whew!
thanks!
AAAAAArrrrRRRggggggGGGG!
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Have you ever missed your security blanky so much that you could not function. Well I needed a pot of alamo rose's cabbage soup real bad, but I don't think I got much longer to live because I put some pork in it. Not a bible scholar but I bet that one would get you killed or worms. Well if I have not turned your stomach with the smell of cooking cabbage yet
what I want to know is
Carrotts,
I been thinking about adding some carrotts, but sometimes I have taken it too far and added one too many ingredients. But carrotts so organge, how could I go wrong?
I had to eat the cabbages, the last one turned black in my fridge. And fore some reason I tought of uncle miltie and his cabbages in the bra stchick.
I swear I will go down to alamo mission and kneel to the holy spirit and the virgin mother. For eating the pork. I feel guilty as hell about that. That mighty smighty god of my mother's, a long a way from the The Things Of New Spain.
so what about it
carrotts, yeah I think if will add them
but that pork putting the fear of the all mighty dadio, I mean maybe that sounds so much bravado, He dares me to believe in the abomination on the mountain tops. Hard not too, those goddesses consorts to blood encrusted gods, I think we are making progress
uncle miltie lost his demographics by the time his show reached the heart land. Yiddish humour didn't play in Peoria.
I started out to be funny and freaked, reminds me of college nightmare about sleeping through an exam.
I hope there is something funny in there, my gut instinct is to delete, but I leave them all
but sometimes I edit the hell out of them, this one could sure use some laughs.
this started out as something else moved it fhere from another board
the title was
Unkosher Stone Soup
the feeling was
AAAAAArrrrRRRggggggGGGG!
what I want to know is
Carrotts,
I been thinking about adding some carrotts, but sometimes I have taken it too far and added one too many ingredients. But carrotts so organge, how could I go wrong?
I had to eat the cabbages, the last one turned black in my fridge. And fore some reason I tought of uncle miltie and his cabbages in the bra stchick.
I swear I will go down to alamo mission and kneel to the holy spirit and the virgin mother. For eating the pork. I feel guilty as hell about that. That mighty smighty god of my mother's, a long a way from the The Things Of New Spain.
so what about it
carrotts, yeah I think if will add them
but that pork putting the fear of the all mighty dadio, I mean maybe that sounds so much bravado, He dares me to believe in the abomination on the mountain tops. Hard not too, those goddesses consorts to blood encrusted gods, I think we are making progress
uncle miltie lost his demographics by the time his show reached the heart land. Yiddish humour didn't play in Peoria.
I started out to be funny and freaked, reminds me of college nightmare about sleeping through an exam.
I hope there is something funny in there, my gut instinct is to delete, but I leave them all
but sometimes I edit the hell out of them, this one could sure use some laughs.
this started out as something else moved it fhere from another board
the title was
Unkosher Stone Soup
the feeling was
AAAAAArrrrRRRggggggGGGG!
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
Aaaarrrrggggghhhhhhhh......
Add the carrots already
some of us are hungry!
Do you see how Doreen cleverly and bravely threw herself in the way of your delete? You've been blocked!
Add the carrots already
some of us are hungry!
Do you see how Doreen cleverly and bravely threw herself in the way of your delete? You've been blocked!
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Aaaarrrrggggghhhhhhhh......
Add the carrots already
some of us are hungry!
Do you see how Doreen cleverly and bravely threw herself in the way of your delete? You've been blocked!
Add the carrots already
some of us are hungry!
Do you see how Doreen cleverly and bravely threw herself in the way of your delete? You've been blocked!
