oh, the irony . . .


Sunday evening, pouring rain and dropping temperatures, 56 degrees.

Taxestaxestaxestaxestaxestaxestaxestaxestaxes………….ad nauseam………….


Foy Vance, “Make it Rain”

I Am Waiting

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep thru the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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“In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Crack-Up”

This is the post that I was working on for Monday when the computer started to act out and then locked up. Nothing. Nada. Had to close everything, clean the hard drive and do a complete scan, all of which meant that there was no more writing for me. Tuesday was leftover crappiness, so no writing. I’m continuing this post for Wednesday.

Sorry about the disjointedness (word?) . . .

“My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
‘Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
‘What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
‘I never know what you are thinking. Think.” ~ T. S. Eliot, “The Waste Land”

Monday evening. Humid. Impending rain.

Tillie had another seizure last night. She was next to me on the bed when I noticed her moving frantically. At first I thought that she was chasing a hot spot, but then I realized that she was seizing. That’s the first one that’s happened in front of me in a while. Corey and I held her and spoke quietly to her during the episode, and thankfully, she seemed to come out of this one faster than before. Corey thinks that she is becoming a bit more accustomed to them so that she does not panic. This makes seven total.

It’s so frightening to see and so hard not to panic, but she would sense the panic. We had to get Alfie out of the room because he began to bark frantically, which was not helping things. Shakes hid under the bed until it was over. It’s odd how each dog knows that something is wrong and responds.

Today, we got the wonderful news that our entire tax refund has been gobbled up by a creditor. We aren’t getting a penny, and we owe on our state taxes, which are due at the end of April. That’s how the past few days have been: one bit of bad news after another. As I’ve said too many times before, sometimes, it’s just all too much, which is what leads me to the topic of this post: my daughter, Alexis.

More later. Peace.