Ode to Pharmaceuticals

O Lovely Lamictal
Soothes my seething soul
Sweet Cymbalta
makes me forlorn no more
And Klonopin, kind Klonopin
makes the world to me a friend...

This is god-awful poetry, but these things sure do help me to feel better!

It just happens...

But I guess it's okay.

No matter how hard I try to be "normal," I end up feeling like the oddball, the black sheep, the weirdo.


I don't know if I come across as being as strange as I feel inside.

But suffice it to say, I feel like a weirdo, especially out in public.

You can easily spot someone who feels socially awkward, can't you? The one whose face gets a bit too red too often, who maybe laughs nervously or doesn't know what to say. The one who is self-conscious about their appearance, their clothes, the way they walk or speak. The one who worries about whether what they just said was stupid or not.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt this way.

If you have ever felt like this, drop me a line.

If not, congratulations.

Thus Spake the Critics

What Critics and
Writers Are Saying
About My New
Book of Poetry,
The Doberman Plot.
BY SEBASTIAN BITTICKS

- - - -

"Spectacular in the sense of existing somehow. Thought-filled, word-filled, sentence-filled verse."

"The Doberman Plot strikes a match on your eyelid and, before using it to set the cuffs of your pants on fire, asks you to consider the color of the flame."

"Sebastian Bitticks goes on record as not being a child pornographer, and, in doing so, goes on record for all of us, who are also not child pornographers."

"Slick, rain-proof stuff. Poems to paper your house with, poems that could survive a shipwreck and a plane crash."

"[Sebastian] stands alone among poets of our age in his enacting of interventions into the capitulations we each one posit as our response to something or other."

"The Doberman Plot belongs at the vanguard of the new aesthetic. You know, the shitty one."

Anyone for lists?

L I S T O F I D E A S F O R
I D E A S F O R L I S T S .

BY BILL WASIK

- - - -

Lists that take notice of the fact that a thing has a silly name, and go on to extrapolate other silly names for that thing

Lists that take notice of the fact that certain phrase is silly, and proceed to come up with other silly phrases, ones that are cleverly parallel to the first phrase that kicked the whole thing off

Lists of things that pertain only to my own life; but unimportant things, so that people reading the list are amused by my feigned narcissism

Lists that allow me to say some things which are themselves funny, but less funny than the fact that the things don't have much to do with each other

Lists that repeat something over and over again, past the point where a lesser humor-writer person might have stopped

Lists that are the unedited dumping-ground of my unconscious

Lists that trivialize the serious

Lists that elevate the trivial

Lists that are, upon reflection, perverse

Lists of reasons why a certain sensibility is squandering the talent of an entire generation of writers

Lists that absolve even as they damn

Lists on a bus, lists on a car

Lists to make you a superstar

Lists to win and lists to lose
But these here lists will rock your shoes

And these are the lists
List it up, list it up, list it up!

Sadness, etc.

I can't sleep, so I am up trying to get my mind off of whatever it is that is bothering me. I don't even know what it is. Just bouts of sadness and anxiety that keep passing through my mind, unwanted thoughts. Aaron and Ava are sleeping, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. Since we moved, I feel so isolated and alone. It's nice to have a bit of psychological space from my folks, but to not have any friends or relatives nearby really sucks. This is pointless typing about it because I cannot stay focused. Screw it.

Ava's Evaluation

Ava was evaluated today in all areas of development, and was found to be significantly delayed in ALL areas…

UNTIL I noticed on her eligibility determination sheet that they had written her age as 31 months. I asked the team about it and told them that she is only 19 months, at which time they apologized profusely. They then said she is not significantly delayed in any area, and only slightly delayed in adaptive skills.

Her age level at the different areas of development follows:

Cognitive 19 months
Expressive communication 19 months
Receptive communication 19 months
Motor 19 months
Social/Emotional 18 months
Adaptive (feeding/eating, dressing and sleeping) 16 months

Remember, they thought she was 31 months old, so the above numbers would have reflected a serious delay if that was her age.

I’m relieved! She’s going to have a hearing test and I’d like to get her tested for anemia.

That’s all for now!

Bring back Melanie to the Good Night Show!!

Who cares about her silly videos she made in college?

Please PBS, bring her back, but leave Star where you found it!!

What would Bulwer-Lytton say

An opening sentence containing a burrito, an angel and a shovel was judged appalling enough to win the annual Bulwer-Lytton literary parody prize on Tuesday.

