revues of buddy don: 'haircut stories' by lydia copeland

i have writ about the ritin of lydia copeland, who she just cum out with a chapbook of short wurks name of 'haircut stories.'

i gut me one by droppin by the site above, whar ye kin also read sum blurbs on the book.

tiz a slim volume but each of the lil flash fickshun pieces in it remind me a lil of the tent harry potter wuz usin in the last book: frum the outside, they look tiny, but ifn ye stop inside, a hole worl opens up. each time ye read one of these lil prose pomes, witch thats how they wurk on ye, thays a lil more that ye notiss n larn. one piece name of 'haircut' kep growin in strangth till it seemd lack i couldnt read it without gittin tears in my eyes. thays a grater sense of depth each time ye read inny of em. i have dun red the hole thang about six times, but i aint tired of it yet.

i real eyes ye gut to watch yer dollars, witch tiz a good reason not to git a copy of shoot the devil on a counta tiz a bit pricey. i wish i could do sumthin bout that. on tuther hand, ye kin git ye a copy of haircut stories fer lil or nuthin. n ever time ye read it, ye will git a lil more of a story than the time befor.

revues of buddy don: fletch n that thar hdr method

as ye probly know by now, i luv pitchers. i have larnt a trick or two bout em n hope to larn more. one of the thangs that poplar now is hdr, witch thats a short way to say hi dynamick range. ifn tiz dun rite, ye have pitchers that looks lack the real worl on a counta how our eyes is so much bettern the verr bes camra lenses ever made.

i couldnt seem to ken thisn tho till i saw whut fletch had larnt to do. sumhow his eggsplainayshuns git thru to me, not that i have dun a sangle one of them thangs that satisfies me ... yet.

meanwhile, take a gander at whut fletch has dun! ye kin jes foller the lank above to git thar, but make shore ye look at these beeyooties:

• palm trees on a wurdless windsdy
  
• lighthouse park (dont know how he gut them clouds to cooperate!)
  
• n the one that cunvinced me (n fletch too, seems lack) that this stuff is wurth larnin, brotherton cabin!

thays all wurthy of a gander, so git on over thar n treat yer eyes n yer spirit.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

revues of buddy don: wii fit

this caint be a hole revue on a counta i wonta git my daily yoga in on the wii fit.

but my frien red molly menchunned in a comment that she dint know whut a wii fit even wuz, so i figgerd the lease i could do is say a few wurds bout it n give ye a lank or two.

it cum to pass a while back that them kids wint together to git me a wii fer my birthdy back in januwary. twuz fun fer a while, but i gut a lil bored with it on a counta i couldnt git nobidy to play it with me (tiz much more fun to play thangs together). miz bd wuz willin to play, but never rite then.

so whenever mothers day wuz a'cummin up, them kids gut together agin to pre-order miz bd the wii fit balance bord, witch ifn ye foller that lank ye will see nintendos launch presentayshun.

tiz a lot more fun than inny other video game i have ever played, witch that probly tells ye more bout me than them games. but thisn is so much fun i caint wait to play it.

way it wurks is simple. ye git ye a slab of plastick name of a balance bord, witch it kin weigh ever lil movemint ye make. tiz broke up into four quadrunts n a'usin that it kin show ye whuther yer balance is good or not. tiz a grate thang fer yoga n other extra sizes that require keerful balance. thats grate on a counta otherwise ye mite could thank yer a'doon much bettern ye are. tiz verr hard jes to stand still n balanced in ever die-reckshun (frunt to back n side to side).

taint everbidy that lacks it on a counta it dont sugarcoat nuthin. but tiz lodes of fun!

now i am off to git in at lease 15 mints of yoga.

btw, my muscles is sore everwhar thays a muscle! but tiz a good kinda sore ...

