This is my latest pissing and moaning to myself.

Every time I get excited about life, about a book, about an author, or about exercise, my head hammers me into submission. I watched Chris Hedges on booktv.org speak about his books and his philosophies. He is as close to my belief systems as anyone I have heard in a very long time, if not ever. He knows his subjects in such detail and with the authority of having been there and having done that.
And my head is screaming so badly that I can only hope that I can pull off reading one of his books.
Wish there was a magical being to pray to to ask for help in doing something with my enthusiasm.
Oh, well, life is a bitch.

Mayhem lies in wait, "Shaky, shaky, shaky."

The shrieking in my head is astounding, it builds and builds, no longer does it back off. Staying away from noise and activity barely helps. It just screams on, beckoning me to the light in the tunnel. I have to stay out of the tunnel for as long as I can, for therein lie the Banshees.


Shaky, Shaky, Shaky --- Mayhem

Honestly

Honestly, I feel awful.  The shrieking inside the cranium is seemingly of epic proportions but the epic is intensifying at a rate not attained previously.  I am in hell hole and can't get out.  The problems are:  1.  It takes so little to make my ears ring worse and they do.  2.  I slept 4 hours three nights ago, 3 hours two nights ago and 5.5 last night.  I awoke to such a clatter; I knew what was the matter and could only arise and busy myself to try not to think about it.  It is building since I awoke.

Now ain't that just a crappy thing for someone to read.  I wish for the Mack truck in the night but dreaming for a truck won't do the job.  Life is simply a nightmare on Virgo Drive and will only get worse.  I have to pull off life until 5 June, after Kent gets home from his vacation with Liz. 
But then it is only 3 weeks before Judy leaves for HI and Japan and the whole family goes to Japan.  Malia goes to see Nate.  And then Judy is gone for a month.

and then Judy goes to China with Sharon.
and there is thing with Nate still in Japan until September.

I do not want to mess with
anyone else,s  plans, but living people always have plans.

My tongue is chronically sore, now.  I have bruxed the teeth so much that there is diminished space for my tongue.  It is gray where it should be pink so I tend to it regularly.  It is sore so I try to leave my teeth apart.  The night splint I made leaves my teeth tender so will have to get a new one. 

Oh, the crap that will happen in the last days / weeks of my life.  Will be doing it alone with people around.  I surely will be thought weak but I guess I cannot change perceptions in my condition.  If I put my stuff inside other's brains for just a minute they would think it was horrid.  Try living it 24/7.

I am done pissing and moaning for today.  I simply wish I were not living this life but I am.  Bye, bye.  Buy bonds.

Like a Candle in the Wind

Dear blog readers, me,
I am needing new expletives for my condition.  The bullshit that I used to feel is gone, mostly; now, it is all noise in my head. Noise to the extreme, yet I know that there will one day come a penultimate noise that is unrelenting and intolerable.  I must save the "most extremist" words for that time.  It seems, nearly always, that that time has come, but it hasn't and like the Rapture, it is unpredictable.  I have to meet the AntiRat or is that AntiChrist?? Who knows.
I need a pair as big as this squirrel's set, if I am to make it through the summer.  I don't know how else I can pull it off.  I am as frightened of my future as I have ever been, the ringing is very severe.  You may now enjoy the picture of Herr Squirrel.  I took it with my new 100-400 mm lens, in Bear Ck Park; he was about 30-40 feet up in the tree and I had no idea he was totally nuts until I downloaded the photos.   Das ist alles.

We are surrounded.

I am evolving into a creature who has constant ringing that is so loud it cannot escape.  My children, from now on will be born with screeching and shrieking in their heads.  They will love it.  It is called gene screech by scientists.
Stupid, I know, but that is all that will come out of my brain, drivel.

And so I will write no more.  I am, overall, in the worst shape I have ever been.  It is extremely loud and almost never drops back.  I shouldn't use the word extreme because I will need a new descriptor next week or in a couple of days.  It is mucho awful, ladies and germs.  I need Marine Corps General Chesty Puller's attitude, I am surrounded with noise, my problems are simplified.  And in a way that is true.  With it being everywhere and constantly crappy, I do know better where I stand.  WWCPD?
 I shall channel him and find out.  I will return when I know what he would do. 
Semper Fi!  Ooh Rah!   $#@#$%^&*)(*&^%$#@!

I hope the rain don't hurt the rhubarb.

I hope I get to see the rain upon the rhubarb.  I am telling you, things are not good in Glocca Morra.  I got an hour of sleep from 12:30 - 1:30 am. and the ringing was so loud, after an hour, I got up and started doing stuff on this here COMputer.  It is bearable but the pressure in the front of my head, with the ringing in the midbrain, sucks to "high heaven."  (one them old time sayings - high heaven, not the sucks)
The speed with which the increases have come in the past two weeks is quite remarkable.  I don't want to go but I will be damned if I will live only because my heart keeps beating.  I think I have taken good enough care of that, with some good genes, to keep it going a long time.  But then how would I know, I have not seen a doctor for that, in a very long time.

I am scared, not of dying, but of skipping out on some people:  Malia, Carolyn, Kent, Jane, and Judy.  I am worth more dead than alive but  not ready to tip my hat.  Wish a big ole nasty heart attack would strike me, any time.  That is the only way to go.  A sneaky Samurai could do a good job, if he came from behind.  Be quick with your Musashi sword.  Quick, just do it.  But please don't hurt the rhubarb.
Enough b.s. for now.  I am tired, maybe sleep will come.  It is nearly 5 am, up since 2:30.  Time to put 'er down.

In Pig We Trust

I give my allegiance to Pig, from "Pearls Before Swine," the cartoon strip by Stephan Pastis.  In Pig we trust rules the day.

My day is going but not very well.
I had a wonderful time in Vancouver Dec 18 - Jan 4.  Lots of time with Malia and I am so glad that I went.  The visit was so overdue.




After all that time on the go and beating the ear noise into submission, almost daily, things were getting pretty bad and then I hammered my ears and brain with the loudest music yet at a Christmas light show on Jan. 2 and restaurants of the very loud category for two more days.  Then there was the whole trip home on Tuesday.  Then the Handfords came last night for a wonderful visit of 6-10:30 and up this morning for one last ear / brain insult and off they went.  My head is at a non-sleeping level but hope it will lessen in 2-3 hours, I only got about 3 hours of sleep last night. 

