I am tripping more than you are. Battling razzberries

[SadLuckDame]

I'm to be always alone,
it's what he named me for,
what's in a name;
the truth of it.

And then he has comedy
to laugh at, to laugh
there'll always be his laughter
at my expense
and my allowing it for the sake of
it being mine, all mine.

[stilltrucking]

I picked up a copy of Psychology Today. An article in it written by a woman who said she is not the average battered wife. Sure he beats her up and almost killed her but no matter what he does to her last night this morning she still loves him. No she is not the average woman, she has a graduate degree. I read that much and I was too creeped out to read anymore. Maybe she broke herself free at the end of the article.


Husbands and wives
wives and husbands
some can and some can't

I know of one happy marriage
The rest seem pretty strange

Most of them reminds me of that song Meat Loaf he did with his wife. Paradise By The Dashboard Lights A husband and wife praying for the end of time.



I usually laugh at myself.
I don't understand that kind of humor
Except for Burns and Allen
They did it so well
She the perfect foil for his jokes
A woman has to be smart to play that dumb.

Just rambling
don't mean much





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.

[SadLuckDame]

Thanks for that vid, never watched it before and thoroughly enjoyed. Looked like he was gonna crash it over her head in the end, I was laughing.

Speaks my 'song of love'.

My Grandma crashed a tall, heavy mirror down on my Grandpa's head once. He was on his best behavior too, all cheerful and whistling. He just finished slicking back his hair after a shower, and my grandma dressed all pretty in her Sunday dress.

What happened was he went down the steps first, and she recollected at that moment as he was whistling and descending...she remembered her mother telling her once, "Never let a man down first (or have the advantage), when you have the advantage, cause he'll be a skunk again tomorrow."

So she grabbed the mirror off the wall and broke it over his head. He looked up, a bloody mess and said, "Why did you do that?"


I couldn't relate, never married in love. I was rotten and married just cause my dad said, "Marriage is nothing except making a decision, then sticking with it."

I didn't have to love him, I just had to endure and I was very good at enduring. Makes me a terrible person. I'm to blame and there's nothing to do about it. Poor guy was a good guy, didn't deserve to meet up with me and my nuttiness.

I'm trying to still figure out what I go on,
what's the ingredients, what monsters lurk within.
That sort of thing.

[SadLuckDame]

P.S.
It had nothing to do with the three times she shot at him in the garden, those were for different reasons, cause she was really mad at him then.

This time had been different, she wasn't angry at all, in fact they'd been chirping around the house like lovers for days prior, which had never happened before, she'd never loved him. It was because of the tomorrow and because of the day before the day before, and I think one day before that, too.

[SadLuckDame]

O.K. I'll tell you more, I'm teary eyed thinking about her, so I feel like talking.

Her funeral was the toughest to be strong through, I was so damn mad, couldn't stop from letting all the anger surface. Started off angry cause he wouldn't take me to see her three days before she died. She had starved to death, refused to eat or drink, but she was up on her feet dancing with the doctors, and sometimes cussing them out.

She always cussed out foreign doctors for some reason.
She'd go off on a tangent, grit her teeth and tell them to speak plainer to her cause she didn't know a thing of what they're saying. Then she'd end up throwing them out and say not to send anyone else unless they were female. Guess she thought all females spoke the same language.

Then at the funeral my Grandpa had an alter call, he made the whole thing out like she was some heathen, which is what they sometimes called her and with forlorn looks they begged the Lord to please take her anyway, even though she wasn't the best at living.

I was just ready to throw out some fist fights.


She was with Jesus whether they knew it or not, I knew it, I knew it cause no matter if she was passed out on her wine or tossing her wedding dress in the River and she had (maybe that's what he never forgot), I knew she had this little light on.

Her soul shining away when looking at a little baby
or my sisters and I, or my Dad, etc. Only people I knew she hated was a small list.

Gotta walk away from this.

[SadLuckDame]

I'll finish up on what it was I'd wanted to admit to begin with, it's not a pretty sort of confession and I've never told anyone this before, not even sure I want anyone to know, but I'll brave facing it.

I had married him cause he was a good guy minus the right sort of feelings I should have had, and I thought that God would be pleased with my choice and that he'd intervene and create those feelings there that didn't exist.

