Fair Contestt, Step Right Up!

Here is the skinny on Scarborough Fair. Props to those who gave it some thought.

This is a very old folk song that began in villages 1600-ish when it was common for street singers – bards they were called, to spin tales. The lyrics with time and travel have been altered.

This version of the song is about a soldier dying on a distant battlefield. As he passes away, he is thinking about a lady he loved but was rejected by and disappeared with no warning. Scarborough Fair was not a fair in the sense we think of, it was a gathering for merchants to trade and make their annual monies with their wares. He falls in love with a lady but knows he can never have her, it was not acceptable in those days to go courting like that, so it was more of a love affair in his mind and from a distance. She does not respond to his remote attempts. This is a jilted man who by being rejected asks her for impossible things, a shirt with no seams, acre of land, etc. He asks these things of her to justify her refusal, which again – it would not have been proper in those days to persue.

In the changing of this version of the song, the words are pointed at anti-war movement, and was adapted during Vietnam. “To fight for a cause that was long ago forgotten”. Spot on Saffy!

For the herbs….. Parsley is associated with digestion help, it eases away the bitter. Sage is for strength, Rosemary for love, faithfulness and remembrance, and Thyme for courage.

If you want to remove the political and battle portions, watch the below video, it’s gorgeous and turns it into a simple sad romance story from the gender reversal point of view. Art is interpretation after all no? Well done to those who gave it a stab.



-DM

When Ill Tempered Adults are Burgled

Short of the arrival of Gummy Bears, galloping in pairs and putting on a crazy square dance... today has not been DM friendly.

I lose things all the time. I tend to think most of us do, but have you ever had a string of missing items that there is either an outbreak of gremlins or really desperate thieves? In the last few days things that belong to the house have not been returned. Most of the items I was ok with, being that when found it would be a nice surprise. Others items were much more dire..... like my FUCKING CAR KEYS! And yes I scream that because of how they came home to me.

They are not magical keys, sure they start a car and that is not without note... but they are somewhat important to me as I'm not much of a walker. I have two keys on my ring, and two keychains, it's very light and not one of those clunkers that make a person look overly important. One is what many people associate with the Nazi movement, but it''s not, and the other is an initial of my name from Disneyland courtesy of our darling Safferstein. Silly chains, but both mean a good deal to me. Mr. Morgan lost the key to our mailbox earlier this week, so I was certain the Key Monkeys were on the prowl. I went seriously tornado and tore the house apart pretty much to a rolling theme like this:



Seriously, house ripped the fuck apart, nothing was free from the freak out. Those bastard Key Monkeys were going to pay! All dogs hid from me. The Russian has taken to eating a portion of his ass with extreme fervor that I threatened a yorkie head cone so seriously he tip-toed the fuck out of my way much like someone who just saw their ex at a party and is trying to flee unseen. Where were the keys? Where could I have left them? I'm so consistent with how I enter a room, I was baffled! Desperate, I dove into our garbage can to make sure they weren't in the mix. Dumpster diving in 95 degree sun is a scent that just can't be appreciated until it's weaving into your nostrils at the pace of a conga line. The problem with losing something so simplistic, is that there are only a few things in my world I am consistent about, my keys are one of them. My crack pipe and other items may go wayward, but not my keys or my identification.

Finally admitting defeat I tried to nap again, unable to because those keys were somewhere and god dammit they were keeping me from the store that housed the cigarettes I meant to purchase. Quitting be side-fucked, I can't do it in a day and never planned to.

Mr. Morgan returned after 7 hours of golfing glee and I emerged from the bedroom, disheveled, angry, wild eyed with fists clenched and a bit of foam in the corners of my mouth. In the face of a possessed person who faked a smile and asked if he'd seen my keys this retarded man was honest.

Were it me.... I would have said I found them on the sidewalk. He went all Jesus route on me and said "I took them, I didn't think you had anywhere to be."

This is where one of those squints and lean in's with a "what the fuck" open mouth happens to people. We aren't sure we just heard something defining HUH? more in our lives.

I felt held hostage! Took my keys? Did I seem up to trouble? An insurance risk? He had some sort of reason, but remember the froth was still around my lips, coupled with a sudden language barrier that ripped the keys from his hand, hoping that a finger came off for a snack as I went in search of my nicotine.

