Saturday, June 13, 2015

I Don't Say

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“Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are completely mired in madness? Do you not want to recognize your madness and welcome it in a friendly manner? You wanted to accept everything. So accept madness too. Let the light of your madness shine, and it will suddenly dawn on you. Madness is not to be despised and not to be feared, but instead you should give it life."

In an effort to get to know my reader better, I have decided to have an Ask Me Anything. Of course, blogs aren’t live chats - except at the Home for the Nearly Dead down the street. So as the next best thing, I’ve decided to share some little known facts about Yours Truly. My friends call me Weeping. Here are some more fun facts about me.

·      I was not raised by feral wolves.
·      Mom was a lady wolf who ran away from an abusive father who was the fat clown in the circus.
·      TMZ libelously says Daddy was a somewhat feral disgraced playboy celebrity whose downfall was an unsubstantiated accusation that he killed a hooker and who, while he never supported his children by selling meth, did drink himself to death under a designated historical monument/highway bypass built by the WPA.
·      I never had a brother who disappeared like Richie’s older brother on Happy Days.
·      My Permanent Record says I have “a bad attitude” and that I “do no apply myself”.
·      While I was not an early fan of applied cultural anthropology, I have come to embrace it.
·      I once lanced a boil on a close friend.
·      I suffer from the first documented case of Pre-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder that brings on panic attacks when contemplating the future while high or when trying to get through a supermarket lane between the stupid old people who must track me with an implanted GPS because they’re always there when I shop. What, do they hold a meeting every morning and decide how to piss me off today?
·      I never had electroshock therapy unless you count the unfortunate incident involving a sonic toothbrush and the third glass of vodka. That may not be as bad as it sounds. I may have mispronounced it.
·      The upbeat thing about being schizophrenic is that one of me is usually in a good mood.
·      I would NEVER wear a monocle or a top hat in public. I did however wear a monkey butler cap that summer Mom had a rocky affair with the circus monkey.
·      I feckin’ wields my rapier wit to defend my friends and defeat my foes and to sometimes ring a doorbell and then run away. It’s getting dull.
·      I know enough about what’s wrong with kids these days that I could edit an encyclopedia.
·      I have a rare form of hearing impairment. Not conductive or sensory-neural. It's Pink Floyd.

This is the really the important thing to know about Weeping. I am in the Witness Protection Program and thus blog in the pissed-off secret identity of a mild mannered superhero, so some of the details above may have been changed to protect the innocent until proven guilty.

Funny story about why I'm in Witness Protection.

I spent my professional career as an accountant (mid-management bureaucrat) who went to the coolest lunch trucks in the hip part of uptown and wore expensive scarves with my white shirt from Ross. I left my first husband for Shawn (sic) who still had a full head of hair. This understandably led to drinking.  I am not a wino. I’m more of a blended whiskey.

Anyway. One day I “suddenly picked up a paper knife and carved my way out through Cost Accounting and into forensic history” (Terry Pratchett).  I blew the whistle on my Big 5 Accounting Firm and got into the Witness Protection Program. So you could say I did the crime but I did not do the time.

Weeping Sore is A Winner.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015


Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget.
 - Siegfried Sassoon, Aftermath

      It’s hard to be a kid. You could be bullied in school, or terrified by stranger danger.

It’s hard to be an adolescent. You could be socially awkward, or have acne.

It’s hard to be a young adult. You could be undereducated, or overeducated.

It’s hard to be married. You could make a bad decision, or maybe not.

It’s hard to have kids. You could be terrified by stranger danger.

It’s hard to grow old. You could fucking die alone.