mizry of buddy don: a short reeport

me n miz bd seen the weather changer a'cummin on us, witch it hit on sundy as skeduled. i wuz on the fone to mama whenever i gut to whar i couldnt make the wurds i wuz trine to say cum out of my mouth or even git into it, witch thats sumthin name of aphasia that is a precursor i git ever now n agin.

i bin havin migraines since, each day a'gittin a lil wurser till yesterdy i couldnt hardly stop vomitin, witch miz bd gits me up in the bed n dont let me go vomit n that heps me git past havin the urge. she duz sum reiki on me to hep me drift off to sleep. it gut bad a nuff fer me to take imitrex yesterdy, witch i try not to take them thangs on a counta they seem to cause rebound migraines the verr nex day.

miz bd gut the newrallgist on the fone n he gut a scrip fer steroids on its way long with a nuther drug n sum oxygen to use nex time i am feelin the effecks.

i will cummence to takin em this mornin, n twont be a secunt too soon on a counta i wuz up half the nite trine not to vomit agin. miz bd tuck keer of me as per usual.

pee ess: tuz a awefull way fer miz bd to have to cummence her birthdy, witch tiz our anniversry as well.

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waka of budouadana: eights

Strike

Eight arrows arcing
Across the sky, their targets
Already settled,
A coordinated strike
That allows no turning back.

Ends

Everything must end,
The happy circle of friends,
The team of workers,
Its final task completed,
Each of its eight cups drained dry.

Bound

Blindfolded and bound,
In a jail of eight sharp swords,
Feeling powerless,
The young woman first accepts
Then overcomes her troubles.

Flow

Six wheels completed,
The worker diligently
Hammers the seventh
The eighth awaiting its turn,
The flow of work exalting.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: thangs that make me feel sick

aint we past time when we gut wooden injuns in man hattan? i wood say it makes me sick ceptn everthang duz rite now on a counta i gut a migraine makin me wonta vomit, witch i know i orta try not to, but ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: wise man

tiz a day of pane fer me on a counta migraine weather than cum in yesterdy. leaves me wishin i could be as placid as this feller ... (my hed feels bout that big n bout to burst) ...



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waka of budouadana: sevens

Stand

One man versus six,
He makes his hilltop stand,
Bravely facing those
Who would supplant him by force,
His staff no better than theirs.

Options

Each of seven flasks
Holds a unique heady brew,
A different future
In each dreamy concoction:
Paralysis of options.

Outsider

The outsider leaves
The parade of daily life,
Briefly looking back,
Bearing seven silver swords
As if he could defeat death.

Blessings

The farmer pauses
For seven golden minutes
To smell sweet onions,
Lean upon his wooden hoe,
And count his many blessings.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: frum a toy store

this past weekend, we wuz lucky a nuff to git a visit frum my niece n her husbin, witch they wuz in town sos he could have a innervue over at f.i.t. fer a spot in thar progrum fer toy deevelopers. hes about to git his batchler of fine arts degree n wonts to wurk in that field, witch thay aint no better place to doot than f.i.t. as ye kin planely see, they gut art rite in frunt of the place:



so twuz that we had us a grate time a'goin to places lack fao schwarz n toyz r us.

one of the grate thangs bout them toy stores is how they let ye take pitchers inside of em, witch most places dont allow that.

lego our liberty!


this feller wuz a'moovin aroun lack he wonted to attack n eat ye, but i saw a lil gurl with her mama thar, who the mama sed to the lil gurl, 'watch out fer that dinosore!' n the lil gurl, mayhap she wuz five years ole, anserd, 'oh please, he aint real.'


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waka of budoudana: sixes

Winner

The winner parades,
Colorful standard raised high,
Leading his army
And six flag-bearing champions,
Knowing glory fades quickly.

Innocence

Children with their bowls,
None of them identical,
Play their made up games,
Six innocent hungry lambs
Sharing faith they will be fed.

Renewal

Two hooded figures
Their boat laden with six swords,
Cross a murky swamp
That mirrors their strained spirits,
Renewal on the far shore.

Blessings

Six coins, six figures,
Poor man, rich man, give and take –
No one is secure,
But each can give or receive
According to his blessings.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: ladies in man hattan

bad news on the phone?


almos lack a nuther amurkin gothick ...


eatin ice cream on a verr cold day ...


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waka of budouadana: tuther three fives

Regret

Three great beakers down,
Their brew spilled on thirsty earth,
Their owner suffers,
Feeling only sharp regret,
Blind to the two that remain.

Miser

Stopping at nothing
To get his way, the miser
Cuts off all his friends,
Desiring only profit,
Claiming five swords, needing one.

Beggars

With but five pennies,
Two beggars, one lame, both starved,
Wander through harsh snow,
Painfully aware of those
Feasting behind bright windows.

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waka of budouadana: truth

Ascending the mountain,
One’s trail does not always go up
But must dip downwards
To meet the next, longer rise:
So, too, paths leading to truth.

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waka of budouadana: Contention

Petty contention –
Five-man free-for-all with sticks
Jabbing and jousting –
No rules, winners, or losers,
Only blind competition.

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waka of budouadana: meditation

Set down your bright sword
To seek the stillness within,
Where meditation
Can illuminate your path:
Three other swords stand ready!

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waka of budouadana: whirlpool

After the third cup,
Thoughts revolve upon oneself –
Too wrapped up to see
The fourth cup being offered –
Look up: the whirlpool beckons!

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waka of budouadana: celebration

With but one candle
One can dispel the darkness,
In one’s lone corner,
Or boldly light three others,
Illuminating the room.

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waka of budouadana: dancers

Pirouetting dancers,
Two pair of eyes, his and hers,
Caught in a long gaze,
Smiling then looking away,
Nothing spoken, all revealed.