Here is today's Raffe. Einstein - AKA LemonDrop

He's very troubled. It could be that his brains are too big in proportion to his tiny body and he just doesn't know how to make sense of it.


Don't miss the contest below.... still time.

-DM

Dedication Contest.

Who wants to play? Prizes and bragging rights to the winner! I'm trying to spin up my normal dedication year, I'm frothing with the need to be creative.

Your task is to listen to Scarborough Fair and tell me what it means. Google is off limits, I've posted the lyrics below. It's tricky... so impress me. I'll know if the interpretation was snagged off the net. I may not have ever mentioned that poetry and shrouded rhetoric are very precious to me on an artistic level. Street level, just say what's on your fucking mind and get to it. God forbid anyone think deeply anymore, but I dig it. So I offer this challenge.

You don't have to be right, just tell me what YOU think they are saying. To the winner goes the spoils -

This little honey SpaFinder comes complete with 2 metal anti-stress chime balls, 3 incense leaves in Refresh fragrance, 3 incense leaves in Peace fragrance and 1 ceramic incense holder.

Want some? Come get some. Post here or email to dmorgan255@yahoo.com. Doesn't need to be an essay but if you feel thinky, have at it. The prize is worth the trouble, and the song itself won't beat your soul to give a listen. I was asked if I was 21 today and I almost took offense, then kinda smiled that the rag assed teens bopping in behind me had no clue this song, or these people even exist. Begin game!



Scarborough fair / canticle

Are you going to scarborough fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(on the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
(tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework
(blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains)
Then shell be a true love of mine
(sleeps unaware of the clarion call)

Tell her to find me an acre of land
(on the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsely, sage, rosemary, & thyme
(washes the grave with silvery tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strand
(a soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then shell be a true love of mine

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(war bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsely, sage, rosemary & thyme
(generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(and to fight for a cause theyve long ago forgotten)
Then shell be a true love of mine

Are you going to scarborough fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

- DM

Smoking, In Repose

Somehow, embraceably lovely.


The smoking issue came to a massive head and it's one of those things you try not to announce because generally people expect you to fail and the guilt of "told ya so" isn't a choice item on my menu. I think everyone secretly wants you to fail, even if they never smoked simply for the reason of being a superior asshole. I'm down to about 3 a day, from a pack and a half daily. I'm making no promises to myself and have a very weird outlook on quitting that I'm not ready to talk about, but eventually will. I can say however that I'm crabby, restless, extremely over-run with anxiety, and otherwise feeling like behaving as would a two year old who is denied ice cream. I really will go into more depth in time, for now... that is why I'm distancing myself from many people. I'm a strong advocate that irrational people need to stay away from the normal public lest they embarrass themselves and end up buying a million "I was such a douche!" sorry cards. Quitting smoking is not an attractive state of person. We hate people for something as simple as they are wearing socks and violently heckle them on the streets. Oh look at you, all happy in your SOCKS! Whoopdeedoo sock wearer! The petty has yet to fail.

Tomorrow the next fucker I see buying a banana is getting hit with one. They say it's best to formulate a quitting plan, so Banana Tuesday is set to go. Bail Me Out Wednesday to follow. Thursday on is wide open.

Whilst on my perch photoed above, I saw something that in five years of living in my house I did not know was a resident. Half a bed frame. What will I do with a tiny ass brass frame? I don't know, but wanna make bets on injuries or the manner in which I plan to get it, pretty much for the sake of just getting at it. It even comes with a hanger.

This is what came with the house to "get at" stuffs. Don't mock it's seeming simple ways, NASA totally vouches for my wall ladder.

Being that I'm home alone most of the time and lost McCauley's number, this could prove to be a great problem to both myself and the dogs who are always curious for front row self destruct tickets. I may just poke it with a broom until it falls and hope for the best.

My point is, that DM's will fuck with anything.... DM's on withdrawl are unstoppable. Must be busy, must glare at strangers, must write letters to the post office that their incessant giving me coupons by the pound into my cubicle of a mailbox is wasted on a girl with no job and this is not the week to offer me a buy one get one free since I can't buy one you mean spirited smug hopefuls wishing the have nots will forgo a meal for the sake of your precious outsourced heals that break in a week anyway.