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
Ok well go ahead and delete it if you must.... i would never deny that... I think the ability of a member of the community to delete their words here is one of the greatest things about this software...
hell, I wish I could take back a LOT of stuff I've said... heh
Here's a poem I wrote about it some time back
i take it back
oh how often i have wished
to have removed a statement said
and yet my words do oft' persist –
i speak too fast, then after bed
when i awake i feel a blush
as mem'ry of my night becomes
a song i wish i hadn't played
complete with off-key notes and drums
which pound inside my chest, and death
i wish to each ill parted breath!
if ev'ry word i spoke sincere
is heard from ev'ry list'ning ear,
i'd wish i could erase their track
and re-record to take them back!
speak slow, i tell myself, speak well,
since words are etched in hearts as placed,
and never can a spoken word
be edited or e'er erased.
this is my hope, my only mission,
to act upon my words.
to listen.
dp.6.7.2004
hell, I wish I could take back a LOT of stuff I've said... heh
Here's a poem I wrote about it some time back
i take it back
oh how often i have wished
to have removed a statement said
and yet my words do oft' persist –
i speak too fast, then after bed
when i awake i feel a blush
as mem'ry of my night becomes
a song i wish i hadn't played
complete with off-key notes and drums
which pound inside my chest, and death
i wish to each ill parted breath!
if ev'ry word i spoke sincere
is heard from ev'ry list'ning ear,
i'd wish i could erase their track
and re-record to take them back!
speak slow, i tell myself, speak well,
since words are etched in hearts as placed,
and never can a spoken word
be edited or e'er erased.
this is my hope, my only mission,
to act upon my words.
to listen.
dp.6.7.2004
Beautiful Doreen.
"to listen"
to learn
Sometimes I wish there were a delete button in real life.
I'd never use it....
But the temptation, ah, the temptation...
Your poem expresses my feelings well.
Sometimes I think I should just shut up. But the thoughts keep coming and they need a way out, somewhere to go, somewhere to flow. Perhaps a gentle eye to read to understand....
I don't know.
Write that on my tombstone....
She didn't know
She didn't fucking know
Ha Ha....and so she wandered off laughing....
crazily laughing
into the wind
And you see, now I could delete....but I won't
"to listen"
to learn
Sometimes I wish there were a delete button in real life.
I'd never use it....
But the temptation, ah, the temptation...
Your poem expresses my feelings well.
Sometimes I think I should just shut up. But the thoughts keep coming and they need a way out, somewhere to go, somewhere to flow. Perhaps a gentle eye to read to understand....
I don't know.
Write that on my tombstone....
She didn't know
She didn't fucking know
Ha Ha....and so she wandered off laughing....
crazily laughing
into the wind
And you see, now I could delete....but I won't
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
it started out a post to the as a post to lucy's baby picture,
thinking about the patterns in my life and how I dealt with childhood fears, that froze in the headlights moment, that keeps looping, imagined fears so much harder to deal with then just the mundane experience of blowing a steer axle tire
after I posted it to
Ask da Biotch!
I thought trailer park was where it should go.
Lord knows I should delete more posts, but after that night with LR the lazy bear and SB, I felt I should not delete any posts, I tend to over kill.
I trust in your prunning shears. So i will let it be.
I got can of stewed tomatoes, what do you think?
a nice red, can't be bad. Maybe garlic?
She used to make it kind of sweet and sour, used rock salt I think, but the one soup she did manage to teach me was chicken, incredible clear broth, protoplasmic globules of translucent smaltz floating in it. The only thing I have ever wanted to shoot up my veins.
I got to go because poverty will come on me like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man. if I don't quit this compulsive scribling
thinking about the patterns in my life and how I dealt with childhood fears, that froze in the headlights moment, that keeps looping, imagined fears so much harder to deal with then just the mundane experience of blowing a steer axle tire
after I posted it to
Ask da Biotch!
I thought trailer park was where it should go.
Lord knows I should delete more posts, but after that night with LR the lazy bear and SB, I felt I should not delete any posts, I tend to over kill.
I trust in your prunning shears. So i will let it be.
I got can of stewed tomatoes, what do you think?
a nice red, can't be bad. Maybe garlic?
She used to make it kind of sweet and sour, used rock salt I think, but the one soup she did manage to teach me was chicken, incredible clear broth, protoplasmic globules of translucent smaltz floating in it. The only thing I have ever wanted to shoot up my veins.
I got to go because poverty will come on me like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man. if I don't quit this compulsive scribling
Garlic?
Of course add garlic!
I love garlic......I breathe garlic!