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

lanks of buddy don: purrfeck worl

after readin this mornins news, i wuz tempted to type out sumthin negativ bout how thangs is a'goin, but in sted, seems better to lank to a lil articull writ by a feller frum the czech republick, witch he has dun splaind whut a purrfeck worl wood be lack bettern i could ever do. on a counta how i caint read czech, i aint shore who the feller is ceptn hes a student a'livin in bayonne new jersey.

he calls his lil articull Perfect World.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

reckommendayshuns of buddy don: grate blog

time is short, but i wonted to let ye know bout a new blog a commmenter name of april tole me bout, witch tiz a blog name of Hillbilly Savants. i aint red near a nuff of it yet, but tiz chuck full of good stuff frum whut i kin see, speshly fer folks frum appalachia. on that topick, dont fergit bout Appalachian Greens neethur.

gotta run!

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

revues of buddy don: a book to wake ye up agin

tiz lackly ye have du herd bout that book name of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. tiz a fable. ifn ye read it, ye will wonta thank back on whut yer dream wuz n figger out whuther ye been a'follerin it or not.

a frien leant it to me n i couldnt harly putt it down.

now i keep wunderin bout my own dream, witch twuz to rite, but whut i caint hep but wunder is whuther twuz to publish also. evertime i cunsidder doin whut it takes to git sumbidy to publish yer book, seems lack i could spend my lil time on earth better by ritin sumthin else or trine to git sumthin i dun writ into better shape. (tiz the best thang bout havin a blog on a counta thays a good three of four folks that has dun read sum of my stuff.)

tiz my reckomendayshun that ye git ye a copy of that book n read it. then whenever ye wunder whut yer life is all bout, ye kin read it agin.

tiz the kinda book that could bare a lot of re-readin.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

book reports of buddy don: Ringworld

i aint a'gone pertend this is a revue on a counta i aint gut time to try to eevaluwait how good the Ringworld Series by Larry Niven is. but i did wonta say ye orta give it a read. i aint hardly been able to putt em down ever since my friend (whose site name of thinking meat is one of my faverts) sug-jested it to me. i hope to have a lil time to talk more bout sci fi n sum of my other faverts, but at the moment, tiz out into the snow n cold fer me in hopes of gittin to grand centrull in time to buy sum of them new dollar coins, witch i give em out as part of the daily agenda. they aint sellin em till 8 AM, but ifn tiz in man hattan, ye half to git thar early ifn ye wonta have a half a chants to git innythang.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

revues of buddy don: the beatles love

i aint gut much to say other than ifn ye lack the beatles or even ifn ye dont, ye orta give a listen to that album name of love by the beatles, witch twuz putt together by george martin n his son giles. they tuck lots of them recordins n mashed em up together to whar ye caint hardly bleeve how well the fit. reason they dun it is sos they could pervide the musick fer one of them cirque du soleil shows, witch me n miz bd wuz lucky a nuff to see dralion on a counta my irish friend micky takin us.

miz bd herd bout it frum her bruther whenever she went out to ohio fer that funerull. he tole her it mite hep her feel a lil better, so i wint out n gut a copy n i kin say fer a fack that he wuz rite.

fack is, far as i kin tell, tiz the best beatles album ever ...

... oh, thats rite: the title of it (love) fits todays hallday purty good too.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

book revue of buddy don: The Four Agreements

a lil while ago i red me a book name of The Four Agreements writ by a feller name of Don Miguel Ruiz. i aint gut too much to say bout it ceptn that tiz one of the best books i ever red fer makin a bidy feel better.

the four agreements is simple:

• be impeccabull with yer speech
• dont take thangs personull
• dont make no assumpshuns
• do yer best

i know that sound purty simple, but ifn ye read that book, read bout the importunts of yer word (in the beginning wuz the word n the word wuz with god n the word wuz god) n how tiz a sacred trust not to abuse it fer gossip or lyin or misleadin n such. tiz purty obveeus, but ifn ye try to foller along with that, not only in trine to keep frum misusin yer own speech but also trine not to be sucked into the misuse of speech others wonts to make, then ye git to feel better rite away.

but fer me, the secunt one is the best. mayhap that shows ye how i gut to hi a pinion of myself n whut others is thankin bout me, but ifn ye real eyes how most of whut other folks sez bout ye tells ye more bout them than it do bout you, ye git to feelin better.

i wont spoil the hole book for ye, but i stronly urge ye to give it a lil read. i know it has led to me feelin much better bout myself n my life everday since i red it.

