Still light, that’s rightWrite hard tonight!Hard, right and fastDon’t go softFor you won’t lastBut wrinkle-smashThis page so vast!No news, few viewsToday I museThus this musing may never ceaseBeen out of touch & haven’t heard muchAbout Portugal, France or Greece.Not that I careOr despair, compare or cajoleBecause, like the GreeksIf one peeks, we’re also in a deep hole!At least that’s the assessment of
a mentor whoAs busy-bee retireeHas both time and energyTo scrutinize,HypothesizeAnd panegyrize re:The EU DOWNFALL, see?
Musing ‘oer the third of MayA spittin’ drizzle starts the dayQuaff that java, let’s go play!Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute, I say:100 Words are not yet spokenSo unheard: Their site’s still broken!So what’s a frustrated scrivener to do?Ponder the quandaryWith a fuss or two:Being no longer young & spryInternet surfboard with which I screwHow safe an old boy am I?The Internet security package that cameWith one of these used Windows® boxesThinks $ 114.00 per annum constitutes ‘safe’.“Safe, my ass”, I excoriatedIt’s slammed with spam proliferated!
May I say Yikes!With shock this word’s spokenAlong with its likes100Words© broken!No worry, no strifeTime to giddyup-goTo get on with this lifeAnd what little I know.Commence to the ‘field’where a purpose is fixedFrustration will yieldBut results will be mixed!So I trundle alongAn imperfect selfAttempt to be strongAt least stay off the shelfLike some dog-eared bookDecaying in stagesI’ll try and resistDogs pulling my pages!When the doldrums subsideAnd El Sol’s up to snuffI’ll hit my strideAnd tackle this stuff!
A Bigass Barn Yarn
Neighbor T has big plansAnd other neighborsNext town overHave a big-ass barn.Not only is the barn filled upBut also falling downAnd they’re assessed property taxesOn its dilapidated crown.
T TO THE RESCUE!
Now let’s be clearOn Primary Barn Principle:The bigger you build ‘emThe more shit they’ll holdSo don’t be sheepishThe maxim’s thus told:
"Any Junk Will Rise In QuantityTo Fill Space Allotted"
“They never threw anything away.”Is a refrain out-trottedWhen a big-ass barnAs per this yarnOutlives its productive years.
Another day’s resplendent bounty
A grand foray in Franklin
In said county thus I tumble
Keep demeanor oh, so humble
Forgetting, for this fleeting moment
Of other worlds’ distress and foment
Years of damn near 23!
Think of my sweetheart, what I got her
And not of those
With barely clothes
Sweat-stuck to their backs
Ducking, dodging ‘our’ drone attacks
Who walk miles a day just for water!
Meanwhile, with 2 dogs I walk
About a 20-minute schlep
It’s bigger than a city block
Less likely the need to watch your step
Amid trees, grass & rock!
Bigass Barn’s roof has a gaping
hole,manifesting as a bright spot in thatsunny Sunday photo. Water had made
inroadsonto mounds of forgotten ‘stuff’ laid bareby missing walls on the
north side.Local hemlock and pine, while cheapand readily available, aren’t
sufficiently durableto resist pounding New England winters,but in animal
agriculture’s heyday,that seemed no impediment to barn-raisin’.Besides, who
amongst the builderswould be around in 100 years?Neighbor T, a big guy, isn’t
cowed bythe daunting task, delighted to milk it to the max.“Why put it to
pasture?” he ruminated.
‘Next town over’ means little in these partsin terms of
distance, and T, not contentto see Bigass Barn go by the boards,has worked
its dismantlementwith asinine persistence.At first, when he exuberantly
informed meof grandiose plans to build this and that,I thought “in reality,
he’ll do no such thing.”After all, the unwritten but well-understood‘Law of
Stuff’ dictates:“Most (and sometimes ALL) recoverable Stuff,once schlepped to new locations,becomes JUNK immediatelyupon removal from present site.”
But lo and behold, T has succeeded infashioning an
impromptu greenhousefrom antique double-hung windows!
T continues trucking Bigass Barn’s guts homein a Volvo
sedan – sure testimony to his verveand determination. I, on the other hand,having stubbornly resisted abiding by theLaw of Stuff for 4 decades,didn’t
join the barn clean-out operations.Indeed, it’s a pack-ratter’s bonanza,but I
already have way too much Stuffput up waiting for eventualitiesand unfinished
projects. Which leads to‘Law of Stuff’ maxim # 9 (I think):“Of Binge &
Purge, be it noted:Stuff having lain fallow in one’s yardfor a period of 3
years is eligible for Free-Signingand roadside placement.”
