she was bound and determined to go with me
i tried repeated times to talk her out of it
she was having none of it
"You are going to go away."
days she said. I know it's hours
scars on her back from a dog that was bound to die
another rescue says she
so be it. bring it home if they are willing
I can't bear to see it in a cage
ought to have to go to a class and get a license before you can
buy another living creature to bring home
or a gun to kill it
but that is for another nightday
Pope Frank had a birthday today
Donald Trump said something demonstrably false
and the sun came up
and the sun went round the sky
then I had a drink
did anything change while I was working?
posted up something today from
the Accidental Talmudist
not sure if Sgt. Edmonds was Baptist or Methodist
but that day he said We are all Jews
all of us. in the Stalag
maybe I should remember the German In Charge
he holstered his pistol
he kept it back
what would it have taken to wave the men down?
the machine gun is a grim reaper
cut like a cord ripped from the seams
but he didn't, some force of will or mercy or love or respect
it stayed that day
and they all walked in together, holding hands in hell
we are all in this together
there are no sidelines
there is no gallery,
each of us an audience in another's passion play
14 years ago today.
I watched a football game with a burrito baby in my arms.
Tonight she wanted me to make fried chicken. Honored to be deemed worthy.
We worry over them and wonder if they are gonna be ok
when we let them toddle off across the yard
but eventually we let go of the handlebars and let them roll on their own power
kinda gotta.
we have to pick them up off the ground.
we have to hug the tears and be the hankie when
there is a snot walrus tusk hanging off their 3 year old face
teen between here and there
dreams of tomorrow and memories of yesterdays not so long ago
i am grayer and the days get shorter
I have to remember these days as long as I can
eventually all I have left are the deeds I have done, good and bad
memories fade in the gray matter. dry cells firing intermittently
but whilst what wits still abide me
seize every chance I get, jump the fire
we might only be here once
unless I get in traffic of your making in which case
i want a warrant to shoot you
this is how it is. each day I am presented with this new set of
programs, problems, situations and circumstances
beyond my control
this is called life
rolling a big stone up this slight incline
only to have it teeter and wobble back upon me
chasing me back down
i better run faster
seems to be gaining on me
sooner or later
that was done last week, we are all good on them
I was over there a while back
trying to sort through the future
of where i wanted to be
so many moving parts
best i can do is keep moving forward
Pope Frank was around here last week
I was glad to see it
something existential about the Vicar of Christ
come to see you
made the Speaker of the House
cry in his hankie
and leave behind all the BS that has become the day to day
i didnt start off being political
at 13 I was trying to figure out girl X
not how to get a bill passed to be a law
but somehow I knew
when they asked me what I wanted to be
I said Federal Judge
and that was the picture I drew
many moons later the cockfighter said to me
that was because you figured out the system mijo
there was a day when I was unsullied by the sweat and grit of life
it might have lasted ten seconds
oh i had a childhood. didn't you?
wasn't there the moments of when we saw a lightning flash?
the structure of our lives
we gleam it out in another's eye
I live in a moment in time
the seconds add up to the sum of me
I only get so many
carpe diem they said to me
this day is not like others i said
mark it, is there time?
play to the whistle and then make them make you stop
some of us only have a bent stick on a barn
flinging cold hard rocks or rubber
hit it every day
it is the only chance we get
he's not what you call a very glamorous man
dr feelgood.
to stare at the abyss of the ending of life
the yawning bored face of yet another ending it so sadly
do not go there to that plain
it is a hard place
to sleep in the arms of morpheus is to weep
i have only these small words to defend me.
they are not much
but it is what I had at hand
When the pictures find their way on to this page
I will gladly add them.
inserta nod to fellow bards
one last drag of his big cigar and he finally let me free
from hell to paradise
I'll always pay the price
if i live longer than the olmec heads and methuselah put together
i will not understand the woman
I am not certain that is required
it is more about acceptance
that she has chosen me
if i
this very smallest of small i
if I the very i of me
can accept this
this one
the other has chosen
hard to grasp
accept what is
receive it
early returns dear listeners
i cannot deny it.