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travel of buddy don: off to ohio

i will be makin a lil trip to ohio fer goodbank this week. i bin thar a few times on a counta we gut a service desk thar that ansers all the calls fer hep cummin frum our cumputer users.

i dun noted how thangs kin change on wall street. when thangs is boomin, thays limos to take folks to lunch n seems lack thay aint no limit to whut folks mite spend. then thangs turns tuther way, witch they always duz sooner or later. once that happens, folks gits let go n ever eggspents is looked at with yer microscope.

that means that this time, in sted of rentin a car to git me frum the airport in northern kentuck to whar i am a'goin (a lil over 50 miles away), i am a'gone have a car thar waitin to drive me. once i git whar i am a'goin, twill be a simple matter to walk frum the hotel to whar the service desk is.

i cumpletely understand the need to be keerful with dollars (even when thangs is in the feast part of the wall street cycle), but i will miss havin a car on a counta how twont be possibull fer me to make it up to visit my mother-in-law, who shes the bestn ever wuz.

on tuther hand, this gives me n miz bd a reason to make it over to see er when i wont be a'wurkin.

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waka of budouadana: threes

Views

Cargo of three sprouts,
His path through massive mountains,
He views from high cliffs
The wide green valley below,
Where he shall plant his future.

Community

Raise we three our cups
In joyful exuberance
To home and friends,
Great adventures, old and new,
The warmth of community.

Betrayal

As if three cruel swords
Had thrust into a beating heart,
Betrayal kills trust,
Whether of friend or lover,
Brother, father, or country.

Bread

Risking his three coins
The wise youth made thoughtful plans,
Hired a team of two,
Drilled until they could not fail,
Earned his daily bread for life.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: vue frum our winder

we knew twuz on its way n overnite it cum as promissd: a big ole wet snowstorm, witch i caint wait to git out in it on a counta i gut to wurk n druther wurk at wurk than at home, witch i dont know how long i kin hold out till i am forced to wurk frum home at lease three daze a week. i reckon most folks wood perfer that, but ... i druther do my wurk at wurk, even ifn it means a'goin out in this ...



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pinions of buddy don: more bout folks readin books

ye mite could say it dun hit a nerve whenever steven jobs claimd thay wudnt no future fer amazons kindle on a counta he dint thank nobidy red all that much. corse that wuz ded rong, witch i figger everbidy knew as much. so twuz a nice sprize to see an articull in the new york times name of book lust writ by a feller name of timothy egan on the verr subjeck, witch i reckon ye half to pay to read it.

mane thang that articull dun fer me is to reemind yall bout sum good books i red lately:

• that thar trilogy name of his dark materials by philip pullman. tiz a trilogy, witch that eethur means ye gut to read three books or that ye git to read three books, all accordin to whuther ye lack them books (i shore did).


• the road by cormac mccarthy, witch hes a author i lack sumtimes n caint hardly stand in otherns. this book is grim fer shore, but tiz so well imagind n deescribed that ye feel as ifn ye wuz in the verr hell he shows ye ... till tiz over.


• best of the bunch, a thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini, who hes the guy that writ the kite runner (a nuther grate read fer yall). i enjoyed bof of them books, but i found the bettern to be a thousand splendid suns.


• finely, i jes finishd a verr enlitenin book name of understanding islam, an introduction to the muslim world, writ by a feller name of thomas w. lippman. thang bout this book is it reeminds ye jes how lil we really know bout the worlds fastest growin relijun. i had tuck a class on islam in collidge, but twuz still grate to brush up on the topick. warnin: ifn ye read this book, ye mite not have much payshunts fer folks spoutin out thar ignorunt pinions bout islam, witch tiz the die-reck deecendent frum judaism n christianity, witch muslims revere abraham, moses, noah, jesus n mohammed.

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waka of budouadana: edge

Perched upon the edge,
Striving not to slip and slide
Down into the pain
And nausea of another
Life sapping joyless migraine ...

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waka of budouadana: leaf

The maple leaf grows
From bud to flower to green shoot,
Scenting the forest
With perfume for two seasons,
Dropping in puffs of fall wind.

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pinions of buddy don: john scalzi n a new way of gittin books out thar

tiz verr hard to git yer books to readers ifn ye use the ole fashun way, witch thats to git sum big publishin cumpny to publish n market n distribute it.

lucky fer everbidy that lacks to read n fer them that lacks to rite books n git em red, thays new ways of doon thangs. tiz much simpler these daze jes to git a manuscip reddy n have it dun. i will be sayin lots more on this topick, soon i hope.

meanwhile, thays other ways of gittin yer book notissd, speshly once ye git ye a follerin, lack john scalzi has dun alreddy dun. here hes splain his awkshun to sell the bound vershun of the manuscip ere tiz gone thru its final copy editin, meanin warts n all. whoever wins the awkshun will git it sined n all, witch ye kin read all bout that by clickin on that thar lank (tip of the hat to meatbrain frum thinking meat).

point is, thays new ways of gittin a book red, n aint no better way of gittin it aroun than wurd of mouth. i dun red a cuple manuscips lately that i caint hardly wait till it kin be bought sum kinda way. twoodnt sprize me ifn them authors wuz offerin simlar kinda thangs to whut mr scalzi has offerd or mayhap to sine the final vershun, not the bound ms.

tiz my pinion that these changes is a'gone make it possibull fer us to read sum good books that woodnt ever git out of the authors drawer otherwise ... n as jed wood say, that dont make nuthin inny wurser.

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pomes of buddy don: In Our Fear

In Our Fear

The US Constitution broke the mold –
The first to replace monarchy with laws,
A document as brave as it is bold
For which no fear should change a single clause.

Yet terrorists use horrendous actions,
In hopes they can fill all of us with fear,
For only in our overboard reactions
Can their evil intentions persevere.

For they would cower the home of the brave –
And curtail rights in the land of the free –
Convert our land to tyranny’s poor slave:
Those ruled by fear can have no liberty.

Our forefathers gave fortune, lives and fame,
To secure freedom at such grievous cost –
If we should lose it, who deserves the blame?
Or in our fear will we know what we’ve lost?

