There are No Scars without first Wounds



There are No Scars without first Wounds



Got a good report from the ENT (Ear Doctor) today. Apparently the clicking and popping noises in my right ear are due to an Eustachian tube that does not open all the way.  A simple prescription with Flonase will hopefully alleviate the problem. Actually the noises are more annoying than anything else. The ear is not painful.

Eternal Internal Chaos

Being Cut. Wounds produce scars. Sometimes Life rips the scabs off the scars before the wound has healed. Infection. Pus. Filthy. Gangrenous. Foul Smelling. The Book of Job Revisited.  An open pestilence of the soul forms. While others judge never fully knowing internal battles.  Turn and face your demons but remember they are armed also.  She who fights and runs away may live to fight another day.  The devil and his/her demons come in many forms awaiting your vulnerabilities. Your weaknesses so they can rip our your heart. Eviscerate your innards.

Rejoicing. Laughing. Watching your guts litter the battlefield which has become your graveyard. So you run. You hide and wait for Resurrection and Rebirth. You Lurk among squalid corners. Slink close to the walls like rats who relish the dark afraid to come out in the open but secretly ready. Planning your Vengeance.  This time there will be No Negotiation.  Oh Attacker! You programmed me well. I now know and embody all your devious devil devices. Your imprint is on my mind. Now I use your weapons against you!!  Beware O’ Wicked One! The Victim has now become the Victor!!

Slammed down into the red brick earth. Enemy not knowing that you can sustenance and strength each time you hit the ground. Earth Mother receives your bloody wounded corpse. Sends animation Life Force through your firmly planted feet. There. A Baobab Tree. A Mighty Oak. A Banyan Tree. Close ranks around you. Gaia protects her children. Filling a Fallen Sister with Kinetic Force. Ready to do Battle. The Enemy lies defeated before he has yet begun. Yes. Even the Forest Must have it’s Revenge. 

So now I’m back to my Royally, Bitchy, Crazy, Raunchy self. Mean and Gritty. Getting down in the City.

Earned my Advanced degrees in Chill Out and Chillaxin’ ~~ Not caring what people say or their reactions.  If you don’t want to go along for the ride. Don’t get in the car.

Bitch Mode is now in effect………..  Back to Our irregularly scheduled programming!!

Soldier Survivor!! Woman Warrior!!  Resistance Fighter!!

Using Her Blasts of Power Surges aka Hot Flashes as Weapons of Warfare!!  Mass Destruction to idiots, fools, morons and all those who get in my way….. Talk to the Hand, cause the Face ain’t Listening!


Halloween 2015
Halloween 2015


Sade – Soldier of Love





The Workers Leave No Footprints

Dreams Never Die

Misty Foggy Morn

Youth said “Dreams Never Die.” Twenty years passed then Recession kicked in. New Realities were born. Twelve hour workdays became the norm.

Like a drowning man Dreams surfaced again and again only to plummet down to the watery deep. All the while knocking at 1% door watching them through one-sided window laugh, play, drink and party with no thought for the ‘Morrow’. We the unseen only imagining free time for our dreams.

Dreams that must wait until Social Security beckons if death does not reach us first. Fore bread, water, warm clothes and a place to live cry louder. Goodnight Sweet Dreams. May you one day resurrect to a New Dawn.


The Working Poor Leave No Footprints

Surrounded by a plethora of people who seemed to surface like bloated corpses after spring thaw.  Worker bees we are all meaningless specks of dust being recklessly scattered by blustery winds.  Modern day Robber Barons throw battle weary soldiers back into the battle while they sit sipping tea in Ivory Towers.  Thirty-seven years a professional, now placating rot breath Sabbath suits long in tooth, visions of Mammy dancing in their heads.  Limestone Liver spotted wrinkled bone bags befoul the air with endless demands.  Dontcha know Miz Daisy learned to drive herself and the Help all went to the French Rivera.

Foggy Misty Morn

I am Hagar cast out of my prosperous household, denied by the Master and Mistress I once served.  Thrown out of my protectors’ house my Dream-child and I await Our Avenging Angel of Salvation.

My Dreams now dead buried under work obligations, mountains of rules and regulations that I seem to constantly violate just by being. No miracles exist for me. Only years of mindless drudgery ahead.  Millennial Overseers govern my every move with their remote control mind games.  Freedom lies dormant within my imagination.  My brain has been put out to pasture because intelligence is not needed or wanted and creativity has become a sin.  Automaton Me clad in nondescript dull uniform easily replaceable by the next set of hungry hands yearning for the pence dispensed from the rich mans table.  Hey!! Who’s next up on the Auction Block?!!  Come lock step into the Plantation Mausoleum filled with objects which are valued more than drones who guard them.  We be Aliens in our own Land.  Serfs never reaping a hard earned Harvest.

Yet soon a New Day will Dawn, Dreams will bear fruit and Visions be reborn.

My Secret Hiding Place

My Secret Hiding Place

The Hiding Place
The Hiding Place

I couldn’t build a tree house.  Too high up and anyway I’m afraid of heights, so instead I built this little fort of sorts as a place to gather my thoughts after a hectic day.  Made my best efforts with whatever materials the forest floor offered up as building materials.  There were enough twigs and branches to construct more ground level tree houses or make my current enclosure larger but I chose to save some for kindling for warmth against the chill night air and the rest I kept stacked as a type of cord-wood not too far away.

It has become my sanctuary and safe haven I return to again and again to re-connect with Mother Earth and nature. Too small to stand upright clicking my heels together three times was not an option so I was forced to remain seated. With some degree of discomfort I could lay down in a fetal position while I imagined myself re-entering an alternate womb to be reborn into better circumstances. Mine was a tepee without the buffalo skin covering all bones and framework.