stay tuned
wordsmith, beat out the keys upon your digitizer of thoughts find some way to make the amorphous feelings get some root that cur dog that barked at you when you offered it water it drank it but only after you put it down and got back getting closer only made it angry and afraid
all the old despair of ever understanding what cannot be understood of gunshots to the head in a polar vortex moment when time ceases to be linear rattling back at me as if it were a chained hammer come back around to swing at me again the dust of a decade has settled on that relationship the divorce has hardened me and the absurdity of human behavior is in sharper focus and I don't like it any more then than I do now even if I am sometimes entertained by it
wave on wave of emotions that I had rather not have shocking moments of events unplanned and surprises unforeseen there is no measuring the strangeness of this life
what if we do have an emotional intelligence? what if machiavelli had it too? the carnival barker surely does and so the other temptations of this life hoyt axton wrote the song and steppenwolf played it and my sentiments are the same though I won't name it in polite company playing them like a fiddle, toying with their feelings is a hard harvest
I will stop thinking about it pretty soon some other thing will come to interest me but at the moment I would really like to know and that means much more reading and testing
somewhere in my gut I am not sure I ever will but it might prove useful along the way
Words change. Sometimes they become obsolete in the terminology of the linguist. Sallet as a food is one of them. Sallet is not known to the Chrome Dictionary. I wonder if it is in the Merriam-Webster. Nope. I stopped down and commented on it. This is what I wrote
No, it is not turnip greens exclusively. Or any greens for that matter. It is an obsolete form of salad. My 1971 Compact OED includes it. A Dictionary of Archaic & Provincial Words, Obsolete Phrases ..., Volume 2 By James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps maintains it was obsolete in 1852,"Sallet. A salad. Hall." but I would maintain that it is still used provincially in the American south to this day but typically in regards to Phytolacca americana though we all know salad can be any collection of greens. As it is understood today and particularly in regards to poke it is a cooked green as opposed to a fresh one. Polk Salad, Poke salad, poke sallet all refer to the same food. Tony Joe White recorded Polk Salad Annie in 1969. Thinking of poke as our typical fresh salad green has caused some at least apocryphal tales of folks suffering from shall we say gastro-intestinal distress?
The term poke sallet is an old Southern term for the cooked young leaves of the poke weed. Sallet comes from Middle English and refers to a mess (another Old or Middle English term) of greens cooked until tender. The term Polk Salad is a gentrified way of referring to poke sallet, and I'm afraid it reflects our inferiority complex when it comes to standing up for our Southern terminology. We are not making a mush of Polk Salad; actually, we are being true to our English ancestors who settled here a long time ago.
Some folks around here always add a little molasses and fatback to the water when they cook their poke sallet. That's the traditional way.
Don't you just love Tony Joe White's song Poke Sallet Annie?
Sallet is another variation for the spelling of salad, archaic, obsolete and I am among the people on the planet that wants to call this dish by this name. I am hard-headed sometimes. Everybody else calls it salad which has led to some unfortunate dining experiences. Despite its reputation as poisonous there is no reason to avoid this plant. Euell Gibbons called it the 'Cadillac of greens'. There are festivals held in its honor. This song was written with an acceptance of it as a normal, everyday part of the diet. It was even the subject of a dissertation in 1757 at the University of Pennsylvania. If you have access to that work, I sure would like to see some of it. Perhaps Google can be of assistance....