Bigass Barn is indeed a metaphor ofacquisitive human
history.For a peek inside this capaciouscavern provides an unglamorous glimpseof the
human pack-rat that resides,to varying degrees, inside us all.Of course it’s
a taint we’d rather ignore.But given the opportunity and plenty of space,we
of the ‘hunter-gatherer’ persuasionwould fill our coffers (and coffins!) over
the brim.Additionally, surrounding oneself withmultiple layers of Stuff
provides a measure ofprotection from adversaries real or imagined.In the end,
Law of Stuff # 6 holds sway:“That fella’s bread and butterwill become YOUR
on ‘bout Bigass barn
Tooling past it every day
spun long-winded yarn
I now feel compelled to say
lots of things that come to mind
most prominently this holds sway:
such insight in what’s left behind:
A ‘finders-keepers’ grand foray!
of Stuff #1 we find:
”Fill thus every nook and crannywith
Stuff from us, Mom, Dad & Granny!”
dumpster®-ready STUFF may be
let’s keep in mind: so far, it’s FREE!
When workin’ farm folks dearly departed
leaving the homestead that they’d started
what tugs at heartstrings most is sorrow:
Those good folks see no tomorrow!
eerie aura of sadness and futilitysaturates Bigass Barn & periphery.Of
course it’s not just THIS, but manyformer farmsteads in these hills:Hulking, decrepit
tombstones thatdot the landscape, weeping and wailingthe prevailing mythology of idyllic19th century family farm life.Pasted onto this abundant
legacyof the marginal, the obsolete, or just plain JUNKare rusty, musty fingerprints
of thoselong-departed, mostly FORGOTTEN soulswho left few written records.Law of STUFF #8: “May this STUFFsomeday provide endless fascination&
employment for Freegan® heirsbrave
and/or willing enough toundertake cleaning up the mess!"
What did I do this Mother’s Day!?I’m slightly ashamed, yes, I might say!When, alas, to my dismayIt came to pass; time slipped away!That phone call to Mom thus held at bayBy my glom in a working forayWhat had I done, one might well inveighto churn working hours into a puree?First I uncoiled a long rope to splayAnd toiled up a tree for 2 hours’ stayThe resultant rope swing was BLING, I’d sayAnd here’s the thing: It’s installed just for play!Called Mom, Oy Vay!But LATE by a day!
MORE ROAD UMBRAGE
When another auto bisects your path*SMASH!* you’re BLOTTO!Do the math!This indeed did happen to me:Broadsided so unmercifully!I’d feared it so dreadfullyBut will post it July 3!
Elsewhere in non-rage news if you willI took some pine logs to the mill!Its large round blade, staid, I’d deduceTons of sawdust would produce!No logs did Lee D. need to measureAs I watched with gleeUnfettered pleasure!In the end ‘twas pretty neatLee, my friend, had pulled a feat!Waiting hands fresh boards did greetTotaling 460 board feet!
Constant drizzle mars the mornPansies drooped quite as if shorn!Met 3 Bassett houndsAnd then made the roundsOn time, I could have sworn!Went out with the dogsThe weather, it SUCKS!But it’s good for frogsAnd algae and ducks!
Talk radio honksBass thumps in the speakersWe slosh through the grassWith sopping-wet sneakers!
Awash in dog-human civilizationAwaiting dry weatherWith some perturbationExisting togetherin human-dog nationTwo feet wrapped in leather10 paws in gyration!
Pardon me, folks, if this be too drollClimate won’t coax‘cause we have no control!
Mike asked if I wanted the firewoodfrom that job in '04.“Firewood? Fokk no,” I replied
“I’ve got a backlog.”Nobody thought it funny.
Mike was highly absorbed in answeringway too many emails by himself– sometimes 400 a day – and wouldget bitchy if interrupted, but I had toask him stuff sometimes.
Finally, one day he wheeled around,red-faced, ass pressed firmly in hischeap Chinese office chair and
huffed,“Look, I really have to concentrate!”
I thought, “Okay, you pissy,
pink-nosedYankee putz, have it your way at Burger King.”
Today is a day of unlimited storage.Think back:
Time was when we needed to forage!And this now ubiquitous spaceWas not found in any old placeAt least not nearly freeBut jealously guardedThus most ‘STUFF’, you see
was hast’ly discarded!
Today was a day of remarkable chapelAn impromptu foray, ‘twas sweet as an apple!This LIMITED storage thingBetwixt my earsSang Nature’s calm ring,
moved close to tears!
Today we were showedThe meadow out backWhere hot sun did goadHark! a grand oval track!
Bright, verdant and mowedPark! Then walk back!
I just had to sit and
concentrate.Some here needed to standBut sometimes standing’s not so greatIn completing the task at hand.
Hey, nothing wrong with taking a stand.It’s one of the things legs are forJust a part of the human brandUpright and nothing more!
This time, though, at least for meThe L-shaped posture adoptedI’m better L-bent not errantlyCompleting this task which I opted!
‘They’ also claimed the human mindWould have more focus thenOn gawky feet whilst pecking on keysBored outta their gourds but with Zen!
Not sure what I did on the 21stFrom commitment I hidIt was never well-versedOut the front door I slidIn a motion rehearsedGoing shyly amidTroublesFearing the worst!
But it wasn’t that badI would have to admitAlthough a tinge sadI continued to flitTrying not to get madAnd just giving a shytt!
