Please Note that while we convert to new blogware to replace that which our website host has discontinued (which should be completed by month's end) posts to the blog itself cannot be uploaded or accessed. However, jpegs & short messages such as those below can be published here at the Homepage for your review, enjoyment and edification(?!!).
meanwhile, 'The Faithful Heart' is still available @ amazon.com and The Whole World Calendar Book of Holidays Around the World 2015 will be ready in time for 2015 @ WholeWorldCalendar.com, where you can always see what's going on around the world in the next few days, as quoted from The Whole World Calendar Book 2014.
meanwhile, re nys dmv f-u-c-k-d (yeah, i know i left out the 'e' but one more syllable would've destroyed the disneyesque beat -- i'm holding off on the 'I H8 New York State' t-shirts until further notice -- meanwhile, it always amazes me how quickly one hears from one's elected officials at vote-gittin' time, as evinced (not 'evidenced' but 'evinced') by the letters which follow this one... funny (?) tho that i haven't heard a peep yet from nys dmv commish falala, but then, she's probably got enough on her mind what with her recent speeding ticket and her son's dui (for which, as a former dui'er and forever alcoholic/addict coming up on 17 yrs clean and sober himself -- i honestly hope he's getting the help he needs -- and i do mean that sincerely and mention it only because one can certainly understand how having all of that on the poor gal's mind can kinda slow down the flow of administrative assistance in the office. anyhow, enjoy!(?!...)!. 10/23/14
all of which garnered the following responses, to which i responded to the three in red -- just fyi and entertainment...
i wish to FUCK that people like this would figure out that every 'i feel violated' IS NOT THE SAME AS BEING RAPED or having had a SEX CRIME committed against them. NO, little miss oscar-winning whozits, your nudies finding their way onto the web IS NOT ANY KIND OF ANY SORT OF ANY MOTHERFUCKING SEX CRIME!!!! and if you and others like you who keep claiming that every time 'i feel so violated' is IN ANY WAY 'like' being raped or having had a fucking SEX CRIME COMMITTED AGAINST AND UPON YOUR BODY, YOUR MIND, AND YOUR FUCKING SOUL, you wouldn't be so motherfucking IGNORANT if not actually STUPID as to make such a motherfucking STUPID statement. it almost -- almost but in no way would i wish such a thing on anybody just because she's young and stupid -- almost makes me wish that YOU actually WOULD become the victim of a sex crime so that you'd know the motherfuckin' difference between 'my nudies went viral' and I WAS FUCKIN RAPED. and every time one of these assholes compares their embarrassment or chagrin or sense of 'i feel so violated' to having been raped etc, it just yanks the rest of us who HAVE been the victims of sex crimes back down into the roiling broiling emotional horror vomit that such victimization shoved so deep down our throats and so far down into our very lives and souls that no one who HASN'T actually been the victim of a REAL sex crime, can't even understand. it cannot be and is never 'gotten over' -- it is 'dealt with' as best we can deal with it when we're reminded of it now and again and again and again and again throughout the entire rest of our lives, usually when we haven't even thought about it for a long time but then something, or someone such as ignorant fucking idiots like this one, make ignorant fucking statements like this one. and i'll bet i'll be the only one to say or post anything like this anywhere around the world. and i'll bet that the happy little miss oscar-winning whozits here will be picking up some sort of "sex crime victims' award" or two somewhere soon -- doubtless in fucking hollywood -- even though she CLEARLY has NO FUCKING IDEA WHATSOEVER what the phrase 'sex crime' actually means. i shouldn't finish up with this, but i'm going to because it's how i feel at the moment: FUCK YOU, JENNIFER LAWRENCE, YOU STUPID LITTLE FUCKING CRYBABY CUNT. your nudies went viral? ooooh, why you've been raped! NOT! stupit stupit stupit. (whew! okay, now i feel a little better. thanks for reading this, if you have. and if you haven't, well, have a happy friday, anyhow, then, eh?!)
and you did, of course, read this here first, no?
if 'the graduate' were to be remade today, the word would not be 'plastics' but 'patients' -- specifically, ALLLLLLLLLL of the patients who have been in need of v.a. medical care for the past 15 yrs PLUS ALLLLLLLLL of the patients who will be in need of v.a. medical care during the next two to three generations as they (a) get back to the states in need of medical care as well as (b) age.
I HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT ANY COLLEGE AGED 'KID' OR PARENT OF A 'KID' IN HIGH SCHOOL OR COLLEGE SHOULD SERIOUSLY CONSIDER CONTACTING THE V.A. NOW (via website for just a look or PERSONALLY VIA A V.A. OFFICE IN ORDER TO SPEAK WITH SOMEONE (always the best touch is the personal touch -- except of course when it's sexually diseased, but that's for those who wish to attempt to sleep their way to the top to figure out for themselves, then, eh?...)
