More Random "...NOTES..." From Wrinkled Scraps...

…the way things are going I expect a stroke will likely cut me down mate and shiver my timbers right into the grave, there to repose ad infinitum…

…I didn’t realize my house was such a sty until someone cleaned it for me and I saw the enormous difference. Who knew? For months dust and dust mites have had free rein…

…I never was a big fan of the Three Stooges but I always loved the word stooge, it is so descriptive; even without looking up the definition you know what it means…hmmm, but do I…okay so I look it up: stooge, well there’s the definition we know but alternately ‘an underling’ or ‘an associate’…I don’t know many stooges but it’s another vaudeville term originally…

…lungs like one of those flattened latex party balloons two days later, an apt analogy after having ruined my air bags and life through a variety of what in a polite society might be called missteps but really were far worse, smoking until I could barely draw a breath, strangling myself, gasping, can barely make it up in the morning or down at night, breathless, terrified, alone and in a psychological, physiological, philosophical, fiscal and physical meltdown, hell on earth!

…other than that everything’s pretty good…

…if it ever comes to it the tobacco industry won’t have to do too much to retool for dope. Instead of drying the leaf, dry the bud; shred and package like Camels and – bingo – off with your head…

…too much reality is not good for you which is where NFTD comes in handy…NFTD – Much ado about nothing since 1986…

…what happens when you crack your knuckles is, as I understand it, little sacs of senovial fluid are exploding which is cute and/or annoying in youth and sometimes beyond but that exploding senovial fluid was a lubricant like WD40 and now at nearly 66, having cracked my knuckles every which way known to man, twist, yank, bend, snap fingers practically off until the shit all dried up and now, an aging fool, merely bending a thumb and a forefinger around a pen is friggin’ agony…

…like a heart attack I once had I can assure you dying is not that much fun either, way not fun…I’m no visionary but everyday many times a day through each unbearable spell of barely breathing I envision death and dying, a grave deep in Mother Earth, pitch black (it’s the one thing I own I fear, having outlived all my other fears) not darkness while you wait for your eyes to adjust but true dark, black, no light, no getting used to, no in no out no up no down no escape…eternal darkness…then my air bags (so far) finally refill and life is back, o hey I didn’t buck the kicket yet, wheeew, that was close…now, where was I…

…my DgD (Darling Granddaughter) had the great good fortune of going to Van’s Warped Tour this summer down to Hartford and there was treated to a number of fine bands including this one, Flogging Molly, singing among other tunes this fine 21st Century Irish ballad, ‘Drunken Lullabies’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDwlGbEcJ6Y

Here’s three books will make your life more full:

Steaming to Bamboola – (Can’t remember who wrote it…)

The Ginger Man – J. P. Donleavy

A Fan’s Notes – Frederick Exley