"CANDY BARS AND CHEAP RED WHINE"

...I really can't explain it any better than this!


(verse 1)
Got a letter from a lover,
bad as he was good.
Told me once to go away -
now I wish I could.

Suddenly he sees the picture,
like from God divine.
Sanctify his selfishness -
water into wine.

(chorus)
"Two-Buck Chuck" is a thing of the past...
now it's three-ninety-nine.
but nights like this, it's the only cure -
Candy bars and cheap red whine,
Candy bars and cheap red whine.

(verse 2)
Wants to tell me all about it,
now he understands.
It was spirits gave him guidance -
not his own two hands.

Girl like me knows what he's thinkin',
make himself look fine.
I'm not buyin', I'm not drinkin' -
I don't need no sign.

(bridge)
Some things can give a girl the terrors -
Tonight that thing is his spelling errors.
There's wine you drink, or a whining letter -
One is bad, and one is better...
I only want the one that's wetter.

(verse3)
Got a letter from a lover,
like from God divine.
Told him just to go away -
take his cheap red whine.

(chorus)
"Two-Buck Chuck" is a thing of the past...
now it's three-ninety-nine.
but nights like this, it's the only cure -
Candy bars and cheap red whine,
Candy bars and cheap red whine.

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"IN THE HOUSE"

Some days, "IT" just gets to me - let's make our handicaps into humor, shall we?  Even if it's dark? 
...Better yet, let's make them into songs!  Sing it with me!

    

verse 1:                  I’ve lost my mind, but

I know it’s in the house somewhere

‘cause I had it with me when I

got home from the store.

I’ve got a question –

Why do I know where my keys are?

Seeing how’s I lost my mind,

             I should be loosing more you know –

             I should be loosing more.

chorus:         I know it’s in the house somewhere.

I mean, it must be, right?

I had it with me, with my keys,

when I got home last night.

verse 2:                 I’ve lost my head, but

I know it’s in the house somewhere –

Saw it in the mirror when I

came in through the door.

So here’s the question –

How come I still can see myself?

Seeing how’s I lost my head,

my eyes would not be sore you know –

my eyes would not be sore.

chorus:         I know it’s in the house somewhere.

I mean, it must be, right?

I had it with me, with my mind,

when I got home last night.

verse 3:                 I’ve lost my brain, but

I know it’s in the house somewhere.

Felt it rattling in my head like

loose screws in a drawer.

Now for the question –

What happens if I step on it?

Seeing how’s I lost my brain,

it might be on the floor you know –

it might be on the floor.

chorus:         I know it’s in the house somewhere.

I mean, it must be, right?

I had it with me, with my head

when I got home last night.

chorus:         Oh, I know it’s in the house somewhere.

I mean, it must be, right?

I had it with me, with my head, my mind, my keys . . .

Oh, I had it with me, with my keys,

when I got home last night.

.

 

"...OR NOT?"

..."So that's my theory an' I'm stickin' to it."  Or not.
Land of shimp said...
          "Aha, sounds more like a motion to be seconded and carried than a theory, but I'm in favor of it. I never met a fruit acid I didn't like..."

And I concur!  Never met and intellegent correction that I didn't like.

So now... shall I rewrite it ("The Theory of Regularity", 11 feb 2011) or, seeing how it's been seconded already, shall we just vote?  I, for one, would like to loose one upcoming birthday for every single thing in my experience that seems to have a short in it.  And quick! - before all those things short out altogether and I no longer remember what birthdays even are!

.

"THE THEORY OF REGULARITY"

       Today I was thinking of an old friend, and realised that I had no idea how old that friend
actually was.  I thought to contact her and ask her when her birthday was.  Of course, logic suggests that she would then ask me the same question, which made me think of the answer, and that set off a whole big chain of philosophical reasoning and other gibberish.  Maybe I knew how old she was once.  And maybe I would rather not tell her how old her old friend actually was. 
       I have a theory about birthdays.  I have a theory about a lot of things actually; things that
were once confusing but now make perfect sense to me.  You've heard of the Theory of Relativity?  Well, this one's called "The Theory of Regularity".  Bear with me, OK?  I promise I'll go away in a minute...
       Think of things that you do that happen regularly.  Like sleeping at night.  As time passes in
life, some of those things become less dependable, less predictable and less regular.  Things like
cognition, cell turnover and bowel movements?  Well I think birthdays should be added to the list.  If "other things" get to leave the building, some of which a person actually needed - then having
birthdays less frequently seems only logical, amirite?  Yeah?
       So that's my theory an' I'm stickin' to it.  :)


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"THE SILENCE OF FOOLS"

       Sometimes the craving for silence is overwhelming; without it my mind and body get wound up tighter and tighter until one or both of them is bound to snap and fly apart, shredding like shrapnel.  Today though, I have to avoid silence.  I need to make some noise, get some things done - and drown out the rising wail of pain. 
       Fifteen out of the last twenty days have been painful enough to limit my mobility, and limited mobility makes such a mess!  I try to at least keep the livingroom straighted up so that I have somewhere to rest my eyes that isn't in chaos.  I gave up on the bedroom months ago - my eyes are closed when I'm in there anyway.  And it's not as if I have visitors, eh?  In fact, that has become part of the problem.
       The visitors that I crave as much as silence are the helpers.  You know, the ones who come in on a regular basis and help me manage my disability?  Oh wait.  Yeah,  about that...
       I'm just one person, you know?  One little person in the nearly infinite sea of persons who need help somehow.  And my 'somehow' looks pretty insignificant compaired to the floods in Australia and the earthquake in Haiti.  Reality check?  Yes, and no. 
       If I knew that the people who could help me take care of myself and my home were giving their money or their time to help those in such horrible need, I would never begrudge them the time they don't have for me.  But they're not.  That doesn't make them bad; in fact, I'm sure that everyone I know does something nice to help someone else every day.  When it's convenient.  When it's comfortable.  Or when it's tax deductable.  I am none of those things.
       Quite the opposite in fact - I am uncomfortable twenty-four hours a day and it's damned inconvenient to be in too much pain to take care of things I used to take for granted!  And I'm certainly no-one's tax deduction!  No, instead I am alone alone alone for days at a time, and if I writhe in pain and the mess it makes, who's to know?  If "a word, to the wise, is sufficient", then I must be looking out to a horizon of utter fools.
       So I need to make some noise, get some things done... the silence of fools is more than enough silence for today.

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