View from a grassy knoll

9:45 p.m. Mortality: drunk, stripped, sipped & smoked. 2003-05-12

Reaped quickly killing a bottle of wine here in front of the computer.
boy, man o man, what a weekend.
worst. vacation. ever.
that's what i said to myself as i scrubbed gramma's bathtub (first time in 3 years, i bet, who kmnows?), listening to mom rage in the kitchen with the crackhead aunt, conspiring against their brother (who, IMHO, was the sanest of them all, really). ten minutes later, "okay kids, are ya done? GET done. We gotta get to the hospital grumble grumble sonufabitch"......
i remember auntie busting thru the kitchen door as I stood near it getting some h2o from the fridge ...
"MOTHERFUCKING SONUFABITCH! FUCK THAT BITCH OF HIS!" SLAMS the door.
"It's okay!" (grin...please don't cut me crackhead-HEP-C-PRISON-EXPERIENCE auntie...)
"It's just Weezer1D!" (grin grin)
"Oh. Yeah. Never mind that..."
"Sure...."
But the smell of G-mas, walking around, the tangerine & red glass bottle collection on the top of one china cabinet, the green and blue ones on another...the smell of potpourri and plants & cigar smoke from 10 years ago before grampa... just walking around the house, its all too nostalgic, to many good orangey memories, for it to turn out this way. The tumor in her head, I'm serious, looked the size of a quarter in the MRI. Aglima, aglimo, whatever, I'm looking it up tomorrow, as well as some grief conseling/hospice info & a hookup so i can feed m0mmy some x4n4x next time around. I can't deal with that shit, man. Don't care how contrived it sounds. That's what it is. I'm drunk, but there's still a good third left here.
Fuck that shit. SHeeyit.
Couldn't take it after Sis left. Mayb emore didn't have to me up the happy face.
But no more editing. I'm trying with the zen thing. Crab got a job. Things are looking better. Crescent city is far far away from Backwater's traumadrama. I feel bad though. I wanna be there for g-ma. Even though I'm 700 miles away. But I can't go into it.
TYHy[in
typing skills failing.
(( There's termites hatching from somewhere in our house. Flying at the computer. We smoosh them with newspaper. Crab says, "That's good cuz really they've eaten everything that isn't coated with some toxic substance..." )
But Stil. He can be cute when he wnana.
& I'D LIKE TO GIVE A SHOUTUOT TO ALL MY HOMIES WHO MAY BE READING THIS FROM AFAR...pEACE OUT TO DA FLETCHAH ROAD NATION....ELIOT & RUSTY, BROTHAS IN VIGILANCE...WORD.........TAMELA B! grrrrl...you only wish dis girl be teachin' yo kids, Yo....& CHR1S LUVVA, keepin it real...& KID FREE IN 2003, CAN I GETTA HELL YEAH?
TO MR NASTY, XXX, Ya got the xxx. & dat's all I gotta say.
So I"m gonna stop now. More things will become clearer depending how much work is required of me tommoreow. To summarize:
g-ma is very sick
i love my mom despite the fact she's a psycho harpy
you can't imagine how satisfying it was explaining what a harpy was to my dad on the phone & having him agree.
being home iz veddddy niiiiice, yez?
Yez.
& your jealous of how I can even code drunk, ibet.
sigh...
I can only imagine how many more hours i'm going to devote to this. Mortality with the Big M. Death always occurs in threes... remember that from Grampa's wake back when I was a kid. A semi-adult kid. Enough of one to run next dooor to my uncle's and scream, "Uncle! Uncle! something happened to Grampa!"
and form there the rest's history.
tiem for mindless tv. perhaps more rambinling later.
god help us all.
bye
Sown

Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25
Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10
Grumble - 2004-05-07
Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05
Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05

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9:45 p.m.	Mortality: drunk, stripped, sipped & smoked.	2003-05-12
Reaped	quickly killing a bottle of wine here in front of the computer. boy, man o man, what a weekend. worst. vacation. ever. that's what i said to myself as i scrubbed gramma's bathtub (first time in 3 years, i bet, who kmnows?), listening to mom rage in the kitchen with the crackhead aunt, conspiring against their brother (who, IMHO, was the sanest of them all, really). ten minutes later, "okay kids, are ya done? GET done. We gotta get to the hospital grumble grumble sonufabitch"...... i remember auntie busting thru the kitchen door as I stood near it getting some h2o from the fridge ... "MOTHERFUCKING SONUFABITCH! FUCK THAT BITCH OF HIS!" SLAMS the door. "It's okay!" (grin...please don't cut me crackhead-HEP-C-PRISON-EXPERIENCE auntie...) "It's just Weezer1D!" (grin grin) "Oh. Yeah. Never mind that..." "Sure...." But the smell of G-mas, walking around, the tangerine & red glass bottle collection on the top of one china cabinet, the green and blue ones on another...the smell of potpourri and plants & cigar smoke from 10 years ago before grampa... just walking around the house, its all too nostalgic, to many good orangey memories, for it to turn out this way. The tumor in her head, I'm serious, looked the size of a quarter in the MRI. Aglima, aglimo, whatever, I'm looking it up tomorrow, as well as some grief conseling/hospice info & a hookup so i can feed m0mmy some x4n4x next time around. I can't deal with that shit, man. Don't care how contrived it sounds. That's what it is. I'm drunk, but there's still a good third left here. Fuck that shit. SHeeyit. Couldn't take it after Sis left. Mayb emore didn't have to me up the happy face. But no more editing. I'm trying with the zen thing. Crab got a job. Things are looking better. Crescent city is far far away from Backwater's traumadrama. I feel bad though. I wanna be there for g-ma. Even though I'm 700 miles away. But I can't go into it. TYHy[in typing skills failing. (( There's termites hatching from somewhere in our house. Flying at the computer. We smoosh them with newspaper. Crab says, "That's good cuz really they've eaten everything that isn't coated with some toxic substance..." ) But Stil. He can be cute when he wnana. & I'D LIKE TO GIVE A SHOUTUOT TO ALL MY HOMIES WHO MAY BE READING THIS FROM AFAR...pEACE OUT TO DA FLETCHAH ROAD NATION....ELIOT & RUSTY, BROTHAS IN VIGILANCE...WORD.........TAMELA B! grrrrl...you only wish dis girl be teachin' yo kids, Yo....& CHR1S LUVVA, keepin it real...& KID FREE IN 2003, CAN I GETTA HELL YEAH? TO MR NASTY, XXX, Ya got the xxx. & dat's all I gotta say. So I"m gonna stop now. More things will become clearer depending how much work is required of me tommoreow. To summarize: g-ma is very sick i love my mom despite the fact she's a psycho harpy you can't imagine how satisfying it was explaining what a harpy was to my dad on the phone & having him agree. being home iz veddddy niiiiice, yez? Yez. & your jealous of how I can even code drunk, ibet. sigh... I can only imagine how many more hours i'm going to devote to this. Mortality with the Big M. Death always occurs in threes... remember that from Grampa's wake back when I was a kid. A semi-adult kid. Enough of one to run next dooor to my uncle's and scream, "Uncle! Uncle! something happened to Grampa!" and form there the rest's history. tiem for mindless tv. perhaps more rambinling later. god help us all. bye	Sown
Fresh Cut New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings		Profile Guestbook Mail D-land Older Home 26 Links Bandified Geek Philosopher /. Drudge Worst.Site.Ever.
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Bandified
Geek Philosopher
/.
Drudge
Worst.Site.Ever.