Friday, June 29, 2012
Brilliance
You know, don't you now, that someone somewhere can write a blog and the numbers come in showing that the marketing, if not the actual content of said blog was brilliant beyond comprehension, evidenced by the through the roof spike in stats. And yet, no one was moved, even by the CTA, to comment in any way, even to say, "Wow, was I disappointed after all that build up". Or, "This was the most amazing thing I have read in ages, but the punctuation could use a little sprucing up." Whatever. Say "Kilroy was here" or something for God's sake. If the post embarrassed you so that you go slinking away before anyone notices you, too bad. You already left a footprint. So speak the fuck up. What is wrong with you people?
Modern Medicine
My daughter being a degreed Nurse, I, by default, don't give much thought to medical problems. I just ask her and she usually has the answer at hand or sends me a link.
The vaccine question is probably equal parts politics and pragmatism, and every one seems to have an opinion on the subject. Being ancient, I know many people that blame their own children's problems on vaccines. They have told me their doctors back them up. In my personal experience I have had conversations in which three parents with highly messed up, (impaired to the tenth power) offspring whose docs have said "This is clearly due to the vaccine." I lie somewhere in the middle. I am scared of them, but usually buckle when presented with facts, like Pertussis is on the upswing. I got the pneumonia shot, so I had a cold that led to a sinus infection and shingles and lasted four months. If it had simply turned to pneumonia, a Z-pack would have fixed me up in seven days. But, once again, I digress.
I herein copy an illuminating document that supports vaccinating in clear easy to follow terms. After you read it, let me know if it has at all altered your opinions, be they whatever. I have made an informed decision to present it in its original format, knowing it will mess with the borders of my exquisitely designed blog. Scrolling will help you if there is overlap, but I am doing this to help you read it since most of you are older than snot.
The vaccine question is probably equal parts politics and pragmatism, and every one seems to have an opinion on the subject. Being ancient, I know many people that blame their own children's problems on vaccines. They have told me their doctors back them up. In my personal experience I have had conversations in which three parents with highly messed up, (impaired to the tenth power) offspring whose docs have said "This is clearly due to the vaccine." I lie somewhere in the middle. I am scared of them, but usually buckle when presented with facts, like Pertussis is on the upswing. I got the pneumonia shot, so I had a cold that led to a sinus infection and shingles and lasted four months. If it had simply turned to pneumonia, a Z-pack would have fixed me up in seven days. But, once again, I digress.
I herein copy an illuminating document that supports vaccinating in clear easy to follow terms. After you read it, let me know if it has at all altered your opinions, be they whatever. I have made an informed decision to present it in its original format, knowing it will mess with the borders of my exquisitely designed blog. Scrolling will help you if there is overlap, but I am doing this to help you read it since most of you are older than snot.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish
I found the stonings in Dearborn, Michigan very disturbing.
This two minute clip is very moving. I would prefer to see more like it than videos of people being stoned in America.
What's your take on this?
Monday, June 25, 2012
Big Mouth
I have posted so much inflammatory stuff today. My remarks have already cost me a Drawsome partner.
This is all a stall cuz I have to reformat a doc and I am one-third through and I do not want to do it. I don't know why cuz when I did the first third, which I've been postponing forever, I enjoyed it. But I must be having one of those 'cycles'. An acquaintance doesn't go to a shrink. She goes to a psycho-pharmacologist. I get my mind altering drugs from my GP. I said "No. I can't take Advil. It raises blood pressure." She says, "Oh, I never knew that."
So she took away my xanax cuz I said I REALLY like it and everyone loves me when I am on it and please, sir, can I have more? And she gives me klonopin which must be related to Paxil cuz it makes you not give a shit about anything. I didn't even pay attention to blending the colors for my Impatiens this Spring. It cannot get much worse than that. So I am not going through that shrink crap again. What a bunch of loonies I have met. So, I don't know. Maybe Lawman will hit Select this week. Maybe the yews will get trimmed. You have to do it before July first.
In the meanwhile, I shared this vid on twitter, but if you didn't catch it there, go to YouTube and search "PissedPotter". It is so purely fucking sensible. Really.
My husband just asked me if he could download a huge video file to my computer. I said "Do you have it on a zip drive?" And he said he did. So I said, "Can't I just put your zip drive in my machine and watch it tomorrow?" Of course I had to add, "That will be the closest thing we've had to sex in a long time." Yeah, we're old.
This poor guy. I love him so much and he is in the cellar.
This is all a stall cuz I have to reformat a doc and I am one-third through and I do not want to do it. I don't know why cuz when I did the first third, which I've been postponing forever, I enjoyed it. But I must be having one of those 'cycles'. An acquaintance doesn't go to a shrink. She goes to a psycho-pharmacologist. I get my mind altering drugs from my GP. I said "No. I can't take Advil. It raises blood pressure." She says, "Oh, I never knew that."