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wurk of buddy don: how i made the cut

i menchunned yesterdy bout how thay wuz riffs a'cummin to goodbank whar i wurk on wall st yesterdy, n cum they did. twzu a day of bloodshed whar ye real eyes how tiz so much better to be lucky than good. folks that had bin at the firm fer over 17 years wuz let go, manely on a counta thar bein in jobs that aint a'gone be thar once thangs is re-dun sos they dont cost so much. tiz a tradishu on wall st: durin the feast, they hire lack crazy n throw money n bidies at problems. then cums the famine (witch mayhap thays folks that dont git it yet, but thats whut we are in n tiz fair to call it a reecesshun ceptin ye caint till tiz over on a counta bein honest in publick bout importunt economick or forn pallcy matters aint permitted in this cuntry). whenever wall st knows thays a famine, ye caint magin how they kin cut the bidies n the costs.

i wuz lucky a nuff to have tuck a differnt job in july of last year. turnt out i wuz the furst ever to be in my role n i dun a lot of wurk to make shore twuz reespeckted n credibull. so i wuz lucky.

but thay wuz minny a good wurker than wudnt n thats a hole lot of talent to dump on a market that is down, witch that means sum folks is eethur a'gone half to switch how they make money or wait thisn out till the feast cums back.

meanwhile, them amung us that survived has gut more wurkn ever to do n thays a load of survivor gilt sum folks is a'goin thru (yers truly amung em on a counta i had too minny friends that gut cut down by this particlar axe). here is hopin they all cum out all rite.

n whuts even a bit harder fer the nex few daze is how thay aint no list of them that wuz let go. in sted, ye gut to fine out the hard way, by trine to git in touch with em. or lookin em up in the corprutt die-recktry. (folks wuz a'lookin up thar ownself yesterdy jes to see ifn they wuz still thar!)

so the axe has swung n hopes is that it wont swing agin, but ifn thays more 'write-downs' a'cummin, ye never know how minny more will git cut.

corse tiz importunt to keep in mind how everbidy is a'gone die n ye aint yer job! yer sumthin much more preshus n that, witch aint everbidy that bleeves it: they lock the winders about a week ere they git to cuttin bidies so dont nobidy take too big (ner too embarrassin to the firm) a fall.

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cuncerns of buddy don: more riffs today

over at goodbank on wall st whar i wurk, today thays a'gone be a slew of added riffs, witch i aint all that shore whuther i am a'gone make it or not on a counta this round is aimed rite at the group i wurk in. thang bout wall st is that thay aint no safe place to hide whenever thangs turns down.

so i am a'hopin to make it thru todays round n will sartinly let ye know how thangs cum out, probly in the mornin lessn they send me home early, witch thats how they lacks to handle thangs.

btw, my pallgies fer not postin nuthin on mundy: i wuz in day two of a migraine, witch ye mite coulda notissd how the weather wuz a'changin sumthin fierce up in here jes about then. but i am feelin sum better now n hope to git thru today ... still employd by goodbank.

meanwhile, to keep yer mind on sum nicer thangs, i am deelited to note that fletch is back. ye kin go gaze at sum of his superb pitchers to pass the time ...

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pomes of buddy don: Scourged

Scourged

The middle-eastern radical cried out
In pain and suffering as he was scourged,
The torture making sure there was no doubt
That he deserved the judgment that emerged.

For he had sown the seeds of revolution
Among the oppressed people of his land —
The local powers sought their retribution
Against him, for they did not understand

That in the battle for a people’s soul,
Or for their hearts, minds and obedience,
The use of force and torture can’t make whole
What has been broken by expedience:

Although they crucified him on a cross,
His was the victory and theirs the loss.

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waka of budouadana: tuther three twos

Knot

The two lovers gaze
Upon one another, hearts
Like cups overfilled,
Each poured into the other,
Yin and yang’s eternal knot.

Blindfold

A sword in each hand,
The maiden crosses her heart,
Blindfolded by fear
Of what she might feel if she
Let anyone come near.

Flow

Juggling two gold coins,
One heads, one tails, the young man
Dances through eternity,
Working hard and yet laughing,
Joyfully merged with life’s flow

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waka of budouadana: half

With two sprouting stalks
The farmer builds his empire,
Faithfully planting
The first one, half his bounty,
The other his safe reserve.

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waka of budouadana: medicine

The best medicine,
Is nature, not artifice,
The body’s defense
Only sunlight, decent food,
Exercise, meditation.

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waka of budouadana: within

Those who would cast blame
On Chance, God or Destiny,
For their own hard lot
Should seek the answer within
Themselves, where all acts are born.

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waka of budouadana: sky

Broad blue empty sky,
The clean unblemished mirror
Of one’s potential,
Awes with brilliant purity
The state and insight one seeks.

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waka of budouadana: lily

The tender lily
Thrusts brightly colored flowers
To the dark surface
Of reeking weedy marshes,
Transforming them to gardens.

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waka of budouadana: aces

Sprout

A single seedling
Boldly breaks the frost-bound earth
Seeking the sun’s light –
Fragile sprout of unknown fate,
Fearlessly demanding warmth.

Sun

The flush of first love,
Meditation’s inner peace,
Spirit’s glowing faith –
All are nourished and grow
In the warm sun of the heart.

Knife

The mental knife cuts
Through the knots of fear and doubt
If its edge is sharpened
On the rough stone of reason
Oiled by experience.

Farmer

With such abundance
Does the earth come forth in spring,
A profusion tamed
And nurtured by the farmer,
Humbly bent, sowing, weeding.

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reckolleckshuns of buddy don: ruff day yesterdy

i bin wurkin on wall street fer 20 years now n whut happend yesterdy is kindly a annual event, ceptin that generly they lets the 'ded wood' go n then rebild n such. but whenever the markets tank the way they bin a'doin lately, then ye kin dam betchye that them wall street firms wont be employin nobidy they caint make mony on. i aint blamin em, but tiz the kinda thang that makes fer a verr long n difficult day.

turnt out that yesterdy wuz jes the secunt round (i dint even know till then that i had dun made it past the furst round) with a thurd round on the way. twuz a day whar not a hole lot gut dun on a counta folks wuz too busy gossipin bout who gut let go. thay wuz a list of names a good minny of us knew n twuz sad to thank of em a'bein gone. i wish i could say i wuz outta the woods fer this yer -- and i gut purty good reason to thank mayhap i mite could be -- but i wont know fer shore fer a nuther few weeks.

on a counta thangs wurks lack this. furst they cut the part of goodbank (whar i wurk) that takes keer of reglar investers on a counta thar all spooked by the latest bad news n 'stayin on the sidelines,' witch i dont know whut that sez bout whar thar a'puttin thar mony, but could be a mattress of sumthin. innywho, they aint as much call fer finanshull analysts to take keer of em ifn they aint astin fer keer. so a slew of them folks wuz let go, long with the folks that makes shore thar cumputers wurks.

