GBS in IN

If you’re in the vicinity of Bloomington, don’t miss these guys…

Another New Presale!Short and sweet: Great Big Sea will be at Bluebird Nightclub
in Bloomington, IN, on March 4. Starting tomorrow, January 30, at 10am EST,
the GreatBigSea.com Store will be holding a presale for the show. You only
have until February 3 to get your tickets from us, so don’t forget! The show
is general admission and 21+.

Within Constraints

It is – a bit – like this.

Hands reach between to express what is within…and what to put here, that meets with the criticism it might obtain – that might reach him? I’d hoped at the start of this to find a medium of expression only to then realize that identity was the issue – I don’t put anything here that I wouldn’t want posted in that office in town. Constraints, you see, on the muse.

I do consider another place, yes, wherein I could remove all those constructs of propriety. But the internet is forever, isn’t it? And would I want that? At 65 or 75…would I want those words to yet live?

Ah, but that is the point, no? All those dusty pages in the safe, the night stand, the files…why keep them, otherwise?

I haven’t visited those old friends in a long time. So many troubles there and so few bright days, I think it might only bring back that melancholy. In truth, I had very few pleasant times BT – Before Trooper. Oh, certainly there were some very lovely memories but…it was too often bleak. And the pages reek of it.

Ah, and lo, now comes Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia to serve me…those notes…those low and building notes first came to me when I was perhaps 24. It was my first apartment, across from the infamous Atlanta stripclub and flop house. I’d put up light pink mini-blinds and the 3rd floor apartment would glow with the sunset. It made one look amazing – which was a good thing as I was far too often…galavanting. I had naught else – no cable, no television at all, just a Walkman, a record player, and my books. All the books…

The same notes wended their way to the better apartment, the location of the photo there to the right. The music was a soundtrack for an incredible romance, doomed from its very birth, and yet sweet…so sweet. And then…through a marriage and a betrayal – even there it lilted and rang. Sometimes quite loudly, and even through the terrible crash as the Waterford fell from drunken fingers, the wailing on knees at the loss, the treble loss.

Building again as the screen’s light showed that final sentence, the period punched in, the code saved, the tale writ large though no one saw. Arching over as the metal taste came, crashing hard on the teeth…unforgiving and unforgivable the act that I put down with deliberate movement. Down, down and a reaching out in a night for an answer that no one had.

Constraints…even in all the cryptic litany I cannot be sure. Who knows me? Who knew me then? And would they care? Do the words even matter, now, aged as they are and without their original poison?

I’ve not scratched thoughts on those pages in a very long time, not having the need to detail my life minutely. Not there. And only slightly here…slightly…enough to keep these fingers nimble and my mind engaged. Ah, the words – the language – it has always ensnared me, really. Every trial and travail has come from them. And perhaps that is why I resist them, now, not wishing to bring to this life any of those past troubles.

It is a kind of muteness – a hacking off of a limb, a mental appendage – to write this way. But, just as the song has its crescendo and silence, so must the words, sometimes. And in that quiet, that echoing silence, peace can be found.

Turning Me

How appropo…

About to write this, what does my Finetune toss at me but Boadicea by Enya. Oh ho…it’s a funny little universe…

See, now – there’s this little troublemaker with green eyes and, by my thumbs, if I were called to the Other Side, I’d be hard pressed to not take her – er – with me. LOL

Look on this. Evil badness!!

All Better And Yet Not So Much

Well, my health is back – yay! But the world just keeps churning and the country just keeps floundering. The more I read and hear, the more disgusted I get. I’ve almost sworn off the news just to avoid thinking about it. But I know…it’s important as hell to be aware of all the worms turning.

Like this little number…the vastness of the numbers – and people just keep on keeping on…

Hey, I’m one of them. Sitting here, typing away, drinking my coffee and thinking about a workout in a few minutes. I’m not going to “call my representatives” – they do not give a damn about you or me. The only thing that might even put a dent in this massive theft of the Republic is if 2/3rds of them disappeared. Fear might change them. But nothing less.

Instead, I try to concentrate on taking care of me and mine. Ensuring we have what we need. That I’m in some sort of shape to deal with a crisis should it come. Hell, I’m thinking about moving my 401k dollars into silver and gold before the fuckers come and take that, too. It will happen, you know. They’re running out of bribery funds for the seniors.

