Lighters up
like at a Queen concert
if Freddie Mercury were still alive
if you were still alive
singing Bohemian Rhapsody
Mama, just killed a man
a lot like Miss Jones,
I think I just shot her son
I think it just snowed in East Texas
Who knew
memories of you would get me
singing Randy Travis
higher than the pine trees
that grow tall upon the hill
The one in the summer
where we used to smoke pot
I thought, what’s wrong
with this neighborhood?
urban life decay
I look for you everywhere:
In crossword puzzles,
clouds, thin air, Rumble Fish,
katamari damacy, Disneyland,
flour bags, grocery stores,
dreams, nightmares, everywhere
Wouldn’t you?
Lighter’s up
its flame
cathedral champaign
and my bleeding heart
A most beautiful ruby red.
last Saturday (5th Dec 2009) we going to clean the 2 houses in norwich which is full of mess everywhere..
When we start cleaning at 196 Kingwood Ave near norwich and in upstars rooms which is full of mess and saw some compost on floors and in the kicthen there some drugs of weed left near the sink!!!
also in 43 barrett road norwich which is there same mess from 196 kingwood ave!!!
In association with Widely Regarded as a Bad MoveChapter 2 – Captain Halloran’s Magnificent Hair
In which Captain Halloran and his best friend are introduced
A cold wind flattened Captain Halloran’s fringe against his forehead. Both his hands were occupied, one holding the loose end of a thick metal cable, and the other wrapped tightly around the rigging. Blinded by his slightly-too-long brown hair, Captain Halloran’s only choice was to flick his head somewhat cinematically. He groaned as he realised how pretentious that would’ve looked to his crew, a good two thirds of which was standing below him, presumably looking up and snickering. Great, he thought. All I need now is a knife held between my teeth and a stirring soundtrack. Regaining composure, the Captain threaded the cable through a winch above his head, then rappelled down the mast, cable trailing behind him. His heavy boots hit the deck and the gathered crew cheered.
“That’s enough!” The Captain shouted over the sarcastic applause. “Enough of that cheek.” He turned, fastened the cable to a hook at the base of the mast, and pushed through the crew toward his quarters.
“And how long did it take you to do your hair this morning, oh Captain my Captain?” asked a slight, blonde, bespectacled observer.
“Shut it, Julian.” Captain Halloran grumbled, but he couldn’t really hide his smile.
Julian Walton was Joe’s library companion. The pair would set up camp in the university library. Joseph would spread himself across a soft lounge chair, boots propped up on the nearest desk. On the floor beside the lounge would lie a stack of dusty books, most picked on whims, subjects like geography, languages, history, sometimes astronomy. Joseph would sit so slouched that he could select a new book from his stack without stretching. Jules would sit straight-backed at a desk further away from the lounge, reading glasses perched on his small, straight nose. Joe could tell when his friend was particularly interested in what he was reading; Jules would lean over his book, rest his cheek on his hand, elbow propped on the desk, and run his other hand through his dark blonde hair. His eyes would widen behind his glasses and sometimes his lips would move as he mouthed what he was reading. Whenever this happened, Joe would rise from his chair, walk unnoticed toward his library companion, and pull whatever book it was that had Jules so fascinated right out from under his nose, usually met with little sounds of annoyance and snatches of mumbled phrases like ‘train of thought’ and ‘you wouldn’t understand it anyway’. Joe never understood what his friend read, heavy textbooks filled with equations and theories attempting to explain the universe.
“You have the brains,” Joe would say, falling back onto the lounge, “but I have the hair.”
Ok.. so before I get into this post, let me bring y’all up to speed by saying that I no longer have health insurance because I was laid off in July. Even if I would consider it, I am NOT eligible for state aid because I receive unemployment. I AM eligibile for a private HMO but have to wait through a 7 month “grace” period.
So with that said …
This past Wednesday, The Good Doctor’s husband came into the shop for turkey. Chief explains that he doesn’t have the turkey that The Good Doctor’s husband likes because I’ve been sick as a dog and without me in the shop or doing the running around, everything is on a skeleton.
The Good Doctor’s husband asks what’s wrong.. Chief goes into my litany of symptoms… and the Good Doctor’s husband tells Chief to have me call ASAP and they’ll fit me in.
So Chief calls me and I am SO NOT A HAPPY CAMPER. I don’t like going to doctors. He knows this but OBVIOUSLY is more concerned about my well being then I am. But now I’m in a bind because it’s The Good Doctor. Who is not only a super sweet person but a really good customer and since Chief had to open his big fat mouth and they’ll willing to fit me in.. I have to call.