Might be time for a stick of that nasty gum, of which I'll save you the entire rant of. I can sum it up that if smoking is gross..... so is chewed up fragments of whale blubber stuck to your clothes, bare feet, glued to the countertops and if you are very lucky.... your hair survived a "new" haircut that day.

- DM

Let's Say Hi!

My dedication for today is to Witch Finger. It strikes fear in children, and animals if they are bright enough to know it's evil. I've tried over time to show you all my hands and how they took a turn on the road of I hate DM enough to disfigure and make her get creative on excuses - of which there are plenty. See a kid fucking around where they know not to? Show them Witch Finger and explain that I was doing just that very thing when it happened. And a bit of a limp and the silliness tends to halt.


That is yes, full extension. Why my tendon there looks so exhausted, I don't know, it has nothing to do with this debauchery. I've had doctor's ask me to open my fingers. Dude that IS open. Like I'd be making a showcase by faking a finger bend and wasting our time. Let's just say my handshake is a cradled one, most don't notice.... or pretend. The only other choice I have is an upside down left handed shake... which is fine with me as I'm left handed and think most people ought to be. If I shook my hand I'd ask. Seriously. "What's going on there?" I've said before that fucked up people KNOW they are fucked up, pretending to not notice is just entertainment for us.

I can't wait to be invited to a cripple conference. Circus and free shit in our rooms galore! Who is going to deny a crazed invalid anything? We have the upper hand friends - no pun intended but ... heh oddly useful as I type off the cuff.

Ok... now I'm not going to bullshit and say I could do this..... but I was getting there when I got sick and my hands said that Mr. Morgan made a shit investment on my vio..



What I CAN still play is this.....



Obviously the violin part. It's not comfy, but can be done. Either way, awesome songs, both of em. And of course, I'm madly in love with old videos, how much more poignant can you get than dust in the wind?

- DM

Dedication Days Begginith.

My Ount Vick is a kool kitty kat. She lives in a place I wouldn't wash my socks, but my socks aren't entirely picky. It's where she's pretty much always lived so it would be a pot calling a kettle to give her a hard time. All I know is it sounds moist, and insect-y. I was born in MO, so yeah, moist.... insect-y. I don't know entirely WHY I was born there, I think it was a facet of baby daddy and being held hostage womb style. So....

Hi Ountie V. This dedication is from an era that I didn't manage to be alive for concert age wise. I am taking a bit of a stretch in this guess, but I can see you and my mom having a ball to something not unlike this, shoulders rolling, twirling about much like I do when I hear it. Generations are not all lost on rap and being forgetful how damn groovy my elders are. Solid nod babes, I got me some groove in my heart (and not B52 style lol). Call my mom and thank her, she did good with this bean, and I happen to know that my mom could tear shit up in her time. It pleases me a great deal to know that I am her spitting image, with a lot less of the evisceration she took. She always liked you.



- DM

Gnatty Apples

Talk about the lowest blow possible - take away my computee cruncher. My pc went on almost indefinite hiatus. This is when you find me in a corner rocking back and forth talking about mashed potatoes and why carrots grow the way that they do.

I've fixed most of it, but my files are still gone. Programs still gone. In time I'll get it sorted out. Not a big secret that if you want me on my knees begging to be a free maid it's my machine out of commission. I'll think about 6 years of work, photos, and what not later.... as of today I am not to that stage of therapy.

We went to a baseball game yesterday. The UNR new team. Instead of a company picnic, Mr. Morgan's workplace bought us all tickets for the game. Like I watch baseball right? /ahem. Mr. Morgan made me feel like a fucking moron for introducing myself apparently to people I've met before. In my defense - he can get fucked, by the same virus eating my machine! Between 100 employees, and forever family members/cousins/boyfriends/girlfriends/kids/ounts/oncles, I'm lucky to know my OWN name. Be glad that I'm friendly and don't point out that I'm embarrassing him, or ya know..... leaving me home is always an option. I didn't even know the name of the team. It's new I'm told, and I insist for whatever reason to call them The Apples. No reason, I know their name starts with an A and I like Apples. Mr. Morgan said "who would ever name their team Apples???"

