Grateful for Solitude!

Today is shaping up to be a truly dull day. My health is limited, and I have nowhere to go, no one to talk to.....I guess I've made a nuisance of myself too often, and now no one wants to be around me. No one wants disabled friends. We can't drive, for one thing. And we actually have problems. It would be nice to have someone besides my parents to talk to, but oh, well. Not going to dwell on it too much. The human race is a shallow, useless bunch. I'm supposed to grateful for every crumb they throw me......

Carrie

Death to August!

I am having a really, really boring week. Absolutely nothing interesting has happened. I've been cramping a lot, but the meds do help. I feel like I just need a vacation, but a nap is about all I can afford. I'm going to the Dems tonight with Carrie, if the pain goes away. I just feel like something has got to give, or I'll snap again. I hate August. It's not the romantic, dreamy month I had it pegged as. It is truly a month of death. Lots of little deaths, until finality is anti-climatic......

GOP Translator

I got this on Facebook. Amusing but true.

The Sad State of the Union

By picking Paul Ryan as their VP candidate, the Republican party effectively has told me that the disabled, like myself, are not welcome in the United States. They only see the elites and their upward mobility. What about the downtrodden and our survival? Food stamps aren't only for the "welfare queens" of the popular imagination; most people on disability cannot afford adequate meals without them. I'm tired of going without in the name of Wall Street. I live below the poverty level, and very likely will never live above it. As my father said, if Paul Ryan thinks his cuts are such a good idea, why doesn't he try living on social security? I am destitute through no fault of my own. I refuse to be ashamed of how I was born. "All men are created equal" is a popular slogan, but our country will never live up to that until we stop judging each other, and worrying that someone else is getting "special treatment" that they don't "deserve."

Gay Flow Chart

This is really amusing, and I'm too lazy to write a blog today.

Papal

This is my grandfather, Jim Culley, 1923-1990.

August is the last refuge of the dead, you know. It’s starlit flickering movie screen opens on 1944 Amsterdam. It was the year the world went mad, and I can only watch helplessly as the Young Girl fades to flame. Her fire burns quietly, like dried leaves. The shot pans left, to 1962. A final, fatal cocktail- one last pose, a swan song extraordinary. Marilyn’s final performance is a triumph, you might say.  The Angel Boy came later. He could have considered other months- but at last, August overcame him. Summertime without ceasing- that was his first legacy. I see a mirror before me, holding the image of an old zia, white-haired and insane. I cannot bear to leave August, this place of the past it has become. I refuse to grow immune, or look away. I am older-they are not. Preserved in the formaldehyde called memory, they go on as before.  Alone, I leave the theater, wistful and broken. I find solace in one day, discovering....August.August is the last refuge of the dead, you know. It’s starlit flickering movie screen opens on 1944 Amsterdam. It was the year the world went mad, and I can only watch helplessly as the Young Girl fades to flame. Her fire burns quietly, like dried leaves. The shot pans left, to 1962. A final, fatal cocktail- one last pose, a swan song extra ordinaire. Marilyn’s final performance is a triumph, you might say.  The Angel Boy came later. He could have considered other months- but at last, August overcame him. Summertime without ceasing- that was his first legacy. I see a mirror before me, holding the image of an old zia, white-haired and insane. I cannot bear to leave August, this place of the past it has become. I refuse to grow immune, or look away. I am older-they are not. Preserved in the formaldehyde called memory, they go on as before.  Alone, I leave the theater, wistful and broken. I find solace in one day, discovering....August.August is the last refuge of the dead, you know. It’s starlit flickering movie screen opens on 1944 Amsterdam. It was the year the world went mad, and I can only watch helplessly as the Young Girl fades to flame. Her fire burns quietly, like dried leaves. The shot pans left, to 1962. A final, fatal cocktail- one last pose, a swan song extra ordinaire. Marilyn’s final performance is a triumph, you might say.  The Angel Boy came later. He could have considered other months- but at last, August overcame him. Summertime without ceasing- that was his first legacy. I see a mirror before me, holding the image of an old zia, white-haired and insane. I cannot bear to leave August, this place of the past it has become. I refuse to grow immune, or look away. I am older-they are not. Preserved in the formaldehyde called memory, they go on as before.  Alone, I leave the theater, wistful and broken. I find solace in one day, discovering....August.

Lazy Days of Summer

This is one of those summer days when you are so damned bored you don't know what to do. All I really have left on my to-do list is putting away my laundry and taking a shower. Then, I have to be more creative and think of other ways to amuse myself. Tomorrow I am writing letters for Amnesty International and dying my hair, as well as cleaning the kitchen. Hopefully, I can do all that before going to an OFA phone bank in the evening. On Thursday, I'm working on my brother's schedule, b/c he is taking me to the grocery. Friday is my free day. Ahead of that, I have no idea. I guess I'll further clean my apartment on Thursday and Friday, and perhaps do my nails on Friday. Wow, my life is dull......

The Portrait of the Madwoman At 16 ("Within Without")

I'm going to reprint the lyrics to a song I heard tonight, that I loved back when I was 16. It's by a Cincinnati band called Over The Rhine, and it's a pretty good description of the girl I once was.
Within Without
Is it because I cannot see you that you feel so free to steal My excess baggage Full of darkness and despair?
While I fumble with my locks You're content to stand and knock Yet I know your knack For thievery is rare
Do you know they call it arson? Settin' fires without permissions In my heart for sure And maybe elsewhere too
Though your lack of inhibition Captures my imagination I end up a wiser person Thanks to you
It's comin' to fruition The sympathetic vibration Your train is at my station Within without
Within without Within without Within without Within without
There is your flair for murder There's a dagger in the border Of your cloak and I suspect the captain's gun
As you put to death suspicions Kindly kill my fears as well Exorcise and slay The demons one by one
Though I'm usually pacifistic You are mercifully sadistic And I didn't know That murder could be good
But the roses came crimson Springin' from the prison Of the floorboards Where there once were stains of blood
It's comin' to fruition The sympathetic vibration Your train is at my station Within without, within without
It's calming my suspicion With soothing intuition Your train is at my station Within without, within without
It's calming my suspicion With soothing intuition Your train is at my station Within without
Within without Within without Within without Within without
It's comin' to fruition The sympathetic vibration Your train is at my station Within without, within without
It's calming my suspicion With soothing intuition Your train is at my station Within without, within without
Within without Within without Within without Within without
Within without Within without Within without Within without

Read more: OVER THE RHINE - WITHIN WITHOUT LYRICS http://www.metrolyrics.com/within-without-lyrics-over-the-rhine.html#ixzz22Soys2aT
Copied from MetroLyrics.com

Spelling and such corrected by Lilli Marlene, lol.

Legally Bored

Fairly dull, ordinary day here in Hamilton, Ohio. It's 90 degrees outside, and feels very hot- the sort of day that lends itself to laziness. I might walk to CVS in a little bit, to get a pack of cigarettes. Otherwise, I'm staying in my apartment and enjoying the air conditioning. I haven't been on the computer much lately, so I have a lot of catching up to do. Last week, I went to the county fair, which was fun, despite the fact that I threw up three times prior to arriving. On Friday, I wound up in the ER after throwing up blood. They think I tore my esophagus a bit. I haven't thrown up since Friday morning, which is good, but I can't remember a damn thing between leaving the ER on Friday afternoon, and waking up on Monday morning. Anyway.....I wrote most of this earlier, and then my neighbor came to visit. Then I went to CVS....and now I'm back home. This whole chronicle is a bit pointless, I guess. But what else is there to do in Hamilton in the summer? I mean, legally :)