mizry of buddy don: the rong wurds cum out ...

i need to say a few wurds bout the author, witch hes bin so sick fer so long that he dont hardly never go near no keybird, witch that keeps me frum gittin a chants to touch it my ownself.

but tuther day he seen sumthin on the tee vee that made him blush frum the shock of reckugnishun.

twuz that story bout the reporter with the migraine on tee vee name of Serene Branson.

the aura she sufferd is one of the wurst mizries a bidy kin have, speshly one that has to talk on tee vee.

or frum the authors self-centerd point of vue, tiz horrbull fer sumbidy that has to rite.

but on a count a how he generly gits migraines furst thang in the mornin, witch thats when he lacks to rite or even let me git to the keybird, he sum times gits that same aphasick aura that miz Branson had rite thar on tee vee, n seem lack he has dun lost his confidents with wurds or sumthin.

on a counta the rong wurds cum out ...

fack is, he has dun writ this here lil post n lost it three times ...

ach!!

fonly i could git them migraine to scram by pertendin the author has em n i dont! i am so sick of these dam thangs to whar i caint hardly thank strate.

n wurst part is, wurser even than the pain (but not wurser than the vomitin) is whut happend to that pore reporter.

i know jes how she mus feel on a counta i have bin talkin to miz bd a minny a time when i caint do no better. or i call thangs by thar rong names, callin the sink a lake fer egg sample. or i wake her up a'talkin that same kinda gibberish miz Branson wuz talkin, only in my sleep. ye mite egg speck that whenever yer sleepin, but by the time i am trine to talk, i thank i am wide awake n jes caint make miz bd understand whutever i am trine to say on a counta the rong wurds cum out. i git frustratd n angry n hurt n cunfused all at the same time to whar i caint hardly do nuthin. corse whenever it happens thays a world ful of pain on the way.

n too minny times to count i try to rite sumthin n find the rong wurds on the screen whenever i open my eyes up to read whut i writ (or tried to rite).

thang is, i know eggzackly whut tiz i wonta say n the eggzack wurds i wonta say, witch i kin see em in my mind, but thay jes wont cum outta my mouth. or even offn the keybird. how kin that happen? i caint say, but it duz.

n after that, twill be a killer day of pain n mizry.

tiz a sad thang to watch sumbidy go thru such a hard momint lack Serene Branson dun on the tee vee, but tiz the furst time the author or me eethur one ever seen sumthin that shows jes how awe full migraines kin be. i hope the world gits the point that they aint jes lil hed aches. they aint sumthin a bidy kin git thru on will power.

tiz even sadder to know that she has dun started havin migraines n aint no way to stop em cumpleatly, lease not as fur as me or the author has bin able to figger out.

i hate to add mitt, but the author had to git me over to the keybird to talk bout this on a counta he is dun alreddy a'havin to his nex migraine, witch that means i am thar with im (we caint neethur one type with eyes open on a counta the monitors lite stabs the left eye ever chants it gits, witch that means thays a slew of miss takes to fix).

i hope the rite wurds has cum out.

mizry of buddy don: missin this lil feller

i bin sick so much n so often that i aint seen this lil piece of my hart in nigh on to 8 munths. i shore do miss eem:

mizry of buddy don: these thangs never stop

twas my intenshun to post a lil sumthin ever day sos i could git this blog a'goin agin, but thangs dont always go the way ye wont em to. so i wuz up at 12:30 yesterdy, trine to cunvints myself that i wudnt havin no migraine when i wuz. whut depresshun i felt over gittin sick agin. (when i have good daze, i caint imagin thays still bad daze a'cummin.)

then my blessed lil miz bd pointed out that with the weather we wuz a'havin, twuz a purrfeck day fer a migraine. i hadnt notissd durin the sufferin. soons she tole me whut the cawz wuz, i felt a hole lot better, even tho i wuz still in pain n nauseous.

so heres hopin fer a better day today. i count blessins ever sangle day n dont never git to the end of em. n i pray fer the folks i luv to cum thru thar struggles.

i am a'prayin fer my yunger bruther brew these daze, who hes in the hospitull recuverin frum open-hart surgry. i count it as a blessin that i kin talk to eem on the fone each n ever day, sumtimes a cuple times. whutever trubles i have ever had seem small whenever i look a whut other folks is puttin up with.

pitchers tuck by buddy don: cuple of them pets

the year 2010 has bin bout the worst of my life in more ways than a bidy could count. i aint a'gone list em on a counta how i dont wonta dwell on that kinda thang. i druther thank bout good thangs, lack the way Kingsley n Miss Liberty made such good friends. Miss Liberty gits along with everbidy, but Kimono n Kingsley aint figgerd each other out yet.

heres them friends:



heres hopin nex year will be a bettern fer everbidy ... mayhap we all kin make better friends of our fates ...

pitchers tuck by buddy don: tuther cat

ye mite could wonder whut gut me to makin entries agin. tiz purty simple. i am seein a psychotherapist, who lets call him Dr. L, n he thanks ifn i wuz to make a lil entry ever day, it mite could hep me git better. i half to add mitt, i have bin missin bloggin fer sum reason.

today i wonta innerduce Kimono, a cat whose mama musta bin a calico n whose daddy musta bin a tabby. shes gut a lil of both colors, witch makes her rite nice.

heres a pitcher of her on a emery cat we gut fer Miss Liberty, who she never used it even once, but Kimono tuck it fer her place n lacks to sleep on it durin the day:





thankee to all that have bin so kind as to make a lil commint, witch that wood mean Geekman n bile.

pitchers tuck by buddy don: them cats

i promissd yesterdy that i wood putt up a cuple pitchers of them other critters besides Kingsley that lives with us. furst up is a verr speshul yung lady name of Miss Liberty. we gut her frum the Liberty Harbor Animal Shelter, witch miz bd tuck it into her hed that ifn we had us a cat, mayhap Kingsley wood have a lil more innerestin life. he wuz born in a puppy mill in South Carolina n saved by a verr fine yung lady, who she wuz drivin by a kill shelter when she deecided to check fer inny dogs n found thay wuz 17 of em waitin to be "putt down." she saved em one n all, n Kingsley wuz our lottery winnins as a reesult. we call ourself rescuin him, but he is the one doin the rescuin.

