tao1776

All through the day, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine All through the night, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine Now they're frightened of leaving it, everyone's reading it, comin' on strong all the time All through the day, I me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine All I can hear, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine Even those tears, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine No one's frightened of playing it, everyone's saying it, flowing more freely that wine All through the day, I me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine, I me me mine All I can hear, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine Even those tears, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine No one's frightened of playing it, everyone's saying it, flowing more freely that wine All through your life, I me mine There are two selves, the separate ego and the indivisible Atman. When one rises above I and me and mine, the Atman is revealed as one's real Self.

Had a birthday party for my grandaughter as she has just turned three. The cough has not relented and a visit to the ER seemed appropriate at the time. Eleven p.m., party well over, I took the twenty minute drive over. Needed three breathing treatments and after a chest x ray it was determined that yeah, I had the creeping crud....the pnuemonia that I has suspected. Driving into the ER at that time of the night was so Deja Vu. I worked as an on call for mental health for several years. Hospitals, Lock up, MH residences, a few private homes, trying to ensure one's wellbeing until the morning came. When the real professionals could attend. I thought about the many times that this ER has seem members of my family. My oldest son has been here several times lately. His bi polar and added addictions have hit a "something you read about" status. You really can't imagine. I have worked hard to have him paint himself into the proverbial corner; where it becomes his responsibli...

Fever broke around 2 am..The Lady thought I had peed the bed. Sweat had captured my sleeping silloute. My lungs are still weak and congested. I have not gone to see the Doctor. To date, I have been my own best physician. Too bad I can't write presciptions. The thoughts that wander the brain when in fever.. I am a great fan of the 10 o'clock Tuesday night lineup on FX. Really, about the only t.v. that I plan for. Last Tuesday, on Rescue Me, Tommy (Denis Leary) had violent make up or whatever sex with his estranged wife. The thought came to me that she is going to get pregnant and that this will be the catalyst for many more episodes of turmoil for for Irish Fireman. Good t.v. I can't believe the latest Ann Coulter rhetoric. I think she needs what Tommy's wife got. I can't believe that as the November elections approach, the GOP is talking once again about gay marriage and tax cuts....Well, yes I can believe it. Most Americans are such dolts. Sheep!!!! Baaaaaaaa.

I am so sick! I know that it's pneumonia. I know because I've had it several times before. My lungs are susceptible due to my chemical overexposure in the eighties. I am avoiding the inevitable. See the Doctor / X Ray / drugs...perhaps hospitalization. Denial comes so natural. I lost a day of work. I have slept from 10 pm until now, 7:30 pm the next day. My lungs hurt. I hurt. Just hoping that I can beat it out.

Damn the fountain! The garden be damned as well! It was worth every trampled plant!

I am passionate, loyal, sensitive...perhaps, to a fault. I seek the welfare of those known and not known; It may be that I seek to provide unconditional love, because I seek unconditional love. The patient father, the loyal friend, keeper of wise counsel. In the unwravelling, I have come to see these many faces, as being manufactured. My sense of self has been fractured. I don't sense this as being a bad thing, but it may make me a little harder to understand. "Big egos are big shields for lots of empty space"...... Someone wondered after reading my 6/09/06 post, if I had hit my wife. From 1987 until the early 1990's, I was disabled. I continue to live in pain to a certain degree. My mobility is limited. This post expressed my inability to be toyed with by a testosterone filled (Hence, not...the Lady) neanderthal. All battles begin as a sizing up of your opponent. Foreplay, in this case, is anathama for me. I avoid physical violence because I must end it, quick! I d...

...

Wouldnt it be nice if we were older Then we wouldnt have to wait so long And wouldnt it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong You know its gonna make it that much better When we can say goodnight and stay together Wouldnt it be nice if we could wake up In the morning when the day is new And after having spent the day together Hold each other close the whole night through Happy times together weve been spending I wish that every kiss was neverending Wouldnt it be nice Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come trueBaby then there wouldnt be a single thing we couldnt do We could be married And then wed be happy Wouldnt it be nice You know it seems the more we talk about it It only makes it worse to live without it But lets talk about it Wouldnt it be nice

You stupid, stupid mother fucker. I hate violence. You put that testosterone gig in my face and I roll over. Once. Twice. You take a sidestep as a retreat and glory in it. I hate you for what I had to do to you. You stupid, stupid mother fucker. Now, I'm mad. If there is any fallout from this, I will show no mercy next time. I am surprised that you are not dead. Thank me later.

Everyone has experienced a breakdown in relationships....Various reasons; some warranted, some not. Some without reason, leaving you to pick and repick your brain as to the whys and why nots. Regardless, for whatever reason...and there are many, I have always been the one that reaches out, keeps the peace; the mediator, the healer. My door, always open and me, the one who knocks on other doors, being there for whoever may need me. Like a raisin, this grape has dried up.

I realized then that life was short, very short. We peddled in typical five year old abandonment placing the fullness of our concentration on the push of our feet. I rode as fast as a tricycle with blocks upon the pedals would allow. My friend pulled ahead and continued from the driveway and out into the street. A new family had moved into town from the Canadian section the St Laurence river. They were catholic and in many ways different from us. We were just now beginning to become familiar with the kids in the family. On his way home from work that day, the father never expected to have a five year old dart out into the middle of the road. He never expected to have a five year old twisted up in tricycle lodged underneath his car. Its strange how life continues. The father has long since died. Even their house is gone as the fire department used it for fire training and burned it down. The owner of the driveway, the scene of our race, has long since died. My old home is now the home o...

Don't forget to visit http://volksbloggin-in-new-england.blogspot.com/