I get to be afraid all over again, my ears are up at a level not seen before, except on a brief temporary basis. 
What will happen to me is anyone's guess.  I want to just wear out but the intensity of the noise is strong enough that I want to not push that hard. 

I am in a mess again, still, forever.  It sucks.

The Last Supper

There I am, supposedly with a knife in my hands, immediately behind Judas, with a hand on the lady's shoulder.  I never wear sandals, why would Da Vinci portray me with sandals?  I feel like my last supper is upcoming, I just don't know when.  My head doth worsen by the day.   Herr Jesus, if you are so fucking powerful how about giving me a hand.  What, you don't like my profanity, but surely you jest.  You only suffered hours with the nails, try 21 years, and with the last year on a consistently worsening basis.

Funny, if I had cancer everyone would tell me how strong and brave I am.  I would be told I was a fighter.  The way the ringing and sound sensitivity has come at me, it makes me appear weak and and flaky.  My brain was messed up for so long because of the Klonopin, which I know for sure only now, having regained thoughts that seem rather normal - for me - anyway.  "you look healthy and muster good humor, so what's your silly problem, Mr. Cordel?"  People try to tell me how I feel, guessing that they understand my situation - then it is time for me to shut up.  I know they are trying to be kind but trying to explain my condition is a losing proposition.

I feel so alone.  Carolyn is probably the only one with a sense of my problems, only because she asks.  Here at the ranch, no one asks how I am.  I am fatigued and plagued by a daily worsening, literally.  I feel quite depressed today because I know that I have to hold out through January 4, when we get home from Malia's visit.  It seems like such a long time.  Judy will want me to accompany her everywhere, she being unable to do alone, usually.

My whole head is a mass of ringing, everywhere.  It brings a veil of darkness, a cliche, over everything.
How about a cloud of alluvial dust as though in a thirties' dust storm, penetrating every crack and cranny in my uncaulked brain.  It is quite overwhelming at times.  It is so constant and worse than a month ago.  I cannot imagine what another 3 weeks, with all the noise in the world, will do to me.  I shall soon find out, eh.

I wanted to be alert and fun when with Malia.  Perhaps I will once again numb up and be presentable, providing the two ladies with thoughts such as, "He must not be too bad if he can do all of this stuff."
And so it goes.  I assume I will be a gigantic mess when January rolls around.  That will be the way it is.

Love and kisses to Leonardo for his fine, very one-sided, painting.

Why could not a truck just hit me today and spare me any further responsibility to "look good" and do the right thing.
What a lazy sob, eh.  I am totally in the fighting-to-hang-on stage and that is a very sucky place to be.  I feel quite lousy.  I need sleep.  It is 10 days of likely worsening before we leave and then 17 days of exposure to noise of many loud varieties and intensities.
I would like to simply be a good father, nothing more but nothing less.

Pierre le Pew

I need a Trunk Monkey

Dear Moosey,


You are really loose.  Everything I have pissed and moaned about is happening.  It has been building with few setbacks but what happened last night is really truly awful.  The ante has been upped so much that I don't know what to do or to think.
The screaming is incessant and has me losing sleep again.  I got used to sleeping enough to need only a few naps but this noise in my head is taking me where I thought I was going so so many times before.
What I hate most of all is the timing.  Here I am ready to go to Canada in 10 days.  That trip is in jeopardy, one way or another.  One way is that I might not be on the plane, another way is that I go and I am so crazed from the crap in my head that I cannot sleep or be a good visitor.  Or much worse.
I can foresee coming home early.

As bad as anything is that no matter what happens many/most will think it is my anticipation of Vancouver that is the problem, not the shit in my head.  I just got a lightning pain into my left TMJ, This is what I am talking about.  Since no one talks to me everything becomes what they think it is.
I just don't want to be thought of as weak.  What am I doing, trying to convince myself that I am strong?  I am talking to no one.

I hate being alone with no one to talk to and no one to hold me and no one to show me they love me.  I love Judy so much and all I do is suck it up and wish she loved me.  I may get extremely angry but it is at the lack of communication that I get angry.  I only hear the b.s. that I, in her mind, do wrong.  sometimes that is constant, too.

Well, I am done pissing and moaning again.  I shall be napping, I hope, as the day goes on.

"IT" is getting into the "extremely bad" category rapidly.  If it doesn't lessen, I am there.

I grew up alone, I guess I shall die alone.

Love and kisses.  The man who would have been a great guy.

Et tu, Brute?

Oh, the things we people, up with do put.  No prepositions in the wrong place for me.  I am writing on my new lap top or notebook as  they are wont to call these things nowadays. 
It is no easy being cool.  The keyboard is smaller and I put all kinds  of things into play.
I am having a devil of a day, one that I hope doesn't repeat itself but of course it will and it will be worse some day down the road.
I absolutely wish that it were January 5, one month from now.  I want to see Malia very much but the worsening in my ears and brain have two weeks to continue before we leave for Vancouver.  If I didn't have that goal in my head I wonder what I would be like emotionally.  When the trip is over I will have no specific goals and I most likely will be in a terrible mess with head noise.  The past 24 hours have been hours to try this man's soul, I know that.
The Broncos stunk again, just to add to my misery.
How convenient it would be to say "pray for me" but there is no son of a bitch to pray to so I am stuck with, "Damn, this sucks!"

Wish I had someone to hold me and just one time say how awful I feel.  I am on my own, not the first person to be in this state of mind, but that doesn't make it feel any better.  This blog is the crappiest word processor.  I never know where the cursor really is, until I start typing.

Anyway, dear Brute, you s.o.b., I wish you would stick the knife into something vital instead of only twisting it now and then to make my life miserable,  you miserable maggotous mass.
Brute - the asshole who makes me feel this way. 
Where is the stinking cursor?
There is nothing new to write, life is pretty much a piece of shit today and overall it is getting worser.   And I am all alone.  I whine to the tempests of the ether and the abyss. 
Bye bye.
Mr. Peterdactyl

Here I am again

Pissing and Moaning, that is very apt and I shall now do it again.

I am very frightened.  You might not believe that to see me or talk to me but it is very true.  The shit in my head is at a whole different level.  I have been sleeping, even with the screeching and shrieking in my brain.  Last night I slept poorly.  So, what is new?  It is constant and very irritating.  It is very loud.  It is affecting my ability to understand speech on the telly.  It gets worse so easily.  I am reclusing more and more because every time I do something I really pay for it.  I have not bicycled since before my Salina Class Reunion.  I may start tonight, anyway??? 

