NURSING NOTES
Sunday, November 20...Just figured it out…that I’m being emotionally blackmailed by the Cracker down the hall, to do for him so he doesn’t die. Gotta go into his stinking room, to give him a couple of MY B12 tablets and a yogurt slurpie, just to get him up out his pissy bed…OK, done by 10:30...now I gotta get my own breakfast of vitamins and herbal supplements downed with MY YOGURT SLURPLY…OK, feel better about being a smart ass to the Cracker’s demand the I’ve gotta go to Church w/him…heh heh heh…I snapped and told him that I am a Saint who doesn’t need or like to hang out with judgmental sinners.

It’s good to be back on the EastCoast, after so many years out West with v-dub hostile yuppies on Hippie Road…I surely would like to connect up with Onondaga Longhouse vibes, remembering the message from Dennis Banks’ time there, and his message that
“There’s a new wind rising, and it’s The Women !!”
Being in the Home of the Trail of Tears Tribes, has increased my Native Prejudice against the Southern mindset. Even my old hippie girlfriend won’t patronize the reservation owned tobacco and booze shops. Makes me see the taint of racial prejudice in her.

HIGH NOON SATURNsDAY 10/30/11

Dressed and ready for a trolloping good time
with all my Ghosts on All Hallowed Eve,
all the way to All Saints Day 2012.
When We Occupy the Planet,
as IF We Sentient Beings
have ONLY another year and a day,
to rise up and accomplish
WorldWide transcendental social change,
and march with the Saints.

Open Letter to Son of a Witch

Dearly Bobby,

It still hurts horribly trying to remember my reasons for leaving you behind, and I’ll always be ashamed of having been so cruel, but in that place and time I was very afraid that I was putting you in danger being a known women’s libber in such a provincial hometown. Remember when my softball team refused to give up the practice field to a boy’s team that had been rained out of their scheduled time, and the story made the front page of the sports section in the newspaper, headlined, DANDY LIONS ROAR? The sports writer didn’t know that it was the girls’ mothers who insisted that their daughters not leave the field, before I even got there, but the story blamed me for the rebellion because I was President of the N.O.W. chapter at the time, and must have been guilty of influencing my team to take a stand. I think it was soon after that, that I had a nightmare I still remember, of seeing a city salt truck roaring down that hill in front of Gramma’s house, plowing right thru our front yard with you kids in it. That was when I first realized that I was putting you in jeopardy of being harassed over my feminism. Then I remember the time Becky came home from school one day, skipping and singing “My mommie’s a nature witch”, over and over, in front of the neighbor kids. And I realized you kids and I could be targeted by reactionaries at anytime. I questioned myself about whether my politics were worth running that risk, and I thought NOT, but couldn’t shake the sense of commitment I had to the Revolution. I searched my soul trying to define exactly what I thought I could do about ANYTHING without a college education or marketable job skills, or even the motivation to add outside employment to my wife and mother jobs.
I did try to find a real job besides the volunteer work I did at the YWCA and NOW, but in those days, nobody wanted to hire mothers because of the absentee problems over sick kids, school holidays, or possible pregnancies, etc. and most jobs went to single women. I felt imprisoned and powerless and angry and frustrated, wondering why I had to care so much about being feminist, if I couldn’t do anything to make things better for women like me and my daughter. I think I might have been suicidal if I hadn’t had been so committed to feminism, and my daughter’s future in this world. What good would a dead mother be to a radical little girl, tho? What kind of trauma would I have imposed on you and your Dad? How confused and shocked the rest of the family would be? And it would’ve been a worthless gesture that proved nothing except my incompetence, if I’d had the guts to succeed. So, I decided that the only thing I could do was go out on my own, educate myself by experiencing knowledgeable people, exploring other realities, other ways of living, being independent, making my own way thru the maze, gathering insight and understanding, finding honest labor, paid or not, contributing to the common good where I could, finding out what’s important to other people, and why.
It wasn’t easy to be so brave, but it felt better than cowardice and despair, and I did survive even the trouble I occasionally got caught up in. I figured if I could make my own way in the world, it would be OK not to worry too much about you kid’s being able to as well, because the world has changed, and that’s what I’ve come back to remind you…to keep the faith, magic works, and everything’s gonna be all right because failure is impossible.