So she took away my xanax cuz I said I REALLY like it and everyone loves me when I am on it and please, sir, can I have more? And she gives me klonopin which must be related to Paxil cuz it makes you not give a shit about anything. I didn't even pay attention to blending the colors for my Impatiens this Spring. It cannot get much worse than that. So I am not going through that shrink crap again. What a bunch of loonies I have met. So, I don't know. Maybe Lawman will hit Select this week. Maybe the yews will get trimmed. You have to do it before July first.
In the meanwhile, I shared this vid on twitter, but if you didn't catch it there, go to YouTube and search "PissedPotter". It is so purely fucking sensible. Really.
My husband just asked me if he could download a huge video file to my computer. I said "Do you have it on a zip drive?" And he said he did. So I said, "Can't I just put your zip drive in my machine and watch it tomorrow?" Of course I had to add, "That will be the closest thing we've had to sex in a long time." Yeah, we're old.
This poor guy. I love him so much and he is in the cellar.Friday, June 22, 2012
BRAVE
So glad a curly haired Celtic redhead is the new heroine since all mine are. Wonderful film by the way.
This is For the Girl in the Hat
Don't see many crow jokes. I thought this was so bright. From a site called "I Fucking Love Science".
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Father's Day
My father is incredibly old. He insists on driving himself and lives alone, despite my remodeling a room for him and asking him to move here countless times. "You'd have to get rid of a few kids and animals before I'd think about that."
My mom died six years ago and we all thought, including his doctor, that he would not last long without her. But he is apparently an expert at transference, even arguing about what hospital I was born in, confusing me with her.
He is a very good person. He was a cop, for which I paid dearly in my teen years, and a very hard working person. He frequently had three jobs. Cops were allowed to moonlight in those days. I grew up with my share of daddy fantasies, acting some of them out, making out under the stairs with his partner at his retirement party, for instance. Daddy would have shot the guy.
If nothing else, he taught us you don't get anything without working for it. He talks about how uninvolved his dad was in his life. I said, "He must have done something right because he made you what you are and everyone knows you are a fine person." The world is indeed a better place for him being in it, and the world definitely needs more people like him, to use some of the cliches in that regard.
But one day he was talking about how his dad was never around to play games with them, or take them swimming. Maybe my dad practiced baseball a little with my older brother but I don't recall that. We all learned to ride our two-wheelers pushing off the fence, not with the dad running behind holding the fender. Surely he did not toss the old ball around at all with my second brother, and he never played games with me until after my mom died. They played Yahtzee every day. I would go and visit after she was gone and suggested we take up Yahtzee again. I kicked his ass the first three games and we never played again.
Anyway, he repeats stories endlessly in his dotage, and we earn our points with God by patiently listening. So one day when he was talking about his dad, yet again. (My grandpa was a handsome, debonair, wonderful guy to me. The Minnetonka story is elsewhere in this ongoing chronicle) and my dad said, "My father never even bought me a bicycle." I said, "But, dad, you never bought me a bicycle either." (I bought my own bike when I was seven, the story of which probably also lies elsewhere in this chronicle.) He just stared at me, for once at a loss for words, and, I am certain, for the first time realizing that he had indeed walked in his dad's shoes, at least in some cases.
One thing, a far more precious gift than a bike, is the self-reliance he taught me by not buying me a bicycle.
And, to prove the thesis, my dad and his pal, Bill, bought a car when he was eleven, fixed it and drove it--to grade school.
father's Day
My mom died six years ago and we all thought, including his doctor, that he would not last long without her. But he is apparently an expert at transference, even arguing about what hospital I was born in, confusing me with her.
He is a very good person. He was a cop, for which I paid dearly in my teen years, and a very hard working person. He frequently had three jobs. Cops were allowed to moonlight in those days. I grew up with my share of daddy fantasies, acting some of them out, making out under the stairs with his partner at his retirement party, for instance. Daddy would have shot the guy.
If nothing else, he taught us you don't get anything without working for it. He talks about how uninvolved his dad was in his life. I said, "He must have done something right because he made you what you are and everyone knows you are a fine person." The world is indeed a better place for him being in it, and the world definitely needs more people like him, to use some of the cliches in that regard.
But one day he was talking about how his dad was never around to play games with them, or take them swimming. Maybe my dad practiced baseball a little with my older brother but I don't recall that. We all learned to ride our two-wheelers pushing off the fence, not with the dad running behind holding the fender. Surely he did not toss the old ball around at all with my second brother, and he never played games with me until after my mom died. They played Yahtzee every day. I would go and visit after she was gone and suggested we take up Yahtzee again. I kicked his ass the first three games and we never played again.