(ifn ye wonta make a comment, ye gut to click on 'link' below.)

diss traskchuns of buddy don: grate book n other news

i caint seem to git my nose out frum a book name of the beatles by bob spitz that my step daughter give me. ifn ye lack the beatles or jes wonta know a lil more bout em, this is a grate book to read. ye larn lots of new thangs, lack how lennon n mccartneys grandparnts cum over to liverpool frum ireland durin the irish tater famine.

in other news, i almos wonted to say, 'et tu, george?' whenever i red the beginnin of a bit o'punditry writ by george f. will. in a articull name of No Checks, Many Imbalances, mr will sez thangs lack this:

Besides, terrorism is not the only new danger of this era. Another is the administration's argument that because the president is commander in chief, he is the "sole organ for the nation in foreign affairs." That non sequitur is refuted by the Constitution's plain language, which empowers Congress to ratify treaties, declare war, fund and regulate military forces, and make laws "necessary and proper" for the execution of all presidential powers . Those powers do not include deciding that a law -- FISA, for example -- is somehow exempted from the presidential duty to "take care that the laws be faithfully executed."

lack mos folks that kin read n understand plane english, tiz obveeus that mr bush dint foller ('broke') the law. he makes a purty good case usin lots of hi-falutin wurds. then, to make shore ye know whose side hes on, he ends thisaway:

Immediately after Sept. 11, the president rightly did what he thought the emergency required, and rightly thought that the 1978 law was inadequate to new threats posed by a new kind of enemy using new technologies of communication. Arguably he should have begun surveillance of domestic-to-domestic calls -- the kind the Sept. 11 terrorists made.

But 53 months later, Congress should make all necessary actions lawful by authorizing the president to take those actions, with suitable supervision. It should do so with language that does not stigmatize what he has been doing, but that implicitly refutes the doctrine that the authorization is superfluous.

i bolded the part that sticks in my craw: we know he broke the law, but were jes spozed to sit by n change it but never questchun whuther we spozed to make laws by havin the presdint disobey em n then after the fack, change the law? n do it without 'stigmatizin' the brakin of the law in the furst place?

that dont add up. it also ignores how if mr bush thanks he kin brake that law without no stigma, how minny otherns is he a'brakin without our knowin bout it?

wake up call of buddy don: a lil robert service

i been readin a wunderful book name of Collected Poems of Robert Service that wuz give me by eric over at straight white guy.

tiz the kinda book ye caint rush thru. fack is, i sumtimes git stopped a'readin a pome over n over n over agin. them pomes is that good.

not only do ye find yerself unable to speed thru such a book, but the closer ye git to the end – n i only gut 80 pages out of 728 lef! – the more ye tend to slow down sos ye dont half to end it.

most folks woodnt thank a book of pomes could be so engagin, but them pomes of robert service is differnt. they rime n tell stories. sum of em sets up thar own meldies in yer hed. twood be easy to cunvert a minny of em to musick.

i wonta share one of them pomes with ye, witch taint the bestn, but it hit me lack a left hook i wuznt eggspecktin. it duz whut the best literchur duz, witch it makes ye questchun whut ye wuz a'doon with yer life, makes ye wunder ifn taint time to recunsidder thangs n try to git back on the rite corse.

whenever i wuz a'wurkin reglar in thee-ater produckshuns over in man hattan, i herd a feller eggsplain purty well whut good literchur duz:

good literchur calms the distrubed n disturbs the calm.

turns out one of the smallest lil pomes in all of them colleckted pomes of robert service is a'doon that to me. here tiz:

My Masterpiece

It's slim and trim and bound in blue;
Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold;
Its words are simple, stalwart too;
Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold.
Its pages scintillate with wit;
Its pathos clutches at my throat:
Oh, how I love each line of it!
That Little Book I Never Wrote.

In dreams I see it praised and prized
By all, from plowman unto peer;
It's pencil-marked and memorized
It's loaned (and not returned, I fear);
It's worn and torn and travel-tossed,
And even dusky natives quote
That classic that the world has lost,
The Little Book I Never Wrote.