FIND OUT NOW EXACTLY WHAT'S WHAT. my own experience in state govt, granted in the 80s and within h.r., convinces me that EVEN WITHOUT A BACHELOR'S DEGREE FULLY COMPLETED RIGHT NOW (and even perhaps with 'merely' an associate's under the belt but 'working on' the bachelor in business admin which every other applicant is also going to have, anyway) THIS IS THE TIME TO HIT UP THE V.A. AS WELL AS YOUR OWN CONGRESSIONAL REPS & STATE SENATORS IN ORDER TO LET THEM KNOW WHO YOU ARE, WHERE YOU ARE, AND HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO HELP...
WRITE A LETTER TO PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMED FORCES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA and let him know how much you want to help...
because NO U.S. PRESIDENT, U.S. SENATOR OR CONGRESSIONAL REP IS GOING TO NEGLECT TO REQUEST/ADD MONEY TO THE V.A. BUDGETS OR VOTE AGAINST INCREASING FUNDING FOR THE V.A. WITH ALL OF THE "WOUNDED WARRIOR'S" (and their spouses -- all of whom vote and vote heavy -- in addition of course to their parents etc) WHO ARE MISSING PARTS OF THEIR BODIES AND MINDS as a result of what will be probably 30 yrs or more of our nation's consistent if not actually continual middle eastern warfare.
I MAKE NO JUDGEMENT INSOFAR AS THIS MATTER IS CONCERNED -- THIS IS THE WAVE OF THE U.S. FUTURE, LIKE IT OR NOT, AND THERE ARE JOBS TO BE HAD BY PEOPLE WHO NEED JOBS, and IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A JOB or planning for a future with as secure a job as you might ever be able to hope to get for yourself here in ye good olde U.S.A. -- HERE IT JUST MIGHT BE.
And consider this even if you're not 'into' the military or medical fields -- IN ADDITION TO DOCTORS, R.N.s, P.A.s, PHYSICAL THERAPISTS, MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONALS, the v.a. will require ALL KINDS OF ADMINISTRATIVE PARSNIPS such as ADMINISTRATIVE PROFESSIONALS, EXECUTIVE ASSISTANTS, EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT TO THE WHATNOT OF WHICHEVER DEPARTMENT OR MEDICAL FACIALTY and...
there will be LOTS AND LOTS of folks involved in developing and producing and outfitting THOUSANDS OF AMERICANS IN and NEWLY or SOON-TO-BE OUT of THE MILITARY with all manner of prostheses and heart valves and medications, etc.
THIS IS WHERE THE MONEY IS, KIDS, AND WHERE THE MOST SECURE JOB MARKET IS GONG TO BE FOR THIS GENERATION JUST COMING INTO THE JOB MARKET (and possibly even their own kids when those as-yet-unborn kids hit college age) SO GET IN ON IT AS EARLY AS YOU CAN!
having worked almost a decade in state government, again albeit in the 80s, i still maintain that a guy or gal with an associate's degree working on the bachelor's degree (WITH THE FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE OF THE VERY GOMMINT FOR WHOM S/HE IS WORKING SO LONG AS S/HE SIGNS A CONTRACT STATING THAT S/HE WILL WORK FOR THAT AGENCY FOR A SPECIFIED PERIOD OF TIME -- generally five to seven yrs -- WHO IS ALREADY KNOWN AND WELL-LIKED in the department IS GOING TO HAVE THE EASIER TIME when it comes to climbing the ladder than the guy or gay who will be a resume without a face or personality whom nobody's ever met but who submits that resume along with the LITERALLY HUNDREDS of others submitted for a particular job ALONGSIDE THE GUY/GAL IN THE OFFICE WHOM EVERYBODY ALREADY KNOWS AND LIKES AND HAS 2 OR 3 OR 5 YRS EXPERIENCE IN THE DEPARTMENT -- ESP WITH THE CAREFULLY NURTURED but NEVER obsequiously obtained RESPECT AND ADMIRATION ('what a great kid -- just what this country needs...') of his/her CONGRESSIONAL REP AND STATE SENATORS (plural) REGARDLESS OF POLITICAL PARTY or your personal opinions about them.
and so, in closing -- there are jobs out there and out there, these are going to be amongst the bestest of the best jobs out there, so -- GO GET 'EM, KIDS! the gommint is a GREAT place to work for 95% of the time (unless one happens to be in a particular place with particular problems which are YOUR particular problems...) -- benes out the yin yang, cost of living adjustments, grade upgrades, paid holidays and vacation time, medical leave, family leave, and so on, so long as you couldn't possibly give a fat flying fuck about the opinions of those who don't like gommint (and, puh-leeze, working for the v.a. -- who's gonna give you a plateful of that shit at any party? and surely, you, you who will toil with pride and ability while garnering the respect that will be your due at the v.a. -- you will be not only at the ready at all times for such crap but certainly capable of delivering an appropriately vigorous, direct and sustained defensive retaliatory retort such as, "i beg your pardon? surely you're not against the veteran's administration? surely you're not telling us that you don't support those of us who are trying to help our fellow americans in uniform who have sacrificed their limbs and their bodies and, some of them, for heaven's sakes, their minds, so that you can sit safely at this barbrecue scarfing down pork rinds and swilling your home brew without the threat of some jerking jihadist jumping the fence and beheading us all because we aren't right-wing conservative extremist 8th century islamists? SURELY that's not what you're suggesting?...')
