O.K. I know no one is ever going to read this and I know this is all for my own edification and self pitying suffocation so here's a little ditty I just thought up. Some of it rhymes some doesn't. It is maudlin, depressing and self absorbed. Yep. That pretty much sums up my current state of mind. As a character on IN LIVING COLOR used to say, "Wrote a song about about it. Here it goes - "
BRAIN DEATH
Once I feared
A living coffin
Of flesh and bone
Unable to move
Unable to speak
Unable to moan
Once I feared
My body's rebellion
Shutting down
Turning off
While my mind
Still raced
Still dreamed
Still screamed
Once I feared
The frozen rictus
Of living death
Contorted muscles
Paper dry skin
Drooling lips
Once I feared
Life without me
Without the me of me
Without my smile
Without my laughter
Without my bear hugs
Without dancing
Without running
Without arguing
Without agreeing
Without applauding
Without standing up
Without sitting down
Without I Love You
Without I Need You
Without resisting
Without holding on
Without releasing
Awareness
But without
Me
My fear had names
And initials
Lou Gehrig's - ALS
Muscular Dystrophy - MD
Multiple Sclerosis - MS
My fear could have
Arrived by accident
Or disease
Quadriplegia
Severed spine
Spinal Meningitis
Catastrophic stroke
But now I find
It isn't my body
But my mind
That will be the first
To go
Little by little
Bit by byte
First social amenities
As physical control of
Bladder, bowels and
Diplomacy disappear
Then memories will go
First short then long
First friends then family
Then the one I hold
Most dear
Until I'm all alone
In a world of
Helpful strangers
Last of all I'll lose
My words
This will truly be
The last of me
This will be
When I beg
When I plead
When my last words
Will be
Please God
Thank you for my life
Now please
Set
Me
Free.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Just tried Googling the title for this blog and came up with bubkiss. I haven't added a new post to this blog since I opened it. Even I don't read this thing.
I guess that means it will be safe enough to write what I'm going to write then. Nobody will read it.
My brain is atrophying. That means my brain is dying. Interesting.
All my life I've been afraid that my body will die before my mind does. I guess I don't have that to worry about anymore.
My carotid arteries are showing calcification. Calcification of the carotid arteries leads to stoke. Again with the brain . . . dying.
Symptoms of brain atrophy:
obsession CHECK
depression CHECK
overeating CHECK
obsessively wanting to eat a particular food CHECK - in my case it's potatoes
There are other symptoms but they haven't manifested yet. I'll list them later.
I'm a writer - freelance writer. My fiction is not yet published but my non-fiction (read business writing) has seen some success. By that I mean, my grant proposals generally result in funds for the clients and the other forms of business writing (reports, quarterlies, letters and other communications - even a personnel policy handbook) have been complimented and the clients I worked for have been happy.
Fiction is what I love most, though. Nothing new there, of course. Most writers feel that way. I also write personalized poetry on commission. I've had success with that in the past but really haven't pursued that much for a few years. I want to . . . I just haven't.
There's a lot of things I want to do but just haven't. Like cleaning and organizing my beautiful apartment on Fargo Ave. I love this place but I still haven't unpacked. My husband, I'll call him Mo, has completely unpacked his stuff and put it all away. It's just my stuff and the "house stuff" that hasn't been unpacked.
"House Stuff." Interesting term that. It means the stuff we'd both use if we were a regular couple. China. Flatware. Linens. Towels. Books. Magazines. Knick knacks, etc.
The problem is I don't know which box holds the "house stuff" and there are too many boxes to go through until we find them. So . . . my stuff and the house stuff stays packed up.
It's aslmost as if I think we may be moving again soon . . . or . . . nah, I'm just lazy . . . and terrified of starting a huge project like that because I know it will overwhlem me and I'll be even worse off than I am now.
to be continued . . .
I guess that means it will be safe enough to write what I'm going to write then. Nobody will read it.
My brain is atrophying. That means my brain is dying. Interesting.
All my life I've been afraid that my body will die before my mind does. I guess I don't have that to worry about anymore.
My carotid arteries are showing calcification. Calcification of the carotid arteries leads to stoke. Again with the brain . . . dying.
Symptoms of brain atrophy:
obsession CHECK
depression CHECK
overeating CHECK
obsessively wanting to eat a particular food CHECK - in my case it's potatoes
There are other symptoms but they haven't manifested yet. I'll list them later.
I'm a writer - freelance writer. My fiction is not yet published but my non-fiction (read business writing) has seen some success. By that I mean, my grant proposals generally result in funds for the clients and the other forms of business writing (reports, quarterlies, letters and other communications - even a personnel policy handbook) have been complimented and the clients I worked for have been happy.
Fiction is what I love most, though. Nothing new there, of course. Most writers feel that way. I also write personalized poetry on commission. I've had success with that in the past but really haven't pursued that much for a few years. I want to . . . I just haven't.
There's a lot of things I want to do but just haven't. Like cleaning and organizing my beautiful apartment on Fargo Ave. I love this place but I still haven't unpacked. My husband, I'll call him Mo, has completely unpacked his stuff and put it all away. It's just my stuff and the "house stuff" that hasn't been unpacked.
"House Stuff." Interesting term that. It means the stuff we'd both use if we were a regular couple. China. Flatware. Linens. Towels. Books. Magazines. Knick knacks, etc.
The problem is I don't know which box holds the "house stuff" and there are too many boxes to go through until we find them. So . . . my stuff and the house stuff stays packed up.
It's aslmost as if I think we may be moving again soon . . . or . . . nah, I'm just lazy . . . and terrified of starting a huge project like that because I know it will overwhlem me and I'll be even worse off than I am now.
to be continued . . .
Friday, June 8, 2007
Introduction
Greetings All!
I live on a quaint little street (West Fargo Avenue) in a socially and economically diverse neighborhood (northeast Rogers Park) in a wonderful, sprawling metropolis Chicago, Illinois. Please feel free to visit, hang out or join in on the discussions as you see fit. I am a freelance writer and editor so I imagine I may post poetry and an occasional short short story so please feel free to add those of your own. All I ask is no foul language, flaming or threats. Hopefully this will be a fun, informative and uplifting experience for everyone.
O.K. so take my hand and let's walk down the avenue together, shall we?
I live on a quaint little street (West Fargo Avenue) in a socially and economically diverse neighborhood (northeast Rogers Park) in a wonderful, sprawling metropolis Chicago, Illinois. Please feel free to visit, hang out or join in on the discussions as you see fit. I am a freelance writer and editor so I imagine I may post poetry and an occasional short short story so please feel free to add those of your own. All I ask is no foul language, flaming or threats. Hopefully this will be a fun, informative and uplifting experience for everyone.
O.K. so take my hand and let's walk down the avenue together, shall we?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)