Poor ghost! For homes you've failed to cheer,
For grieving hearts uncomforted,
Don't haunt me now…. Alas! I fear
The fire of Inspiration's dead.
A humdrum way I go to-night,
From all I hoped and dreamed remote:
Too late… a better man must write
The Little Book I Never Wrote.

i hope to git back to the real reason i dun started this here blog, witch i wonted to practiss establishin a bleevabull hillbilly dialeck sos i could tell a huge tale usin stories i dun lived thru or seen otherns live thru.

thang is, all my brayin bout pall ticks n such is jes lack ice skulpchur: twont last long. but ifn or when i finish ritin life n pinions of buddy don, hillbilly (furst draft of the furst 101 chapturs is here; furst draft of chapturs 102 to 140 here), then i wood have sumthin that wood always be wurthy of readin since twont be deependent on the news of the day. it mite not be red by too minny folks, mite not even git published. i caint cuntrol nun of that.

but i kin cuntrol this, at lease till death innerupts: twont be the book i never rote!

readin of buddy don: isaac asimov

i gut a good friend that runs a website name of thinking meat, witch ye kin see i dun putt it on my list of favert blogs a while ago. hes one of the smartest folks i know n even tho we live in differnt places, we talk often a nuff to make friends. it heps that we wurk together, so to speak. so mos everday we have a chat sesshun a'gone.

sumtime back he tole me one of his favert authors wuz isaac asimov. i been a fan of scifi fer years, but fer sum reason, whenever i furst tride readin asimov back in my junyer hi skool daze, i dint find it my cup of tea, so to speak.

sos ye kin judge my luv of the books im fixin to list, ye should know i tuck that test at the lank on scifi above n heres how it turnt out:

in case yer curyas, i aint that purty nor that good by inny way ye could reckun it, but i do purty good on tests.

innywho, i finely deecided to dip my toe back into sum asimovian waters. i wuz partly moved by my friends good taste n brains, but whut really gut me goin wuz larnin that The Foundation Trilogy had beat out The Lord of the Rings for an award.

but whar do ye start ifn ye wonta git everthang that leads up to the novel name of Foundation? i started at I, Robot, witch thats a book of short stories. i wuznt all that impressd on a counta how it seemed lack the stories wuz logick games n the care acketers wuz not well drawn or deeveloped. but my friend sed fer me not to give up. lucky fer me, i dint!

heres the order ye orta use to read them books. i promiss, twood be one of the grate readin eggsperientses of yer life ifn ye go thru em all. i wish i could doot agin. when i git more time, i hope to rite a bit bout the flossofy asimov deevelops in them books. meanwhile, ye kin jes enjoy em!

1. I, Robot (1950)
2. The Caves of Steel (1954)
3. The Naked Sun (1956)
4. The Robots of Dawn (1983)
5. Robots and Empire (1985)
6. Pebble in the Sky (1950)
7. The Stars Like Dust (1951)
8. The Currents of Space (1952)
9. Prelude to Foundation (1988)
10. Forward the Foundation (1993)
11. Foundation (1951)
12. Foundation and Empire (1952)
13. Second Foundation (1953)
14. Foundation's Edge (1982)
15. Foundation and Earth (1986)

whut a ride! i hope ye git a chants to take it.

laziness of buddy don: spent the mornin readin ...

... n now i aint gut time to rite much of nuthin. more on whut i wonted to rite tomorrow.

heres a feller that stole the scene. we went out to the pier to watch the qm2 deepart. taint possibull to show ye how huge that thar boat is. heres whut we went out to see:

qm2_head_on.jpg

but this feller stole the show, witch heres a cuple pitchers of im rite after he landed (twuz verr hard to ketch im on a counta he dint sit still fer 10 secunts before he tuck off agin):

gull_jes_landed.jpg

gull_posin_1.jpg

gull_posin_2.jpg

i manely wonted to post sumthin so fambly members checkin in wood know i aint suffern no migraines.

blessings abound!

blogroll of buddy don: innerestin new blog

i dont publish moren one post most days, but i wonted to make shore ye dint miss a new entry on my blog roll at the lef. tiz that beelongin to mountain gurl n name of the blog is Life Is A Comedy For Those Who Think. looks lack thisn will be wurthy of a read mos everday.