Anyway, he repeats stories endlessly in his dotage, and we earn our points with God by patiently listening. So one day when he was talking about his dad, yet again. (My grandpa was a handsome, debonair, wonderful guy to me. The Minnetonka story is elsewhere in this ongoing chronicle) and my dad said, "My father never even bought me a bicycle." I said, "But, dad, you never bought me a bicycle either." (I bought my own bike when I was seven, the story of which probably also lies elsewhere in this chronicle.) He just stared at me, for once at a loss for words, and, I am certain, for the first time realizing that he had indeed walked in his dad's shoes, at least in some cases.
One thing, a far more precious gift than a bike, is the self-reliance he taught me by not buying me a bicycle.
And, to prove the thesis, my dad and his pal, Bill, bought a car when he was eleven, fixed it and drove it--to grade school.
father's Day
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Almost
I couldn't stand to be in that room one more minute. I felt nothing but hate and frustration. Every time he tried to talk to me, I sneered. He put up with it because he thought he deserved it. That just pissed me off more because I was providing him with absolution. Thank God he fell asleep fast and I left the minute he did. I don't know what time it was.
We were in New London and there was a place the train went past this rock wall. I stood in a niche and the trains were so close I could touch them if I wanted. I remember thinking it was like those statues in church in their niches. Maybe I was tempted. I didn't feel suicidal or scared. I didn't feel anything. After a while I hunkered down and when the sky got light I went back to the room because I knew he'd be gone to the shipyard. I remember every stitch of clothing I had on, but a few days later, I went looking for the place and couldn't find it. I didn't know where I was. In so many ways.
We were in New London and there was a place the train went past this rock wall. I stood in a niche and the trains were so close I could touch them if I wanted. I remember thinking it was like those statues in church in their niches. Maybe I was tempted. I didn't feel suicidal or scared. I didn't feel anything. After a while I hunkered down and when the sky got light I went back to the room because I knew he'd be gone to the shipyard. I remember every stitch of clothing I had on, but a few days later, I went looking for the place and couldn't find it. I didn't know where I was. In so many ways.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
All In A Day's Work
I want to publish this non-fiction thing because the timing is right, but this other story is scratching at my brain. 7,932 words seems like a good day's work until you consider it is a tenth of what I need and it's the wrong story. But maybe it is the right story.
Monday, June 11, 2012
In For It
There is this huge site called Goodreads. You can promote your work, ask questions, discuss books, review books, answer questions. It is just huge and early on it was recommended that I utilize it. It is kind of too huge. You can have problems with it, like someone may look for your book and can't find it. Early on a guy named Larry asked me to be his friend. I said something that must have led him to believe I could think even though I was a female. His profile pic shows him holding an armful of awards and trophies and he never stops talking about his experience and expertise. I added him as a friend because he was the first person who asked me. He complimented me and I was a novice. I hadn't known about the friendship process. So lately he has been sniping at people and he said to a person who has a published book, did the book benefit from a professional editing. He didn't say this book needed a professional edit. The guy replied he had several beta readers before publishing and Larry went into a spiel quoting dictionaries and other sources about how beta readers were amateurs and he was talking about professionals. The guy replied with a source defining a beta reader and Larry shot him down. They started about legalese and intellectual rights and I interjected a remark saying Larry was beating around the bush arguing about the terminology and not stating whether the book needed an edit. He jumped all over me and got all snide and called me an amateur. Did I ever say I wasn't? And the "well, then, if you are such an 'expert'" crap. I fired off how he had gone from being snide to being insulting and how he was always flaunting his professionalism. I so wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it was not the correct venue. (Strange guideline I have there, huh?) So now, I am sure, every book I have on Goodreads will receive a scathing insulting zero review. Sometimes, honestly, and I know my Church teaches the desire or the intent to commit the sin is the same as committing it, but I just really want to shoot him. I hate him. I do. I guess it is nice I have a target.
Thursday, June 07, 2012
More Art That I Am Getting Weird For
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
Now Back to Life
I shall continue with my art experiment. Bore you all to tears. Go read. Preferably my book.
Monday, June 04, 2012
Monday
I was kind of surprised by this. Usually day four the numbers go way down. But I kind of have a clue about why it happened this way this time. Still, only one cross sale so far. Yet, I am extremely pleased.
The numbers are incredible.
5059 in US
112 in UK
21 in Germany
2 in France
Now if only a FEW of these people actually read it. And if a few of them actually like it. But stats show something like 80% never even read it. We will see.
Oh, this was for Sacred Sin. Nauseating to most of you, but at least Fran can print this out and display it at my funeral.
5059 in US
112 in UK
21 in Germany
2 in France
Now if only a FEW of these people actually read it. And if a few of them actually like it. But stats show something like 80% never even read it. We will see.
Saturday, June 02, 2012
Friday, June 01, 2012
First Day
I know it will drop like a stone, but it is fun to see. #43 in Contemporary Fiction. (Amazon's free promotion)
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