Friday, February 6, 2009

The Horror, the Horror ...


So Word didn't install properly, so no gloomy poems yet.  Worse than that my hard drive started making high pitched noises like tacks in a blender yesterday.  Then in just died.  It is still making slightly less harsh sounds, but I fear the end is near.

This morning I woke up feeling confused and rudderless because I thought I would be wihtout the internet again for a time.  Technology is the cure for enlightment.  Talk about ruining a quiet mind.

Laura Lee brought up the grieving process.  I think I went through that a month ago when my wireless connection died.  What are the steps?  Anger, denial, bargaining and acceptance.  I won't tell you the mnemonic tric for remembering that.  Okay, I'll change it a little: Always drink alcohol before doing anything.  The stages were similar.    Now I try to save various things until my hard drive commits suicide.  

3 comments:

Laura Lee said...

Hark, hark the Lark!

I loved "I walk on gilded slivers". That's me!

I didn't want to tackle it on the food blog so I hope you don't mind me commenting here. Were you channeling Vachel Lindsay?

I made a gris gris today out of cayenne, my daughter's hair, my son's molar, and my ex-husband's name scrawled on a slip of paper. Oh, and an owl's liver. Offered it up to Saint Expedite.

Laura Lee said...

Whoa! That's gilded splinters, sorry!

Owl Meat said...

Always a pleasure Larky Laura Lee. "Walk on Gilded Splinters" is a Dr. John song from around maybe 1970, when he was still Dr. John the Night Tripper. I couldn't find the original on youtube – it's great. Beck samples a big chunk of it for his song "Loser".

I see what you mean by Vachel Lindsay. I just looked at his poem "Congo". But that's all Dr. John, no me. I have to rescue my poetry files from my half dead PC, but I turned off the heat in that room. Brrr...

Sounds like an excellent gris gris. You're funny.

Now back to working on this week's funtasmiasma.

Your comments always cheer me up. I like your wordplay.