Retired mechanical designer Jim Guigli of California was proclaimed winner of the contest, which challenges entrants to submit their worst opening sentence of an imaginary novel.
Guigli's winning entry read: "Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean."

APPROVES

Summer fun!

Ava and her dad are having fun playing in the hose on a warm summer's day!

How to Sabotage Friendships and Alienate People

Yes, with these two easy steps, perfected by me, you too can lose friends and alienate people!

Number one, for relatively new friends or those you haven't seen in a while, keep calling and writing everyday, whether they respond or not. Then when they don't respond, keep asking if you did something wrong. Remember, don't give them any space to breathe.

Number two, for well-established friendships, don't call or write. They should know you care, even if they don't hear from you for months and months. Then, out of the blue, send them an overly friendly gift or card, vowing your undying friendship.

Yes, you too can be alone.

Sigh...

Mark (not the Gospel) has a few questions for W

Dear President Bush,

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great
deal from you and understand why you would propose and support a constitutional amendment banning same sex marriage.

As you said "in the eyes of God marriage is basedbetween a man a woman." I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defendthe homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination...

End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her? (I'm pretty sure she's a virgin).

3. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord -Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

4. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2. clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it? How can I help you here?

5. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Aren't there 'degrees' of abomination?

6. Lev.21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?

7. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed,including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

8. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin ofa dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

9. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Posted by: Mark (not the gospel) December 18, 2004 02:27 AM

MPFC's Michael Palin at his finest, as Presenter

'SPECTRUM'

Presenter
Good evening. Tonight 'Spectrum' looks at one of the major problems in the world today - that old vexed question of what is going on. Is there still time to confront it, let alone solve it, or is it too late? What are the figures, what are the facts, what do people mean when they talk about things? Alexander Hardacre of the Economic Affairs Bureau.

Cut to equally intense pundit in front of a graph with three different coloured columns with percentages at the top. He talks with great authority.

Hardacre
In this graph, this column represents 23% of the population. This column represents 28% of the population, and this column represents 43% of the population.

Cut back to presenter.

Presenter
Telling figures indeed, but what do they mean to you, what do they mean to me, what do they mean to the average man in the street? With me now is Professor Tiddles of Leeds University...

Pull out to reveal bearded professor sitting next to presenter.

Presenter
... Professor, you've spent many years researching into things, what do you think?

Professor
I think it's too early to tell.

Cut to presenter, he talks even faster now.

Presenter
'Too early to tell' ... too early to say... it means the same thing. The word 'say' is the same as the word 'tell'. They're not spelt the same, but they mean the same. It's an identical situation, we have with 'ship' and 'boat' (holds up signs saying 'ship' and 'boat') but not the same as we have with 'bow' and 'bough' (holds up signs), they're spelt differently, mean different things but sound the same. (he holds up signs saying 'so there') But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this programme? And what am I going to say next? Here to answer this is a professional cricketer.

Cut to cricketer.

Cricketer
I can say nothing at this point.

Cut back to presenter.

Presenter
Well, you were wrong... Professor?

Pull out to reveal professor still next to him.

Professor
Hello.

Cut to close-up of presenter.

Presenter
Hello. So... where do we stand? Where do we stand? Where do we sit? Where do we come? Where do we go? What do we do? What do we say? What do we eat? What do we drink? What do we think? What do we do?

Mix to stock film of London-Brighton train journey in two minutes. After a few seconds the train goes into a tunnel. Blackness. Loud crash. Cut to signalbox as before.

Signalman
(calling out of window) Sorry!

He goes back to wrestling with bear.

Our Aunt Millie

She died today, on her 84th birthday, alone in a nursing home. She died peacefully, in her sleep. Not to say that our family didn't visit; my brother stayed with her for 2 hours yesterday, in tears the whole time because he knew how little time she had left. He asked her to squeeze his hand if she knew who he was, and she responded by feebly moving her hand to her forehead. And my mom and her sister were there yesterday, too. Her last word to anyone was the word "yeah" when asked if she would like some water. I meant to visit her before we moved here, but I never got the chance. You always think you have more time than you actually do. Maybe I just didn't want to accept the fact of her mortality. There had always been an Aunt Millie in my life, so shouldn't she always be around?

