Junk drawer of my mind.

You remember that David wrote me a song:


STARI, STARI, night.

Paint your pallor blue and grey,

Look out on a summer's day,

With ticks that know the darkness in my soul.

Vermin laden hills,

Scratch my knees and take some pills,

Catch disease and other ills,

Of horrors spawned from southern backwoods land.

Now you understand what I tried to say to ya,

How you suffered tularemia,

Now you fight with edema.

You would not listen, you did not know how.

Perhaps you'll listen now. 


He wrote another verse, but saved it for my birthday (50 is the bloodborne pathogen birthday):

Second verse, dire as the first...

STARI, STARI,  night.

Flaming rash that brightly blaze,

Swirling rings in reddened haze,

Reflect in Roxanne's eyes of china blue.

Colors changing hue, morning wake of aches & pain,

Weathered faces curse in vain,

Are soothed beneath the traveler's swollen hand. 

Now you understand what I tried to say to ya,

How you suffered tularemia,

Now you fight with edema.

You would not listen, you did not know how.

Perhaps you'll listen now. 

~~~~~

We've been coughing through the smoke and squinting through the haze of the nearest forest fire, which is at the county line.  Firefighters say they need a tropical storm's worth of water to normalize the situation.
~~~~~
I've decided to see all the movies referenced in Science Fiction/Double Feature.  After that, I address homelessness and social justice.  Last night:  The Day the Earth Stood Still.
~~~~~

I've talked about Berkey water filters for years, and at the last minute I veered off-course and bought the Doulton SS2.  

~~~~~

Products that don't work.

It's not true they don't work, because we haven't burned at all.  But, we have cute little tans.

A Song.

I told David the things I could catch from a tick bite.  That's all I needed to say:



It makes me want to sing! (and Don McClean is turning over in his grave.  I know he's still alive!)

STARI, STARI, night.

Paint your pallor blue and grey,

Look out on a summer's day,

With ticks that know the darkness in my soul.

Vermin laden hills,

Scratch my knees and take some pills,

Catch disease and other ills,

Of horrors spawned from southern backwoods land.

Now you understand what I tried to say to ya,

How you suffered tularemia,

Now you fight with edema.

You would not listen, you did not know how.

Perhaps you'll listen now.