Well, shitfire and tarnation

Life is always just full of surprises, isn't it? When you think you might be making a little bit of progress, WHAM! You get knocked back 4 places and don't get to pass go or collect the 200.00 or any thing even remotely like it. I just have to ask myself what did I do to deserve all of this drama and suspense? I know I should be thankful for certain things, but dammit sometimes it's hard to be thankful when it seems like the shit is falling out of the sky directly on to your head. I keep wondering what can I do to turn this karma bus around?
I have been trying to play house in an insane asylum for a lot of years. I am most likely the head inmate, the Chief Broom of this facility, if you will.

It's like Ellen said, "What if we were really in an insane asylum, and you are my toast. I would be talking to my toast." It makes perfect sense to me now. It made sense then too, but I kind of forgot it somehow along the way. We used to say if you don't get all the crazy out now (as a teenager) you will be crazy when you grow up. Well, now we know, right? I guess I didn't laugh and get it all out when I was a kid, because I am crazy as a loon now.
But I have been driven here.

Ranting right along, I would like to say that this comedy/tragedy will come to an end one day. One day this old slobblogger won't be here to comfort her offspring, offer them sanctuary, loan them money or otherwise offer her services. What the hell will happen to them then? I guess they don't really worry about it, so why should I?
I do believe my heart is becoming stone. I have no emotional outbursts nothing surprises me anymore.
I can tread on eggshells and mostly do not break them. Is this a skill that I should be proud of?

My heart is heavy is leaden. My face feels like it is growing longer, my frown lines deeper, and I also suffer from terminal slum-pucker. My favorite thing to say used to be, "don't expect anything, and you won't be disappointed." Well, I should take my own advice, right?

Right.

Aloof, Adrift.
Pondering precedents
of quaking witches,
spells spoken aloud.
The stench of putrification
surrounds all, masking efforts
to wax normal.
We divine spontaneous combustion...
Rabid with needs and cringing.
Sinister, shadowed, unsafe
Awaken!! The day is no more

The games squirrels play

What a beautiful and brilliant fall day!

Is like the sun and the leaves and the sky are all competing in a beauty contest. So much darkness and rain has surrounded my life this year but a day like today makes everything else seem so washed out and distant.
I love the crisp air of fall and the atmosphere of an impending... something. It's like you are waiting, but you don't know what for. I have discovered in my ponderings and reading that Autumn is when you say goodbye to the sun, prepare for the cold long dark winter and look forward to the greening of the earth and the new life of spring. So I guess we are waiting for the return of spring...I don't know for sure what it is, but I like it.
My friend Ellen and I used to call this "running away weather" because we would always plot our escape in the fall. And if we did run off, it was always in Autumn. Once we "ran away" on her minibike and was carrying my dog moon on the small scooter as well as my bag of clothes and treasures. A motorcycle cop stopped us for riding triple on a scooter, without helmets, going the wrong way on a public street. In fact, he said, we were breaking about 562 laws but he would let us go if we promised to go home. Ok, we said and tottered on our way, still laughting about it 40 years later. We were not scared at all, and we kept asking him did "he see Evil Kinevil jump all those buses on TV last nite".
I think we might have made his day. I am not making this up.

I love to walk along, kicking up leaves and crunching on the fallen pecans and acorns abandoned by the hyperexcited squirrels as they run to and fro getting everything ready for winter. Right now they are all fat and wild for nuts, dashing into the street without a clue as to what might be barrelling down on them. I always thought birds and squirrels played a game to see which group could get closest to a car without getting slammed by it. You know how birds dive bomb cars and squirrels dash out in front of your car? I imagine they have a point system, rules and keeping score and everything.
Birds and squirrels.

Sitting here thinking of birds and squirrels and leaves, I have an urge to write something poetic.
But I will restrain myself because I think I might be wearing out my poetic muse, and I might need to switch up and write something fiction-ish.
I have put off this children's book forever, and now might be the right time. My ten year old editor is living with me now and she is my best and worst critic. She has a fine eye for a story. I'm glad shes here. She is very light hearted and I need some light hearted-ness in my life. I hate that I have to enforce things such as homework, but oh well. We all had it. It has always sucked.

I also think about cooking soup alot on these fall evenings. Soups I would never even eat, like cold pumpkin soup or clam chowder. What's that about?

My newest obsession is eating ice. I can crunch through a Mickey D's sweet tea in 3o minutes flat. I suck up the tea then commence to chowing down on the thin glass like shards of ice mixed with sugar flavor until my teeth and mouth freeze up or Im done. Which ever comes first. And if my mouth freezes up, well I just wait until i get feeling back in it and then im at it again.

I have also developed a bad starbucks pumpkin spice latte habit. 360 calories folks. Everyday. So now I have to quit that, also my tea at McD's. That is about 300 cals too. That's alot of empty calories, folks.

Anyway, I just wanted to show ya'll I'm still alive and kicking in Memphis Tn and not dead after all.

Peace out.
Deb in Memphrica

Visceral Discomfort

When the low notes flowed
from your soul
into the smelly brass.
Swaying, breathing
liquid brown eyes
closed in rapture.
Fingers reaching
for keys,
eyes fixed on me;
always waiting for
the encore.

Summer's End

Air, crisp like the first bite
of a new harvest apple
whiffs of smoke from
a distant fire
A wispy memory of something primal,
urgent.
Smells like running away weather.

Flat sound of endless water
on pavement
the old timers say
"like a cow pissing on a flat rock".
Wetness like a woman's promise,
for new life in the spring.

Darker earlier,
days grown short.
Later longer.
Green turns gray
Light creeps away
before the end of the day.
And in the endless night
any ray of light
seems so bright.

Night lingers
with cold clammy fingers,
stirs old fears and dread
and sleep, as if dead.

An Ode, and an update..

Watch for a new segment of blogginess soon. I finally have that great camera phone to capture the unsuspecting Memphricans and plan to add to the human interest story, along with our Philidelphia photo fiend, Lora of "Fever", "Oh the Urbanity" and "Jakezilla", whose brainchild this is.

The link is Memphisurbanity.blogspot.com. We will be exploring Memphis on a whole new never seen before light.

So, watch for it.

The writing has been slow, my grand children has taken all of my free time. But I am slowly coming back. Hopefully I still have an audience..

So until then I leave you with a parting gift:

Ode to Kippl-ishious Kit kat kipper

Ever was there a story written,
Of love in a 20 pound package?
With stripe-ity fur pajamas
white footies on front feet
Knee socks in the back.
Explosion of furfat belly
And big pink nipples
Eyes like an owl.
All catittude
except those emabarrassing times
when shes caught
rolling in dogfur tumbleweeds
or scooped up by the humangirl
who hunts her down to cuddle.

The Quietest Thing

After all of the words;

the verbal victories and defeat,

the examinations, ruminations

dissections and assasinations.

The Taking Down

and Tearing Apart

dismantlement;

inspection, introspection

justification, reiteration

retaliation, annihilation.

After all of the the weeping

and wailing

thrashing, gnashing,

lashing and bashing

lying, crying, sighing

and dying.

After all is said done, signed, sealed

delivered, dumped and disposed of,

the only thing left standing

residual or real,

timeless and tangible

stiff with substance

silent and solid

judgmental, intuitive

unmovable, immobile, rooted.

Is the persistently quiet of Knowing

with invisible eyes closed,

hiding behind the veil

of delusion and doubt.

Waiting for the freefall

of faith and courage

into the abyss of truth.