My brother told me on the phone yestererday afternoon that she was dying. After we hung up, I lit a yellow, sweet-smelling candle that I intended to blow out when I heard of her passing. I lit another one, a purple candle, for my family that I hoped to reunite with soon. Mom called me at 5 pm, a few hours after my brother and I spoke, to tell me that Aunt Millie had died. Strangely, I looked over at the yellow candle, and it was out. Neither I or my husband had blown it out. The purple candle was still lit.

Aunt Millie would bring cinnamon rolls down the street to her sister's (my grandmother's) house when we would visit. We would enjoy them straight from the package, and the mood was warmed by Aunt Millie's boisterous laugh, sometimes at her own bawdy jokes. I was 7 at the time, and was ushered out of the room before she would spin one of her naughtier yarns. You knew it was bad (and good) when you would hear the uproarious laughter that followed. Getting to hear one of those jokes first-hand at about 13 was a real treat.

"I love you/ A bushel and a peck/ A bushel and a peck/ And a hug around the neck" is what she'd sing to us when we were kids. She called my brother "Bruiser." I was "Jenufenuf."

She hand grated all that coconut for her coconut cake! You knew that the fluffy tower of white cake was a work of love and magic, just quivering underneath that green cake plate lid. She was one hell of a cook, in that small kitchen with the walls painted the colors of nicotine and cooking grease. A towel was the pantry door, and behind it lay all her secret ingredients, ones that no one but her knew about, so secret was her operation. She cooked alone.

She lived alone in that tiny house on the corner for 32 years, until she went into the nursing home 4 years ago. In it, she drank hard, played card games at the kitchen table through a thick haze of smoke, a torrent of beer and a gale of fresh laughter from her brothers and sisters who were visiting from "up the country". She took care of her husband Joe for ten years, until his death in 1968. While together, they swam deep in the rivers of drink and debauchery, but there was always a steady stream of laughter. Their union left no children. She said she'd always considered my mom as her daughter, though. She called her "Judy-Poo."

When Aunt Millie had a stroke in 2002, her cantankerousness was replaced by a docile creature that no one really knew. Someone that was sure she was going home, but who didn't realize that her home had been sold in order for her to get into the nursing home. She spoke often of going into downtown Baton Rouge with Joe, and of meeting with her relatives, especially her mother. She would say that they had visited her that day. Then, as she realized the error, she would tell us, "No that can't be right. I know Mama is dead."

The last time I saw her, Aunt Millie hardly knew who I was. I brought my daughter with me, and she would ask repeatedly, "Whose baby is that?" Her eyes were vacant, and she said she did not feel good. She had to wear diapers due to incontinence. She had sores on her feet that would not heal.

I believe that the woman who was our Aunt Millie died when she had that stroke 4 years ago. Her spirit had succumbed to age and illness. I am glad she is no longer suffering, but I will miss her.

We love you, Aunt Millie. A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.

My kind of station...So pathetic, it's brilliant!

XM: Special X, Channel 848

Rock on, boys!

Special X is traditional radio's worst nightmare...a collection of the most bizarre and often worst music ever recorded. So pathetic...it's brilliant. A clearly deranged channel, Special X will take any sane mind to new depths of artistic insanity.

Just played:

Do Ya Think I'm Sexy by Those Darn Accordians. Yes, you hear a triangle in there! Put together wobbly vocals, strange musical accompaniments, the tingle of a triangle and Rod Stewart's saucy sexed-up disco lyrics and what you have is a god-awful mess, or genius!

Either way, it's fun!

Now playing is Like A Rolling Stone butchered, erm, recited by Sebastian Cabot of Family Affair. Yes, Mr. French does Dylan. Badly.

But good for a larf. He does sound sincere, which makes it even funnier.

Like the station's slogan says, "If everyone hates it, we'll probably play it!"

Love it!

Newest pictures of our girl...April/May 2006

Ava and Dad cuddling at the computer. She loves to press buttons of any kind, but especially ones that make us say "Oh, no, not THAT button!"
These two were at our old house.
She had just started walking here. How exciting!


Here she is in Pinky's house in Houston, just chilling on the couch!

Mommy and Baby Napping

This was taken in May 2006.

Louisiana and Texas, Old Home, New Home

Louisiana, you'll always be my home and in my heart.
Texas, we've come to stay a while.