and so, again, in closing -- GO GET 'EM, KIDS!
https://www.facebook.com/christopher.corbettfiacco.7 (09/27/2014): no, i'm not losing my mind, i'm just a tad emotional about certain things, such as abuse of the powerless. and i honestly wonder if (who am i kidding, i honestly think that) i would be content to be one of the hunters who slices the bastards' heads off while asking them, right up close right into their ears, 'you like abusing animals, huh? well, here's some animal abuse for you; how does it feel?...'
i then picture us all singing 'another motherfucker bites the dust' as we dance around the corpse.
but that's just me.
09/23/14 - 09/24/14
CS reply to CCF: God made man and woman to be fruitful multiply. God did not make man to have babies with other men . Sexuality is only between a man and woman . Sexuality is religious for man and woman . What goes on is between a man and woman . It's a abomination sex with man to man. The word gay is a man made word of sin . Gay is sin . The word gay is sin as Lesbian is a sin. There are no gays in heaven . Sin (gays) are in hell stripped of memory of the things they did on earth . In torment burning but there's no fire they thirst there's no water they scream there's no one to hear. There engulfed in there own sin called gay . They eat there own flesh in hell to end the hunger pains but get sick and there flesh grows back again in repeated eternal torment of horror called hel
CCF reply to CS: and the easter bunny shall lie down with the tooth fairy in the glory of the abrahamic god who instructed the hebrews to invade their neighboring tribal lands, salt the land so that nothing would grow there for generation, slaughter all male humans as well as all female humans who were not virgins, bring back the chattel including the female virgins (who are, of course, chattel, which are, of course, farm animals) from whom he took his share both of cattle and human virgins, undoubtedly not merely for the meat of the cattle but for his own sexual purposes re the virgin female human chattel, just like the men in whose own image he made them and gave dominion over all including the human females who are chattel. your god is a truly horrible being. if he was a neighbor, most people within your community would have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with him. you, however, i am sure, would be one of his most self-righteous accolades doing his bidding insofar as gleefully smiting them who neglect to 'maketh unto the lord a sweet savor' with their barbecued offerings. the bottom line, anyhow, is that zeus is the father of all the gods, and your god is not merely a minor deity, but an asshole, to boot. read your vaunted holy book -- it's all in there. meanwhile, why is it that the religiously insane such as yourself and your brethren engaged in religious warfare in the middle east and other religious 'hotspots' around the world are among the most illiterate people in the world? even if you paid absolutely no attention whatsoever in english class (as was undoubtedly the case) your holy books have been edited for proper spelling and punctuation in the languages in which you read them. ah, well, to quote the great barney frank, 'dumb as a couch.'
09/19/14: not to be either maudlin or pathetic, but do tell the loves of your lives that they are, and laugh at the laughable little shit that should only lead to arguments on old episodes of 'all in the family' and 'the mary tyler moore show.' and don't merely love them but cherish them. because one of these days, and it won't be very far off even if it's fifty years from now, one of you -- unless you're lucky enough to go together, which almost never happens -- one of you is going to find yourself crying to every love song that comes on the radio or cd player, or to any odd little ditty you haven't heard for years, but sang and/or danced to even while maybe making fun of the ridiculous little song, and it might happen even months and months and months and months and months and even months and months after the love of your life has died, and even if you really are certain that s/he did indeed know that s/he was in fact the love of your life, but you're either not sure you ever actually said so, or you know now that you never actually did. 'soul mate'? gimme a fuckin' break. if s/he really is the love of your life, then just say so, and ring all of the enjoyment out of every bit of life's mundane minutia that you can. because one day, one of you is going to lose not only the big happy stuff, but all of the mundane minutia you had together, too. and that is the day you will honestly, actually know what the term 'broken hearted' means. because that is gonna hurt like a butcher knife through your chest wall and straight into your heart, with the tip of it poking out the backside of your heart. and there will be nothing to do at that moment but cry and cry and cry and cry and cry until that particular spasm of loneliness and that particular crying jag are all cried out. and that's all there is to it, because that's life.