Fuck.
It was around lunch time so I figured I’d wait an hour before I call. I tell him this.. he seems satisfied and I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Until my cell phone rang.
Until my cell phone rand that The Good Doctor’s name came up on the caller id.
Fuck! He gave them my freakin’ number.
He knows me SO well!
Wind up is is that I couldn’t be seen until Thursday at 11:15am.
I immediately call Chief and chastised him on giving out my cell phone number. But he knew the deal and was just glad that I made the appointment.
He wanted to come with me but since my appointment was at the start of his lunch rush, I told him I could go at it alone. I figured I’d be feeling better by the next day anyway and also, I didn’t want him there when they weighed me.
Trivial girly stuff.. but it is what it is so what can I tell you.
I actually am NOT feeling any better at the time of my appointment. And as I’m sitting in The Good Doctor’s waiting room I am suddenly overcome by the feeling of passing out. I only ALMOST passed out once and it wasn’t a nice feeling. It was so bad that I couldn’t even hold the pen to fill out the paperwork.
So I get all girly and sniffly and call Chief and tell him that I need him. The shop is only a few blocks away and he was there in an instant. And of course, as soon as he got there I started to feel better and told him he could leave. Of course, he looked at me like I was insane but I knew his mind was on the store and missing the lunch rush money and I started to feel guilty that I had even called him in the first place. But he felt that his place was with me so he stayed.
When we finally got called into the exam room and The Good Doctor started to exam me, and based on what I was telling her she says that there is a very real possibility that I contracted the Pig Virus :: H1N1 to all you non-rednecks :: and that if I had come in sooner she could have given me something that would have made me better faster.
Wonderful. What the hell can I tell you.
She then asked if I smoked. If Chief wasn’t there I would have lied and said that I was able to quit xx months ago or get all giddy and excited by telling her I HAVE XX DAYS CLEAN! but I couldn’t because he was there and so when I told her that I did, OMG.. her reaction was SO FREAKIN’ OVER THE TOP.
I mean.. ok. I know smoking is bad for you. Worse then bad. I get it. I really, really do. I know I’m setting myself up for all kinds of horrible things. And I’m NOT justifying it. I swear, I’m not. But she laid into me SO hard and SO fierce that I really just wanted say LOOK BITCH, CAN WE FOCUS ON THE PIG VIRUS HERE?
Seriously.. I felt like I was in one of the Scared Straight movies that they show teenagers about prison life.
She pulls out this paper with information on the patch and the gum and the things you suck on that will help you quit smoking and wouldn’t get off the subject until I agreed to use one of the above to stop. I played along and went with the things you suck on because they had a coffee flavored one.
The worse part of it all… is that when she gave me the inhaler medicine and the nasal spray.. she proceeded to tell me how much they would cost if I had to go to a pharmacy and get them and that it’s just a waste to give them to me if I’m not going to stop smoking. Then she proceeds to tell me that:
I shouldn’t even be seeing you because you don’t have insurance and it’s a big liability
If the president’s healthcare goes through, you wouldn’t even get treatment if you had cancer because you smoke.
Now.. ok.. so since when is getting paid in cash for an office visit more of a liability then being paid for an office visit by an insurance company?
I’ve worked both sides of health care for the past 23 years :: until I got laid off :: so I know how everything works .. and trust me, it’s not the way it’s being presented to the masses.
But I’m not getting into that.. I’m too exhausted and spent to go into all that now. Maybe later.
Anyway.. so she gives me the 200.00 a month inhaler and the 150.00 nasal spray :: but come one, they were samples and didn’t cost her anything :: and then writes me a script for 7 antibiotic pills that cost me 108.00.
I know she didn’t mean to make me feel like I was a dredge of society. But she did.. she made me feel like a failure because I didn’t have health insurance. She made me feel like I was just someone who was coping free medicine. She made me feel like I wasn’t up to her standard and the only reason why she lowered herself to treat me is because her husband loves Chief’s turkey.
She literally had me in tears and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.
On the way home, I told Chief that I absolutely hated him for making me go through with appointment and it was the kind of hate that would never be forgiven.
He said that was fine, as long as I was around long enough to hate him he didn’t care.
Now here’s the thing.. if you want to discuss it or debate it or whatever you can go right ahead but I’m not going to partake. I’ll just leave my 2 cents here for y’all to mull over:
If healthcare is going to be re-vamped, then it needs to be REVAMPED. You can’t half step this one. It’s so bad.. and so corrupt that it literally has to be restructured as a whole.. not bits and pieces of it.
