I see that Delmont is still being caged in obscurity, and according to modern times and Martha Stewart, that is not a good thing. Oh well, he's dead, and I can only try my best. Which I assure you is not stale Martha Stewart references. back to me for a sec.
I woke up with over 11 thoughts swirling and at this unsocial hour I felt grateful for my blog. Now, of course there is journaling and diarying and I could spare the unwitting real soccer mom the confusion, but my handwriting is so profoundly illegible that I never have had a diary,or have been able to journal. I felt a new blast of existensial nausea when I thought of how they(whomever they may be) have turned party and journal into a verb and we(excluding some and me) have had to deal with it. Make a fuss and they say you're "freaking." and to "chill." Who are these monsters verbalizing (or verbatizing?) our nouns????? Anyway, my handwriting looks, "disturbed.' as my mother says and if I were Anne Frank my sorrows and insights would be long lost to history. My mother (see pic above)said yesterday, " I am going deaf in my left.. leg." so I don't always know if I should give her words much weight.
Along the way, much later than was expected, I learned to type 55wpm and so this cyber diary can get written quickly and I can read it once it's been written which is an indisguised blessing. I multitask, so I save time -- as I read it while I gaze at my navel and make my nanny make my kids breakfast. I wear many hats and I juggle . Otherwise, I'd have only 5 minutes a day for myself and I'd be driven to wondering how I don't wear hats or if an overused juggling analogy is not insipid- stultifyingly so . Today, I want to start incorporating more philosophical precepts and I expect that all sorts will peek out from the woodwork of the world wide web of superhighways, and surf on some hypertext to a hyperlink connected to a feed that was accessed through a podcast, and end up here. I have broken the 100 hit milestone and only death can stop me now. Which makes me think of death and yet i know that needs to have a post of its own.
. My second chapter as a star blogger seems a reality,and I will see it through to the bitter end. And, I fear the end will indeed be bitter, but I never was really prescient so it could all turn out ok.
I just looked at what I wrote and it seemed as if I was being sarcastic about my blogging, but I am not. I am very serious. I want to talk pr discuss with my most silent readers the topic of obsession. Each and everyday I want to cover the big boys of the human condition and since at this point I don't have a writers cramp there are no limits to what we can explore together. It is inevitable, It goes without saying, that soon enough, carpal tunnel syndrome will make it's appearance, and I will be sporting that sad specialized cast. I will be admonished by Dr. Kallus to not "overdo it." and I will only be able to blog biweekly. I will keep going strong and long till that post modern day arrives. If you are not following me then I say post modern because I find it odd that in a post modern vs. a modern society vs. a premodern blah blah blah society, we have different diseases and ailments that seem to get some press and then dissapear. In the old days there was rubbella, and polio, and small pox etc, and I'm pretty sure they were consistent until some odd and very inquisitive character came along with a vaccine because this odd and inquisitive character had FOCUS, that's for sure.
Nowadays, we hear about Ebola, and next thing we know we don't hear about Eblola. Then there was that flesh eating virus and then no news on that. About 12 years ago I was at a spa and many there claimed to have Clamaydia and now you'd be hard pressed to find a woman afflicted with clamaydia. And then there was toxic shock syndrome and each and every tampon was viewed with suspicion and fear. Today, us ladies, put em in and take em out without no before or afterthought. bird flu seems to have been a trendy flu that never took off, no pun intented, I swear to god. Which brings me full circle to carpal tunnel syndrome and Autism(because my autistic son just rammed into my leg) Which leads me to conclude that fibromylgia, lactose issues, irritable bowels, restless legs, and papillomas are not going to be around for long. Twice in the last 3 years, I was convinced I had chronic fatigue and it turned out to be garden variety malaise one time ,and the other time: run of the mill inertia. Then according to many sources on the internet I was convinced I had chronic dry eye only to have my eyes back to normal soon thereafter with no reoccurence. I'll tell you what I do have and that is chronic and that is adult acne and saboreah. Saborea, for the layman, first of all is probably spelled differently and is immune to spell check. Saboreah, dear reader, is .... eyebrow.... dandruff. i said it. I just said that and I had the sad hope that some saboreah sufferers would google their malady and I'd have many new blog hits. Then, that made me think that I don't know how to spell it and they'll never find me. Onwards, 4 years ago a dr in Miami(long story) diagnosed me with this ,when I complained of weird flakes, on my eyebrows. He told me there is no cure only palliatives. Of course, I then ask him what the palliatives were and to my genuine horror he said I should buy head and shoulders and shampoo my eyebrows with it. Saboreah suffers no doubt are shaking their heads, as they remember, the exact time and date they heard the same news. How bloody absurd! Mon deui. How it makes one question the omnipotence of the diety when something like this transpires. And, so it goes, and it is in fact chronic, and will happen at the worst times and I will be in the shower, in the buff, somewhere in this great vast winged conspiracy, called the universe ,shampooing my eyebrows with head and shoulders. For the record: I've never had head or shoulder dandruff. My prosaic and tiresome non autist spawn would say, "bite me, saboreah." It pains me to think such a repeater of recieved language came out of my exalted vessel.I just went on such an unanticipated tear that I don't think it wise to even go into adult acne at this point. Too many angles and ironies implicit in the pimple(s) appear to me and I will simply have to stop here. Oh yes, and fibroids are for real too.
But, that is not what I came here for at all. I came her to comment on my most recent commenter the out and proud soccer mom, insanemama, and to talk about obsession and revenge and forgiveness and all sorts of heady and multilayered "issues." of our universality and common bondage. I pictured my mother reading this and giving me some constructive or destructive criticism and this made me think that everyone is indeed a critic or a comedian and how it is the dead of night and dawn is coming and this takes up neither ink nor paper so as my unsatisfactory daughter would say, "bite me."
I should end it there, with the bringback. I should end it now, leaving my reader satisfied and yet looking towards the next meal, and so I should, and so I shall.
latertaters
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