nex bunch to go is them that wurks in the institushunull bizness, witch thats the part that handles big investers, institushuns n such. them that wuz tradin debt n such n them thats tradin equities n who knows whut all else, well, they were bound to suffer, long with 'back office' folks. so thay wuz a passel of names i knew n people i lacked a lot that aint a'gone be a'wurkin thar. these folks is in groups they call 'bu-aligned,' witch that means theys all devoted to takin keer of a particlar bizness unit.

nex (n last?) roun is the 'horizontull' groups that wurks on makin thangs better across the entire firm. n thats whar my group cum in.

i am deelited with how my boss n his boss handled thangs, speshly whenever the big boss gatherd us all in a room to give us the lowdown so fer as he knew it.

i sed i wuz feelin purty optimistick my ownself, n thats on a counta i run into the big boss in the cafeteria jes after i had dished me out sum oatmeal. i hattent seen im in a long while n dint even notiss he wuz thar, but he calld me over n tole me how importunt whut i bin a'doin is (i am a'wurkin in knowledge management) n how our plan for the year is a goodun n all. he even paid fer my oatmeal, so mayhap i kin stay aroun.

i shore hope so on a counta i aint never wurked at such a good place, lease in terms of the managemint i been a'gittin.

so me n miz bd will celebrate a lil this weekend n look ford to mayhap gittin past the next cut ... n ifn sumhow i dont make it thru, we will jes be a'startin out on a new add ventchur.

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pinions of buddy don: kin it be that jurnalists is makin a cumback?

i aint had much time fer bloggin lately on a counta havin to wurk out as a way of fitin them migraines (seems to be heppin so fer). today i am a'hopin that i am still employd at the end of the day on a counta thays rumors bout layoffs n rifs all up n down 'the street' as folks calls wall street firms. but i am hopin fer the bes, witch whenever yer bout to have fates cards dealt to ye, thay aint much more ye kin do.

but i do have sum good news, witch seems lack thays folks that bof lacks to commit jurnalism now n then ... n that folks that watches tv kindly dont keer much fer a channel that aint nuthin but a mouthpiece fer one of the parties.

tiz good to have good news on a day that could turn out bad, so have a look at them articulls whilst ye mayhap send sum good thoughts n luck at this ole wanderin hillbilly.

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waka writ by miz budouadana: raindrops

Raindrops carve into
flat, impenetrable stone,
transforming it from
obstacle into vessel.
Persistence leads to success.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: cuple frum man hattan

ye thank ye gut parkin trubles whar ye live? how bout man hattan?



but the sidewalks is grate fer walkin ... n sparkin ...



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home improovmints of buddy don: new heater

yue mite coulda eggspeckted whut happend. me n miz bd has been a'livin here in this rite nice apartmint fer nigh onto 8 years now n thangs is startin to brake. whenever we tuck the place back in 2000, everthang in it wuz brand new. now sum of them thangs is a'wearin out. the heater gut to makin a awefull noise ere it quit a'wurkin atall. the mike-row-wave dun the same a lil while ago, but we figgerd we could live without it till we could buy a new'un on a counta it cost as much to fix the ole one as to buy a new'un.

innywho, that heater knew when to die, witch twuz rite at the beginnin of the coldest spell we dun had this year. it tuck em a lil over a week to order the reeplacemint, witch they cum to putt it in on saturdy (makin us wait aroun near all day fer em). but the new heater is much bettern the ole one on a counta it has a thermostat n a sleep mode n all, but the best thang bout it by far (cumparrd to the old one) is how tiz so quite.

thang is, whenever ye lose sumthin ye doot hardly thank bout on a counta how well it wurks, ye git to real eyesin jes how much ye orta be countin them blessins ye dont hardly notiss till thar gone.
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pomes of buddy don: Those Who Survive

Those Who Survive

The genius of the market, so they say,
Is simply to reward efficiency,
The truth of which is boldly on display
In US health care self-sufficiency!

It’s there that for the low, low rate of twice
The rate per capita of socialized
Medicine (that lesser lands think nice)
The dreams of billionaires are realized.

And what a bargain to pay twice as much
To have a system that leaves out the horde
Of folks whose skills and luck are out of touch
To such degree that they can be ignored!

Meanwhile the market will soon find its way
To give those who survive great care . . . someday.

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mizry of buddy don: still a'gittin them migraines

me n miz bd spent the hole weekend indoors, witch i wuz a'feelin a lil iffy all along, but yesterdy mornin i woke with no choice but to upchuck furst thang, witch thats the wurst start to one of them thangs thay is. innywho, i sprayd sum immitrex up my nose n lay down n by the end of the day, i wuz ok. miz bd hepped out a lot by a'lyin beside me n doin sum reiki.

now i am wore plum out frum it, but i need to git to wurk. as ifn thangs wudnt alreddy bad a nuff, thays rumors runnin roun lack hedless chickens at wurk, sum sayin tharll be 5% laid off, sum 10%, n sum even high as 30%. i caint hep but let that skeer me on a counta my bad histry with migraines, but ye never know. i am a'doon sumthin at the momint that couldnt jes innybidy do, so mayhap i will be ok.

thang bout wall st is how whenever ye see the market tankin in a big way, ye kin bet they will cut staff as quick as they kin. ifn ye kin make it thru, ye probly wont half to wurry much till the nex downturn ... n we orta not kid ourself bout thisn bein a downturn. tiz ... sad but true.

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pinions of buddy don: steven jobs splains how i am not a people

tuther day i wuz readin sumthin steven jobs had to say bout me, witch twuz his way of attackin one of his cumpetitors or lease whut he mite coulda thunk wuz a cumpetitor sum kinda way. heres whut he sed, frum a articull in the new york times:

Today he had a wide range of observations on the industry, including the Amazon Kindle book reader, which he said would go nowhere largely because Americans have stopped reading.