I said.... me.

We found the gnat source. Mr. Morgan pussyfooted for two days about it so I knew the source was not my nasty habit of leaving food around. He finally bellied up the truth and it's coming from his disgusting bathroom which I cannot clean because the sink is stopped up for.... shit I dunno..... a year? I wipe it best I can but it does not drain. I can call the landlord but now isnt the the time to be a pain in the ass renter. So in his wisdom, he has ... let's say "dammed it up" with some sort of tshirt to block the infestation. I want nothing to do with it, but suspect that eventually, it's going to be my task to do just that.

-DM

DMorgan's Zoo - Literally

Road trips can't really be considered fullfilling unless the unexpected strange of the world comes out to great you. In California it will find you, no need to go seeking.

At our first rest stop there were armed police men, hands leisurely on their firearm. I decided I didn't want to pee that bad. Mr. Morgan said they were transporting bad guys.

Second rest stop I thought I'd try again and maybe even get a few stratcher lottery tickets. The bathroom was busy for a long time and when it's occupant came out, his head was down and his stride was so fast he actually hit me with the door. I called him a jerk and went in, wishing to god I'd called him worse for what he'd done in there. There is no way a person didn't know that he did what I walked into. Once again, my naked ass was going no where close to this level of prestine sanitation. On the wall was a Health Mart. Interesting choice of titles. I implore you to click and enlarge.


Got your extenders - try all six in rotation!
Pandora's Box - a grab bag of sexy surprises, you'll want them ALL!
Super Studded Lubricated Condoms - Arouse her!

and finally....

I emerged gasping and frowning deeply.

"You won't believe what they've got in there."
"What?"
"Genuine Horny Goat Weed."
"What is that??"
"I don't know."
"Why not?"
"I didn't have 75 cents, but there is a picture of one goat, upright smoking a cig right at the ass of another goat."
"Sounds genuine."
______________________

Arrived!
First stop was the seals. This portly fellow was doing no tricks, no cute little back-swimmg, absolutely nothing except bobbing in the water,begging. His length to width ratio was pretty damn curious. The begging clearly is working in his favor.

Not sure why he's making that face. Probably because the Beer Cart chased him off and wasn't yet open. Maybe it's his "denied!" face.


Also don't know why I'm making THAT face. Maybe I somehow intuitively knew the Churro I'd just eaten would be making me very sorry for the next 48 hours. So we'll call that a "whatcha gonna do?" pose.


Dolphins are really hard to get a photo of, being all slippery and jumpy. Be that as it may, we could at least safely say we got some tail that day. /beat, kne-yuck, kne-yuck.


This is one of those misting machines. The snide little comment at the bottom did not go without note. I can't say I even understand it completely and don't think I paid full ticket price to be asked to think, but maybe I'm just dumb. Is the contradiction that pale people don't like things tropical? It's tropical - but even YOU in your white skin can enjoy it. Thoroughly. Huh?

Destination! We aren't sure why the little one on the right is laying down, it confused Mr. Morgan.

"I don't think giraffes can lay down."
"Of course they can, and seemingly - are. I would presume that as a giraffe, you'd have to really weigh the worth of sitting down. Probably not easy to get up and very likely not graceful."
"Think it's sick?"
"Maybe, it is kinda weird but wouldn't the zoo keepers be shuffling it from the public?"



Feedings weren't for another few hours and I was tired from the long drive, the sun and my consistant way of thinking that booze is actually a form of hydration. So no feedings this trip.

One hell of a lippy snear.

I'm still in belly and sun turmoil, but that's what taking me anywhere leads to. The people there are so unbeleivebly fucking rude, I was glad to be home. Everyone is in their own asshole world and will trample you without a second glance then give YOU a dirty look. I'm sure the heat intolerance on my part didn't help but I inwardly began to feel racist and angry. I didn't like that at all, but I was stewing over these terribly mannered flocks and began running sterotypes in my head everywhere from racial profiling, to being pissed at large people in those carts, people with kids who are out of their fucking brains - yet being pumped full of cotton candy.

