nanowrimo 2010


Diary of a Blind Madman

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just another day
Today's Lyric:
For the one my window hides in its view To enlighten me if my love's real Or that faith What's more bitter than the late spring
Son's Thoughts
Omnium Gatherum

         Shaping up to be one of those days, I have spent the morning watching cheesy horror movies on TCM. The Monster that Challenged the World was a "mollusk monster" according to IMDB. It was a slug. A world-challenging slug. I am disgusted. The only really cool thing about the movie was seeing Hans Conried. He hit his peak I would guess (with me at least) back in the early sixties as the voice of Snidely Whiplash and the narrator of Fractured Fairy Tales on the Bullwinkle show. For the truly old among you he was Uncle Toonoose on "Make Room for Daddy".

         The basement has now been "sealed" if you can call it that. I will run the pellet stove all night tonight and the house should henceforward be appreciably warmer. It's about time is my take on the matter.

         lutron is having troubles with insurance/worker's compensation. Surprise! I wonder why it is that —despite television commercials' claims to the contrary— I never personally hear a good story about an encounter with an insurance company. I think that is one of those myths I keep discovering. I always thought there were blind programmers, but there aren't. I once thought there were beneficial insurance companies. I am rapidly becoming that they are all malign and must be forced at the point of a (legally speaking) shotgun to comply with their own contracts. The upshot of that is that his surgery reconnecting tendons and such is delayed. I wish I could go to Austin and vent my spleen in the workers compensation office. Perhaps my friend cwazyfrank in Miami could work up some really nasty, bloody, pustulous, makeup for my hand and I could go in and impersonate lutron bleeding and oozing on as many staffers and as much paperwork as possible.

         A man can dream, can't he? Damn, but there are days when it would be useful to know someone with Hansen's Disease

I dreamt of her. Long black tresses framing an elfin face. Her eyes are big and brown, her lips a perfect bow that reveals brilliant teeth when she laughs that way. Her musical laughter can freeze me in my step. She is a sorceress, her magic can ensnare my thoughts. She is a poet whose verse can cage my soul. Her song's demanding rhythm can make my spirit dance in joy or dejection, but only to her tune. Her dance makes my blood pound and my heart race until I live only for her movements. I am a captive. I am soul-bound. I dreamt of her. I dream of her. I would give my reality to make her flesh that I might be her slave.

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Workers comp is hellish. You have to be pretty much in a coma, and then the bastards will STILL reject on the first round.

I keep hearing tales of woe from everyone who deals with workman's comp. I guess it is human nature to complain rather than praise, but I find it suspicious that the ratio of complaint to praise is 100% to 0%.

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