What I am always worried about is losing sleep and not being able to think. I am worried about being really and truly miserable.  That is the way this thing is going to end, unless the Mack truck comes or some killer disease.  I am not holding out for either.

How is this for a cheery piece of prose.  Very prosie.

Today is Anniversary  # 34.  Made another one, that is good.  Will be eating steak tonight.  Let THEM eat cake, I shall sup on steak.  Will try to grill.

Am writing and reading as much as I can.  Some of the writing is fun, some seems pedantic and narcissistic, ie, boring.

I do feel sorry for myself, that is a good thing to do here.  I really hate the way my life is going to end, unless something really cool changes the path that I am on.  I do not know how to change my path - the ears do as they wish, there is no treatment.  I just have to put up with what I am dealt.  I have always fought back because I could always figure something out.

Oh, woe is me.

Goodbye for now.  I love life but this is not really life.  yours,
Herr Peterdactyl

Wishin' and hopin'-mostly wishin'

Today is so stinko.  I feel all alone, my head is lit up a bonfire in the dark.  Weird metaphor, isn't it.  Cannot think of anything else.  This morning I thought I might go crazy, I wanted to run away from my head, haven't felt like that in a long time.  The "shit" gave me cold chills and just a whole body craziness that I could never explain.  I am so lost, so depressed to put it in plain English.  Cannot explain a thing about how I feel.  I really would like to end it all so I could stop feeling like this, and I know it will get worse.  I wish it would get intolerable right now so I could just go away.  I want to talk to someone, anyone, everyone and share my life and help someone and do some good for someone.  Everything I do sets my brain into even worse screaming and screeching and shrieking and it makes that power line sensation go through my brain.  I am overstimulated, I think, by the noise.  It has set every nerve alight. That is the fire.  Cannot relax, cannot do anything.  I just want to get a release and let it "explode into space" (song from Easy Rider).  I wish I could die or feel better but I shall merely go up and down and gradually or rapidly get worse.   Oh, woe is me.

I feel so crappy I basically told a christian on FaceBook to go Hell, not in those words.
This is not right.

Jihad against my brain

The forces of the world have declared jihad against my brain. I must start wearing a hijab or maybe a burqa. I wonder if I can keep the jihadists guessing, that way. They would probably throw acid in my face, ugly pukes that they are.
I think a fatwa has been issued against me, to insure a slow miserable demise. It is working.

The shrieking and screeching, fingernails on the blackboard sound is very intense. I am quite amazed at how much sleep I am able to get. I wake up and it feels like the world might come to an end soon. It is horrendous at times. Am starting to get more headaches, now. That does not bode well for the future.
Nothing like like feeling super crappy and all alone, everyone thinks that I am better because I went so many places this year. I am getting the payoff for doing stuff but I would never say it was not worth it. I loved being with people again, the few times I was.
I have no idea why I whine so much except that I am afraid, not afraid of dying - that will be the easy part. Getting to the dying is going to be the bitch.
With all these happy thoughts I shall leave and go find my hijab, my my, can't wait. All these stylish choices.

abaya  niqab

burqa

jilbab

bisht  thobe

They who demand hypocrisy must be satisfied with mediocrity. Ingersoll

It has been some time since last I wrote.  It hasn't been so easy but it has been tolerable.  I have read The Good Earth.  I am reading The Best of Robert Ingersoll, a fascinating fellow.  I have his biography on order.  It should be good.  I think I have about 6-8 books started, which one shall I finish first?
My life really sucks, as I have said before.  I really feel like I am living on time that is only made available for as long as I have the balls to gut it out.  I suppose that is fair because it gives me some control.  I went with suicidal thoughts for so many years and always assumed that one day I would say "enough" and I would check out.  Turns out it isn't that easy, like so many have found out.  I know a couple of people kind of depend upon me and I have unfinished business with Malia. I have messed up that relationship so much.  She cannot think of anything to say to me and she won't even read chapter 1 of my memoir.  I will not speculate in writing why I think she doesn't read it.

I only wish one thing right now.  I wish that Judy or some female would come up to me and put her hands on my face and give me a big sensuous kiss and hold like she would never let me go.  Then she would say, "Sweetheart, I am so sorry your life is a piece of shit.  I just want you to know I care.  I love you."  Wouldn't that be a shock.  No one has ever done that.  Life could be so much simpler and more enjoyable, even when everything pretty much sucks.

My brain screeches to no end tonight.  There were some shooting headaches, for brief instances and there were some new unpleasant sensations in the lobes, too.  What the fuck is going to happen to me?  Whatever it is, a lot of my remaining time is going to be miserable.  And then there is the thing about what my demise will do to los otros.  I still hold out for the truck getting me, a big stinking truck.  So morbid, eh-try my shoes, my screaming brain.  It might be more fun if it would talk to me instead of the incessant nagging.

I simply don't like the idea of louder and louder screaming in my head until I absolutely cannot tolerate it any longer.  Perhaps the HaySeuss freaks are right, I must have done something really bad to piss the G-man off enough to do this to me.  Soy es una persona muy malo y soy poseido por el diablo.  What a stupid concept, I have just become an unlucky sob and that is all there is to it.  How stupid, I am arguing with myself.

Wish me mucho gusto.
Herr Pedro

Imagine

I am a day late but nevertheless I thought about John Lennon yesterday, his 70th birthday.
I was sad only for his murder when it happened.  Today, I feel a far greater loss for the man who gave us such a beautiful song.  It speaks volumes and it is so pleasing to listen to.
I have requested that it be played at any memorial service for me.

I just hope that isn't too soon.  My head is more awful than it has ever been.  If that is true why do you still walk the Earth, says the skeptic.  Well, you see, I have been up since 3:30 am with no hope for sleep until this calms a bit.  It has barely backed off in the past two weeks.  It does what it always does and morphs into something tolerable, as long as I can sleep.  It eats at my brain as surely some disease would though, once again, it lets me tolerate.  Perhaps it is a creature who loves to torment but not kill.  That could be.

All I know is that it is miserable.  If I stay active mentally I can get by.  The problem seems to truly be sensitivity to sound.  I tolerate less volume than ever before.  The shrieking I now have is such a high frequency I keep hoping, as I have done for over a decade, that it will get to such a high frequency that I cannot hear it.  Of course then I will just feel like crap and not know why.