Ha, I wonder if this is why I have no friends! 
Why hhhhhhhhello there, anyone want to hhhhhhhhang out?
Apparently not!
Would this be a good post to delete?
Apparently not!
Of course add garlic!
I love garlic......I breathe garlic!
Ha, I wonder if this is why I have no friends! Why hhhhhhhhello there, anyone want to hhhhhhhhang out?
Apparently not!
Would this be a good post to delete?
Apparently not!
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I don't know about the garlic, the soup has been cooking two days now, very tasty, I just don't fucking know either, I mean I am not sure about the garlic.
man I went around and around with someone about a post I deleted off the flame board there. But I don't think it was the post she hated, pretty sure it was just me.
this place so much more friendly, says something about LR and DP I think.
I like Dustin Hoffman's idea for his tombstone
"I could not have got here with out my parents'
this one is good too I think
"I knew this was going to happen"
life goes on Baby Rose born to two of the sweetest men I know, jitterbug's grandaughter and jitterbug's son I been waiting years for him to add some decent genes to the pool
I don't know why this picture is so screwed up, it looks ok but posts like crap?
man I went around and around with someone about a post I deleted off the flame board there. But I don't think it was the post she hated, pretty sure it was just me.
this place so much more friendly, says something about LR and DP I think.
I like Dustin Hoffman's idea for his tombstone
"I could not have got here with out my parents'
this one is good too I think
"I knew this was going to happen"
life goes on Baby Rose born to two of the sweetest men I know, jitterbug's grandaughter and jitterbug's son I been waiting years for him to add some decent genes to the pool
I don't know why this picture is so screwed up, it looks ok but posts like crap?
I like Dustin Hoffman period.
I don't ask questions re your posts. I think you're making a patchwork quilt out of words and images.
I like this Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhh thread.
I'm not much of a ranter but I'm great for Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhing!!!!!!
Aargh and out
I don't ask questions re your posts. I think you're making a patchwork quilt out of words and images.
I like this Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhh thread.
I'm not much of a ranter but I'm great for Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhing!!!!!!
Aargh and out
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
Sometimes a scream is necessary. Animals howl. Animals bellow. Animals screech, shout, squall, whine. We are animals. Human animals but animals still.
When we feel trapped or threatened or so frustrated there is no other option, the primal scream can come. Unfortunately, there are not many places available to scream. At least not for me. I often wish I lived in the wilderness, in the mountains or forest somewhere, walden pond or somewhere where the only contact I have with other human beings is by rumors from a bird's chirp or a lion's roar or a thunderstorm.
Thunderstorms are my companions. They comfort me because they teach me how much I'm not in control. They are the discordant music of the sky gods. Thunder is drumbeats. Lightning is an accompanying fireworks show. And when the sky claps, my heart beats harder, the rhythm of the moment knocks me off my feet. I run to the window. I want to get closer to it. I go outside and dance in the shower after tree branches have fallen. My daughter is frightened. She hides under the sheets. She tells me she wants me with her. She doesn't want me near the window. She begs me not to go outside. Storm showers can be violent. They are the violins and oboes; the brass, the piano chords struck at once with rage and temper. When they subside into ladyrain, they become the cellos and woodwinds; the piccolo, the xylophone.
There is nowhere to scream. This is the city, the sprawling metropolis. Concrete doesn't understand a scream. Neighbors will call the police if I run to the street to let out a shriek. Uniformed officers will show up in moments to handcuff me for disturbing the peace and haul me away to a concrete shelter with bars where I will be caged and fed like an animal through a metal window. A judge will rule me insane and order my restriction inside a frozen institution decorated with bars on the windows. I will be confined in a white suit with buckles and led to a darkened room where they will hook me up to electrodes designed to examine my thought processes. They will feed me chemicals intravenously. They will put foul-tasting pills beneath my tongue and force me to swallow. I will become distorted, unfeeling flesh, passionless, eyes fixed and dilated, sitting in a hardback chair near a back window, apparently observing air currents and worms which crawl on the windowsill.