“It doesn’t matter how good or bad the product is, the fact is that people don’t read anymore,” he said. “Forty percent of the people in the U.S. read one book or less last year. The whole conception is flawed at the top because people don’t read anymore.”

i wood lack to set ye strate on sumthin: people still lacks to read. i know it fer a fack on a counta i leave outta the apartmint ever mornin n git on the bus to ride over to man hattan, witch that thar bus is chock full of folk a'readin thar books with thar em pee three player earphone in thar ears.

so mayhap thays a minorty of folk that dont read but a book ever year. that dont mean that people dont read, only that sum of em dont.

as fer readin, heres sum of the books i been a'readin lately, witch ye mite wonta check em out yer ownself:

1. The Making of Modern Japan by Marius B. Jansen. i tuck to readin thisn on a counta them waka i wuz ast to rite fer a dojo. mosly whut they wonted wuz sum waka in english that had sum of the sam meanin as them that wuz writ by the Japanese Emperor Meiji, who he writ over 100,000 of em. that gut me to wundern about im n whut kinda worl he cum frum, n nex thang ye know, i wuz hip deep in modurn japanese histry writ by a feller that started out in ww2 a fitin agin em as a translater. tiz a verr mazin tale, witch it led me to read a trillogy of novels bout the tokugawa period in japanese histry.


2. them three books together is calld The Tales of The Otori: Across the Nightengale Floor, Grass for His Pillow, and Brilliance of the Moon, all three by a woman name of Lian Hearn, witch thats the fake name she uses n dont nobidy know yet whut her real name is, or ifn they duz, i couldnt find nuthin bout it. i will say that even ifn ye dont much lack to read, ye wont be able to putt these down ifn ye once git started.


3. i have now cummenced a nuther trillogy on a counta readin bout a movie made frum it over on anne johnsons site, The Gods Are Bored. ye mite coulda dun herd bout em, witch they wuz writ by a feller name of Philip Pullman. the trillogy is calld His Dark Materials n cummence with a book name of The Golden Compass. bout alls i kin say bout thisn is ifn ye read the furst 30 pages, ye a'gone have ye a hard time stoppin. ye mite dun alreddy herd bout how that thar furst book has won mos ever prize thay is fer books that kids mite wonta read, n much as i gut lots of pleashure frum the harry potter books, fer my money, thisn is much better with more to thank on. aint no doubt i will finish these three n then carry on to read otherns.

fack is, folks lacks to read, even if mr jobs claims they dont. as proof, here sum more books i red lately n thank ye mite could lack:

1. Illium and Olympos by Dan Simmons—science fickshun that lanks in tales as old as the iliad an oddyssy.


2. also by Dan Simmons, a fine sci-fi riter, i read a tetrallgy that wuz more fun than disnyland: Hyperion, The Fall of Hyperion, Endymion and The Rise of Endymion. i doubt ye kin find better ritin innywhar, whuther tiz science fickshun or not.


3. The Hard-Boiled Virgin by Francis Newman, a verr suttle kinda book that mite not seem lack much at furst, but by the end, ye know ye dun herd the voice of a grate critick of the place n lifestile of women in the south at the beginnin of the 20th centry.


4. The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin—probly the best science fickshun novel n one of the best novels of inny kind i ever red, tho it dont grab ye the way sum lesser wurks mite could do.


5. Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, and Children of the Mind, all by Orson Scott Card, witch the furst book is amazin tho to me they seem to git a lil less with each one.


6. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd: i pickt thisn up at one of them book sales by the side of the rode, witch i had herd of it but dint know much bout it, so i figgerd i wood give it a try n it wuz shore wurth the effort! whut a fine book tiz.

point is, people still reads, even if mr jobs aint figgerd it out.

corse, i dont thank i will git to the point of readin a book frum a kindle no time soon on a counta i jes luv the feel of a real book. the smell of the pages, the look of it once i am dun with it, the notes i kin make in the margins n so furth.

i wunder, duz innybidy else read? twood be a blessin to me ifn ye wood add mitt it in a commint n say whut book ye red lately that ye really lacked a lot, witch i pall gize bout that commint moderayshun, but seems them lank spammers lacks to use this site fer thar vile lil lanks.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: whuther to laff or cry

this here pitcher of comedy n tragedy has icons it it that kin eggsplain much bout how we live, witch half the time we dont know whuther we orta laff or cry. as tiz sed, ifn ye thank too much, ye laff, n ifn ye feel too much ye cry ...



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pomes of buddy don: the nanny state

The market God is where we place our trust
Since that’s a force that never can be wrong —
Though competition leaves some in the dust
Their loss helps compensate the lucky strong!

And if some poor folks have to starve or die
We should not intervene since that’s the price
We pay to prove it never goes awry —
And having billionaires is very nice!

For all are free to use their native luck
To choose their wealthy parents upon birth —
And if a person hasn’t got the pluck
To choose well, then he is of little worth.

No Nanny State! Don’t coddle the ill-fated!
What Jesus would do is simply outdated!

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mazemint of buddy don: them kids

yesterdy twuz my 56th burthdy, witch far as i kin tell, them fifties is the best of the decades we git (so far). we had a lil git together yesterdy, witch all them kids cum over ceptn vaclav, who hes still stuck in the czech republick hopin he kin git back here or that jack kin move thar. ye caint hardly magin my mazemint whenever they give me a present that all of em -- loretta n n paddy, jack n vaclav, tony n his gurlfrien sarah -- had dun gut together to git me one of them wii video games fer yer tv. i had been kindly thankin bout how one of em mite be fun cumpard to other kinds of game thangees, n i reckun i musta bin a'thankin out loud. i ast miz bd had she tole em i wonted such a thang, but she pled ignernts, so i musta spoke out moren i real eyesed.

innywho, me n miz bd stayed up a lil too long playin with the thang, rite down to the point of havin a few sore mussels this mornin.

ceptn fer the colts a'losin thar playoff game, my burthdy wuz bout as purrfeck as one kin git!

by the way, buck of tete-a-tete-a-tete lef a commint bout how he wuz bout to turn fifty his own self n how he figgerd he wuz in the 4th qtr of his life. heres whut mz bd had to say bout it: 'buck, sir, thays a hole lot more football lef to be played ... n have ye notissd how overtime sumtimes lasts longer than the game?"

i will repeat myself here: even tho i am barrly half way thru, them fifties is the best decade yet ...

oh, and thays one other thang to reeport: i had to turn on commint moderayshun on a counta sum spammer a'usin my commints to store links to vile websites, witch twill take me a lil while to clean up the mess that wuz made ...