I cannot tell Judy because Peter and the Wolf, my version of it, will come to the fore.  I have tried to keep my mouth shut but she has to be so tired of any expression of discomfort that should I say something now, she would be annoyed.  I will be on my deathbed and she will be annoyed at any deep sigh, let alone a complaint.
She is the woman whom has never, not once, zilch, nada, zippo, asked me how my ears are.  You may think me kidding but I swear on my mother's grave, this is so.  She must care some but I will never have the luxury of knowing.

I am tired of being a miserable whiner, but you dear Spudnuts are a lifesaver. You give me love and caring in my life aside from the home and that makes so much difference.  It is only an emotional bond but that is enough to change many of my thoughts from shit to Shinola.

2 Kings 2:23-24

NKJV:   Then he went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, “Go up, you baldhead! Go up, you baldhead!” So he turned around and looked at them, and pronounced a curse on them in the name of the LORD. And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.
This is special.  I feel so close to the lord when I read crap like this.  


Praise god.

I really do love life.  The opportunity to enjoy and to help others is everywhere.  I wanted to write a book entitled:  Life is Simple if you Understand its Complexities.  I think it would have been a good one.
Now, I here trying to survive and write tripe like this.
Irony abounds.  I love irony, just wish I had not been the butt of so much of it.

Thunder road, White lightning was his load

What I wrote earlier.  It is the precursor to a really messed up night.  It is 10:40 pm and the noise is so god-damned bad.  It echoes inside my cranium.
I am so fucked. 
Don't know what I will do but guess I will just gut it out as long as I can and then quit.  I do not know what that means, except as an abstruse abstraction.
My apologies, when the time comes, to anyone and everyone whom I shall hurt or cause annoyance by interrupting his/her daily life.  It will come, barring some miracle that I, after 20 yrs of this bull shit, cannot imagine or foresee. 

Shit happens, folks.  Deal with it.  I have had to do so for nearly 21 yrs, now.  I am only angry at myself no one else.

I swore I would figure life out.  I think I may have, but I am unable to do a freaking thing with the knowledge I have gained.  Cannot even pass it on to my daughter.  Messed that up too.

OOPs, I am getting into whining.  Gotta go.

Save the last dance for me

Dear Diary,
I fear that my last diary entry may come this year.  I have been fooled before and that has been a good thing.
However, this has been a most intense week with very little of the time allowing the concentration needed to start anew on my writings for my memoir, Down and Dirty (until the name changes, I am holding out for a better one).
I could not possible describe the intense screeching, screaming and shrieking in my brain.  It is the worst ever when the constancy and the intensity are put together.  I have had this before but not for long.  It builds and builds.  I am not shocked because it was doing so before I went to my reunion in Salina, KS.  I assumed it would worsen some time after I came back.  It has done so but how much is due to the noise I was exposed to and how much would have happened anyway?  I will never know because the "shit" gets worse regardless of what I do.
So, what a freaking sob story, eh?  I just have no idea of how much I can take, how much I will take.  There has to be a perceived benefit for someone, for me to continue.  So far that is working for me.
Another 3 months to get to Vancouver to see Malia, my wonderful daughter.  Can I pull that off?  I have crap going on in my head that would make anyone scream aloud if it were popped into his/her head suddenly.  I am like the frog in water that is gradually heating at this point.  But I feel it so not like the frog because I feel everything.

I will, one day, likely end this shit by myself.  If lucky a truck will find me or some other misfortune.  I regret a couple of things besides dying with the music still in me.  I will hurt several people, some deeply.  It is wonderful to feel that I am loved that much.  Some die totally alone and never feel such a thing.
The other detail I wish is that I could tell everyone what is happening so that I could draw those persons close to me and give a goodbye hug and one last "I love you," to make sure I have done everything.  I will do my best to achieve this without speaking of my exact plight. 

I dread the last of my life because it will be quite the bitch.  and so it goes.  I won't be the first nor the last to put up with unspeakable shit.

I don't know if there is anything to add to this except cleaning up what I can,  to make the thing the least objectionable for others.

I coulda done better but I was always, ALWAYS, trying to do my best and always trying to improve.  Would love to have known more in the early stages of my life, to make the latter stages work better.  In case someone reads this I want to point out that this is sadness not whining.  I don't see it that way, at least.

And so, I must get busy preparing for what seems inevitable but without a specific deadline.  It will happen when it happens.  This year, 2010, I would not change a thing.  I have broken out and returned to some of the world and I have felt love again.  In some ways I am very lucky.  In some ways the whole thing sucks. 
To quote from the Life of  Brian, "Life's a piece of shit, when you look at it.   Always look on the bright side of life!"

Boogie Woogie Blues

It is some kind of blues that I am feeling right now, at 1:15 a.m.  The screaming in my head is almost deafening.  It is pure screaming/screeching or whatever one might want to call it.  It was bad all day, though it diminished for a while. By bedtime it was very bad and after lying in bed for 30 minutes or so I just got up and here I am. 
It has given me time to clean up a few things in my memoories. It just pierces my brain.  I can write and kinda get away from it but I need the sleep.
I was hoping to be less dreary while writing this but it ain't gonna happen just now.  bye.

Blades of Glory

I watched said movie today.  I liked "Land of the Lost" better even not everyone did.
I am trying to stay afloat.  Life is getting harder and harder to deal with.  My head is full of some level of ringing 24/7.  I always got a break here and there, before.  No such animal exists any longer.  I can take a lot, I have already proven that to myself, though I suspect I look like a wimp to others.  If you could hear what I hear, to quote a christmas carol, you would think me one tough sum bitch, but lacking the ability to broadcast on either AM or FM, you will just have to take my word.  It is the most god awful shit one could imagine.  The deal breaker is coming, I just do not know when.
I guess it is time to make a bucket list, though I have a mental one already.  Only one is possibly doable, from where I sit today.  Maybe, if I last long enough I can do 2 of them.
Misery loves company, so I shall be misery's company and not wish this upon anyone but maybe Ahmadinejad. I think I spelled that correctly, too.  But then he would just do something evil because he was so irritated.
I love life so much.  Wish I had more sane time but focus is going rapidly.
Gotta make it another week, until Judy gets home from Las Vegas.  
Dui.  Xie Xie ni.
Yi, Er, San, Si,  Wu, Liu, Chi, Ba, Jiuo, Shi. without the accent marks, 1-10.

