A Moment's Clarity

It's working. I think it's working. Life and energy, and clarity of vision.... Oh god, is this place dirty! As my focus returns, I swear there is actual fuzz. On the objet d'art, there appears to be light brown chick fuzz. No, no I'm not hallucinating, there is fuzz. And every lovely oak surface is dusty. I say this charitably. And it appears I have been eating in bed, as there is a brown stain on the edge of my top sheet that can only be chocolate ice cream. The surface of the kitchen table has smears of butter and a scattering of crumbs and is covered with a neat pile of mail--Melea brings it out and stacks it for me--She is the daughter who seems to love me best. Though it is, perhaps, the fact that she hasn't really seen me at my worst. Oh, she thinks she has, but no, no. She has not seen me at my worst.

I have friends at Face Book, or My Space or however you young people say it, type it. Whatever. Anyway, I have friends. So there Randal. Oh, by the way Randal, do you have an Agent I could borrow? We have a book that needs publishing. Na na, na na, na, na. Anybody have an Agent? We have several stories that I believe have great cinematic potential. And we have a diversity of cultures, ages, and voices. It's a really interesting book, and it's speeding to it's chilling conclusion. Among our writers we have four really great editors and that's a godsend for a good collaboration. Each writer knows what she intends to say. These are damn strong women, overworked and raising families, moving to France in one case. I am the least able editor, and the only writer who spends half her day stretched out in bed, watching any old crap on MSNBC or CNN. This is a shameless admission. Oh well.

So, aside from writing this rather manic gloat, I have changed my bed, washed my laundry, and begun the dusting. I washed two dog bed covers, my towels. Fascinating isn't it. I also got a heart monitor to wear for the next month. Just like a tiny EKG. Then I cleaned my fridge, and went to the grocery store. I thought for a few minutes yesterday, that I might have lost my apatite and would lose some weight, but sadly that's not likely. For dinner, I had three thick lamb chops and fresh, cut from the cob, Texas style, creamed corn--one of my long departed grandmother's delicacies. All in all it's been a good day. And if when you read this, it's complete gibberish, we'll know I'm not tuned up quite right yet.

Something For We The People

Send Karl Rove to Jail

I received this in my morning email alerts. Please pass it on. Let's see Karl face a little justice from the Justice Department he has worked so hard to politicize. Executive privilege my ass.

In My Travels

Yesterday when I was visiting sites I've missed napping as I adjusting to my bipolar drug change, while looking in on Franiam I found her post dedicated to this site and this post. It really resonates for me because I could so easily be homeless. Had I not taken care of my mother in her descent into dementia, and inherited her house, I very well might be homeless. Thanks to what began with the Reagan "revolution," we now have no facilities to care for those who cannot care for themselves. It will get worse. The mortgage meltdown, bank failures, a falling dollar, rising costs and gas prices rising almost daily, we are in deep dodo. I know this isn't news to any of you, but I am old enough to know that prior to Reagan we did not have a "homeless problem." I've talked about this before and not that long ago, but thanks to Franiam, we now have this site to educate us, and make it real in a way nothing else does, short of being homeless yourself. Please read this: Under the Overpass