No, you cannot scream in the streets of a sprawling metropolis unless you wear torn, tattered clothing with mud stains and carry a sign that says you are homeless. Only then will you be ignored and allowed privacy but only for short, irregular pieces of time. Short, irregular pieces of time are perfect for a scream.
Babies get to scream. They are allowed to wail. When they do, they are comforted by mama with stroke and calm voice. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhh. It's OK. It's OK. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Why are babies allowed to scream and we are not? Who will comfort me when I wail?
I am painting a picture of a white bird with wings spread, the sunset his halo, his beak pointing east. Below his left wing, he has a man's torso. There is an old woman's face embedded in his belly, creased, defined. Her cheeks are sunken, hollow. Her eyes are deep-set in her head. They have shadows around them. The woman is me. The woman is me. She is embedded into the chest of a bird, the man's torso framing her prominent cheekbones. The bird can scream. She cannot.
When we feel trapped or threatened or so frustrated there is no other option, the primal scream can come. Unfortunately, there are not many places available to scream. At least not for me. I often wish I lived in the wilderness, in the mountains or forest somewhere, walden pond or somewhere where the only contact I have with other human beings is by rumors from a bird's chirp or a lion's roar or a thunderstorm.
Thunderstorms are my companions. They comfort me because they teach me how much I'm not in control. They are the discordant music of the sky gods. Thunder is drumbeats. Lightning is an accompanying fireworks show. And when the sky claps, my heart beats harder, the rhythm of the moment knocks me off my feet. I run to the window. I want to get closer to it. I go outside and dance in the shower after tree branches have fallen. My daughter is frightened. She hides under the sheets. She tells me she wants me with her. She doesn't want me near the window. She begs me not to go outside. Storm showers can be violent. They are the violins and oboes; the brass, the piano chords struck at once with rage and temper. When they subside into ladyrain, they become the cellos and woodwinds; the piccolo, the xylophone.
There is nowhere to scream. This is the city, the sprawling metropolis. Concrete doesn't understand a scream. Neighbors will call the police if I run to the street to let out a shriek. Uniformed officers will show up in moments to handcuff me for disturbing the peace and haul me away to a concrete shelter with bars where I will be caged and fed like an animal through a metal window. A judge will rule me insane and order my restriction inside a frozen institution decorated with bars on the windows. I will be confined in a white suit with buckles and led to a darkened room where they will hook me up to electrodes designed to examine my thought processes. They will feed me chemicals intravenously. They will put foul-tasting pills beneath my tongue and force me to swallow. I will become distorted, unfeeling flesh, passionless, eyes fixed and dilated, sitting in a hardback chair near a back window, apparently observing air currents and worms which crawl on the windowsill.
No, you cannot scream in the streets of a sprawling metropolis unless you wear torn, tattered clothing with mud stains and carry a sign that says you are homeless. Only then will you be ignored and allowed privacy but only for short, irregular pieces of time. Short, irregular pieces of time are perfect for a scream.
Babies get to scream. They are allowed to wail. When they do, they are comforted by mama with stroke and calm voice. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhh. It's OK. It's OK. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Why are babies allowed to scream and we are not? Who will comfort me when I wail?
I am painting a picture of a white bird with wings spread, the sunset his halo, his beak pointing east. Below his left wing, he has a man's torso. There is an old woman's face embedded in his belly, creased, defined. Her cheeks are sunken, hollow. Her eyes are deep-set in her head. They have shadows around them. The woman is me. The woman is me. She is embedded into the chest of a bird, the man's torso framing her prominent cheekbones. The bird can scream. She cannot.
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Zlatko Waterman
- Posts: 1631
- Joined: August 19th, 2004, 8:30 am
- Location: Los Angeles, CA USA
- Contact:
Ah Doreen you capture a little of me in you.
This is how I feel about it in song form...
Sing along with me....
I Love the Rainy Nights
Eddie Rabbit
Well I love a rainy night
Well I love a rainy night
I love to hear the thunder
Watch the lightning
When it lights up the sky
You know it makes me feel good
Well I love a rainy night
It's such a beautiful sight
I love to feel the rain on my face
Taste the rain on my lips
In the moonlight shadows
Showers wash all my cares away
I wake up to a sunny day
"Cause I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night
Puts a song in this heart of mine
Puts a smile on my face every time
'Cause I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night
Ooh I love a rainy night....