Down and Dirty

Hello Sports Fans.  It is time for the Farm Report. 

The  weather is fowl, the weather in my brain, that is.  It is so shitty in my head there have to have been fowl in my brain.  The chickens have come home to roost.  They are scratching around looking for some oyster shell and it is so miserable inside my cranium that I may go freaking crazy.

I want to scream "HELP" at the top of my lungs but there is no one to yell to.   Two things there.  No one would have a clue about what I speak and no one could do anything anyway.  Others would just stare at me, in total silence, and walk away.  I must seem so strange to others.  I cannot describe what is wrong because I do not understand it myself.  I just want someone to hold me and say something nice to me.  The turmoil in my head is at least as bad as the turmoil in the world.  Sucks, you know.

Does any of this make sense?  I think not.

Offal times

Wow!  I went back to bed and sorta slept until a little after 6 am.  I would have to say, based upon what continues to occur, I am totally screwed.  I thank Jesus and his little demon mates for the sleep I did get.  I say mates because there is every possibility that Jesus is Auzzie.  Everything points in that direction.  He is white, for one.  Well, that is enough.  He was never in penal colony but we must assume he had a penis though of course it must have been shriveled.  Maybe, and you have to see the movie Black Dynamite to understand this, he drank too much Anaconda Malt Liquor.  That is why he never learned to love the ladies, whom must have thought him pretty hot.  He always "Looked on the Bright Side of Life" so having a shrunken weenie would not have bothered him, in the long run.  It could not have been cold water that shrunk his pecker because he always stayed on top.  That must have been hell never being able to get below the surface of water. (writing this helps me understand how Will Ferrell movie scripts get created.  Just let it flow, eh.)

Anyway, I thank JaySuess for the sleep.  I will need every drop I can get to survive one more week.  And now I must go put the bird feeders out so the freaking grackles can feed before they finally leave.  Driving me nuts.  Guess I need to Look on the Bright Side of Life, me self.  Wish I could write that with the proper British accent.

Gotta go.  This day is wasting.  Gotta find the Soul Train and be cool, even if I feel really shitty.

I do love life, so.  I merely wish to be a participant rather than a bystander.  Sitting still and watching things go by is ridiculous.  I could have saved the world, I am sure of it.  Hey, a bloke can dream, can't he.  This must be why I have a Jesus fetish.  Love and kisses to all the Christians.  You guys are too simple to know that you are as bad off as I am, when it comes to salvation.  Careful, lads, don't sin too much without accepting Jesus, but if you do sin a bunch, and we know you do, be sure to re-righteous yourselves just before ye die.  A nick of time will give you more time for stealing money and foolin' around.

Sireens in my belfry and the Chickens have come home to roost.

Every day at noon and at 6 pm the sireen used to blow.  There was one in the morning, too, I think.  We could hear it at our house 6 miles north of Burr Oak, KS if the weather conditions were right.  Why it blew I don't know,  maybe so you knew when to eat. 
Well, sir, that is what is going on in my head right now.  It must be time to eat, even if it is only 12:55 am.  Whatever I have said about noise in my ears and head-forget it.  This is the worst ever, on a consistent constant basis.  I have the new Guinness Record for my head.  The frequency is so much higher than that old noon whistle as Mom called it.  I think folks might be able to hear it in Burr Oak, from here.
What am I a gonna do?  Life is untenable with it like this if it keeps going.  It has gone up and up the past 2-3 days.  What a bunch of shit.  I have so much to do yet before I cash in.  It is the most helpless I have ever felt, I think.  There is not a thing that I can do except bear it as best as I can. 
I cannot think of anything cute to write.  There is only one thing I can think of doing that would make me feel better and now I finally realize that I am important to a few people, at least, and there ain't a thing that I can do.  Ignominy does not feel an appropriate ending.  Not dishonor.  I don't know, I guess that is the wrong word.
It would be death without very much honor.  I will just die and a very few people will even remember I was, in  a few short years.  Way to go you fucking zero for a god.  I don't believe in you but all my life I heard so much about you that it seems like you do.  If you did exist you would be a fucking zero.  "Ling" in Chinese. 
I feel like shit.
 I am going back to bed to see if I can lie still and sleep some.  It is a real claustrophobic feeling again but it has never felt this intense for this long.  The KS, NE trip gave me 10 better days than I probably would have had but now the chickens have come home to roost.  There is a good old saying.

Life's a bitch

Went to my class reunion in Salina, KS.  I had a great time.  The "shit" stayed at bay, it wasn't so much fun-the head noise but I got by.  I went to Grand Island to see Carolyn.  Had a good time and had some pretty good days.  A good day for me is one in which I feel I can whip the world, my mind is relatively clear and I think I can deal with the shit.  Then yesterday and today came and what I ran away from to go to KS is back.  It is different but it is not nice.  There are no words to describe it.
I am achieving my short term goals, one by one.  Nate left for Japan and will be signed and settled soon.  Judy is off to Las Vegas to see school mates on Thurs - Sun.  I will make those goals.  The only important one left is to go to Vancouver to see Malia at XMAS time.

How to get through until then seems like a real challenge.  If I am standing I am going.  I am understanding one day at a time, more and more.  I am miserable right now but still hopeful that it will subside so that I can write some more.  I really want to do that now.  I am looking forward to it.  We shall see.

I could sure use someone to hug me and hold me.  That would be nice.  Don't remember the last time it happened, with a real caring hug.  I get the occasional perfunctory hug, usually sideways.  I have essentially given up trying for such things.  I try to hug Judy but it always seems like she is ready to have it end, nearly as soon as it starts.  I love you, words.  Ain't never going to happen.  Wrong, when I take her to the airport she will say "Love ya" before we part.

Thanks, I have whined and feel little better but it doesn't seem to have been useless.

I am so scared for what the rest of my life will be like.  It will be mostly alone and it will be gradually a bigger piece of crap.  I could have done so much to help and I cut myself down, no less than a machine gun nest.    Okay, I am gone.