091214 comment to facebook friend’s comment to my comment on his original comment re life’s painful paths:
Christopher Corbett-Fiacco i was about to write 'except for starting the day making somebody smile'... but then i realized it's what i do, too. the somebody is my case is my 16 yo cat, sunny. he is the most interesting animule i've ever known, not because he's mine, but because his mind is completely original, he's very vocal and makes all sorts of sounds which i understand about 90% of the time, and he does the most interesting things. those of us who are unlucky enough to have demons, have different ones. same with experiences, as you said. my long story short started off well enough with 4 older brothers, a twin, and a younger brother i adored. then an older brother started having mental illness (i think we've connected re this before) in which he screamed 'i'll kill you all some day' and when he was 17 and i was 11, he viciously stabbed our then 19 yo brother and almost murdered him in his bedroom while my mom and twin and younger brother were there. oy. my eldest brother was in intensive care touch-and-go for 48 hours. he survived, thank goodness. the other brother was in prison/mental hospitals for 2 yrs and then released. my parents had promised us 3 that they would not bring him back into the house but would get him a room at the ymca and he could get his ged etc. about a month after the stabbing, while a presumed friend-of-the-family was babyshitting us 3 so that my parents could visit, on alternate nights, my brother in the hospital (he was there for 2 months) or my brother in jail/mental hosp, the man took the occasion to begin molesting me which included rape, naturally (what pedophile would be content molesting an 11 yo when he could rape him up the ass, eh?). then my brother was released from prison (having committed the crime one month shy of his 18th birthday in 1972, he was automatically legally a juvenile, etc,, so no 'big time in the big house'). what ensued was almost a decade of abolute horror for us 3 young ones growing up in a household in which our parents had abrogated their authority (the mentally ill brother would literally yell 'shut up' from his bedroom if we were too 'noisy' and my mom would literally hush us up -- she is a religious fanatic who actually believes that she is a prophetess of god -- that god has chosen her to prove his existence to the world through a historical novel she's been working on for about 45 yrs now) but abrogated their parental responsibilities in the most egregious manner -- a parent is supposed to protect a child, not enable someone, even another offspring, to endanger that child's existence through his presence in their lives and his literal sometime physical attacks and threats. meanwhile, after 5 yrs of being raped by the guy up the street, at 16 i finally had the guts to say 'no.' and it stopped. meanwhile, i was growing up gay in a world which told me in no uncertain terms that i was a sick and disgusting perversion of nature yadda yadda yadda. suicidal ideation since age 7. manic/depressive 2. anxiety/panic disorder. chronic stress. completely and totally fucked over to the tune of loss of job/housing @ over $40K/yr by a man i not only liked but trusted, so that he could give the jobs to the 4th or 5th young woman with whom he had an extra-marital affair, and then sued me (the case is still pending in california) when i blogged about it, as is my right as it is something which i experienced during my own lifetime. alcoholism/drug addition. 16 yrs clean and sober. than last year the love of my life blows me over by telling me that he had become an alcoholic. long story short, the afternoon before he was scheduled to go into rehab on the wednesday morning, he relapsed and his mom came home from work to find him floating face down in the pool. and i might have even forgotten one or two other things that've happened along the way. bottom line today: i'm in the process of finding an nys psychiatrist and therapist, i'm reconnecting with some family members i'd like to reconnect with and am learning who exactly was a factor in the many factors (mostly being wanting to live in a larger city) as to why i moved away at 20. 4 months into my one year experiment in living back here, i've at least learned that i am not living her beyond my lease end next may. i'll move to the adirondacks or perhaps rhode island or portland (either maine or oregon) or lower northeastern canada, if doable, or northern/middle california. and my priority in life right now is my cat, sunny. i have two writing projects which i'd like to accomplish/finish before i die (my memoirs, which i believe will have meaning not only for me to write, but for certain other people who might find it of interest and benefit) and a book i've entitled (copyright, folks, copyright notice) 'biblical bullshit: why the bible cannot be the literal word of the abrahamic god unless he's an asshole and modern-day christians are heretical blasphemers.' and so making sunny as happy as possible is the only thing which i truly, truly feel i should do and need to do right now. the humans in my life can deal with their lives as best they can. sunny is a cat with the intellectual and emotional capacities of about a 3 yo human. and that's enough for me for now, and clearly enough for me to write here in the comment section of your facebook page/post, eh? happy friday, bud! there's something about friday, isn't there? no matter where you are or what you're doing, or not, friday is friday, and fridays really are a bit of terrific, no? take care. -chris.