Nursing Notes: September Morning +17/SummerSwampSeason's back is BROKEN!!! YEA

Whew! Today has been a real piece of work to stress out a Saint, but I finally got the Cracker hauled away to the ER for very low blood pressure and signs of drug overload, and being a demented danger to himself and Others. He got really belligerent in my face when I blocked the backdoor, and called the para-medics to assist him down the cement steps without falling and cracking his head open, after I spent all morning picking him up off the floor, in between feeding him, and getting him showered and hauled back to his room to dress himself while I rested my still broken ankle. I feared that he was gonna push me thru the door to fall over backwards and crack MY head open, but get off scott-free from murder charges.

My REWARD for Courage and Discipline Above and Beyond Common Sense …
…a Bartels and Jaymes/POMEGRANATE RASPBERRY flavored malt cooler.

Damage Report: aggravated hernia ambulating the Cracker yesterday…Rx. A soak in the hot tub.
To do : scrub off bengay before soaking in spa water.

Update: It's turned out that the Cracker was double dosing his insulin, in MY KITCHEN, and I got stuck with one of his needles when I bagged up the trash...I told him he was my worst nightmare, and that I'd act to have him committed to a nursing home if he didn't call his daughter in Savannah to come pack him off to live with his grandkids.

Jahnean Jordan Pegasus 2010


I met my Nanny-goatee’d HouseHusband on a hippy goat farm in Humboldt County, the year I turned 50, broke my ankle, and became disabled, almost 13 years ago.
Before she returned to Georgia to tend to her sick Mother, she gave me $200 so I could Greyhound-it to Arizona the renew the tags on my Volkswagen, so I could vacate the job site and live on the street and river in relative safety, until I could finally retire to the Death Valley’s hot springs in Tecopa CA, on an SSI’ nutcheck, which I earned for being a ‘magical thinker’ and boycotter of Big Pharma.
Three years later Pegasus came thru the Desert on her way home from her last road trip while her Mom was still alive, to see how I was doing, and found me housebound, on crutches, with nobody to push my wheelchair. We had a lovely week together, back and forth to the hot springs, and I was sooo grateful and in love with her caring, that I popped ’the question’ and gave her a crystal engagement ring before she left for home to her Mother, where she shortly thereafter, made arrangements with an adopted son in Vegas to deliver a needed golf cart to my front yard, so I could toodle down the block to the dumpster and Post Office on my own. She’s never mentioned how much it cost, so I suspect her Mother was in cahoots.
Four years passed in utter comfort, until a city-trash family moved in next door, with a pre-teen boy who harassed me constantly for driving privileges, ungoverned by his hustling parents, and then my Old Hipi Road Dog died 2 years later. So when my daughter-in-law in Texas invited me to move into their backyard camper, and when my Son, who also lusted after the golf-cart, offered to come get it, and me and my last two dogs and cat, I jumped at the chance to meet my GrandDaughters, as well as get halfway to Georgia, so my Pegasus could afford to rescue us from a winter with NO HOT WATER, and so I could soak in her hot tub and help her pay the utilities and taxes on her deceased Mother’s money-pit of a house, during our old age together.

Remembering My First Saturn Cycle

When I was 30, I killed the motor in my family’s Vega station wagon, and replaced it with a ‘73 Gold Ford Pinto w/moon roof and a hot-ass-repair voucher in the glove box, left the kids behind, safely tucked with their Father in their GrandMother’s Pennsylvania hometown, and took off for the Jersey Shore to help my Gay Uncle, Jimmy Paul McBride, restore his Cabin Cruiser.
He later disowned me for editing the name of his boat, by painting out the B in OBLIVIA with house paint, leaving an apostrophe, to read the more Gaelic O’LIVIA, because before I’d left Home, I’d had a prophetic dream about being stretched out on the bow, hunting overboard trying to find him underwater.
My Father’s baby brother wasted that entire winter at the boatyard trying to impress me into his ‘Christian’ Coven…so when I trumped his naming power, I crushed his wizard’s ego. Last time I saw him, he was crumpled over a cup of diner coffee, sobbing to his rich Yew Norker Lady Priestess, who asked me to leave him alone w/ her, so I did. He was bemoaning the $500 cost of ‘repairing’ my ‘vandalism‘, totally missing the point. I found out later from my Favorite Uncle Jack, that Jimmy had tattled on me to my Dad, after years of being incommunicado, who just told me recently that Brother Paul had died young(only 13 yrs.older than me), 10 years later in the Port of New Orleans. So, I guess he got the boat afloat, and he’d survived his unappealingly sinister moog music rituals.
Too bad he‘s dead, but I’ll always remember him giving me The Spring Tour of the Big Apple, and taking me to the Top o’ the Tower restaurant at the World Trade Center where he bought me a Manhattan, then took me to a bar in Greenwi(t)ch Village to meet a witchy woman who gave me a gold earring, and introduced me to Perrier to sober me up before he took me home on the Ferry under the Statue of Liberty, where he “came out“ to me, and I had to tell him that I‘d known since he was a teen-ager.
At the first bar on the Jersey side, I called a pit stop to run in and BUY MYSELF the bartender’s version of his New Jersey‘s cocktail…a Brandy Alexander, which he served to me just as my impatient Uncle came in from the car, tired of waiting for me, only to pull up a stool and flirt with the bartender while I leisurely enjoyed the classy buzz of down-to-earth barfly entertainment.