Thus one more dayIn this life of plain workAn honest forayOf these chores not to shirk.
So it turned out to beThat with minimal strifeFor little ol’ meJust a day in the life!
Today was AT LEAST Day 5Of a stymieing back pain.And I still don’t know, no jiveWhat happenedNor what I might have gained!
But it sure was friggin’ MAJORIf not unprecedentedAnd a growing sense of failureAs pain had not relented.
back, it must have beenThat
fat-assed Lazy-Boy®Schlepped down the stairsOutside and thenInto their van – such joy!But it was not a moving vanAnd I not a moving boy!
Twisted as a rope it wasAround the joint T-2Thoracic, surely, just becauseThat’s what it likes to do!
BACK TO BACK:
This seize-up, arriving in conjunctionwith friggin’
hay-fever inducing pollen,knocked me back a few paces.Quite the humbling
experience, to say the least.After all, thinking back, I hadn’t hadknockdown
– drag-out back issues sincewinter of ’92, when the perennial landscapingcrew
layoff tied my shorts in a knot.Then, in March, it was back to work,and
everything spinal toiled back to normal!So every 20 years might not be so bad
after all!But here, now, it was back to theproverbial drawing board and an
arduous struggleto sustain even basic chores.
Again, thinking back on this seized-upback debacle, I take
back any nasty utterancesproffered back when this old back was 'code blue'.Moreover, apologies are in order, to all who mayhave expected the usual work
output fromthis ruddy-ass backwoods farm boy.
Two towns over lives a friend who got clippedby a
snowmobile back in ‘08.
Needless to say, her back bore the bruntof lingering
troubles, but rather thankickin’-back and loungin’, she’s been,for the most
part, kickin’ butt.
Back to the present:This friend is an inspiration wheneverMY
morale needs a backup !
Today I will utter a series of “Whews”Yet with a slight stutter,Tentatively enthuse:Spring doldrums might sputterAnd man, that’s good news!
For 2 weeks I had muddledAs if in a snoozeToo much indoors-huddledHah! The money I’d lose!
Although out of the woodsSurely more trouble brewsCouldn’t garner the goodsThen I had to refuseAnd as patience wore thinIn threes, not in twos!
I’d have to admitHere, this is it:Western medicineHas no clues!
Then some rain came a-callin’In enough quantityTo knock down the pollenThat caused misery!
At times like thisBeset with worryWhere’s the bliss?And what’s the hurry?
I had never stopped to appreciateThose things, if I’d stoppedWould make me late!
That line of hickory treesStanding, yes, very resplendentlyNo, NOT cut downso mindlessly!
How stately they standAnd form one big crownLike a fluffy green signpostThey point us toward town!
Or the fleeting unwiseMonarch butterfliesThat dip, swoop and swirlUnderneath hazy skies!
Or the sunsets so pinkCarved up by our hillsSo I’ll slow down and thinkFor they give me such thrills!
Off to the races & back I workHearing news from placesThat I’d rather shirk.Turning off this wretched newsI rage aloft in tuneful muse.
Better a notebook to embellishWith juvenile scribbling to relish!I realize thus what this entailsWith more to it than pencil trailsThat snake and squiggleAcross the paperWith a mind of their ownSuch hapless caper!
Never learned much HTMLSuch gobbledygook‘Twas just as wellThough me in good steadIt might standThis big Web to understand!
Pardon me & them & youI’ve OTHER stuff to do!
Getting’ down on Memorial DayWhen many will thinkOf the Green BeretOr the infantry or Purple HeartThen some would say“How great thou art!”
Getting’ up on Memorial DayParades will strollAnd bands will playDrums get a rollAs Colors splaySo bellow a droll Hooray!As spring flings the pollenWe should honor the fallenAnd what more can one really say?
Yet how many forgetThe illustrious reasonGrief, pride and regretof this memorable season?If you’ve not done so yetPlease salute the vetSympathize with the troubleThat he’s in!
JAVA AT BOTH ENDS
Up and at ‘em, I’d blithely sayBut sorry, I’m only human;With coffee at both ends todayBefore the working world to forayMy gut so thick like a lump of clayThese innards needed groomin’!
Unclogging pipes, and hastilyIt heartily portendsA big release of energySkyward thus it sends!
“How horrid!” might be what I hearA strident stark refrainBut let’s make one thing perfectly clear:Relax, it’s down the drain!
Don’t mean to make it sound bizarreSo don’t go being spasticThe two-ends-java’s results areNo less than fan-friggin’-tastic!
I found this pencil in the trashAnd picked it out, yesIn a flashThen took it home, yesIf you willAnd treated it to a nice refill!
Later, I thought‘For heaven’s sakeIt must have fallen by mistakeInto the nearby circular fileWhere it then languishedfor a while!'With nary a careAs to when, why or how;And it’s loser unwaryBecause it’s MINE now!
Of course it’s lesser than fantasticAnd that, you’ll guess, because it’s plastic!But hey, I’ll use it again and againIt’s much more reliable than a pen!