09/02/14: In a good mood singing along to the radio on my way home from Starbucks and Sunny met me at the door and followed me into my little office here and lay down beside me to continue his morning nap and I opened the Starbucks CD "Mele O Hawaii / Songs of Hawaii" and just started crying when the very first lyrics of the very first song ("White Sandy Beach") were sung by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole: "I saw you again last night / I saw you in my dreams / We were walking hand in hand / On a white, sandy beach of Hawaii / We were playing in the sun / We were having so much fun / On a white, sandy beach of Hawaii / The sound of the ocean / Soothes my restless soul / The sound of the ocean / Rocks me all night long / Those hot long summer days / Lying there in the sun / On a white, sandy beach of Hawaii..." I cried, and am crying still, and listening to the song over and over again in order to continue to remember and to cry until I cry it out again this time, because it brings back to me the most beautiful memory of a white sandy beach in Oregon where Ramon and I stripped down and sunbathed naked because we were the only ones to be seen along the miles-long coastline, and I had known even then, during a weeklong trip we took down and back up the Washington and Oregon coasts when we were living in Seattle, that that was, and would always be, one of the most beautiful and happy moments of my life during one of the best vacations I've ever taken, just driving down the coast, camping out, lying on beaches, driving back up, camping out... It is now fourteen months since the love of my life drowned drunk in the swamp of his Florida swimming pool the day before he was scheduled to enter rehab, and now I'm sobbing, listening to this song over and over again because I've learned that, for me, if I can, this is what to do until this one is all cried out, too. This will not kill me any more than the hundreds of other sob sessions I've endured in my lifetime, including those I wrote about just a couple of weeks ago, when I comforted and petted and sweet-talked into death my adorable and adoring little Bunny the Cat (see below if interested). And so it fucking goes, then, eh? [To see the video and hear the song on Youtube, Click Here.]
the sweetest little girl who ever shared my home died of pneumonia yesterday morning at the grand old age of 12, which actually wasn't a bad age for a feline runt who’d come down with sniffles and colds that’d often turn into upper respiratory infections every few months since the day i adopted her from a san diego shelter as sunny’s little sibling a few months after his litter-mate and brother, sammy, was hit and killed by a car (the last time any of my animules have been outside -- but at least sammy died without really knowing what hit him, as was obvious from the single wound on the side of his head and the ‘testimony’ of the weeping gal who’d hit him just three or four houses away from me and had called and met me where she’d lain him on the grass).
at any rate, i'd taken bunny to the animal emergency hospital on friday morning because it was obvious that the upper respiratory infection which she'd come down with every few months since she was a kitten and was just a part of life with bunny -- vet visits and shots and pills and vitamin supplements (god i loved it when she'd get better and be herself again, esp when she'd bound into the bedroom and jump onto the bed and onto my lap or chest while i was reading or watching tv or napping!).
anyway, by friday morning it was clear that she wasn't getting over this one as quickly as in the past. in the spring she'd lost 2 of her 6 lbs but put back on 1 lb (and i luvluvluved feeding her the moist canned food she luvluvluved and patting her little tiny belly) and this time the sniffles had turned into pneumonia pretty quickly and long story short, after the vet had given her a shot and a round of rehydration and pills, it was pretty obvious to me by friday afternoon that her body probably did not have the wherewithal to rebound. so i did what we do...
first, i made her 'comfortable' in her special spot on the red blanket in the wicker basket under her ‘sun lamp’ (she LOVED lying in the sun, whether natural or artificial!) and i encouraged her to drink and/or eat, which she was not doing, and i even fixed up a slurry consisting of a dab of vitamin gel and a dab of a high-calorie/protein gel and her pill and the beef gravy from a can of cat food, and i mixed it all together in a kitten bottle i’d bought for the occasion (i’d done this before and it’d worked insofar as bringing her around to wanting to eat and drink and put weight back on, but of course she’d never been this bad off and i knew it was a long shot) and i fed her and she drank it and i held her and petted her and told her how sweet she was and how much i loved her and hoped she’d get better, as i always did when she was not merely sick but really sick, and i put her back in her basket because i knew that she wanted to be left alone to sleep in peace.
i had her in bed with me through the night and woke up every couple of hours, the way we do, and she was just so emaciated and spacey, i could tell that her little body had probably gone beyond the point at which it could come back. and when she vomited a gush of watery brownish/green bile that was probably the entire contents of her stomach, i just knew what was coming, and i dreaded it, but i knew of course that i had to help her to as comfortable and ‘loving’ a death as she could have, and deserved to have, not only because she was a fellow being, but she’d given me SO much love and even comfort (when ramon died last year, her and sunny just being there with me), so i cleaned her up and laid her on my stomach and chest the way she loved to lay on my stomach and chest, the way i had of course always loved for her to do (except when it was actually time to turn onto my side and go to sleep, which i’d do so gingerly you’d think i’d have a half-dozen newly hatched chicks on fresh-laid eggs on my chest instead of a little cat who was quite adept at insinuating herself into any position as i changed positions on the nights she wanted to snuggle alongside me, which were probably hundreds and hundreds of nights over those dozen years) and i petted her very very gently so as not to discomfort her, and i talked to her for a while, and i fell asleep a couple of times but each time i woke up, she was still breathing, which has always amazed me when i’ve been in the presence of those who are passing on ‘any time now’ – seems our bodies don’t need to expend much energy when the heart just beats and we just continue to breathe, because it seems sometimes to take SO much longer than it seems it will.
