The Drivel Thread

[Light Housework]

I hope as usual
To see you to feel your hands touching me
I know we’ll have good chemistry together
Though I don’t know that it would be sexual
Because I’m plagued
And not all there

But we still have a lot
To mutually cheerlead about combined
I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again
Never mind feel your hand touching my face
Maybe one day
I tell myself

Survive
I tell myself, live through this
And do the best you can
Enjoy the ride
Take what you can in memory
Of bravery I’ve witnessed

Of passionate loving kindness
Fighting to stay alive
Using your voice
Me using paint
Us both using words
And body language

Though I’ve only just recently clued in
To the present responsibility
Though I’m only a frightened animal in a sense
You said there’s no one on earth you’re afraid of
I wish I could say the same
Show me your hoop
Maybe I’ll jump through

 

[Light Housework]

If we never meet again, know that you’ve inspired me to get my head on straight.

 

[Light Housework]

The doctor yesterday morning said to give the cream 5 days to work, and then if it hasn’t, to start the oral antibiotics. Trying to be patient. It doesn’t seem worse at least, and it does look better and it feels better, than it did yesterday. Still, I don’t know with certainty I will heal. I look like the woman in the bathroom in The Shining.

 

[Light Housework]

Went for a walk and met a young man called Greg. I sat on the next bench chatting with him for about 15 minutes. He was very pleasant to sit near for a bit. He asked me to write down Sharrissey, so he can listen to the 5 songs I helped make in 2009 or so. My lung’s not hurting. The skin sore isn’t either, at the moment. I gave him a Morrissey sticky note a few weeks ago, and he’s not crazy about Morrissey. Maybe he just listened to the first song that showed up, probably Suedehead. I have no appetite, and am not feeling like painting or writing fiction, doing laundry or cleaning. Slight hint of nausea. The skin sore just pinched me a little. I think I’m going to stop posting here, and just post if I finish more paintings, on the painting thread, or to talk about Morrissey on topic on relevant threads. I’m sick of it. I did my best and will continue to until I’m dead, but privately.

 

[Joe Dallesandro]

Are you taking the piss 24/7 or is this serious??

 

[nicky wire's legs]

Are you taking the piss 24/7

if only!

 

[nicky wire's legs]

wouldnt that be great if this all were just some elaborate comedy?

 

[Orange Crush]

wouldnt that be great if this all were just some elaborate comedy?

Comedy requires funny bits. I'm off to church now. Toodle pip!

 

[Joe Dallesandro]

wouldnt that be great if this all were just some elaborate comedy?

I wish it was, purely for her sake.

 

[The Queen of Batons]

I hate this entire f***ing website

Hmmm, I still wonder whether you are Morrissey, except he doesn't swear or rant, as far as my internet-information indicates. But any of us can if pushed.

 

[Joe Dallesandro]

Hmmm, I still wonder whether you are Morrissey, except he doesn't swear or rant, as far as my internet-information indicates. But any of us can if pushed.

Morrissey isn’t on this website, you just developed a parasocial relationship with him.

 

[Was I ever any good]

For my pal….

In the future when we are all well.

 

[The Queen of Batons]

Morrissey isn’t on this website, you just developed a parasocial relationship with him.

Good theme for the novel that I dream about but will probably never write...parasocial relationship.

 

[Light Housework]

Changed my mind about abandoning the drivel thread. I’m going to continue using it as a notebook. Today on my walk I met a man who was mowing his small front lawn, and he suggested I listen to Nick Drake and Rhiannon Giddens. His name is Jason, and it was a pleasant little chat we had. Not awkward. He already knew of Morrissey, so I asked him what he likes about all three artists. He’s impressed with the musicianship of Rhiannon, the songwriting of Nick, and the sadness being celebrated, of Morrissey. My wound seems to be well on the mend, though I’m pretty certain I’ll have an angry scar. My right lung still bothers me sometimes. Not right now. I still have some skin in the centre of my palms that I’m going to tell my doctor about during my appointment in the morning. I think I’ve had a form of athlete’s foot, in the centre of my palms, for 2 or 3 months now. When it gets wet, it turns white. It hasn’t spread to other parts of my body so far, but I’m concerned so I’ll bring it up. I’m physically plagued in several ways now. I’m on topical and oral antibiotics for the skin sore that started from the rough handling by that medical technician weeks ago. Using thyme oil on the sore for a few days left my clothes reeking of it, and even after washing them, they stink, and it’s somewhat similar smelling as mold, though thyme oil kills mold, so I’m not liking the scent of my supposedly clean clothes from the last load of laundry I did, when I washed the thyme oil tainted clothes. Because life has been so bizarre in my experience, I can’t help but have it go through my mind, that what I’m smelling actually is mold, and not thyme. I hope it’s just thyme oil. I’m pretty sure it is. My last antibiotic tablet is due to be taken at 8AM tomorrow, and then I see my doctor. I wonder if she’ll refill the prescription a bit, because I don’t think the sore is quite cured yet. The smell of my freshly washed clothes scares me a bit. Reminds me of the days when I really did have mold ridden clothes. That’s some serious shit. I won’t go into it here now. I’m glad I met Jason. It was a very innocent conversation we had.

 

[Light Housework]

Linking the brief vocaroo thread I started friday here.

vocaroos

I dare you to post a vocaroo. I’m done with the drivel thread, but I feel alright about posting a recitation of a poem I just wrote in longhand to Morrissey, in this vocaroo thread, which probably won’t get past one page. I might only post one vocaroo and return to being silent with painting...

www.morrissey-solo.com

 

[nicky wire's legs]

Scanty is right. You should never put undiluted thyme oil on skin.

 

[Light Housework]

Dreamt that I came home to find a woman in my bathtub. I got some pepper spray ready, and confronted her verbally. She claimed that she was going to go through with living in my apartment. I tentatively accepted this situation, and soon found myself with her and another woman, in a library, and an employee of the library secretly gave us three books. I asked my intruder which one she wanted to read. She chose one, and I took the third one, which turned into a pair of hot pants, which I put on and pranced around in, in front of a bunch of women. Another part of the dream, I was living in a camper van, and kept finding small dead animals in it and around it. That’s all I can remember.

 

[Orange Crush]

I often dream of coming home to a woman in my bathtub. I even leave my front door open! I know it's gonna happen some day.

 

[Was I ever any good]

I think it helps if you talk to them first
OC, so I’ve heard anyway.

 

[Was I ever any good]

I think it helps if you talk to them first
OC, so I’ve heard anyway.