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short note of buddy don: that thar grind

yesterdy wuz a verr long day fer me. i gut to wurk at 8 in the mornin n dint git dun till 9 in the evenin. n thangs aint a'gone git no easier fer a lil while on a counta i am trainin folks in europe the nex three fridys frum 4 in the mornin till 2 in the afternoon. sounds brutal n tiz, but on tuther hand, i git a car in to wurk on the cumpnys nickel n git to cum home a lil early fer the weekend ... n this weekend sundy will mark my 56th go-round ridin on this earthly ball! i am hopin to stick aroun fer minny more.

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waka of budouadana: silence

A mason who sees
Cracks in the foundation stone
Of a busy bridge
And says naught is like the friend
Who views one's flaws in silence.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: rite outside port authorty

ifn ye tuck the bus to new york city, one of the furst thangs ye wood see whenever ye stepped outside the port authorty bus stayshun is how they dun thunk of nigh onto everthang lodes of folks mite could need, at lease, sooner or later ...



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waka of budouadana: sap

The flower’s sweet sap
Lures the eager fly to death
In its graceful bowl,
As the timid friend's false praise
Poisons both truth and friendship.

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mizry of buddy don: not how ye wood lack to cummence the new year

yesterdy we had one of them weather changes that i caint seem to take without havin a migraine. i am verr lucky in my new job on a counta my boss aint wurried bout whuther i am thar, long as i keep up with my wurk, witch i am a lil ahed of that, so he tole me to git on home (i figgerd i could tuff it out, witch so far that aint never wurked).

but the bad news wudnt cunfined to that. in sted, we larnt yesterdy that vaclav wuz denied his visa to return to this cuntry. this is a setback that we are fitin in the bes ways we know how. twuz grate to larn that jacks boss tuck it the bes way ye could hope fer by sayin he wood try to (1) git a immigrayshun lawyer n see whuther they couldnt hire vaclav sos (2) he kin git a wurk visa. turns out they need folks that kin speak slavonick langwages, witch vaclav has eggzellent english, czech, russhun n who knows whut else. the bes piece of this news is they dun it on a counta that lil cumpny caint magin gittin along without jack! we kin sartinly understand that our ownself.

so thays sum silver linins in all the bad news. i am hopin fer no migraine today, witch i dun cummenced to wurkin out a lil while back n that has hepped a lot, deespite whut happend yesterdy.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: which way is up?

i thank a lot bout health keer n medicine n how we run it here in this cuntry. we here lots of cumplaints bout how tiz run in other cuntries n they always tell us that ye caint git nuthin bettern whut we gut. ifn we dint live here, we wood half to wait longer fer hip replacement operayshuns, fer instunts. the fack that we pay more per persun than inny other cuntry n still leave 47 million out is sumthin ye probly aint spozed to notiss. but heres whut i do notiss: it takes 1.5 munths to git a poinment with my primary keer docter n even longer to git in to the newrologist. i spoze i could go to the emergentsy room, but i woodnt see my reglar docter thar.

so twuz quite a spize whenever miz bd showed me this story name of Czechs grumble at doctors' fees:

The Czech healthcare system undergoes a minor revolution on 1 January as patients are asked to pay a small fee each time they visit their doctor.

The move is part of a widespread reform of the health sector unveiled by the centre-right government.

It is far from popular - a number of leading figures are calling on Czechs not to pay up.

Czechs enjoyed free healthcare during four decades of communist rule and in the past 17 years of capitalism.

But from 1 January, Czech patients will be asked to pay 30 crowns (£0.83; 1.1 euros) for each visit to the doctor, and 60 crowns for each day spent in hospital.

thang is, vaclav (jacks partner) is in the czech republick rite now a'visitin. his dad had to have triple bi-pass surgry, witch everythang cum out jes fine. he dint half to pay nuthin n stayed in the hospitull fer a few weeks!!

lucky fer us, thangs is much better here: i jes filld out my flexibull spendin account fer nex year, witch i putt $3,000 in it on a counta havin migraines, witch they kin git eggspensive. n i gut to reemind myself everday of my life how i am truly one of the lucky ones!

makes ye wunder whuther we kin figger out witch way is up:



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: that thar garden after a rain

after sum frustrayshun with a manuscrip uplode sos it kin turn into a book (whar i had to do a bunch of wurk all over agin sos twood be ackcepted, witch i still gut a bit of that to go), me n miz bd deecided we wood go by the brooklyn botanick garden on the way to ackupunkchur. heres a cuple pitchers i tuck ...





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waka of budouadana: ally?

Assassination
Right outside the pentagon
Of our prime ally
Against such terror proves our
Misplaced trust in dictators.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: man carryin pigs in chinatown

tuther day whenever me n miz bd wuz in chinatown shoppin, thay cum a man runnin roun a corner a'carryin three hog carcusses on his back. i run after im trine to git a good pitcher, but he wuz a'movin too fast n the traffick wuz in the way. i still tuck one fer a lil proof ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: reddy fer the year of the rat?

as mayhap ye dun alreddy know, 2008 is the year of the earth rat , witch it dont ackshly git here till febwairy 7. me n miz bd wuz over in chinatown tuther day n as ye kin see, thays a'gittin reddy to sell sum rats fer good luck ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: not yer daddys chrismus musick

me n miz bd finely gut roun to sum shoppin fer the halldaze, witch i tuck along the camra fer sum pitchers n gut thisn of a chinese man playin amazin musick on his erhu. ye shoulda seen im doin sum slidin notes. whuts mos amazin bout it is how this instermint is made sos them strangs never touches the fretbord, witch that means the feller playin it has gut to have a grate ear ... n he shore did. we give im a lil money sos he woodnt git upset at his pitcher bein tuck ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: kwan yin

this heres the ackupunkchur lady name of kwan yin, witch as ye kin see, tiz a easy way fer a ackupunkchust to know whar to stick them needles in ye .. that is, ifn she knows whut them lables means n all ...



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waka of budouadana: tears

Some deadly toxins
Can only leave the body
Through grief’s bitter tears,
Their deep sobs and sad sighing
Leaving one refreshed and clean.

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waka of budouadana: axis

Endlessly seeking
The way of the World as it
Turns on its axis,
The fearless find completion,
The timid stale frustration.