A little background first I suppose would be in order. Poke has a couple of different names, but the varieties are essentially the same. Phytolacca is the Genus. That much is straight forward, they haven't decided to change that part yet. 5.5+ million hits and here are the first five for Poke Salad: WikiWild PantryDon't Eat Poke SaladAnnual Poke Salad Festival and Cooks/Recipes for Poke Salad
AUTHOR(S): Callahan, R.; Piccola, F.; Gensheimer, K.; Parkin, W. E.; Prusakowski, J.; Scheiber, G.; Henry, S. TITLE: Plant poisonings - New Jersey. YEAR: 1981 CITATION: MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep, 30(6), 65-67 [English] FDA #: F07132 ABSTRACT: Within a 2.5 month period in 1980, 27 New Jersey residents were poisoned, in 2 separate episodes, by eating wild plants. The poisonings were serious enough that 21 persons sought medical care; 4 were hospitalized. Pokeweed poisoning Passaic County: On July 11, an outbreak of gastrointestinal illness related to eating pokeweed leaves affected campers in a large day camp. Initial reports indicated that the outbreak was limited to a "nature group" whose members had sampled a salad made with this wild plant. The group, comprising 52 campers and counselors, had been offered pokeweed salad prepared from young leaves picked, boiled, drained, and reboiled that morning, a method that reputedly ensured the plant's edibility. Sixteen (31%) of the 51 interviewed met the case definition (vomiting accompanied by any 3 of the following: nausea, diarrhea, stomach cramps, dizziness, and headache on July 11). Nine others who were not part of the nature group also had tasted the salad; 5 (56%) of these became ill. Of the 21 ill campers, 18 (86%) experienced nausea, 18 (86%) stomach cramps, 17 (81%) vomiting, 11 (52%) headache, 10 (48%) dizziness, 8 (38%) burning in the stomach or mouth; and 6 (29%) diarrhea. Persons became ill .5 to 5.5 hours (mean 3 hours) after eating the pokeweed. Symptoms lasted 1 to 48 hours, with a mean of 24 hours. Eighteen persons were seen in local emergency rooms or physicians' offices. Four of these were hospitalized for 24 to 48 hours for protracted vomiting and dehydration. Food history analysis was done for all 60 persons. Salad was the only food item significantly associated with illness. Twenty (43%) of the 46 persons who ate pokeweed became ill compared with 1 (7%) of 14 who did not eat it (P .01). Moreover, for those who ate the salad, illness was associated with eating at least 1 teaspoonful compared with less than 1 teaspoonful (p=.02). Vomitus analyzed for 7 persons was negative for Staphylococcus aureus.
There is disagreement about edible parts, season of edibility, and methods of preparation of pokeweed and even about whether the plant should be eaten at all. Indeed, the camp counselor in the Passaic outbreak had been preparing pokeweed salad for many years without apparent ill effects.
and this
Jaeckle, K. A., Freemon, F. R. 1981. Pokeweed poisoning. South. Med. J., 74: 639-640.
Just google it. It is a book link and Google frowns upon taking whole sections of print from their stacks.
What I find fascinating about poke is that it is considered either a green of the highest order or a poison. There is no in between for most people. The scientist sees it differently. They throw things at various and sundry cells just to see what happens. Every PhD had to do a dissertation and every researcher needs something else to research. It was probably a given that they would try this plant out.
I suspect this was one of the early plants that the Euro encountered when they came over the Atlantic. I would venture that it was among the foods served at the first Thanksgiving dinner. There are festivals in celebration of this plant. As cited in from the Poisonous Plants link I did finally manage to find a case of poisoning from eating the greens, but the counselor did not suffer any ill effects nor did over half of those that consumed it. I have eaten it for years. It is delicious. I did not find any citations of poke sallet poisoning in the festivals celebrating it and I sure would love to see the actual case notes from that Passaic case. The other citations I found from the Canadians referred to somebody making a tea from either roots or berries. There is evidence of this plant being used by herbalists in lands other than America. It is cited in "In Vitro" as being used in Iran. There is also a citation in the Canadian link to turkey poults and hogs being poisoned by it, yet its typical vector for being spread around an area is defecation of the seeds by various birds. It is ordinarily found where a bird will perch after consuming the berries and defecating the seeds. I wonder if their system is less likely to break the seed coat and the turkeys more likely to which would release more of the toxin than just the fruit part itself.
This is just skimming the surface some. I might come back and add some more to it, but I have wanted to get this blog entry finished for a while. It deserves some more work, but I have much to do today and I am already being lobbied to get my butt in gear.
I had to learn that. Many times over. So much crap tossed in the flames or the virtual trashcan.
Maybe this passes muster. perhaps it survives. We'll see come tomorrow.
When did we stop giving a shit? When did I stop paying attention?
was i too busy in search of fun? Trying to wrangle my way back to the triangle.
or just another buzz?
I get in the truck and pump out my CO2
I go hose down the world and cry at the butterfly
get the hell out of here! go away!
I am death and the reaper
fear me
Cut loose again. Not sure why. Garbled replies and it is probably me.
shrug. Keep going. This ain't it. No rest for the wicked.
and the very next day I get messages and messages replied
no please no. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
perhaps this is it. Just me on the road.
keep working and the words come when I don't expect them
Is there a day of reckoning?
