I haven’t posted for a while, and don’t plan to post anymore. I wanted to wind Fish Eye Farm, up with witty and philosophical words.
However, my family has been so outrageously dysfunctional lately, that I chose to just let it go, and take things day by day. ( a “secret to my happiness”, which I will call success.)
I stumbled onto this video. At a moment when I felt so down, I watched it and it gave me the second wind that I need. Continue reading Be Saved From the Beautiful Lies
I found a different way to live.
We know it was hard; so conflicting. All the alcohol, church and backwoods neighbors, created a confusing life. Come to Jesus and daily violence, were family tradition. Wearing beautiful clothes and farm work were contrary concepts. Roadside bus stops gave way to neon signs, in tavern windows. Continue reading Juke Joint Jesus
This was not my first and probably won’t be my last. My husband, myself, and a friend, walked out, when one of the commissioners touted his insights on the situation. He was more than I could bear.
The lights bounced of his bald head, as he sniveled and whined his opinions. His mannerisms were authoritative and condescending. His name is Chapman. His words were so disruptive to my inner universe that he transformed into a movie character; one that you know is going to have something bad happen to him, before the film ends. And when it does, the audience will feel grateful. It’s appropriate karma. Continue reading The Town Hall Meeting
I use to love the song, about waking up on a Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head up – having a beer for breakfast and dessert. Not having any clean clothes and stumbling through the day. I related.
Sunday’s were bad. It took me years to surrender to a Sunday. The sidewalks roll up. The only drug deals on a Sunday are a rip off. Such as, puchasing a twenty dollar piece of soap. Continue reading Sunday Morning
As a child, whenever my father was unhappy with me, and I would try to explain myself, he would ferociously say that there were no excuses.
I believe there are excuses. Continue reading Life
At my last attempt at writing, I posted my previous life’s commentary, in a short and incomplete manner. I have a plethora of questions going around a race track at a syrupy slow pace. I tell me self to not think. It was too much for me, so I found a positive image and slapped it on the page. Continue reading This is Not a Dress Rehearsal