Bats in the Belfry

My last entry summed it up except that I feel even more like crap.  This was a rather horrid day, to be quite truthful.  Had to drive around town on some errands and that didn't help.  Allergic sneezing does not help at all.
I cannot get a moment of peace in me head, not a wee bit.  Driving 7 hrs to Kansas, a very loud dinner, a drive 3-4 hours to Burr Oak, Blue Hill and Grand Island and then a return trip to COS of 7-8 hours.  When every bump and whine of the tires on the pavement will, at best numb my head and at worst push me much closer to the limits of my tolerance.
I laid my head on Judy's lap tonight because I felt so awful.  She didn't know what to do with her hands so she did nothing, the tennis was far too interesting.  Fooking hell, I am so tired of being alone in this, hanging on for dear life.  Why should things change, silly boy?
This is the whiniest bit of putrefaction, Jesus Christ.  I truly think that J.C. was born just to give us a name to abuse.  That may be his rightful purpose.  Many would deny this truth but God spoke to me and said it to be so. Thanks, Big Guy, for making me the only person you have shared that with.
This picture looks sort of like what is going on in me 'ead.  Actually, nothing this elegant. Just the bats.

Holy Shit, Batman!

I said that because I feel especially religious tonight.  Well, it is the 5 of Sept and the company went away.  Ears suck, partially because of that and partially because of the drift toward infinity.  I guess I shall go to Kansas on Thursday, as prepared for, to my H.S. reunion, in Salina.  Only a 7 hour drive in a noisy car.  Only one evening in a very noisy atmosphere with old friends from the distant past. Then I am thinking of being off to Burr Oak for a little trip around the place to see what there is to see and up to Grand Island with a possible stop by Blue Hill to see cousin Connie.  If I am not going crazy I might even consider seeing Marilyn Hart Bast in Lincoln.  I haven't a lot to lose because this shit in me head is a real bastard and I should like to tell it to "fuck off" at least one more time.  Can't imagine how bad it will be when all is said and done.  I would love to go to Lawrence and KC and Topeka and elsewhere, perhaps.
Holy Shit, that is a lot of stuff.  My dream is to go to Vancouver this fall or at Christmas, to see me lovely daughter.  I have no idea if there will be any sanity in me head by the end of next week.
Holy shit!

If I am not careful I may get a chance to meet Hayseuss and if I am hungry, have a bite of his flesh.  If I do that I should be saved, eh Walt?

Ta Ta For F__ing now.

Tooth of September

This may be a very negative posting; I feel like crap that has been run over by a thousand jackrabbits.  How do I know that, okay so I am extrapolating.  My head really sucks because of the ringing and the fatigue from lack of sleep.  I have felt this way before but never hours before guests are due to arrive.  Arron and Cathy will be here in 1.5-3.0 hrs and I doubt I will be able to put on a good show.  Judy wants to go out to eat and we probably shall.  I am hoping that my head numbs up, like it has in the past, and then I can go on and have a good time.  Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.  Things are different this time but maybe not so much as I think, I hope.

I am so tired of living like a zombie or a wino without the wine. Not familiar with either but surely one of two comparisons is accurate.  There is nothing to add to this worthless prose should it deserve that word.  I feel like shit.

And so it goes...........

Incidents Happen!

I could surely use a dozen Spudnuts right now.  My head is killing me.  Went to a block gathering yesterday.  Have yet to recover from that little gem.  It was fun but my ears are so sensitive that a function like that rocks me on my ass.  Company comes on Thurs eve through Sat noonish.  Judy wants to go to balloon race, which is a very cool event but it is so noisy.  By Sat morning it probably won't matter.  Then I am committed to going to Salina KS for my class reunion.  I was going to my 20th but our basement flooded the night before so didn't go and 5 years later my world had collapsed so I haven't been since 1975.  That sucks.
My new goal in life is to get to Vancouver B.C., even if it kills me off.  Gotta go see my kid at her house.  Gotta do it; I owe it to both of us. Yes, I do.  I love my daughter, gotta find a way.  Crazy head is no excuse.
My head feels like crap.  Chillin' until Thurs night.

Stillborn okay or is that still born okay.

I feel a strange anger, strange partially because of its intensity.   Anger builds and builds because I am less and less able to think and perform.  On a good day, my thoughts are the clearest they have been in my entire life but so what?  If free of this noise, this electrical transformer caroming electrical shocks around in my skull I could make use of those thoughts, maybe.  (Vielleicht.)
I want to do something useful, something productive, something good.  I am want to explode with energy from ideas that come to mind regarding things I could do.  I could conquer the world and yet I must harness everything and listen to my master - the inability to tolerate noise, the very essence of life - noise and sound.
I want to quit and die and have it over with but .....  Maybe I can squeeze something else out of the old brain and this body that is healthy and bursting with available energy.  I am so angry that I have to put a choke-chain on all my desires, to keep them in check, for if I do what I would like I would not sleep for a week because of all the noise I would stir up in my brain and ears.
I want to love, I want to live, I want to work and create, and I want to feel all those things that I did not know how to feel when younger.  I am unencumbered by fear now.  There is nothing that comes to mind that I fear, aside from being disemboweled and a few other tortures.  I fear no man except the physical harm that he could cause; emotionally I fear nothing.  Years of looking death, silence, controlled emotions, and whatever else, have taken all the fear away.
That makes me angry because the most beautiful things I can imagine are kept away because I am locked into this brain, the one that is so sensitive in only one way/one aspect., but I am as strong as my weakest link.  Keep baseball bats from me for I do fear that I might go crazy and break very expensive stuff.

Born Okay the First Time!

The last post was to have had words but I got stuck; somehow I could not add words other than to the caption.
c'est la vie, eh?
I am trying to finish off the trilogy of Stieg Larrson books:  The Girl with the dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and the The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.  So fun to read.  So well done.
And so, I was reading, trying to get about the horror movie in my head - movie with only audio so maybe it isn't a movie.  It is an LP that is stuck in a groove with the same sound.  I had to laugh as I took a break from the Hornet's Nest and thought what a farce my life has turned into.  I tried so very hard to do the right thing and only now, when I can do essentially nothing with my knowledge, do I really get how things should / could have been done.   I could write a book on that subject alone.
I could scream or break things or do some rogue activity with the frustration I feel inside.  I have messed up damned near everything and seem to continue to do so.  No one has the patience to figure me out and I have no idea of how to express myself and I cannot even thing of a good reason to do so.  I always wanted, more than anything else, for people to understand me (whatever that may mean).  I just wanted to be loved and understood.  Now, I know that love is probably there or at least was but the rest ??????
I don't even know how to flesh out this idea, it is something that hangs subconsciously like neuronal stalactites.  What garbage this would sound like to another being.  There is truth in this but the flesh is missing.
and so it goes.