luckily, she was never in any distress or pain, and she drifted in a kind of daze (or maybe she was more-or-less asleep but her eyes were open because cats don’t have eyelids and it takes muscle power to close their eyes and her body simply wasn’t expending that muscle power on closing her eyes, it was utilizing whatever energy it had left just to keep her heart beating and her lungs inhaling and exhaling as it wound down [I often think of animals, including us, of course, as being like those old wind-up toys, when it comes to the energy our bodies have – at birth, it gets all wound up until you can’t wind it another notch, and we’re a wound-up bag of bones and organs that’s wailing and flailing and doesn’t even know where or what it is; and as we age, the wind-up mechanism plays out – we’re kids running and jumping all over the place – we’re teens full of life and love and dreams and lots of whatnot – we’re adults still full of energy and then we’re older adults still with energy and then we’re middle-aged adults with the energy of middle-aged adults and then we’re older adults and older and older until, if we make it, we’re such old animals that our wind-up mechanism can be clearly seen to be winding down and our skin doesn’t have the spring to cling tightly to our muscles anymore and our eyes aren’t really bright anymore and this and that ‘system’ starts to wane and whatnot and ultimately, should we make it, there’s a deathbed on which our bodies just wind down and wind down and wind down until there’s no energy left in the wind-up ‘mechanism of life’ – and at some point, that’s that, the wind-up toy has stopped moving at all and doesn’t have one more little burst of energy to get one more movement out of it, and that’s the end]).
it honestly took hours, and it honestly actually shocked me – i was honestly SHOCKED – at how long a span of time – HOURS – from the time she vomited and was clearly dying, until she actually breathed her last breath. and i was lying there, as you can imagine, literally hour after hour from about 5AM until 11AM, and the sun came up and i heard people about their business, and sunny would come and go, usually lying near the bed, every now and then actually hopping up and coming over, sniffing her, knowing what was going on, i’m sure (their sense of smell is so much better than ours – they can smell water from miles away, an ability which we probably once had, too, but have lost – they can smell disease and decay and that’s often why dogs and cats sometimes either stay away from, or stay with, those who are sick and in the process of dying) and so at any rate, she heaved a few final deep breaths and as i lay there crying, not just for her and my loss of her but for ramon, the love of my life, whose death just last year was brought back to me because there were so many, many times this past year that i’d lay in bed on my back crying for ramon, and for myself, and for my dead dreams of us being together again, and that was the exact position we’d be in – i’d be lying on my back in bed with the sun outside but the blinds still down, and i’d be crying for ramon, and sunny would be somewhere around, and bunny would be on my chest and i’d be petting her and honestly so, SO grateful to have her there on my chest, so sweet, so loving, and there i was yesterday morning and the tears were just streaming from my eyes as i sort of ‘petted her into death’ and when she finally breathed what i knew was her last breath, and i looked and saw that she wasn’t breathing anymore, i just wept, not merely for her or for me or for ramon, whose death seems again so immediate to me and whose loss feels almost as fresh as the week after he died, but honestly, i was crying for all of the deaths which all of us have suffered, and will suffer, since the beginning of time.
i just lay there and i just cried for all of the pain and the loss and disease and the death that we suffer through, being alive. from the first human who understood death and suffered the loss through death of the first human whose death made the others cry, and for millions of others through millions of years up to and including the current round of disease and destruction and death in africa and the middle east and eastern europe and missouri and any other piece of earth with an animal living, and dying, on it. i just lay there and i quietly let the tears roll down my cheeks for my little bunny and for ramon and for myself and for a friend’s little dog who died last week and an in-laws’ in-law who died just a few days ago, and the people and the animals who were dying at the same moment that bunny had just died, and those who’d die five minutes later, ten minutes later, a half hour later, a day later, a week later, and even those who haven’t even been born yet but will one day suffer that pain of the loss through death of a person, whether a human person or a feline person or a canine person or an equine person or a rodent person or whatever other kind of person there is – i honestly felt sorry for every single one of us and was crying for every single one of us and our dying, deceased loved ones.
but my heart kept beating and i kept on breathing, and after a while, unable to sleep (i would actually have liked to have fallen asleep with her on my chest, even knowing it wasn’t really her anymore but her dead body, on my chest, just to be able to feel one last time what it had felt like, because it had always been so sweet; but i couldn’t fall asleep, and i couldn’t lie there with her body on me any longer than i did), i got up and laid her on her blanket, carried her on her blanket into the living room, where sunny was hanging out, and laid her there on the floor and sat beside them both so that he could know what had happened before she disappeared. i’d done the same thing with sammy’s body when he was hit by the car over a dozen years ago in san diego, and sunny did the same thing yesterday as he’d done then – he got up and went over to his deceased sibling, he looked, he sniffed a couple of times, he looked, and he walked off and lay down a few feet away from us, in the same room, but looking away.