Health Insurance should only be for long term treatments, surgeries, pregnancies and stuff like that. Everything else should be fee for service. You go to the doctors, you pay the doctor visit. If one doctor charges 50.00 a visit, then go to the one that charges 35. The fact that doctor’s do NOT see uninsured people only puts more strain on emergency rooms. We, as a country, are used to having things FAST. And I think because of that, we’ve forgotten when we really need to see a doctor. I can’t tell you how many people sat in the ER complaining of a sore throat.. or an earache.. or something really, really minor. All that did was tie up the ER and waste resources.
If the government is going to model health care on a foreign country, then they should model Italy’s. And I’m not just saying that because I’m Italian.. I’m saying that because I have relatives in Italy and we’ve had this discussion. No system is perfect. Not everybody’s “needs” will be met but we need to move away from what we think we are entitled to and get back to the way things were before we were indoctrinated with insurance is king.
Kids have all inclusive coverage from birth to age 16 .. the elderly are covered from 67 (I believe) on up.. again .. all inclusive. Or 70. I forget.
But doesn’t that make sense?
And how about this? If the government is SO amped on getting involved in this and instead of baiting and switching or money this or money that.. just open freakin’ clinics so that people who can’t afford private health care and who aren’t eligible for medicaid have a place to go to get care if they need it.
Oh.. and welfare? Yea.. make people work for it. Clean the streets.. scrub graffeti .. do what people who get community service have to do.. board up old houses for Christ sake.. something. Anything.
Benjamin Franklin said it best:
I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it. I observed…that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer. And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer.
Okay.. I think the meds are kicking in and I’m getting all scattered over here. My apologies.. I’ll end my rant now!
“Young and stupid”. Many has been the night that I tried to recite this mantra to myself in fits of self-awareness.
“Remember, you are young and stupid,” I’d silently repeat to myself, “so goddamn young.” When I first started saying this to myself, it was almost a personal call to arms. I had grown weary of what I thought to be my ignorant youth, a time spent behind closed doors and impenetrable masks. My trusty coping mechanisms – lies and deceit – which once shielded me from pain and embarrassment, had ended up cutting me off from the world around me. I was now ready and ravenous for new and foreign experiences.
But I left myself far too open, and I became lost in the woods of my own social decadence. It was then that my mantra transformed into a self-pitying whimper, a defeated cry of surrender. I told myself again and again how young and stupid I was, and thus I convinced myself of my own impotence. In a very real sense, I felt that I was finished.
No longer. Tonight I went for a walk. The weather was cool and crisp, my music soft and comforting. The amphetamines in my veins sharpening my mind. The ambience was perfect for reflection.
And so I thought about the last eighteen months, and all the sloppy, horrific wonders that I have come to know. In that time, I lost my virginity to a landlady eight years my senior. I had been punched in the chest by my now brother-in-law. For the first time in my life, I had said the words “I love you” to a girl and meant it. I’d started smoking and quit. I’d slept with two girls in one night. I saw my sister get married.
After reflecting upon all that I had accomplished in such a short span, I came to realize that I finally understood this mantra. It is not a shield to hide behind when plumbing the depths of depravity. It is not an insult to be self-applied when feeling depravity’s doubled edge. And it is certainly not a cliche to be bandied about by those who aspire to be jaded.
“Young and stupid” is simply this: a calm and jubilant realization that there are far more wonders to be seen and lessons to be learned in this life, and that one should be both clever enough to realize this and stupid enough to keep studying.
Sorry to define a cliche with sentimental treacle. It doesn’t make it any less of a goddamn epiphany.
Now being a Culchie is not so tough, you might look funny and a small bit rough, some of us are single and some are dads, but I’ll tell you one thing, we’re the finest lads. Its time to bring my Culchie Wrap to a close, I’ve to go to the jacks and powder my nose. Its great to see the look on all of you’re faces, when I tell ya that us Culchies are going places.
Do culchies really like cocaine? Someone I knew was at a lock in at a pub in a village in Cork. The farmers were playin 45 and doing coke and smoking weed and drinking crates of cider. That was a few years ago so I can only presume they are worse now.
Finally a list of all the things that define being a culchie.
Sadly it is pretty accurate.
Look at what these idiots did to this kid by fooling him at an Aaaaart competition in Aaaaardee by the sounds of it:
Pwing ring jackets
Hulk 17