Name one nasty thing and I'm sure I entertained it. I even began to hate skinny white bitches in tan jumpers who smiled for no reason and had the balls to hold up the pretzel line with no change. It's bad and time to go home when you are resorting to hating on yourself. Really though, that is why I hate California, some parts I'm sure are lovely....this place was just a free for all to promote shitty ass conduct. While I know my energy from impatience could fuel most houses for a month, I've not found myself in such a deplorable wretch cunting state that I can ever remember that I was stooping to muttering slurs at tiny children because they were wearing purple or had waffle cone on their stompy snouts. Mass crowds are not my fortay is would seem. Or that one wasn't. Exception was one man who saw me trying to take a photo of Mr. Morgan in front of the walrus statue and he said no. I said "Cmon you know you want to touch the tusk!" The man stopped, laughing and said I was right, he'd be happy to photo us. Sadly he didn't understand my camera and didn't hit the right button before wishing us a good day.

I'm back to being my normal self, a house fell on my nasty sister or something the minute we crossed back into Nevada. A lot of it was also the congestion and being knocked into so often. No touchy, and I increasingly seemed to take each careless smashing into as a personal insult. In fairness, if my clutsy fucked up ass can navigate.... so can everyone else.

Hope all had a nice 4th.

- DM

#22 - A Rat In The House Might Eat The Ice Cream

Interview was... just a shrug. I'm tired of wasting good hair on shit that is increasingly insane.

They gave me a sheet nothing short of a god damned SAT, while 3 other bitches were staring at the same form thinking the same thing. There was a section for proving you knew how to spell, which I do, but have to watch how I type it or write it, as my hands get ahead of my head, then a baffling math section that I felt like a fucking squatter with how long I sat in their waiting room trying to make sense of the questions.

It was 15 questions of the shit you got in school about Jimmy and Annie cruising down a river at 55 mph with a crosswind of 15 northwest, and a flock of birds for.... no reason other than to make the question all that much more unanswerable. I got kinda mad and wrote side notes, almost like a fucking lawyer to defend why this was a silly thing to ask. I also noted that asking me what 516 times 42 off the top of my head for a SECRETARY/PATIENT WALKER INNER position was not really fair when I could clearly hear the the employed staff pounding along on their calulators. I could have answered all that shit with one of those handy! I was not bitchy, just... cliff notes persay.

The doctor met with me briefly, I think it's a bust because I said fuck it to most of the math and left it with not quite.... but almost doodles. I'm not stupid, but I'm not a Mr. Morgan and math is not even on the radar of my level of interest. I could do some, but seriously... 512 times 43? And that was one of the easy questions. Wank off.

I do hope to be called all the same, just completely shocked at that particular form. New something for each new interview. Next one is on Tuesday. Me tired, but has GREAT hair so fighting it.

Another tick tick on Kylers. Managed to lance Mr. Morgan last night and he almost passed out with the amout of colorful .... hm, givings? the boil produced. We've got a good deal to go, but I heard my favorite words "You were right." after I lanced the proper point and it began to barf itself. Clearly today proved I'm no math master, but show me a wound and I can definitely advise proper. So I half suck and half rock. Fuck it.

This morning as I sat in my life robe I decided to set Gnat Traps. I've seen the little fuckers flitting about getting all curious, all too close to where I breathe, speak, and blink. In cleaning up the nightly liquid cups - we get very thirsty so there are about 5 cups every morning to collect because neither one of us is ok with one choice, we MUST have both of something lest our mouths awake unhappy. In these cups were gnats. I didn't count, but enough to be glad I didn't blindly swig a sip. So google and wikipedia told me to set out a plate with dishwasher soap and water and let them basically drown. Can do! I have around a dozen plates all over the house and I have been checking them for my "catches." So far, it just looks like a lot of dish cleaning to me. Know what else works on summer gnats? Hairspray. They don't even see it coming, it's awesome.

#22 - Gracie - This raffe is a pin. Since I used a smoke last time for size, why not light it? I have no clue where I got Gracie, and have never worn her as I don't know the proper place to don a giant giraffe pin without looking like someone else dressed me. She has lots and lots of shiney parts, and is a very inventive piece. Whoever it was that found this, well done.


- DM