Well, when is it? Can't say eh?
Carry on then. Let the wicked carry on with it.
Let the good continue to be good.
I'll just try to muddle along.
See you there. Maybe. If I make the cut.
A thousand songs and a million tears
are not enough
a picture of ten thousand words
is but a glimpse of another soul
friends of pixels and oceans away
souls out of time and in my mind
they are part of me
Heard it called islands in the stream
and ships passing in the night
how are you to describe and put forth the explanation?
of the meeting of two humans
in the proximity of now
the big now. the is was and will be
tell me how you do it.
still wrestling with it over here
I hope you don't expect me to explain it all
I surely do not know
this is all a big mystery to me
a never ending search for data
a mine that never plays out
more research is needed before I can surmise
some sort of answer
of how I like you and you like me
and how it ought to be
what is the good?
He drank hemlock
I heard John was sawn in two
how many monks beheaded in search of truth?
If I stumble and If I fail
may mercy find me
I tried and keep trying
what else can the iron do in the fire?
I was there and she was there
the her that is and is not me
where was I?
was I hearing this or did I imagine such things?
NO, this was real
I was there. I remember it.
what does it all mean?
I am still finding it.
there is no end.
good.
Keep going.
Be it known to all interested parties or those ever so disinterested but on the contrary somewhat bored enough to muddle through this rambling declaration I am no longer a single man.
Well at least in the sense that if I went on a date with a female other than the one whose bags I loaded in her vehicle yesterday and said goodbye to this morning before she took off for a week in Houston and Austin she would likely exact severe retribution. So in that regard I am no longer in charge of some things in my life.
Like dressing myself. Those worn out old blue jeans? Probably makings for a purse or some sort of other craft project. Broke down old boots? Replaced. New cologne that I have previously never seen or heard of? Check. Shaving even though it is just an ordinary old Friday and the fanciest place we have to go is dinner? Done. I accept these things because I am generally incapable of dressing myself in a manner that is fit for public viewing. I am very likely to keep wearing jeans that have seen their better days five years ago. Shirts with one or two burn holes in them? Still good. It is a good thing women find something tolerable about men because otherwise we would still be living in a cave and eating meat on a stick, perhaps quivering from the kill and while that is fine for oysters and perhaps some other meat, it is generally a good idea to scorch the hell out of the bacteria that is likely to be lingering on my preferred protein sources. So, all in all I accept the fact that I do need a handler. Probably 2 or 3. No, make that four, I have a sister too. Between my mother, daughter, sister and now girlfriend it is less likely that I will turn up to some event wearing clothing that should have been donated, no sorry, burned or otherwise disposed of.
That said, this is going to take some adjustment. I am not used to finding tools in a state of complete disarray. Neither am I accustomed to finding .22 long rifle shells rolling around in the bottom of the tool box. That was cause for a discussion of the concept of rimfire ignition and the relative ease with which they would penetrate said toolbox and the ensuing trip to the hospital if it found meat on its wayward path. Since she has recently moved into new digs I found myself helping out with the unpacking. This continues to be a work in progress. I have managed to thin out the stack of boxes that were sitting on the porch and store them properly in the shed/barn. Hung one shelf, a couple dozen decorative doohickeys and one rod for hanging clothes in the laundry room. I was somewhat dismayed that the sockets had been summarily dumped into a vase, but they do in fact exist and I will give her credit for that. Considering that she was making a hasty departure from a particularly bad relationship I count it in her favor that she had the presence of mind to load them at all. I can overlook the pink hammer that would fold under impact with anything more resistant than a tack. I can disregard the seemingly endless supply of wind chimes which I affectionately call clang-bangers. The 682 items in the bathroom, the closet full of nothing but coats (on the back porch to boot) and the shoes....I swear I might have an even ten pair of shoes, which is not enough for this week in Houston if you were to ask her...all these things are par for the course. I expected it and would have been nothing less than shocked if it were any different. It is however going to be an adjustment. In my wildest imagination I could not have foreseen the need for 14 t-shirts for a one week trip. Oh right, morning and evening. The idea that one might wear the same t-shirt in the evening for more than one day? Unthinkable. Yep, some adjustments are in order.