Holy Shit, Holy Cow, Holy Toledo

Argyle Sweater cartoon

T.S.

The Shit, T.S., is really bad tonight and parts of today.  It takes so much away from me regarding my ability to think and to create anything.  It more and more eats the essence of who I am or at least who I want to be.  The kim chee is so deep right now that I would sell my soul if there was someone whom to sell it to.  I can keep puttering along and I shall but when I wake up after a couple hours of sleep with the noise intensity up to F16 afterburner level I just want to scream. 

I have no idea what is going to happen to me but it don't look pretty and I would rather not be me for the rest of my life unless some amazing thing happens to give me some relief.

Writing this is meaningless but what the hey/hay?  It is something to do and a place to talk to about my feelings of self-pity, isolation, and increasing desolation.  I believe: SHIT HAPPENS, but it sure sucks when one has to deal with it for such a long period of time.   The slow rot literally and figuratively "stinks."

Ramadan Begins. What a bfd.

Another day provided by a god who is so forgiving that people will die because of the day.  Whoa, that is negative.  Sorry.  But I drew no caricature of the big one, so I should be okay.

Damn, my brain is a mess.  I went for a haircut, could not stand what little hair I had - tickled my neck.  The point is that my ears/head are so sensitive that what used to bother but would then subside, now turns into a major mess and robs me of a whole bunch of sleep.  It is 5:38 am and I have been awake from the headcrap since 3:45am.  The barbershop is a noisy place with the noise next to my ears.

The worst thing that is about to happen is the confluence of my ears trying to max me out - with Marion and Mark coming in 2.5 weeks, followed by the likely appearance of Arron and Cathy, followed by my class reunion in Salina,KS to which I said I would go.  Just a trip to the barbershop is really bad.  Previously, my ears numbed out and I felt little while out and about.  That has changed, Meinen Damen und Herren.  I will just press on and try to get sleep, which is the key to everything.  If I can sleep a fair amount I punch on through and think that I don't sound like a fooking idiot, debatable to say the least.

It has been a pleasure to whine with you this morning, Mr. Spudnut.  I shall simply move along now, the show is over.  Move along folks, the tragedy is past; the tow truck is here and needs some room to maneuver.  Please folks, Move out of the way for the tow truck.  Step back.  BullHorn:  STEP BACK OR I WILL USE THIS TASER AND I WILL CALL IN THE TEAR GAS.  THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING.

I could use a Spudnut right now.

The head thing, yes it continues, though it eased enough to make me think something was improved.  Now, it is engulfing me all over again.  I felt brave enough about tolerating noise that I went for haircut.  Earplugs in, I addressed the barber with, "I want a haircut," to which I received a strong,"You've come to the right place!"  We all agreed on that. 
It is good to have something to agree upon.
I have done this before but I have tried again; I pledge to get on with life and plunge forward to the best of my ability, being as productive as possible or at least die trying.  So be it, by the holiest of Flying Spaghetti Monsters available, I swear this oath.

Amen! Hose in the Highest.
Love and kisses -  Mr. Peterdactyl, lover of Spudnuts

Back so soon. Es manana.

My head is close to horrible.  If something does not give I am in a major pickle, to put it mildly.  It is 1:45 am and sleep isn't anywhere near unless the pickle can go back to being a cucumber.  It is quite miserable being me, at this point in time.  I have worked with so many people with pain and other maladies so it is strange and lonely to be on the side with the crap going on, the crap seemingly with no end and the crap that seemingly will one day nail my ass.  

It is the same crap that makes me look like a weak fool,  hanging me out to dry all alone.  It would be better to have something that would cause family and friends to gather round so that I could say goodbye.  This crap has taken my visible soul; I still have a big one that is very very good but I have withdrawn so much that hardly anyone would guess I am still the person I used to be and an improved version.

Oh, woe is me, eh?  This must sound so pathetic but I know not what else to do or say.  I, most of all, fear that I - the man who swore he would be the best father possible - have alienated my beloved daughter.  If I have, then that is a true tragedy for the both of us.

Stuck in this dill brine, I have too much time to over-evaluate everything.  

My f__ing head is killing me, literally as well as figuratively.

Sometimes I feel better for having written.  The cool-aid didn't work this time.

Ayer fue Sabado, Manana sera Lunes.

Jesus Christ, today sucked.  Last night we planned to attend Shakespeare in the Park but found that it was by ticket only, to a sold out venue.  So, says I, "It seems a shame to waste getting all dressed up, let's go to a movie."  We went to see "The Girl Who Played With Fire" and it was excellent and very loud.  My earmuffs kept a lot of the sound out of my head but today has been like putting my ear next to the crystal wine glass as it is continuously ringing, very loudly.  I feel very expensive and drunk. 

Would I ever want someone to read my mournful postings?   I would rather have a hug but it doesn't really matter.  Sympathy and empathy are not so bad either, I suppose. 

I read obituaries about people who "made a courageous fight" against whatever kind of cancer they died of.  I walk around looking just fine with people wondering why I am such a pussy.  Just deal with it, some have said and I am sure the masses think the same thing.  No one knows what to say, especially after more than 20 years.  Little do they know that the last year +, has been one of less and less backing off.  This shit simply gets worse and worse.  I have done more but have paid a significant price.  I hope to go out with as little rust as possible.  Naval Jelly for the soul; do stuff to keep the rust down and enjoy as much as I can with the time left.

Truth is:  this is a real "PISSER" as folks back home used to say.

Love and kisses
 Mr Spudnut aka Mr. Peterdactyl

Las noches son muy largas

My level of anger grows and grows.  The screeching, shrieking noise that reverberates inside my cranium, from lobe to lobe.  Anger is there because I have so many things that I want to do, my energy level and my desire to do something positive with my life, something good, something fun is so strong.  I am alive because I am not dead, much of the time.  If the ringing were something tangible I would beat it until dead, very very dead.  What can I do?  Everything in the world is noisy, I mean every activity.  I am very weary.

There is no rest for the wicked and the righteous don't need any.  It is obvious where I fit in.  I must not need any.