i took her collar and tag (a red heart-shaped metal tag – the same as sunny has – with an ‘inscription’ that says, “Hi, I’m Bunny! $100 Reward! Call 619-889-9270” which was my phone number before i changed it last week to an east coast 518 area code) and i put them on the fridge next to the picture of sammy, alongside which i will shortly place a picture of bunny, too. and i wrapped her up in her red blanket and i wound almost an entire spool of string around and around her blanket, and i put her inside of a box into which she fit just right, and (because i don’t have a yard of my own and am not about to ask a family member “hey, can i bury my cat in your yard?” especially as they’ve all got dogs, anyway, and…) i put the box into a dumpster on the property (yeah, i know, but what else to do in the city?) and i figure that her body, which is not my sweet little bunny and i honestly know that, will end up at the dump, and from there, dust to dust.
as i’ve written this, and now finish up and wipe away the tears that have fallen as i’ve written this (as i’m sure you can imagine – and have imagined, those of you who know me well and have stayed with me to this point), my little punkin, who is sometimes known as my little punkinhead, but more often than not just ‘punky’ or more simply, ‘punk’ – as in, ‘hey, punk, what’s up?’ – (because he made a ‘ball’ out of a little pumpkin i’d put on my dining table his first halloween – and i let him keep it because, why not?) and as he was rolling it around the floor, i’d asked him, ‘are you my little pumpkin?” and, of course, without another thought, that’s what he’d become, my little punkin) – sunny – my little sunny sunshine (who is also known as sunny cherry – a story for another time) is sleeping underneath my desk and i am sooooooooo grateful and lucky and happy that he’s been in my life the past sixteen years (!) as healthy and happy a cat as can be. and while I know that his death will be the one non-human death that will REALLY rip a hole in my heart (and let’s be honest, it’ll hurt even more than a lot of human deaths i’ll have to deal with in my time, simply because he’s been my sweetest boy and little buddy for so long and through so much of my life – 16 years of my 53 is almost a full third of my present-day lifetime!) – i will leave that to be dealt with on the day that’ll need to be dealt with, and deal with today as i can.
and today, this afternoon, right now, at this very minute during this particular segment of the time allotted to the life i am living on this little parcel of the world on which i am alive, it really is a lovely afternoon with clouds listlessly rolling around the sun, temps in the 70s, a marvelous breeze, a migraine that just won’t quit, and with sweet music on my little desktop stereo, parents in their 80s whose love and support has never been in doubt, countless other family members with whom i’m reconnecting after thirty years away and, without seeming syrupy (because we all know i’m not that – oh, no, not THAT!) at this very moment, i have 53 years’ worth of gladness and sadness and love in my heart and my head – memories of people and other animals i have loved and been lucky enough to have been loved by, and there’s the blessing.
and, final note, i guess (because the line has been going through my mind for days now – ever since i saw ‘a streetcar named desire’ for the first time from beginning to end, just a few nights ago – and it echoes what i’ve told myself so many times but not in so many words) as eunice tells stella before the stranger has come to take blanche away in the final scene, ‘Life has got to go on. No matter what happens, you've got to keep on going.’
so here i go.
08/12/14: i guess it's also as good a day as any to reveal what i'd only told one person thus far about the drowning death of the love of my life on 06/25/13 (waiting for 'the right time' to just say it and start to talk/write about it), which is that, about a month before his death, ramon had greeted me on the phone with a resigned but hopeful-as-possible, "hi, chris, my name's ramon, and i'm an alcoholic." he could have blown me over with a breath. month-long story short, he'd not only been drinking to excess with a dui and more recent black-outs and a few falling-down-in-the-house or out in the back yard incidents sometimes resulting in mild injury, but had twice had to have his mom take him to the emergency room and spent a weekend and then a week in detox, 'drying out' and testing the waters of rehab. i was actually excited in an odd way -- it would bring us closer and i would help him get sober and stay sober and we would finally have that 'i love you as you are and am committed to you for life and will help you always' relationship we'd tried several times but couldn't seem to get 'quite right' (maybe trying too hard to get it 'quite right'?) -- and we could even, eventually, marry -- the possibility of which was always a dream more his than mine. but within the month of phone calls and encouragement and remniscences and laughter and meandering daydreamy tentative plans for whatever might come our way, on that tuesday that he'd finally come to the conclusion that he actually, really was an alcoholic (it's not something ANYBODY wants to be or admit to being and takes a person as long as it takes that person to actually fully understand it when they realize it as they finally sigh and say, 'yeah, okay, it's true -- i am an alcoholic. so now what?') on that tuesday, after a month or more of not quite really being certain that he was, after all, an alcoholic (and i know that place, and can never blame anyone for taking as long as it takes him or her to move through and beyond it) -- at some point in time after he had clearly, really realized and understood and accepted it, at some point in time after he had called his mom at work at ten in the morning to let her know that he had made an appointment to enter rehab the next morning, he stumbled again out in the back yard and drowned drunk in the in-ground pool that had become a swamp in the back yard. and that's where his mom -- such a wonderful, hardworking woman who'd lived through so much in cuba and here and had come to fear exactly that, and had told him (as he had told me) that that was exactly what she had come to fear -- that's where his mom found him floating face down when she got home from work around 5:30. and i think about him, and about her, every single day. and i know, i really do, that if he had lived through that day and entered rehab on the next morning, he would have gotten sober and maintained his sobriety because he was the kind of stubborn personal promise keeper who succeeds in recovery. and as difficult as it has been and doubtless always will be knowing that the person i loved more than i've ever loved anybody else in my entire life died in an accident which he set into motion because he hadn't yet really understood that he really was an alcoholic, i cannot even begin to imagine how horrible it must be to know that that person actually consciously intentionally ended his or her life because it was too painful to endure another moment, and that's what mrs robin williams is going through, and as difficult as what i've been going through, has been, i don't even want to try to begin to imagine what she's enduring. ho fumbling hum, eh? - chris.