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waka of budouadana: inside

One must look inside
Oneself to find true Judgment,
Viewing good and ill
With clear eyes to learn what and
Where and why and who one is.

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waka of budouadana: glow

The warm golden glow
Of the early rising Sun
Radiates life, hope,
The simple joy of being,
To the few who are awake.

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waka of budouadana: illusion

Master of the tides,
Illusion, madmen, poets,
Even woman’s womb,
The Moon seems ever changing,
A trick of reflected light.

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waka of budouadana: token

The peaceful Star shines
Down on all alike, whether
Awake or sleeping,
Token of eternal hope,
Good will and serenity.

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waka of budouadana: lightning

Sudden lightning strikes
The Tower, bringing certain
Total destruction,
Changing all that went before,
Survival creating strength.

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waka of budouadana: chains

Golden chains adorn
Slaves captured by the Devil,
All of whom could free
Themselves by sacrificing
Guilt, hatred and jealousy.

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waka of budouadana: center

Take the center path
Mid excess and abstinence,
For with Temperance
Lie the riches of enough,
The glad poverty of want.

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waka of budouadana: cord

Swift Death cuts the cord
To annihilate decay
With transformation
From what was to what can be,
Dreadful only if defied.

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waka of budouadana: faith

In faith let me be
As resolute as the Hanged Man,
Who went to his death
Believing his cause worthy
Of the final sacrifice.

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waka of budouadana: scales

Universal scales,
Hefted by a stone blind judge,
Measure life’s verdict,
Without regard to station,
Dispensing Justice to all.

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waka of budouadana: threads

The Wheel of Fortune
Like the earth, like the seasons,
Constantly spinning,
Threads together all events,
Stretching from birth to death.

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waka of budouadana: lantern

The Hermit’s lantern
Casts a sphere of radiance
Upon the dirt path,
Its weight a burden he bears
So he does not lose his way

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waka writ by budouadana: cube

With its eight corners,
The cube, a sanctuary
Shape for our houses,
Is Strength both for and against
The wolfpack of convention.

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waka writ by budouadana: chariot

A two-wheeled platform
Drawn by powerful horses,
The Chariot tests
Strength and skill, yet willpower
Alone can keep it on track.

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waka writ by budouadana: lovers

She looks above her
As he gazes on her face,
His hopes as narrow
As seed finding fertile ground,
Hers as broad as the heavens.

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waka writ by budouadana: moebius

The moebius strip,
All surface and no substance,
Eternal outward form
With only one side to show,
Plays the Hierophant of shapes.

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waka writ by budouadana: pyramid

Square base of four points
Rising to a lone capstone,
It aims at heaven
With an Emperor’s power,
A fortress for dusty bones.

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waka writ by budouadana: tetrahedron

The tetrahedron
Is the simplest of all shapes
In three dimensions,
A fortress of triangles,
The Empress of balance.

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waka writ by budouadana: a eggzplainayshun ... n triangle

buck asts a questchun in the comments on yesterdys waka that deesurves a anser:

I love these things Buddy. I read them every day.

But please, somebody tell me what waka writ by budouadana means.

What are the origins of that statement?

I've googled it. I still can't figure it out.

i wuz beginnin to thank nobidy wood ast. i myself dint know a thang bout waka ere i wuz ast could i rite up a few of em fer a dojo in town that needs em fer meditayshuns. thays a slew of em writ by a japanese emperor name of emperor meiji. tiz sed he writ over 100,000 of em!

corse, thay wuz a time when hi class folks in japan wood send each other pomes, anwerin one with a nuthern.

innywho, that gut me started n ye lackly dun alreddy figgerd out how i jes luv to play with wurds.

tuther part of the questchun has to do with budouadana. who could that be? lets jes call im my japanese nome-day-plume.

as fer them waka, seems lack them folks at the dojo lacks em good a nuff to ast fer more. fer me, thays kindly lack lil puzzles whar ye half to squeeze in as much meanin as possibull into five lines with counts of 5-7-5-7-7. heres the one i writ fer today, name of triangle:

Three points connected
By three lines delineate
The stout triangle,
The High Priestess of flat forms,
With length and breadth but no depth.

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waka writ by budouadana: line

Stretched between two points
The line is length, nothing more:
Insubstantial edge,
Defining one dimension,
Geometry’s Magic wand.

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waka writ by budouadana: point

A place of no place
In physical space, the point
Is logic’s step one,
Its slate blank, a cipher, pure
As the nursling Fool’s new mind.

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waka writ by budouadana: star

The downward triad
Represents power flowing
From the sun to earth,
The upward one, what is made
Of it by humble flowers.

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waka writ by budouadana: vessel

To cleanse a vessel
One must empty it of all
Its precious contents,
Scrubbing its body, leaving
It pure and empty as sky.

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waka writ by budouadana: sunlight

Timid warm sunlight
Reflects from frigid mountain
Ice and lifeless snow,
Loving touch to frost-bound hearts,
First a trickle, then a flood.

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eggsplainayshuns of buddy don: ruff week thanks to migraine mizry

i spoze i orta fess up bout this here past week me n miz bd jes gut thru. the trubles cummenced on sundy last whenever i notissd but ignored one of them optick auras. fer one thang, i keep trine to tell myself that they aint happenin to me no more on a counta i wonta cunvints myself that i aint a'gone have this migraine problem no more. i know that dont make no sense, but tiz how i keep a'thankin.

i wuz cookin soup n bakin bread whenever it happend, so twuz easy to ignore. we et n ere twuz 7:30, i tole miz bd i wood go upsteers (we have a loft bed, no ackshull upsteers) to read. i bleeve i wuz sleepin without readin a sangle wurd.

woke round 1 am n twuz all over, tho i still woodnt do whut i orta dun, witch wuz to take sum of that awfull stuff, imitrex ($42+ per squirt, witch tiz a nasull spray) or zomig (same price by total coincidents), but i wonted to wurk n had thangs to do. i figgerd i could git back to sleep n be ok.

wrong. i gut sicker n started a week of blackout mizry. taint a total blackout havin these thangs, but ye caint do nor thank much of nuthin. caint read, caint rite, caint do much moren lie in bed with pillers over yer ears n wait, hopin that ye kin feel pane n not nausea (i kin take the pane, bad as it be, but not the eerie-sistibull urge to vomit).

