Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

It's me, Hest. How are ya? Long time no read. Nice to be "home" again here for a few minutes under the ticking library clock. ...
Been working hard on learning this new job I got..it is really something, I mean it is a challenge, not only in what one has to do to adjudicate SSD claims, but also my resistance to it, my silent smiling abhorance at the clunkiness and underhandedness, (as I percieve it) of our Gov. programs. No wonder FEMA was such a failure. I don't know who writes these Gov. regulations and programs but they do everything in their power to be elusive about what they really have to offer, they advertise themselves as helping hands but they really are not. Which would be fine with me if they were up front about it..but the way I see it, they kind of lead people on and set them up for disappointment and that is wrong.
Why don't they just say that in order to get disability you have to be nearly, if not completely dead. It would save alot of heartache....
Anyway, thass my world folks...miss you all, miss having the computer and the time to come here and hang out and get inspired.
But it's okay because at some point I WILL BE BACK!!!!!.
In the meantime...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!GO OUT! PARTY! GET DRUNK AND SCREW!!!!! YEEEHAWWWWW!
XO
H

happy new year, theda. i miss you, but can feel your presence. why is that? you have cast your voodoo spell into my heart that's why! party on sister hester.

Hi Hester..you keep on rockin girl...

Happy New Year to you Hes', and thank you for keeping in touch. You've been around as long as many of us here and it's comforting to know so many of us oldtimers from 'way back when..' are still pumpin' out the writes that keep us from hell.

See ya' next year!

C

sign in, hester, sign in, and let the sign traverse the globe
computers are a fabulous tool
but you're lodged forever in my heart
clickin to the beat

Why don't they just say that in order to get disability you have to be nearly, if not completely dead. It would save alot of heartache....

Crap. That's what I thought. So much for the dream of early retirement 'cause I'm feeling sick as a dog. LOL ... how disconcerting, your comment. sighh

Great to see you, Hest! I'm sure there is so much red tape with your job that it can be challenging.

Glad you took a moment to stop by on the library clock to check in. We've missed you around these parts!

Happy New Year to you!

Even so Hester those people are fortunate to have you on their side.

I know
You will do the best can for them

What you doing to have fun these days?

Have you found a music gig yet?

Thanks for keeping in touch.

Voodoo?

Have you ever heard Hester sing?


http://studioeight.tv/musicpost/theda/loverman.mp3

http://studioeight.tv/musicpost/theda/b ... ckbird.mp3

http://studioeight.tv/musicpost/theda/ithadtobeyou.mp3

http://studioeight.tv/musicpost/theda/d ... ndmuch.mp3

Hey! I'm back! I scored a little laptop off a craigslist! Seems to be working! Wow, I can't believe it! Work is still hard though....so i'll probably still be online a lot less. But I'm back and drooling to be writing and reviewing. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeHAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
H

enjoy your new puter.
see you found time to raid your diaries as well.

Hey man I could use a public pen pal Theda.





Well I am writing this to you hes with j in mind. It makes me crazy that she has to be where she is.

people drop bits and pieces of their lives
like snips from their diaries I suppose.

I know she is where she has to be hes, it makes no sense to me, I am just diaspora. This whole thing of having a homeland is alien to me.

I think of Red Emma and the deal she got from her adopted homeland, and I can understand Golda Meir a little better.

Thinking about your diary poem. I got pictures from the gone world



And vivid eidetic memories of the "first women" they circumsized my heart they owned me
Reminds me of those Native American myths of "First Woman"

First sisters.

Some tribes of American Indians considered themselves to be the only true people.

It took me the first thirty three years of my life to learn that a woman is a woman is a rose,

An Irish rose or a rose in spanish harlem

My mother's name was rose,

But the one who spooked me the most was my grandmother,
something weird about my memory, I can't remember a melody two seconds after the last note has faded into remote consciousness but I can remember baths she gave me in her kitchen sink. She played this little piggy went to market and for years I thought I had eleven toes.

Just digression for J
something might amuse her
or confuse you
just a moment distraction from the anticipation of the next boom
has it come to that,
I hope not
you got that zen thing going right

she meant me no harm
I am sure she never imagined me remembering

it could all be a trick of the light
it probably never happened
I am much too vain about my memory

Boy boy do I remember those baths
they were great
I was a very clean child.


long time woman hater j
it took the shiksa from smith college on a queer sultry day in NYC the summer they executed the rosenbergs.

Before you were born I think
I was going on 13 that summer
a spooky feeling to be a Jew boy in the promised land that summer

I hope I digressed you for a while

Ah Hester
just another careless fart
if you read this thanks
for the keeping in touch
sincerely
still trucking et al.
this my nom de guerre
my take no prisoners
go for the throat
sock puppet
till the war is over
which war you might ask

"The Hundred Years War against the Cows" Firesign?


Bubbie in the Baltimore Sun April of 1970

She circumcised my heart

Always out on the fringes
That house on Eastern Avenue
I can remember so much about it
The images from my first nightmares
or the earliest ones I can remember
Go back to World War Two.
Just second hand smoke from the frightened adults around the wood stove in the front room where she kept her big floor model radio and listened to the war news.



The shiksa that was so stupid about electrocutions.

She opened my mind.

A racist term, but my grandmother had me convinced that the only real women were Jewesses.

Marginal Man
when tinker jack met hester prynne
I am done high jacking
pardon me

I can't get these red shoes off my fingers.
not quite an inky death
but I am dancing
the keyboard jitterbug

No one likes what is going on at all Still....and I worry for J too, if she only knew how often I think of her, with all of the love and wishes of safety I can muster...
I fear for her deeply where she is right now, in such terrible harms way....it makes me literally weep.
I hope she knows this, feels me pulling for her in my way, unattached to the war's sides, against the violence totally, praying for her, for her very being which is so precious to me.
H

i'm okay, i'm alright.
if it's not here, it would be somewhere else. And it is somewhere else. All over this planet, there's violence. But different flavours. like some locations eat beans and others rice. Some kill because they know no better and others for reasons that we're expected to understand.

It's not easy being a human being, but right now that's our gig.