Hoy es ahora

I went for the bike ride, put in 8.5 miles half of which is significant uphill at 7,000 ft. elev..  It feels so good to do it and now my brain is screaming like La LLorona crying for her children.  I am going crazier by the day and maybe by the hour.  I want to do constructive stuff and I cannot get past the sound of brakes trying to stop without brake-pads, sort of like metal on metal.  I would ask Jesus for some help but he has been eating lunch for 63 years now.  Gotta find a new magical character.  HaySeuss is all worn out.
This is a pretty ugly piece of prose with no redeeming value.  I wonder how long I can hold out.  No one knows how bad I am doing and telling will get me nowhere.  And I am not looking for sympathy, I would simply like someone to hold me and stroke my head or shoulder and soothe my nerves a bit.  I don't want to let anyone down but there is nearly nothing left for me now, survival for the sake of survival.  Yikes, I just got a big electric shock in my left ear, fun.

Thank you Mr. Donut, for listening.  You listen like god listens, very patiently with no interruptions.  Maybe Mr. Spudnut is God, wouldn't that be a hoot.  I feel better, too.  Wow, I wonder if he wants to smite anyone.  I guess if you eat too many of his children you might get smited or is that smote.  I know I used to be smitten by those delicious pastries.
Thanks glazed raised.

Today

Holy crap, Batman, this cranium feels like a vault full of ricocheting volts. Side to side and all around they go.  It builds and builds.  I want to go bicycling but I know the vibration and the exertion both give me fits later.  I shall go because my hip needs the exercise as well as the rest of me.  I always feel on top of the world when I get back.  If I cannot think any better than I do now the exercise will do me more good, even with the side effects, than stewing; I don't even have a bone to gnaw on.  Going to Cripple Creek, goin' to Cripple Creek on the ride.  Okay, not quite that far.  Hasta la vista, Baby.  I'll be bahque.

Eatin' goober peas. They sure are delicious.

Hoy es Domingo.  Somewhere it is someone's sabbath.  Ain't that special.  It is my today.

I been a thinkin' again and I need some painkillers, pronto, it hurts so bad, the thinkin' that is.  What can I do to pull off this here charade called life?   My cranial contents are screaming at about 18-19,000 Hz,  20,000 being the max we homo sapiens can hear, they say.  I am sure that is a bit high for my 63 year old cognition but it sounds right.  It goes from temporal lobe to temporal lobe and everything in between.  The stuff just keeps piling on and every little thing I do seems to make it worse.  One moment I feel like I cannot take any more, other than to zone out and try not to feel anything.  That is a fun way to live, feeling nothing.  That is the basic response of a corpse, still warm, of course and without a hint of rigor mortis.  The next moment I am in the tolerable zone again and I start to hope and plan a bit.  And then the cycle replays, though the length of the curves is a bit out of the range of a sinusoidal curve, that is to say it is not predictable by any formula.
y(t) = A . sin (wt + 0) doesn't work, and I once upon a time knew what it meant.  Ain't that special.
If you have a depressive personality, do not read my stuff today.  Ha.

I prefer Ha!  It is what my Mom wrote in her letters and it sounds normal.  Knowing that LOL means laugh out loud makes no sense because most things that are funny are not LOL rated.  They are simple grin moments and Ha is closer to the moment.  Now when something is uproarious LMAO fits the bill.  I may just ROTFWLMAO.  (rolling on the floor whilst laughing my ass off)  Now that would really be a hoot, wouldn't it.
Thanks Spudnut.  I feel better.  Perhaps I can associate with people, should any appear.

Mr Peterdactyl

Spudnuts are terrific

It is Friday night, ain't got nobody to talk to.  Ain't got nothin' but the sound of electric power lines moseying through my cortexes, all of them except the cerebellum.  That I like, cause that cortex keeps the balance aworkin'.  Sometimes, I get really dizzy-like and have to hold my hand to follow the wall.  I hate that; Dad fell against the restaurant wall as we exited,  that was after Mom died and I was visiting him.  So we went to get something good to eat, neither of us being such good chefs - Dad's specialty was scrambled eggs with bright yellow mustard straight out of the yellow plastic squirt barrel.
Tomorrow will be Saturday, in the Western Hemisphere, assuming Earth isn't flat.  Those danged Christians may just be right, though.  They have every thing figured out and they don't mess around with wishy-washy stuff like confusing data.  The Good Book has it all right there, clean and simple.  Earth was created 9:00 A.M, Monday October 23, 4004 B.C. .  In the 1600s, the extremely intelligent Irish Archbishop James Ussher took all that information about what God did right from the get-go, deerectly out of the King James rendition.  Flatness of the Earth used to have roots in that same book, I don't know why they dropped the logic, damned shame though.  It is good to keep everything simple, so much confusion out there otherwise.   It would make my head spin even without the cortex thing goin' on, from knight's Templar, or is that temple to temple?  Hell, I don't know.  I wonder if they talk about Banshees in the Bible.  Since the Irishman got the start date down so good and Banshees being Irish, I just have to make that logical connection.
I love being thoughtful like this, it just feels good to think and figure stuff out.

Banshee

I figure I ain't worth a plug nickel nor am I worth a fart in the wind anymore.

Such lovely ladies but do not mock them or they will take care of you, post hast.  I just have to keep listening to them because making fun of things makes me feel better but not as better as not having a Banshee for an enemy.
Well, I just wanted to report in and tell the lovers of Spudnuts that I feel like crap rather than fluffy, sweet and delicious like a Spudnut.

Thankee and goodnight.

1.2 ahole G continues his tricks upon P

Feel really crappy today. Head wants to spin and I feel in some other dimension than the usual. Stomach a wee bit weird.
The noise is pretty ugly.
This is for no one other than me. I just need to vent the way I feel.
We went to a garage sale down the street. I was zoned out and didn't realize that I knew the people sitting in front of me. Their voices echoed through my head. It was pretty strange inside so must have come across the same to them.
I have never felt this way before and it is only getting worse.
Useless as tits on a boar, or am becoming that way.

Genesis 1.1

I begin. Today is the first day.
My head is screaming with tinnitus and associated sounds; most of my brain is going rather berserk. I am writing to let out my emotions and frustrations, this time. Perhaps I shall benefit from writing here.
Suddenly, the desire to write has faded. It is late so I shall bath and move to the place of slumber.
This shall be edited soon, I hope.
Good night.