Ithaka bounces kind of political lately and sometimes it will because it's like a combination of a divining rod and a ouija board so it does whatever it wants. It's not much good at finding water but it's great at finding reefer.
I did win the Super Lotto and buy a house, tho. I might have failed to mention that.
All the Regulars invited, of course, to live there but this place is starting to look so creepy even Bela Lugosi wouldn't go inside it.
After I bought it, they sent back a card to show me where my room is located. This castle is so big there are probably places in it I will never go; there are probably places no-one has ever gone.
It might take a while to learn since I can't talk about going into the tower when it seems there are twenty or more of them.
Then I started wondering where are the chimneys. You may notice a section nearly on the far left which seems to have chimneys but I don't see one anywhere else.
Ed: no heat?
It sure doesn't seem so except for relatively small areas.
Ed: plus it's probably got a shitload of ghosts going back for centuries
I'm starting to realize I may not have made such a wise purchase decision.
Ed: at least the plumbing works since they probably use the Classical method of a bucket in each room which is emptied by pouring it out a window.
Well, thank goodness for that.
Note: that's true regarding the gentility of the nobility of previous times being preserved by keeping their shit in a bucket in the bedroom. That hasn't changed all that much in the modern time.
Why not make it all up when the real doesn't bring much to any edification of the readers but this much is solid since Yevette came back negative on a chest x-ray and that's monstro in real life but the details aren't desirable. My own CT is on short time and result will likely come back quickly. I've blown off the E.R. since I need to know what's happening instead of simply looking for a salve.
While it may appear my only interest is in palliative medicines based on my fervor for the ganja, it's not the same thing and ganja doesn't do that anyway.
Zen Yogi: there is no palliation when you don't know what's wrong
Booboo: you are so hip, Yogi. Do you want a chicken leg from the pic-a-nic basket?
Note: palliative medicine eases an affliction but does not remedy it and modern medicine is justifiably accused of that frequently, particularly with psychiatric medication. In fact, there's likely more of that abuse in America than the rest of the world aggregated and that's just the legal side of it.
I've never advocated using the ganja at work and I can accomplish productive work just fine and with great determination but the problem is straight people are such a bringdown and being around them wastes a buzz. If you're not clear on that, imagine your party ... now imagine it with Jeff Sessions in attendance for anything more than Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
If all of that ain't true, tell me Taylor Swift would have been anything more in the Sixties than some kid who survived by selling tie-dyed t-shirts. Tip: in your fuckin' dreams.
Note: some of the Regulars are cool without the buzz but most straights are just close-minded louts who differ little from cop spike strips along your road.
The real out there is coming up on some jump points with two of you looking to unload your houses to try the world a different way. I've been preaching forever that it's better with less so it's jammin' to see you doing it although things like that usually don't happen quickly.
Unknown what happens with Lotho but he was doing some time traveling about a week ago and that was for today looking like about forty years ago. He had a charming idea so he went off in pursuit of it.
My memory of various things is good but I don't have the eidetic memory of childhood some possess in which they can tell you what kind of ice cream they were eating that summer day in 1965. I'm not sure why anyone would want to retain such information but some can do it. Often they spend the rest of their lives memorizing football and baseball cards, tho, so I don't feel all that deprived.
Probably those types of memories are fading but I don't know since I don't think of them that much because they violate the First Rule of Italian Motor Racing, what'sa behinda you ista not important.
That makes me highly useless for Great Nostalgic Moments of the Sixties since I never considered high school significant for anything, especially while I was doing it and all the more so now. It was ok for finally losing my virgin status, however. High school at least accomplished that.
I'm kind of apologetic about the absence of great stories of that nature since it seems old fuckers are supposed to be able to rattle off material like that until we're finally stopped by the need to use the toilet. Other things I write vary by taste since we learned recently the exorbitant costs and exploitive nature of the funeral industry in America has resulted in the current situation in which thirty seven percent of rental storage units have dead human bodies inside them.
Ed: is that true?
What difference does it make, mate? (larfs) Just think of the comedy when some future fortune hunter buys the rental unit only to find your Aunt Gladys inside it.
I did win the Super Lotto and buy a house, tho. I might have failed to mention that.
All the Regulars invited, of course, to live there but this place is starting to look so creepy even Bela Lugosi wouldn't go inside it.
After I bought it, they sent back a card to show me where my room is located. This castle is so big there are probably places in it I will never go; there are probably places no-one has ever gone.