browsin of buddy don: sum favert blogs

i try to browse them blogs everday, witch lately i been havin to wurk too much to git round to as minny of em as i wood lack. but i did wonta menchun sum faverts that ye mite not have tride yet, so here goes, startin with sum of the newer blogs on the rocky top brigade:

• furst i wonta menchun is whitescreek journal. the riter is a feller name of steve, witch hes dun moved out as far frum civilizayshun as he kin git n thang bout that is, he seems lack one of the mos civilized bloggers out thar. his ritin is superb, almos poetick. i recommend ye mite git started by readin his posts of march 24, witch it starts with a fine bit o'ritin name of 'thinking about life.' that orta git ye hooked, but ifn it dont, give his post frum yesterdy a read, witch tiz named 'Sorry Honey, I'm...' i bet yer a'gone git hooked.


• a nuther new fave is Not in My Bible, witch tiz a blog by a christchun librul, witch i caint hardly see how ye kin read the bible -- speshly whenever jesus is a'talkin -- n not be a christchun librul. to git ye started, read his verr witty n astute post name of Well, sacrifices must be made for fiberty, greedom and lemocracy, witch i caint find no permalanks so ye need to go to his site n scroll down to read it.


• ifn ye lack to read the cunservative side of thangs, then i recommend ye check out clark stooksburys blog name of clarkstooksbury, witch the bes thang bout it is how ye caint perdick whut he is a'gone say bout mos innythang. verr thoughtful n not the kind to repeat spin points, far as i kin see, witch that means he bleeves in the cunservative values that wuz importunt to my daddy n his generayshun. ye kin git a lil idee bout how this by readin one of his posts lack "Freedom" of Speech or sum of his longer ritin such as Red Team, Blue Team. ye mite notice rite away how this feller is a real riter that has published thangs in places lack the american conservative.

meanwhile, twoodnt do to menchun sum new faverts without listin my reglar rocky top reads:

• corse, ye gut to start with the blog that started it all fer us, South Knox Bubba Ok, Then. this feller never fails to amaze me with how much he kin keep up with on bof the nashunull n local level, but i reckun mos folks readin my blog has dun stopped by his befor a'gittin here. ifn ye aint never been by skbs, then ye owe it to yerself to give it a read. ye wont regret it nun. by the way, check out his fridy bird bloggin: hes gut amazin talent as a fotogruffer, as this pitcher (my wallpaper) proovs.


• deb over at sugarfused ia a nuther favert. i gut lured in by her haiku, witch she has exter ordinairy talent with seventeen lil syllabulls, but i keep cummin back to read bout her life n times.


• nuther favert is straight white guy, witch he hepped me git started in bein pashunutt bout sangle malt scotches. thang bout eric is how he is a verr fine riter with grate (but weerd) taste in music. jes go by n start readin. twill becum a habit.

on a counta how im runnin outta time, ima gone list without comment a bunch of blogs that i try never to miss:

• smijer & Buck


• SayUncle


• Resonance


• Douglas McDaniel


• Dope on the Slope


• Democratic Veteran


• Austin Country Limits


• a moveable beast


• geekman


• Marian's Blog


• Blue Page Special


• Every Topic in the Universe

hope ye git a chants to check inny blogs i menchuned that ye aint red yet. ye wont regret it.

revues of buddy don: red cavalry

thays four grate riters frum the soviet era of russian language literchur: Mikhail Bulgakov who writ a grate book name of Master and Margarita; Boris Pasternak, witch ye probly saw the movie they made frum his famus book name of Dr. Zhivago; Aleksander Solzhenitsyn who wrote numerous grate books includin Cancer Ward, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and The Gulag Archipelago; n finely, thays Isaac Babel, witch he writ Red Cavalry.

i herd bout Red Cavalry frum Eric over at Straight White Guy, witch he recommended i read it after i writ bout readin good soldier švejk. thatn wuz a verr funny take on military life.