 

From Rainbow Hawk

Greetings from GrayScariot's Ghost

I think that Gray's Ghost thinks I'm still funny.

Rosary of the Day:
Marian High School‘67 Alumna/Complaint
 
re: There are no Teaching Nuns employed at the College Factory of  the ’new’ Catholic High School in Chula Vista, the ‘Lay” People of which are just programming more collegiate crusaders.  Those Nuns taught me to educate myself, and to recognize divine intelligence when I see it, and how to get a college education without matriculating.  Just in time to be a Feminist designing my own Women’s Studies Major at Univ. of  Pittsburgh, auditing courses at PennState at California, infiltrating classes and lectures at Cornell, and successfully divesting Syracuse University of stock in Apartheid.  

Makes me wonder how they can call their school Catholic without the Women of God, and His Mother Earth.  Rumor has it that they've hidden away the Rosary Madonna in the School Library, so maybe there's still hope for the Daughters of Terra.

• 
  from FaceBook teletype:
  
  
   I'm really impressed with My President's courage to stand up to the Jews and challenge them to do right by their neighbors. 
  I'm betting that Barack pulls it off, and gets a couple of Peace Prizes.
  

  
  
  
• 
  

   Palestinians are ALLah God's Children, too.
  
• 
  

   REPEAT: If the Hebrews should be Neighborly with their Cousins. the Arabs wouldn't get so angry!
  

Poem: Problems Solved for Free

Answers donated by
Sojourner’s Muse, Dilemma

A1.Delete “war” from ALL vocabularies.
A2.Delete ALL colors of “it”.
A3.ConSign ALL memories of “it”
to the Void
I
In Praise of Jesus,
Child of AllahOur Gods.

Christian’s Rationale: 
We must NEVER bemoan the loss of “it”,
while we balance the US Budget. 

DixieCreampuff @Quartzsite's MainDrag Grocery Store,1994-97

Headlines:

Bin Laden got his death wish, to land on his feet in the Depths of Hell, to pass into extinction as a failed species of non-viable, alien  lifeform, and it’s death cult.
Thanks to ALL the Gods and Gdessz, that in the 21stCentury’s NEW AGE, belligerent men are a dying out.

Heard on Macon TV::”When evil looses Good People Celebrate."

In ‘93 we were parked in my son’s driveway in Atwater, after I got fired from driving carnival trucks across Montana, and escaped a Sturgis ostrich farm winter before my big white, Golden RetrieverX HANNAH, got caught catching a BIG ONE.

My dear son, a stockcar/dragstrip and AirForce mechanic, wouldn’t touch my Vdub to fix my broken turn signal, and was mortified when his buddies met his hipi mother. But shortly after Hallowe’en,his father sent an insurance settlement statement that needed my signature in exchange for a $500 buyout payment to me…so I could move out of his life again.  But he evicted me from his driveway before the check arrived, to spend Christmas at Merced's Women's Shelter, and most of January at the Armory's Homeless Shelter's curb, where I met a v-dub mechanic who took me to a pick-yer-part junked car yard, to find a replacement gas pedal and hinge, and a fourth half-moon hubcap for $4...funny thing happened on the way to check-out...my son came into the shop with a buddy of his to get parts, found me standing there like I was waiting for him, and told me to wait a minute while he goes out to his car to get the $500 check from his father that he has for me in his glove box, which I used to get down to the Quartzsite Desert in a peach of a '70VWtransporter/camper, named after GrammaDixieMcGee. I called her CREAMPUFF, but she could draw blood from any foul-mouthed mechanic who presumed to insult a Granny.