When I afford myself a moment of introspection of finding or rather being found by someone I wonder at what sort of meandering path it was. I do not know the odds of meeting someone from 20+ years ago on that wild assed world wide web. Facebook has indeed made it simpler to do so, but that is by no means a guarantee. Further, even upon finding one another, the timing for a relationship has to be right. It does not do for one or both to already be in a relationship. I am not the sort of man who goes after someone when they are in a relationship; good, bad or meh. I didn't before and I am not starting now. When she first found me a couple of years ago we were both involved. I kept my distance and said hi and howdy when it was called for but I made no attempt at reconnection, in any capacity. Then one day I received a picture of myself in the inbox. After a bout of raucous laughter I immediately posted it as a profile picture. Sweet memories of ill-spent years in college. Not so sweet for my mother though and she began to inquire of its origins I had to throw up the Heisman and say," not so fast woman, you really really do not want to know." Little did I know that my response to the maternal figure was going to be somewhat misread. The next day after some rounds of liquid bravery were consumed at a girlfriend's place she sent me another note asking if I was mad or somehow offended. Typical of me, I was scratching my head and trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong this time. At least I knew enough to say, "Mad? Why would I be mad at you? That was great! If you are talking about my comment to my mom, that was me throwing up a road block before she ventured off into dark woods she did not want to enter."
"Oh. Ok! How have you been?" and so the interrogation period began.
As I said this was a request to say something, a few syllables at least, about where I stand and what I think about it at the moment. She particularly wanted me to mention the wretched pink hammer and the shocking fact of bullets in the toolbox. I included the part of my inability to dress myself properly of my own volition. It is undeniable and symptomatic of my existence as male human being.
at nearly a quarter to 2 what did you expect? shall I find Waylon and Willie this time of night?
tadao said to tear down the wall the wages were sttttttttrong so he did get me that jackhammer and get to it luis, i could sure use a burrito
it still looks like a drill bit to me no matter how phallic
grasses waving in the wind been there and she got mad while she talked to some random human i watched the airplanes fly in and out
aint none of my concern if your mustang burns still over here
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
somme was there was death and the revealing
flowers in the distance
of blasted trees and holes in the ground
wherewith we hid ourselves
saki died there hh munro with stories in his head, laughingatmadness
how so can i survive this day?
save me ghosts and saints
send prayers and hopes and a few syllables me way
down in the gutter where the dirt and silt and the rain and the sweat
are all I have in my hand
shake out your boot from the pebble that irks you
she is there and here and over and there and
what the hell was i thinking@!
i just want a warm bed and somewhere to lay me head
up against someone else in a somewhat clean house
where i dont have to worry about where she is
or when i might hear from her again
i know where mom is sleeping
i know where the dog is
i know where my daughter lays her head
but where I might find my other half
well
well
i just dont know
the one i thought i had
died one christmas
life is not for the the lonely
lonely are the brave
dirt and much tears and sweat and blood and the occasional scar
have been the sum total of my life
somewhere somehow
i gotta make it til tomorrow
i used to think i knew where i was going
now i just hope i am headed in sort of the right direction
i saw a tree
and i think it saw me too
i saw a lizard and it posed
i saw a wave on the ocean
and i thought i was there
i read a book and i dreamed i was there
reality took me back
and i fought it
i grasped at the vision in me head
paper and pen were not enough
it eluded me
these electrons on the page are all that I have left
Back earlier in the week when it was contemplated
about goingout and doingstuff
she wasn't feeling exactly great
would you rather me stay back?
no no, fun fun and more fun
ok, so here i am again. Saw a pink and black Harley
last night at the local bar
then a Roothog Barback that I know knew the score
that last shot of Patron did me in. Liquor first then beer
or just stick to the cold malted beverages
Headed out on the town
Feels good after a week of stone, bone and dirt
bloody arms and sore back
liquid muscle relaxer helps, but not in excess
woke up sideways in the bed that we did
I better go easy on this wonderful night
I'd kinda like it to last
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Pictures do not suffice and there are no words
but I will try to find them when I may and capture them when they come to me
did I find the rose or did she find me?
the perfect flower of my existence
the rose and gardenia, camellia and orchid
as if all the flowers I ever knew were summed up in a person
the flower of love when it blooms
is stronger than any I know