taint the case with red cavalry, witch tiz made outta stories writ by issac babel when he was a war correspondent travelin with the red cavalry durin the russian civil war twixt the reds n the whites. his assinement tuck him in to poland whar he wuz able to see at verr close range jes how war kin be a odd mix of the ridiculus, the gruesum n the cruel. each of the stories aint no moren about as much as ye kin fit into a newspaper column, witch they usually run twixt 500 n 2,000 words. taint a hole story all strung together, but as ye read each of the lil stories, the bigger tale emerges. ye git a lot of odd moments.

in one of the furst stories in the book, the narrator is billeted in the home of a jewish fambly, witch thay wuz a cuple of women thar n a nuther feller asleep turnt tords the walls. the narrator has bad dreams, so one of the women wakes him up n sez she wonts to move im to a nuther corner of the room on a counta how he's kickin her papa in his distrubed sleep. turnt out the feller facin the wall wuz her papa.

She raises her thin legs and round belly from the floor and pulls the blanker off the sleeping man. An old man is lying there on his back, dead. His gullet has been ripped out, his face hacked in two, and dark blood is clinging to his beard like a clump of lead.

tiz a tipicull endin fer the stories in the book. tiz often the case whar ye go frum everday boredum to grisly revelayshun of whut war leaves behind.

tiz hard to ride in the red cavalry with isaac babel, but tiz near impossibull to turn away frum it. he makes ye see how bof sides in the anarchy of war kin git to whar they do thangs we call atrocities. tiz one of the thangs leaders dont lack to tell folks whenever thar wurkin up the argument fer goin to war. one thangs fer sartin: ifn ye read too minny books lack red cavalry, ye aint a'gone be sprized by no pitchers frum abu ghraib.

a nuther thang to cunsidder is how brave isaac babel wuz. he wuz verr famus in the u.s.s.r. even tho he wuz ritin the truth as he saw it n that truth wuz not sumthin joseph stalin wonted folks to know. he had im a home in paris with a wife n fambly, but he bleeved his place wuz in his home of russia, witch he went back thar even tho he knew twuz dangrus. then in 1940, he wuz disappeard into the state prison system, witch tiz bleeved he wuz executed. twuz lack the endin to one of them stories in red cavalary.

visiters of buddy don: summa them sites

thay wuz a slew of pitchers here showin whar all we tuck our visters, but i tuck em down sos folks woodnt have to wait fer slow loadin. long story short, we tuck em mos everwhar.

 

amazement of buddy don: a tennessee mountain in man hattan

a bidy kin only dwell on bad news n hard times fer so long. fack is, no matter how bad thangs gits, thays still sum good times. our lil fambly has been going thru a few miles of bad rode here lately, so twuz a real treat whenever my boss ast me could he buy me dinner at a place he knew bout. turnts out to be a restaurant down in a nayborhood name of soho. the restaurant is one i been to a cuple times before, but not in near fifteen years. tiz a place the featchurs bar-b-cue name of tennessee mountain restaurant.

taint the same as bein in tennessee -- corse, nuthin is -- but tiz purty close in sum ways. they gut bar-b-cue smells in thar that make ye drool lack a dog at a pick nick n thay sell a beer name of blue moon that cums from memphis. i dont eat meat ceptn fer fish so i orderd cajun catfish with rice, witch twuz a deelightful treat. my boss had im sum of the pulld pork n i half to say, twuz all i could do to resist it. i been a fish-eatin vegetarian fer minny a year, n fer the mos part, i dont git tempted by inny meat, but the smells of that place n the look of that pulld pork swimmin in a lil puddle of bar-b-cue sauce all piled onto a biskit made me wonta take a bite or even order me sum, but i resisted. my boss bought im a cuple them blue moons n i stuck to jack daniels. the place had em sumthin thay call tennessee moonshine, but turnt out to be a mixed drank, or i wooda had sum.

so in the blessin-countin bizness, let me add these two to the list: (1) gut a real good boss, the kind ye kin sit down n have dinner with n not talk bout wurk ceptn fer a joke or two n (2) a good meal tastes grate even when yer famblys a'goin thru a real hard crisis.