GoodMorning KNYE:6AMpst…w/Harry Chapin’s “Piano Man”

done(so far)list…successful hawking-up session, like my smoking Grampa Leo taught me how he cleared him lungs, when I was little, waking him up for breakfast.

I heart Wedning Days…gota quart of fish oil gel caps from my househusband, just in time to watch SCRUBS/10AM EST

To do list… make Agenda…

Lichen Planus Manifestation of incurable arthritic psoriasis is probably a hint from the Goddess, that my next life in the Land of Faerie is as a Tree Sprite barking in a RedWood Forest. WHOOPIE!

It’s NOON so it must be time to watch Golfer GeorgeLopez’s sitcom. Ms.Hilton is making a guest appearance in today’s episode.


Dark Morning Blues/ April Thursday
(butWilliam&Kate are tying the knot today.)


Georgia seems to be cursed with tornadic weather because of ugly Karma.
Almost 200 southerners died in the storms before dawn.
Wireless internet signal has also succumbed, but still have TV.

I feel like Dorothy, trapped w/ my Dog in OZ at the wicked witch’s castle.
No wonder I can’t keep my ChowX from barking at our househusband, who looksandacts just like the old lady on her flying bike, only funny.

AWESOME interview on Coast2CoastAM last nite!!!
70 metal books found in Jordan cave could change our view of Biblical historywww.dailymail.co.ukThis ancient collection of 70 tiny books, their lead pages bound with wire, could unlock some of the secrets of the earliest days of Christianity.

 I wonder what the Pope is gonna think about this Bible book!!!about an hour ago · Like

http://derrenbrown.co.uk/blog/2011/04/fake-seventy-metal-books-cave-jordan-labeled-important-find-christian-history/

This is a fascinating list of comments re: thought provoking · Like
I think that who ever made these books, made them to last thru ages of descendants as Gnowledge of Gnosticism ...whatever THAT is.
 I wonder if lead poisoning caused caused religious transcendence.
As a ghostwriter on the Internet I euphemize my blogs will "last forever" on the Web. What does this mean when We and our Civilization are gone? Writng for the Ages is a pipedream for US, because We are doomed to see the Last Generations of Our Species.
Our ONLY Hope is to evolve from sapient to sentient beings capable of living in Our Mother's Ethereal Planes.

Just because I wrote it, doesn't mean that I know what it means.

The National Cherry Blossom Festival starts today, Sunday the 27th of March 2011.

Heh heh heh Macon’s tacky and commercial Cherry Blossum Festival got called off under Tornado sirens last evening.  Too bad. So sad.  Merchants will suffer from loss of profits, but the tornado didn’t kill anybody downwind.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/25/cherry-blossom-festival_n_840636.html
National Festival Dedicated to the Japanese.

 Macon Blues, by TecopaSetiSage

---

I'm pretty much housebound in Macon, watching local TV news about all the junkies and their pitbulls...so haven't dared go out looking for hip society in this dangerous city. Had a prowler last week, and dontcha know...a neighbor called the cops to complain about my barking hipi watchdog. Georgia never ratified the Equal Rights Amendment, so I don't believe I dare orate my Cause on the Plantation. I'm too old to dodge bullets these days, and my handicap assistant BlackLab/ChowX, LillianWeed, talks loud enough for both of us to be victimized by noise abatement adjudications.

I've GOTTA GET OUTTA GEORGIA, because I've PROMISED my 8 yr. old, LastBlackDog that I'd let her desiccate into a Mummy, on the Desert beside her Dodder and Aunty Em' on the Amargosa River-side, down from Tecopa'sDogPark@BlackDogJunction.

Old Nursing Assistant

Sage Tea  Facebook Friend  says,

There is no such thing as death. Spirit lives on. The trick is to plan for your next reincarnation.Just like buying a house . location, location, location. Its never too late to give out love and compassion, start loving now, and the universe will put you in a better neighborhood. on the other hand neo-cons will get shipped to some ghetto planet where only brussel sprouts grow.