this bunch of migraines all gut started at nite, wakin me up twixt 1 n 2 am n leevin no dout bout whut the day wood brang.

miz bd wurked me over purty good -- she knows a few healin modaltees -- n that hepped, but twuz finely necessry to git me to the neurolgist, witch she has larned how to pull offn that trick (we have had to wait fer as long as a munth to see eethur our primary keer docter or a speshulist, witch it aint no gummint byoorackrussy cawzin that problem!).

she gut the job dun n then tuck me thar on thursdy afternoon. he dint putt me thru his reglar drill on a counta he could see how i wuz suffern even then. he writ me a scrip fer a short course (5 daze) of steeroids (prednisone) to take sos the patturn could git broke ('thar goes yer pro sports career,' miz bd tole me on the way home).

dont know whuther that broke the migraine spell or not on a counta i dint take the furst of that steeroid till fridy mornin after wakin up with a horrbull hedache in the middle of the nite. but i deecided i woodnt take no more of that zomig nor imitrex neethur, lease not that day on a counta they kin cawz reebound hedaches, but jes let miz bd lay her healin hands on me to do her best, witch that n the increase in depakote (to 1.5 grams or 1,500 milligrams per day) mite coulda hepped.

but whar they wuz no dout bout the spell a'brakin wuz when miz bd tuck me to brooklyn fer acupunchur at element. say whut ye mite bout havin a slew of needles stuck in ye, it wurks (as ye kin see, a waka writ itself whilst i wuz a'lyin thar with them needles in me).

i spent yesterdy in a daze n feard i mite wood wake up last nite sick. i did wake around 1 am n thunk i coulda been in the same die-lemma, but nex thang i knew, twuz mornin n looks lack twill be a grate day.

so i will take this bountifull blessin fer this day n do my best with it n try to keep myself in mind of such simple thangs as how good it feels when ye aint sick (tiz amazin how quick ye kin fergit!).

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waka writ by budouadana: needles

The pricking needles
Of the acupuncturist
Can scarcely be felt
Yet redirect energy
As pine needles wave in wind.

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waka writ by budouadana: mayflies

When the mayflies hatch
Into their lakeside orgy –
Mating, laying, death –
Fish feast in greedy frenzy
As anglers use mayfly lures.

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waka writ by budouadana: sun

None can view the sun
Directly lest they go blind,
The fiery white beam
Unwilling to be seen yet
Illuminating our world.

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waka writ by budouadana: waves

In high winds harsh waves
Rudely crash against the shore,
Flooding, retreating,
A violent watery pulse
That mirrors human passions.

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waka writ by budouadana: aura

The optic aura
Seems at first a pleasant glow,
Yet it presages
The migrainous suffering,
As warm winds predict the storm.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: waitin fer a train that dont cum

i been feelin a lil lack this pitcher, witch i had one of them migraine auras on sundy n i dint wonta bleeve thats whut twuz to whar i been sick since. tiz a bit lack waitin fer a train that dont never cum ...



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waka writ by budouadana: ducks

Male Mandarin ducks
Sport brightly colored feathers
For cocksure courting,
Their rich plumage reflected
In the autumn's brittle leaves.

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waka writ by budouadana: berries

The sweet dark berries
Hang on hidden thorny stalks,
Growing in fissures
In the crags of lone ridges,
Enjoyed only by wild goats.

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waka writ by budouadana: squirrel

The squirrel hunts
For newly fallen acorns,
Burying his store
For winter, those forgotten
Sprouting with the warm spring rains.

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lambintasyshuns of buddy don: alas poor killer

tuther crawdads in the tank has all dun been over whut wuz left of killers exoskelton, takin apart the bits they could use, leavin only the hardest parts of his brite blue claws. ever so often, one of em gits a hold of a claw n takes it a wee bit more out of it.

we figgerd killer mite coulda molted, witch once them crawdads has molted, they git to hidin whar ye caint tell ifn thar thar or not. so we reckund the same could be true of killer.

on tuther hand, we had dun red (caint find it now!) that the males tend to die after matin n kin live only fer about two years, so i caint ackshly eggspeck innythang differnt, but tiz a shame to see such a magnificent creechur go down.

rip, killer, we shore enjoyd havin ye in our tank (witch, when ye thank bout it, hes still more or less thar).

corse, he leaves behind a slew of his yunguns. i counted six of em rootin round fer food when i fed em this mornin. i reckun we need to git em sum new blood since they will mate with each other, even bruthers n sisters or muthers n suns (miss tenna is still thar n seems lack rl, the biggest yungster, wonts to git her pinnd down by her claws, witch thats how they mate).

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limricks of buddy don: If You Can’t Beat 'em, Join 'em

If You Can’t Beat 'em, Join 'em

The general’s coup was a nifty one,
Our ally, a world-class shifty one,
Is now a dictator –
We might complain later –
Or else use NSPD 51!

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waka of budouadana: lightning

Lightning strikes the tip
Of the forest’s tallest tree,
Snuffing out its life,
Its dried leaves drifting to earth,
Sunlight pouring through the breach.

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pitchers tick by buddy don: refleckshuns of man hattan in black n wite

i had wurk to do this weekend, but thay wuz a long delayed lunch frum the yunguns, so i gut offn the track n dint do much wurk. but i tuck the camra n tuck sum pitchers, witch i forced myself to use nuthin but black n white fer a change...

















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waka writ by budouadana: pendulum

The pendulum swings,
Slicing time into moments,
Arcing from extreme
To mid-point, as a mind drifts
From passion to reflection.

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waka writ by budouadana: hyenas

Hyenas fight
Each other for the bleating
Carcass they have downed,
Waking a pride of lions,
Who follow the bloody scent.

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waka writ by budouadana: boulder

The boulder beneath
The tender sprouting pine cone
Forces roots to stretch
For earth, trapping the hard stone,
The pine tree safe in high winds.

n jes in case ye missd it, tennessee jed writ a verr nice lil waka or tanka his ownself, witch tiz in the comments of yesterdys post.

i will eggsplain why i cummenced to ritin these waka or tanka thangs die-reckly.

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waka writ by budouadana: wheel

The herd rides the rim
Of the ever-turning wheel,
Chasing sensation,
Dizzily spurning the calm
Of the motionless axle.

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