I hadn't realized that God doesn't intervene or interact in our lives or choices, he gave us freedom to choose, he never said if we didn't like what we decide that he'd help fix it.

Now I know. He might comfort when needed, but he leaves living up to me. I guess I do believe in his voice within, that right or wrong sort of talk in conscious. Guess I should I listened to my gut.

[SadLuckDame]

The catfish is cruel but kind
and he's shown me something I'd not known
always fresh with some girl too,
taking one to L.A. and another to Barcelona.

He drowns with me
two-thousand leagues under the sea
says he has a touch of madness
a dollop superstition and a taste of blues.

[SadLuckDame]

There once was a beautiful lady
who went to her dentist for a visit
she asked to have all her teeth pulled.

He went pale, gasped and said, "Dear lady!
but they're all in perfect condition."

She said, "I know it, that's the problem
he likes when I smile at him."

[stilltrucking]

There is a lot there to write about, for now I will just pick out a couple of threads. I will write More about grandmother later I hope.

Funerals are for the living not the dead.
I often wonder about the rigmarole and red tape that accompnies a human death. A cat dies and someone chucks it in a garbage dumpster and that's that.

Geez dame how old were you when you married the guy? Right out of high school I guess. "Barely 17 and barely dressed"
Silent woman married her husband right out of high school because he was a nice guy and had a red convertible. That is how babies get born. Convertibles and nice guys.

[SadLuckDame]

Old enough, just not smart enough.
LaLaLa

I don't have regrets on anything
I'm just trying to dig deep, gotta be a silver lining somewheres inside and I wanna some day find it.

[SadLuckDame]

If May Will Let Me Take A Picture Of Her Backyard Pond

She said she's a caterpillar healer
and I wonder if there's luck for tadpoles.

They swim out to where my hand can't go,

listening to the shakes
and soon the bull frog would be dead

it goes, it goes

A rescue if I could snatch him up,
before the snake slithered through

it knows, it knows

the grass too tall, too green
and I can only hear the frog baritone.

His tiny brown children hear it too.
And I wonder where to find a tadpole healer from

I row, and I row

[SadLuckDame]

Carefully Packaged When Wet

True, women are evil creatures.
I've done so much trouble
and not a lady to be proud of.

Such a struggle to me;
I want to embrace my faults
because religion designs
designer damaged goods
in her black dressed Sunday best.

I want to spat her straight in the face
and run nude through,

to take on such an air as,
I'm not afraid of you!

But, then there's still me to deal with.
And all the hers and all of the eve.

I dive and ask the fish friend,
"What can I do with this shape?
Let me stay here with you,
where the water transforms
my lady lakes to sugar."

He puts up with it,
just to see what I'll taste of
when the water has her way

and he and I look forward to
strange water-fruit dipped in sugar
and a nice sweet tea.

[SadLuckDame]

Lastly, this one called

Tonight's Invitation, Red, Black, Drink on 2 A.M

[stilltrucking]

I got my own monsters to deal with Dame, my anger floating over me like a Henry James story. Don't think it has anything to do with your monsters.

Not your fault I am angry. I don't know who to blame. Crazy Mike I guess. How did he get so twisted, and twist my sister's life. Sometimes women take their resentments out on their children.

I am not selfish enough. Or maybe I am too selfish. I see every attempt I make to help her and her family turn awry

I been thinking about Achilles today, that bit about anger be my muse is from the Illiad I think.

The drinks look inviting.

That Red and Black was from Stendahl, I hardly remember the novel, been fifty years since I read it. I do remember that I liked it a lot.



I been reading a short story called "Of This Time, of That Place" reading it slowly a few pages at time like sipping a good wine. I want it to last. I can't deal with novels, my attention span too short.

Does that typewriter still work?

[SadLuckDame]

It just needs a new ribbon, Jack.
I plan to do a novel on it someday. I have a short attention span, too. Guess it'll be a novel that doesn't need to stay on topic or on character. Richard Brautigan flipped about like one of his trouts, Anais went day by day, and I guess I might treat it like that.

Still gonna be just a romantic notion for now.

Thanks for staying up late to knock off that bottle with me.
Some women worth drowning.