All I can think of are bullets…more often one hears of the constraints on that market. After all, I think we’ve enough guns for any occasion but…without ammo, they’re expensive clubs, right? So…perhaps it’s time to get serious on the supplies. And on a reload rig.

I wish I could hope for the best. But I really do think that’s infantile. After all, look at this…
Civilian Expeditionary Workforce
Doesn’t it make you think a bit about Obama’s promised civilian force? Imagine the sheer drain on finances to pay them…interesting…

I Pissed SOMEONE Off

Fair Warning. This post is essentially about being sick for a week. Not interested? I cannot blame you at all. I wasn’t. Still ain’t.

It is – what? – day 5 and I am STILL in travail. A horror, I tell you. A miserable horror that I can only imagine is marginally better than death.

Monday 11p: “Honey, I feel like crap…”
Monday 11:30p: Duodenum declines to receive any further immigrants.
Tuesday 12:45a: “Raalllppphhh! Uh…oh, no-no-nonono – wait!!…”
Tuesday 2:30a: Febral and thinking distantly that I should have cleaned the bathroom floor this past weekend.
Tuesday 3:34a “Thank God for a cold floor…”
Tuesday 5:00a “Raalllppphhh! Uh – oh, no-no-nonono – wait!!…Damn it!”

Well, I guess you get the point. This PLAGUE baffled me with its breadth and depth of disgusting putrifaction. If I feel even slightly unwell, a cup of mint tea and slow rubbing of the belly usually results in a restful sleep followed by an uncomfortable but brief toilette.

There was no bargaining with this. I paced back and forth, I prepared the area, getting the moist cloth and setting the extra mat nearby to cushion the position. All this I managed whilst still begging for it all to go away. I was trebly baffled by the speed of the assault. The fever, the sickness, the weakness…

Day after day, I waited for improvement. Wednesday was better but then came the…well…I sure could have used a gastro professional’s advice. No matter how fast or often the gas was released it would just regenerate in my belly. And the noises! It was as though every inch of my innards was releasing something and digesting it. ALL DAY and ALL NIGHT. I could hardly eat for the pressure. It was a few spoons of hot cereal here, an egg and toast there over the course of the week.

Only today could I manage more than that, determined to beat this after being unable to get a doctor appointment. I woke Trooper far too early after a late shift, needing a breakfast to fight this beast. I would give it something to digest, damn it, no matter how full it felt. And all through the day, a few spoons here and there, which seems to have done well.

But then, tonight, the belching returned and I wonder at how its possible for a body to do this. Am I decomposing inside or something?! Outgassing like a fucking star going nova? I worry that now there really must be something wrong – something more than what I initially thought. Because food poisoning should have worn off by now…unless my innards are fouled beyond redemption…in which case, the guest room will get a lot more use. Indeed, I used it a few nights as a tender mercy for Trooper.

Things had better start improving and soon. I can’t imagine the lovely tests that will otherwise be necessary. Yeah…that’s something to look forward to…so lift up a prayer, slaughter a calf, whatever, y’all. But this has to end…

It’s Funnier In Person

I LOVE Chuck Lorre’s Big Bang Theory show. LOVE.

And each one is followed by a “vanity card” wherein he gets to express himself. Tonight’s episode offered the following – Chuck, forgive me for the pasting in. Does it help if I declare openly that you are a genius?

There’s a funny moment in tonight’s episode where Sheldon gets stuck on a rock-climbing wall and remarks, “What part of an inverse tangent approaching an asymptote don’t you understand?” I thought it’d be helpful to take a moment and examine that joke.

A linear asymptote is essentially a straight line to which a graphed curve moves closer and closer but does not reach. In other words, given a function y=fn(x) with asymptote A, A represents a number that, no matter how big (or, given the function, small) you make x, y will never make it to A. The particular example Sheldon quotes is the inverse Tangent function, or Arctangent, which has two asymptotes. If you graph it, it sort of looks like a horizontal S:

No matter how big you make x (that is, how far you move to the right), the function is never going to hit that top line (π/2), and no matter how small x gets (moving to the left), y is never going to be smaller than – π/2.

The more you know, the funnier it gets.

Sigh…I love that show…did I say that already?

P.S. I would have totally been a female Sheldon if it wasn’t for negative influences and Sloe Gin…