Sometimes I’d hug my knees and rhythmically rock back and forth while repeating what I thought were calming mantras, occasionally wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole transporting me some place free from pain, misery and cruelty. Like a shaman I chanted using my homemade rituals attempting to silence the drumbeat of squatter voices incessantly chattering inside my head versus the declarations of the Family.  They created a dissonance within the time frame continuum of my thoughts.

You see our house, if you could call that ramshackle structure; a hodgepodge mixture of stone, wood and stucco addendum and afterthoughts as different parts of the building were constructed at different times upon the whims the directors and caretakers.

I was forced to share this mishmash cottage with twelve other inmates, bordered on this expanse of woods providing me a refuge from leaky roofs, busted walls, peeling wallpaper, lukewarm baths, moldy musty scented showers, not to mention all the yelling, screaming, arguments, fights and constant disagreements of a house too small to accommodate the number of people residing within its creaky ramparts.  The Family nicknamed it the Hotel California. You know the place where you check in but never check out. The nails across chalkboard voices of The Family were constant knife thrusts to my brain making daily life a constant battle that did not end even has the diurnal gave up residence to the nocturnal for they all snored, wheezed and gasped through the night abyss. The Family’s house sits on an oddly place piece of land, our house gives way to forest which in turn after several miles gives way to craggy, rocky shores of a steep cliff, where if one sits perfectly still you can hear the violent waves crashing against rough jagged rock formations that looked as though they were designed by the devil himself. It is said that in olden times there used to be many shipwrecks where sailors were either impaled on the razor sharp Stalagmites. Sometimes you can even hear the shrieks, moans, cries and groans of the unfortunate wretches mixed in with the howling winds.

So I periodically retreated to my exoskeleton asylum as a sentry medium between earth and sky. I can never turn my mind off completely but within my secret hiding place the voices were kept to a low roar and bid to change direction and pace.

The Kindling delivered me from The Family’s vocalizations. I tried to warn them before. I tried to silence the voices through escape, but it was not working so I had to try another plan. The crackles and pops of my campfire seem to be in sync with the screams and cries for rescue from the patients locked inside their rooms but eventually those voices will die out also, and then sleep.  Blessed sleep.  As I drifted off I thought I heard sounds creeping up on me.  Maybe it could be…. Naw.  How would those deviant mutations get all the way out here.

While pyrotechnics roared and exploded beyond the glen my dream state thoughts went to Calista and Cassandra those Kudzu Chia matronly tumbleweeds who wreck havoc and chaos wherever they spore and spawn and their equally troublesome and problematic one-legged Siamese twin cousins Morton and Milton.



Germ Warfare

Germ Warfare

After a fruitful and pleasant visit to City MD Urgent Care at 336 East 86th Street I was diagnosed with yet another sinus infection. I seem to get them every 3 to 4 months. Why I don’t know?! CityMD Urgent Care are very efficient using Google Maps to locate the Walgreens in my neighborhood Fulton & Nostrand send them the prescriptions so all I had to do was pick it up.

Carnival Cruise 2004
2004 Carnival Cruise

Now I’m back to being a pill factory. A veritable cornucopia of pills, ear drops, nasal spray, and my buddy Azithromycin. Damn! There’s no escaping old age, body decline & being tired, exhausted and drained, no matter how much healthy organic foods I eat; water, juice, and Kefir I drink, yogurt I consume or daily exercise. Guess I’m just a magnet for germs.

Ah the joys of living with Acute Sinusitis! Since last Thursday I have drunk more tea with honey and lemon and eaten so much garlic that even though it did not kill the germs I was not visited by any Vampires. By Labor Day I was so wiped out by hacking and coughing the previous night I had morphed into a raccoon. I do believe I left behind a lung, kidney and parts of my diaphragm at my workplace.  I looked like I had gone a few rounds with boxer Muhammad Ali in his prime or spent three weeks without sleep since I had two black eyes. I could barely speak and became a raspy voice Joe Cocker harlequin at the Annual Palace Ball!

Being a soldier I fought these invaders to my system with humongous amounts of liquids, eventually consuming cloves of garlic in a nearly raw state so much so that I could have repelled an Army of the Undead. By Monday Labor Day I was pushed into the role of Zombie Guard at my workplace. Tuesday I stayed home to recover and felt well enough Wednesday to attend an outing in Central Park with friends.

For several days now, Mr. Nasal Congestion, his wife Missy Mucous invited what sounded like an entire team of Flamenco dancers to torture my right ear.  The clickety clacking sounds were so loud that obviously the Flamenco dancers were using extra loud castanets! The accompanying pain was like Flamenco dancers were driving a nail, spear or knife through my right ear ala the Vincent Price, Dr. Phibes! Enough! Thus my journey to CityMD Urgent Care for relief from pain, congestion and coughing. Now I’m about to put these ear drops in my right ear and murder all those inconsiderate castanet playing tap dancing Flamencos!! Die you evil bastards!!!

Folks it is like being a host for the Germ Factory Club. Gonna make you sweat with a delightful roasted body fever. You feel the Invasion of the Body Snatchers partying inside your body doing the Cha, Cha, Cha, Tango, Rumba and Foxtrot all up and down my sinus cavities!  The beautiful static noise inside my right ear reminds me of the point when the needle touches the vinyl on old fashioned records.

Today I may be a member of the Walking Wounded but I will repel these nasty malevolent trespassers away from my being! Next in my arsenal, super duper strength vitamins! Get back you wicked virus!  My sword released from its sheath and I will win the battle and the war!