turnt out thay wuz more to the blessins to be counted than i knew. miz bd wonted to cum to the dinner, but sumbidy needed to visit the payshunt, so she dun that part of it. whenever i gut home, she wuz thar. turnt out the payshunt had made sum strides in the rite die-reckshun after bein treated verr porely by a rogue nurse. twuz the kinda thang that coulda set everthang back to whar the payshunt wood be wurser than befor, but in sted, twuz a fite the payshunt n everbidy round wonted to fite. n that hepped the payshunt see thangs better n twuz one of the bes days yet. so we kin count the blessin of thar bein sum good news frum the hospital.

me n miz bd saverd the moment las nite with a lil talk. she pored herself sum glenmorangie 10 year n i drunk a lil water sos we could toast the payshunt n good times lack las nite, even if they cum lack a oasis in the desert of hard times.

revu of buddy don: good soldier švejk

i red this book here lately name of the good soldier švejk by a bohemian author name of jaroslav hašek, witch ifn ye know yer geogruffy n histry, ye know bohemia is whar folks that speak czech live, witch twuz called czechoslovakia till twuz made its own cuntry name of the czech republic.

innywho, the good soldier švejk is one of the worlds masterpieces of army literchur, even better than joseph hellers masterpiece, catch 22. i wont bore ye with too much bout it ceptn to say how tiz one of the funniest books ye could ever read. i gut to laffin so hard one nite that miz bd had to considder usin the hindlick manoover on me.

tiz the kinda book ye mite speck to be writ by sumbidy that wuz a grunt in a war, witch tiz bout all the frustrayshun of hurryin up n waitin n wontin to git food n sleep n booze n women n all that kinda thang. tiz also the story bout a feller who gits caught up in worl war one n the fack is, švejk is a lil on the simple minded side of thangs. the hole thang opens with his charwoman tellin švejk bout the assassinayshun of archduke franz ferdinand in sarajevo, witch thats the event that gut the furst worl war a'goin. švejks anser is tipicull of how he thanks bout thangs:

'Which Ferdinand, Mrs Müller?' he asked, going on with the massaging. 'I know two Ferdinands. One is a messenger at Pruša's, the chemists, and once by mistake he drank a bottle of hair oil there. And the other is Ferdinand Kokoška, who collects dog manure. Neither of them is any loss.'

i thank ye git the idee bout whut kinda feller švejk wuz, strate forward n kindly lack the simple clowns frum shakespeare. even if he seems feelbe-minded at times, he ackshly has a sort of wisdum his 'superiors' dont have. thays one passage in particlar that seems to speak purty good bout the current add ventchur over in iraq:

You see, it's not so hard to get in somewhere. Anyone can do that, but getting out again needs real military skill. When a chap gets in somewhere, he has to know about everything that's going on around him, so as not to find himself in a jam suddenly -- what's called a catastrophe.

makes me wish sum of them folks that dint wonta cunsidder how hard it mite be to git out of iraq had been thankin lack švejk befor they dun went in.

edits of buddy don: get me re-rite

yesterdy twuz all i could do to git so far as i gut with the chaptur i wuz a'ritin on a counta i wuz feelin the furst symptums of a migraine a'cummin on. i reckon im still at the stage whar i thank i kin overcum it with willpower sum kinda way. i had to go to wurk fer sartin n jes couldnt afford to be havin no migraine. but facks -- reality, not wurds in a book, witch twuz whut the chaptur wuz about -- is stubborn thangs n one of em facks is how reality of a migraine is strongern inny willpower ye could brang to bear on it. so i hurried thru the chaptur n gut on the bus n made it to port authority bus station on 42nd st at 8th avenue. i gut offn the bus but rote a lil note on my blue blackberry splainin how i wuz not a'gonna be able to make it n astin thisn to take keer of one thang n thatn to take keer of a nuther. then i cum home n squirted that new nasal vershun of zomig up my nose. after that, twuz about all i could do to sleep thru the hole day. the good thang bout that is how i dont feel no after effecks at the moment n i gut over the wurst symptums as quick as i used the medicine.

innywho, twuz a plague on my mind whenever i real eyesed i hadnt dun justus even to the furst draft of a chaptur with whut i writ yesterdy, witch whut yer a readin is the furst drafts of ever chaptur lessn i do a re-rite, so im kindly walkin the tite rope ever day i have the guts to rite, witch i wish twuz ever day.