Miss Liberty wuz a cat name of Ovid whenever she pickt me out as i wuz walkin thru the cattery at Liberty Harbor. caint say how she dun it, but out of a room full of nigh on to 200 cats, she reached out her lil paw n tuck my hart. dint even see no other cat that time n sed i wood take Ovid. turnt out Ovid was not a male, as they wuz a'thankin, but the most preschuss lil female ye ever seen. Kingsley made miz bd his person, as twere, n he couldnt have pickt a bettern since thay aint no bettern her. but Miss Liberty deecided i wood be hern, witch she follers me round lack a lil ducklin.

Aint she purty?





bein as how i aint bin up to doin much of nuthin, even takin pitchers, i will save pitchers of tuther cat, Kimono, fer a nuther day (i am a'hopin twill be tomorrow). thankee to Tennessee Jed fer his commint!

pitchers tuck by buddy don: pets to the rescue

sorry i aint writ nuthin fer so long. aint felt much lack doin innythang, cant take much of this here keybird, but i figgerd i wood try to show ye pitchers of the newest members of the family, Kingsley, Miss Liberty and Kimono.

we gut Kingsley fer therapy one week after my 58th birthdy, witch he wuz a rescue, who he is a'rescuin us (or trine hard as he kin). he is spozedly a chiweenie, witch ye kin deecide that fer yer ownself ifn ye wonta, so heres a cuple pitchers:





we gut us a cuple cats also, but my left eye is dun achin frum lookin at this here cumputer screen. so Miss Libertys n Kimonos pitchers will have to wait fer a nuther day. i will try to post a cuple pitchers of them wunderfull lil critters soon.

waka of budo adana: Frocks

Frocks

Chilly April rains,
Crisp afterthoughts of winter,
Cool the warming earth
As white tree flowers give way
To Spring frocks of new green leaves

waka of budo adana: Smile

Smile

Whenever I smile,
The whole world brightens,
Even in darkness,
For a light that shines within
Is reflected everywhere

waka of budo adana: Haven

Haven

On life’s stormy road,
When there is no place to lay
My rain-soaked body
Down, you pull my aching head
To your breast, my safe haven

waka of budo adana: Urge

Urge

Two AM, awake,
Wishing nausea away
Unsuccessfully,
Trying to resist the urge
To howl, to cry, to vomit

waka of budo adana: Pain

Pain

The pain is a friend,
A faithful companion who
Lives inside my skull,
Who wakes me after midnight
From the terror of nightmares.

waka of budo adana: Renewal

Renewal

Lichens cling to rocks
Mushrooms feed on felled tree trunks
Dung beetles roll dung
Vultures feast on rotting flesh
I chew up my old writings

waka of budo adana: Abuse

Abuse

How dare you strike me,
A tiny defenseless baby,
Unable to walk,
Unable to remember
Yet unable to forget?

waka of budo adana: Risks

Risks

Make fewer errors
And be less likely to lose,
But avoid losing
And be less likely to win:
Plan, execute, take good risks.

waka of budo adana: Serenade

Serenade

With my flute and dog,
I wandered up the mountain,
Seeking better views
And a bed of pine needles
To serenade the full moon.

waka of budo adana: Oz

Oz

There is no wizard
Other than the little man
Or little woman
Standing behind your curtain
Pulling the strings of your life

more eggsplainayshuns of buddy don: kin it be this long?

jes looked at my blog fer the furst time in way too long. caint say i will be ritin much, but i did wonta let folks know i am sorta livin still. i am in a good kinda therapy, witch thangs has to git wurser ere they kin git inny better, witch the mind kin kindly understand, but the hed still hurts way too much.

wurst of everthang is how i caint rite much of nuthin, not even yer lil waka ...

eggsplainayshuns of buddy don: still sickern a dawg ...

... even sickern a dawg that has jes lost at home to them vols, witch i reckun that has to be a horrbull feelin, kindly lack losin to alabama lack we dun this year (or inny year) ...

... but i wonted to make a post sayin that i shore do preciate all them kind wurds n such that i bin gittin in my email n reglar mail n even in comments, so i wonted to say 'thankee' ...

... n i hope to git shed of sum of them medicayshuns i bin a'takin on a counta seems almos lack thar the wurst problem i gut at the moment, speshly with ritin, witch havin trubles thar is a'killin me ... n thays still migraines that bust thru whutever medicayshuns i take.

but havin writ that, i wonta rite this: thays way more blessins than curses in this here life, even in this migrainus hell whar i am stuck at presunt ...

... so heres wishin yall nuthin but blessins fer inny halldays that ye mite obsurve ...

pall gies of buddy don: sorry i aint writ nuthin lately

i bin the kinda sick whar ye jes dont have no innerest in ritin nuthin much. mayhap tiz all that thar medicayshun.

innywho, i hope to git back at it one of these daze ...