Settling in

We moved in on June 7th and I've been busy trying to unpack and get settled in. I've had bouts of depression and anxiety already, and I guess that's to be expected with such a big move. Being away from my family and the few friends I had made is pretty unsettling, but I can say it has opened my eyes to who I am. When you have no support system around you, you are forced to look inward. And I don't like what I see, overall. I've been so selfish my whole life. And I didn't even realize it until relatively recently. Life is so much more than just me. Making sure that others are happy is so important. I wish I could redo much of my life. But all I can do is to make sure that I remember that from here on out.

Kiss Me, Katy

We sold our house here in BR and will close on it May 26th. We found a house in Katy, Texas and we'll close on that June 1st. Houston itself was a no-go, with us unable to find a nice enough house that wasn't in a seedy neighborhood. So it's Katy for us.
I'm excited and sad, but I can't say which is stronger. I contacted Habitat for Humanity to pick up our dining table and chairs, and it is killing me because the table is the one that has been in my family since before I was born. I know, it's just a table. But it is the table that our family has sat around for 30+ years, the one we have all cried on, laughed around and shared meals together on. It's the same one I nearly burned a huge hole in when I was a senior in high school. I left a candle burning on it atop a paper cup (what the hell was I thinking??) and we all ran outside because it had started to snow, an unheard of occurence in South Louisiana. I came back in and the candle had burned down to the paper cup and the table was smoking!!! Thankfully, no one was mad at me since we were all so excited about the 1 inch of snow on the ground! Yes, we even made a snowman! We put my dad's blue Ford cap on its head and a carrot was its nose. It was damn exciting for us. The next snow I experienced wasn't until January of 2002 in Baton Rouge. See how infrequent it is?

My writing is disjointed and rambling, but who cares. My blood pressure is a bit too high (140/83, pulse rate 100), but my doctor said it's from the stress of the move. And I am too heavy, but food is my only consolation. Hell, everyone has a vice, and mine is food.

So Katy it is and will be. For how long, I don't know. I'll keep everyone updated.

Love, Gren

Some quotes about breaking away from overprotective parents

This is quite a painful issue for me, and my parents are devastated that we are moving. We will only be 3 hours away, but my mom says that "it will never be the same." We'll be in Houston as of May 31st, as that is when we will be closing on our house. Maybe this needs to happen so I can learn to breathe, and stand, on my own. For once. Living with guilt is hard.
"Many people in their 20's and 30's still get sucked into emotional traps and/or need their parents' approval, so much so that they can't be themselves. How does this happen? Inside us all, no matter our age, is an inner child, a left-over from childhood. The inner child contains many needs and wants--many of them primitive, self-serving, and even self-destructive. Parents still have an inner child too. While parents want their children to be capable and happy, there is another part of them that continues to see their children (even when they are 20 or 30) as weak, naive, and needing guidance. The inner child inside mom or dad may be saying "don't grow up, don't leave me." Some of these parents may resent a strong, independent child who is successful or chooses a different life-style or religion or politics or spouse than they would have preferred. To keep such parents from being upset, hurt, or angry, the little child within us may keep secrets from them or respond with "I need you too" or be overly nice and accommodating to them while harboring resentment. The best way to respond to such parents is to bypass their child and address their adult part which wants you to be mature and independent: "It's time for me to live alone" or "Instead of coming home, I've decided to do something else for Christmas this year." Make the interaction adult to adult by giving your reasons in a straight forward manner. Part of your parents may be very pleased you have "grown up" (in spite of their inner child's needs). They may object; consider their reasoning and make your decision.
Halpern helps us recognize these parent-child "song and dance" routines we utilize as long as the child within (us or the parents) is in charge rather than the inner adult. It is a safe bet that you are overly attached to a parent if after 20 you react with anger, guilt, fear of their reaction, or self-pity when you think of a parent. One of the toughest parent roles for a child to handle is the sacrificing martyr. The classic is a mother who says, "If it weren't for you children, I wouldn't have suffered so. You forget all I've done for you. And now everyone forgets their dear old mother." Often such a mother felt unloved and unlovable as a child. The mother's inner child is angry, frightened, and demanding. Now she thinks she can get love from her children only by force, primarily guilt. Her message to the son or daughter is, "If you don't do what I want, I'll feel terrible, all because you are so selfish and hurtful." To stop this "song and dance" the son or daughter has to say, "No, I won't do what you are asking, and it's your choice, mother, to suffer or be happy." You can't rescue your mother or father from her/his unhappy childhood. You can carefully explain your reasons for your actions, showing that you considered their wishes, that you love them, but you have a life of your own. "