea: because they cannot be maintained unless you are super rich or Super-man. The rest of us just have to keep slogging onward to Destiny.

Finally…I think I think too much.