And if at all interested, Click Here for the poetry collection The Faithful Heart by yours truly @ Amazon.com.
CLICK HERE TO READ ALL ABOUT HOW "THE PURDYS THICKEN(ed) THE PLOT" BY SUING ME for telling my own true & telling tale as if Americans don't have the right to free speech when it comes to their own life stories ? ! ! Aye, Carumba! Muchos Lococajones, Batman!
AND IF YOU LIKE THOSE, YOU DEFINITELY WANT TO READ "the latest little purdy turdy" & "Ladies and Gentleman, Anthony DiVincenzo!" & "Further Proof Provided to The Court that Apparently Even Under Penalty of Perjury Jim Purdy Is A Liar and A Fraud" & "Purdjery. James Purdjery." & "Jim & Minnie Purdy's SLAPP Dance" & "Anti-SLAPPing the Sorry Asses' Sorry Asses" & find out what "Malicious Prosecution" is all about!
But wait! There's more! Because the Purdy/Prime lawsuit itself has now set us (and so many more of their past victims as well) on a path along which we have already learned some incredibly incredible and important inner insights I've shared and continue to share such as those that led me to send "from the bottom of my heart Regret" and to receive a reply by way of a note of appreciation that just blew me away even as the "Purdys Maintain 2 for 2 Loss vs Corbett-Fiacco and Free Speech" and "harassment continues" while I undertook my demonstration to the court and to everyone else that Jim Purdy is clearly a liar when I began "Page 1 of 26, Your Honor, With Exhibits A-Q" and followed up with "Plaintiff Jim Purdy's Untruthful Statements and Accusations (continued), Your Honor." And so the saga continues with "flyering" and "california dreamin" while the Purdys and their attorney continue the bullshit with which they only end up smearing themselves.
And along the long and winding road that has become the storyline of this part of my life, I post other posts, some fun(ny), some not, such as "wwid?" ~ "August 1st, 2012" ~ "Thurs 080212" ~ "Sat 08/04 @ 11:15am" ~ "WHEW!" ~ "Tuesday, August 7, 2012 @ 11:45ampst" ~ "080812 @ 5:30pm" ~ "excuse me, sir? madam?..." ~ "nobody will remember you as a whore (unless you acted like one)" ~ "week's end project" and "09/12/12." Of course you can also Begin Reading the memoir "Memories of OPM, Ferret Face Purdy and the Farr Irrish Brraying Brridal Whoorr" ...
All of this and so much more about the people and places in San Diego and around the world who think they can treat us any way they want to and get away with it because they think they've got the power and the smarts and legal teams to do it. Until now. Because in the 21st Century, the truth (and telling it to the whole wide world on the worldwide web) will set you free and change your sense of victimization to triumph by doing nothing more than simply telling the truth. And who doesn't feel better after getting something off their chest and alerting the rest of us to be aware of the people and places we need to beware of before they do unto us as they've done unto others? You may not believe your ears, but you can trust your eyes when you Read All About It at TellingTalesTold.com!
* Even when we ourselves [and me, myself & I (sofar)] are the ones we're telling a telling tale about! And we're even courteous enough to provide notification of the publication of the telling tale told to those about whom the telling tale was told... about... as well as the opportunity to offer reply. Because, honestly, fair is fair.
** Our Reader Reviews include comments and stories such as those about "Paul Perv" ~ "BMW of San Diego and The Bartending Academy in North Park" ~ "SOS & CalProp" ~ "West Star Properties" ~ "Mossy Nissan of Kearny Mesa" ~ "Staxxs on Deck" and "Atlas Construction" as well as Readers' Telling Tales about other people and places, too, such as "Highya, Neighbor" and "Brown Hot Steamin' Friday."
© 2012-2013 Christopher Corbett-Fiacco. All rights reserved.