Neil Gaiman is writing S3 of Good Omens.
It’s still going to be 30 months before we see another episode but at least if the two leads don’t die and we don’t get smacked by an asteroid we should do okay.
Category: Maudlin Monday
recycling
I read on reddit that a great way to deal with paper if you don’t want to shred it (Jeff has a shredder but I have A LOT OF PAPER TO SHRED) is to turn it into papier mâché and yup, that works – I experimented with 20 year old tax returns yesterday.
Happy Easter for those who celebrate! Reread (or read, lol) my King Jesus homily if you’re in the mood.
New poem – the sieve
This is not a suicide note:
I’d bang on my brother’s door and waken him
rather than leave him my corpse ***on purpose***
ew, I mean, ew
my consciousness wrote the suicide note to you
but the smelly part is still here
I know that my procession
through these eroded markers
was foretold
but the weeping was tiresome
and I had no patience with the acidic streams
for – did you know – your tears become more basic
over the course of the day, and it’s 2 am here
I pull a stray hair out of my mouth and continue
in the present tense
<<< fly back and forth
destroyers of narrative >>>
I cry as if I could be cleansed
rather than imprisoned
behind bars of vapour
quit potchkying around and write this damned thing
it is my salute to those I love who live still
and everything they taught me, all of which
I will take with me to my niche
in the columbarium
for everything I’ve learned is nothing
compared to what is coming
it’s the brutal and the lucky
who will live
another sieve for humanity
I passed through one, today
Most days I don’t know
how close I came
but I do today
It’s Monday so….
yuppers time for a maudlin poem
The House by the Side of the Road
by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)
There are hermit
souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house
by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house
by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened
meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my
house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
When someone’s pet dies
They will not go quietly,
the pets who’ve shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survives.
Old habits still can make us
think we hear them at the door
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
and, sometimes, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them….
and always will.
This was on a Hallmark card Lois sent us after Bounce died. It’s still the best poem on the subject I’ve seen, apart from the dead kittens poem from Lindsay M that I dasn’t reproduce here.
There’s a gazebo out back of the fOlks’ place where Bounce, and other pets besides, are memorialized. She’s buried out back, but she has company now.
Maudlin Doggerel
Is Honey the most maudlin song? Seasons in the Sun? Cat’s in the Cradle? I’ve Never Been to Me? All by Myself? Total Eclipse of the Heart? Sometimes When We Touch? the entire oeuvre of Barry Manilow?
If I’ve given any of you earworms (runs away laughing maniacally….) ha ha!
Maudlin Monday
Yeah, you’re never going to forgive me for last week, are you. Sorry about that.
We all know sad songs, I write them; I cry while singing them. What makes a song sad?
‘there’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes’ is pretty sad. DAMN THAT JOHN PRINE, and RIP
What’s the saddest song you know?
Maudlin Monday – Beedogs
There used to be a site called Bee Dogs. It’s been archived somewhere, but if you’re looking for something to cheer you up (except for the poor dorgles who’ve been stung, sigh) google beedogs images and enjoy the thousands of beedog costumes people have stuffed their canine companions into over the last thirty years!!!!
Now think about how most of those dogs are dead. Christ I’m an asshole. Crying yet?
Inaugural Maudlin Monday
Well hello folks! To be maudlin, that is, tearfully sentimental, is not at all hard for me. I cry readily, although with irritation because if go longer than 30 seconds or start sobbing, it messes with my head and makes my eyes feel scoured.
Today I want to be maudlin about me auld mither. She is loved and respected and honoured because she’s lovable and respectable and honourable. She’s a fan of science so she does change her mind from time to time about quite important things. This makes her unusual. Her kindness, quick thinking and competence are a wonder to experience.
2021 – the year of living ancestorily
So for 2021, this blog is going to change up a bit. There will be at least one drafted post that goes live every day. (I’ve started pre-posting awready.) The hope is that I will put together useful or historical facts or just … information that’s easy to find arranged by subject PLUS post a song every day.
Now this involves many different KINDS of posts; some will be PDF’s, some MP3s, some videos, but there will be a song a day. I thought about posting it to youtube, but…. it’s a toxic waste dump that I have virtually no control over. And yes, some of the song posts will be from previous posts, but there will be a particular category: Song a Day 2021
And then, if I have the energy, I’ll write about laundry and cooking and grandson goo and boring domestic shit and progress on my writing projects — that none care about but me.
The point is that I am going to highlight my lifetime of achievement because I’m tired of always thinking to myself that I haven’t accomplished anything in my life. Taken all together, why yes I have. I was autistic and had ADD and mental health issues the whole time, too.
I’m considering password protecting my content or at least some of it, and I’m considering moving the blog to a VPS, after non-definitive discussion with Jeff.
I’m also thinking about money and immortality, a lot, but it’s nothing bad. I just want to eat steak for a thousand years while I drink beer and write nasty shit about misogynist slurs like Jordan Peterson.
By the way mOm the cat poets are Lu You and Liu Zhongyin