Oh and then there's
Who'll Stop the Rain
CCR
Love love love that song.
Thanks for the rainy walk down this rainy memory lane.
Some day we'll get together and do a duet. What say you?
'Course I can't sing for shit but what I lack in talent I make up for in gusto!
Oh, and I trust we'll be viewing your above mentioned painting when it's finished.
This is how I feel about it in song form...
Sing along with me....
I Love the Rainy Nights
Eddie Rabbit
Well I love a rainy night
Well I love a rainy night
I love to hear the thunder
Watch the lightning
When it lights up the sky
You know it makes me feel good
Well I love a rainy night
It's such a beautiful sight
I love to feel the rain on my face
Taste the rain on my lips
In the moonlight shadows
Showers wash all my cares away
I wake up to a sunny day
"Cause I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night
Puts a song in this heart of mine
Puts a smile on my face every time
'Cause I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night
Ooh I love a rainy night....
Oh and then there's
Who'll Stop the Rain
CCR
Love love love that song.
Thanks for the rainy walk down this rainy memory lane.
Some day we'll get together and do a duet. What say you?
'Course I can't sing for shit but what I lack in talent I make up for in gusto!
Oh, and I trust we'll be viewing your above mentioned painting when it's finished.
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v475/mousey1/shhhhhh.gif[/img]
-
Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
As often happens when I read your posts, Zlatko, I have to look up a word.
peregrination - noun: travel (especially by foot)
hehe .... maybe in this case, it was a peri-grination.
Thank you for expanding my vocabulary and for your kind words about my rambling.
I'm not sure I could handle earthquakes. My sister has lived in California for 20 years or more, moving there from this area. When I asked her if she gets worried about earthquakes, she answered, "They don't scare me nearly as much as driving around the trecherous DC beltway in the winter during a snow storm."
---------------
mousey1 - I told you we are somehow sisters! Yes, let's do a duet! .... and dance in the rain together, shall we?
The painting... ohhh... the painting.... LR got me an easel, some paints, some brushes, and one canvas for Christmas. I stared at it for 2 months, then spent two hours one night expressing myself. The basic structure of what I described is there but it sits there on the easel staring at me and I can't seem to bring myself to work on it any more. Why? I don't know. Perhaps it's because it's the only canvas I have and when I finish it, there are no more canvases to paint on! I need to find a resource for canvases. I want to by a LOT of canvases in a variety of sizes. Then, I want to take all of my framed digital artwork and photography off of the walls and put the unpainted canvases up there, then go from canvas to canvas to paint them. LOL! Silly idea, huh? But yeah, if I ever finish it, I'll take a photo and post it here.
peregrination - noun: travel (especially by foot)
hehe .... maybe in this case, it was a peri-grination.
Thank you for expanding my vocabulary and for your kind words about my rambling.
I'm not sure I could handle earthquakes. My sister has lived in California for 20 years or more, moving there from this area. When I asked her if she gets worried about earthquakes, she answered, "They don't scare me nearly as much as driving around the trecherous DC beltway in the winter during a snow storm."
---------------
mousey1 - I told you we are somehow sisters! Yes, let's do a duet! .... and dance in the rain together, shall we?
The painting... ohhh... the painting.... LR got me an easel, some paints, some brushes, and one canvas for Christmas. I stared at it for 2 months, then spent two hours one night expressing myself. The basic structure of what I described is there but it sits there on the easel staring at me and I can't seem to bring myself to work on it any more. Why? I don't know. Perhaps it's because it's the only canvas I have and when I finish it, there are no more canvases to paint on! I need to find a resource for canvases. I want to by a LOT of canvases in a variety of sizes. Then, I want to take all of my framed digital artwork and photography off of the walls and put the unpainted canvases up there, then go from canvas to canvas to paint them. LOL! Silly idea, huh? But yeah, if I ever finish it, I'll take a photo and post it here.
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