It might take a while to learn since I can't talk about going into the tower when it seems there are twenty or more of them.
Then I started wondering where are the chimneys. You may notice a section nearly on the far left which seems to have chimneys but I don't see one anywhere else.
Ed: no heat?
It sure doesn't seem so except for relatively small areas.
Ed: plus it's probably got a shitload of ghosts going back for centuries
I'm starting to realize I may not have made such a wise purchase decision.
Ed: at least the plumbing works since they probably use the Classical method of a bucket in each room which is emptied by pouring it out a window.
Well, thank goodness for that.
Note: that's true regarding the gentility of the nobility of previous times being preserved by keeping their shit in a bucket in the bedroom. That hasn't changed all that much in the modern time.
Why not make it all up when the real doesn't bring much to any edification of the readers but this much is solid since Yevette came back negative on a chest x-ray and that's monstro in real life but the details aren't desirable. My own CT is on short time and result will likely come back quickly. I've blown off the E.R. since I need to know what's happening instead of simply looking for a salve.
While it may appear my only interest is in palliative medicines based on my fervor for the ganja, it's not the same thing and ganja doesn't do that anyway.
Zen Yogi: there is no palliation when you don't know what's wrong
Booboo: you are so hip, Yogi. Do you want a chicken leg from the pic-a-nic basket?
Note: palliative medicine eases an affliction but does not remedy it and modern medicine is justifiably accused of that frequently, particularly with psychiatric medication. In fact, there's likely more of that abuse in America than the rest of the world aggregated and that's just the legal side of it.
I've never advocated using the ganja at work and I can accomplish productive work just fine and with great determination but the problem is straight people are such a bringdown and being around them wastes a buzz. If you're not clear on that, imagine your party ... now imagine it with Jeff Sessions in attendance for anything more than Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
If all of that ain't true, tell me Taylor Swift would have been anything more in the Sixties than some kid who survived by selling tie-dyed t-shirts. Tip: in your fuckin' dreams.
Note: some of the Regulars are cool without the buzz but most straights are just close-minded louts who differ little from cop spike strips along your road.
The real out there is coming up on some jump points with two of you looking to unload your houses to try the world a different way. I've been preaching forever that it's better with less so it's jammin' to see you doing it although things like that usually don't happen quickly.
Unknown what happens with Lotho but he was doing some time traveling about a week ago and that was for today looking like about forty years ago. He had a charming idea so he went off in pursuit of it.
My memory of various things is good but I don't have the eidetic memory of childhood some possess in which they can tell you what kind of ice cream they were eating that summer day in 1965. I'm not sure why anyone would want to retain such information but some can do it. Often they spend the rest of their lives memorizing football and baseball cards, tho, so I don't feel all that deprived.
Probably those types of memories are fading but I don't know since I don't think of them that much because they violate the First Rule of Italian Motor Racing, what'sa behinda you ista not important.
That makes me highly useless for Great Nostalgic Moments of the Sixties since I never considered high school significant for anything, especially while I was doing it and all the more so now. It was ok for finally losing my virgin status, however. High school at least accomplished that.
I'm kind of apologetic about the absence of great stories of that nature since it seems old fuckers are supposed to be able to rattle off material like that until we're finally stopped by the need to use the toilet. Other things I write vary by taste since we learned recently the exorbitant costs and exploitive nature of the funeral industry in America has resulted in the current situation in which thirty seven percent of rental storage units have dead human bodies inside them.
Ed: is that true?
What difference does it make, mate? (larfs) Just think of the comedy when some future fortune hunter buys the rental unit only to find your Aunt Gladys inside it.
2 comments:
Recently ran into an old chum of mine from nursing school. She went through a bout of colon cancer, the treatment about a year ago. She's fine now, back to her old self. Ditched her home (she lost it actually) and is living in an apartment complex for low income retired persons. She loves it. The residents all look out for one another. Says she has a very nice little apartment. They have a little community garden there--she loves to garden and was the thing she most missed when she left her home. The place is out in the country.
That sounds idyllic and a wonderful opportunity for all manner of Impressionist painting. I don't get how they did the paintings so fast, tho. You can't ask the subjects to hold the pose so there's some process I can imagine a little but not at all to actually do it. Actually I can see now some old ladies tending to the garden but even from that I couldn't paint it.
But Zen Yogi said he didn't know pic-a-nic baskets were for him until he grabbed one so maybe I can but never really tried. Envying your talent is the wrong word but admiring says quite a bit of it.
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