lanceleaf dudleya

Lanceleaf dudleya or lanceleaf liveforever is a fleshy herbaceous perennial growing to 24" high from a short, erect caudex, with a basal rosette of pale green, lanceolate, glaucous leaves that are acute to acuminate-tipped, usually curved upwards, and from 2" to 8" long. The flowering stems bear smaller scalelike leaves that are alternate and sessile-clasping. These stems are stout and pinkish to reddish. The flowers are on terminal, slightly coiled clusters on pedicels 1/4" to 3/8" long. 

Lanceleaf dudleya or lanceleaf liveforever is a fleshy herbaceous perennial growing to 24" high from a short, erect caudex, with a basal rosette of pale green, lanceolate, glaucous leaves that are acute to acuminate-tipped, usually curved upwards, and from 2" to 8" long. The flowering stems bear smaller scalelike leaves that are alternate and sessile-clasping. These stems are stout and pinkish to reddish. The flowers are on terminal, slightly coiled clusters on pedicels 1/4" to 3/8" long. Each flower has a five-cleft calyx made up of deltate-ovate sepals and five pale green elliptic to oblanceolate petals that are waxy, tinged with orange-red, and slightly fused at the base. Lanceleaf dudleya is very common on dry and rocky slopes to 3500' in coastal sage scrub and chaparral from Santa Barbara and Kern Cos. to northern Baja, and in the desert mountains, blooming from May to July.

Lanceleaf Dudleya: The "Live Forever" flower

Lanceleaf dudleya or lanceleaf liveforever is a fleshy herbaceous perennial growing to 24" high from a short, erect caudex, with a basal rosette of pale green, lanceolate, glaucous leaves that are acute to acuminate-tipped, usually curved upwards, and from 2" to 8" long. The flowering stems bear smaller scalelike leaves that are alternate and sessile-clasping. These stems are stout and pinkish to reddish. The flowers are on terminal, slightly coiled clusters on pedicels 1/4" to 3/8" long. Each flower has a five-cleft calyx made up of deltate-ovate sepals and five pale green elliptic to oblanceolate petals that are waxy, tinged with orange-red, and slightly fused at the base. Lanceleaf dudleya is very common on dry and rocky slopes to 3500' in coastal sage scrub and chaparral from Santa Barbara and Kern Cos. to northern Baja, and in the desert mountains, blooming from May to July.

Turkey Chili

Prep Time:
15 Min

Cook Time:
55 Min

Ready In:
1 Hr 10 Min

Servings (Help)

USMetricCalculate
Original Recipe Yield6 servings

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 1 1/2 pounds ground turkey
• 1 (1 ounce) package taco seasoning mix
• 1 teaspoon ground coriander
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1 teaspoon chili pepper flakes
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 (14.5 ounce) can beef broth
• 1 (7 ounce) can salsa
• 1 (14.5 ounce) can crushed tomatoes, or coarsely chopped tomatoes packed in puree
• 1 (7 ounce) can chopped green chile peppers
• 1 medium onion, finely chopped
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 3 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise and sliced
• 1 bunch green onions, chopped
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese

- I add one can of kidney beans, one can pinto beans, and one can mixed chili beans

Directions

1. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large stock pot over medium-high heat. Crumble turkey into the pot, stirring with a wooden spoon to break apart as much as possible. Season with taco seasoning mix, coriander, oregano, chili flakes, and tomato paste, and mix until meat is evenly coated with seasonings. Continue cooking, reducing heat if necessary, until turkey is well browned.
2. Pour in beef broth, and simmer to reduce liquid slightly, about 5 minutes. Add salsa, tomatoes, and green chilies, and continue cooking at a moderate simmer for ten minutes. Adjust the thickness at any time you feel necessary by adding water.
3. While chili is still cooking, heat one tablespoon of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Cook onion and green bell pepper, stirring occasionally for 5 minutes, or until onion is translucent and bell pepper is lightly browned. Add onion and bell pepper to the chili, and continue cooking at a very low simmer.
4. In the same skillet, heat the remaining tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat. Add the zucchini, and cook stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until lightly browned. Add the zucchini to the chili, reduce heat, and continue cooking 15 minutes more. Again, adjust the consistency with water as needed.
5. Ladle chili into serving bowls. Top with sour cream, green onion, and cheddar cheese, and serve.

A Poem for the Leopard Princess

Expensive Mistakes


One repaired pop-up sprinkler head
Three prickly pear bushes and one eucalyptus tree
An hour’s worth of cable towing to remove a cheap jeep in mud
One snapped cable (and (almost) one life-insurance policy)

Seven plastic doo-hickeys that hold the jacuzzi cover
(They were removed and replaced improperly—let’s not talk about it.)

 A basket of pillow covers—
Not-so-white after a faceful of nightsweats shmere the makeups off.

Replaced keys-- lost in the fountain
Replaced shoes-- see above.

A ten day stay at ten-thousand a night
May 25th: Cranial Hemorrhage
I missed your wedding
(Most expensive of all.)

 Costumes:

1 Nurse
1 Marriachi
Two Power Puff Girls and one furry pimp
One red Mercedes Benz
One dent
(Oops! We’re not listening! We’re not guilty!)

Two bounced checks, Nordstrom of course!
1 for me, 1 for you
Nantucket Sand for me, a lighter shade for you, and
Bronzer for two.

Two lollipops and one black Cat-O-Nine Tails
Five pairs of sunglasses washed away at sea
"La Playa Negra," of course, of course!
Aloe and Vera for steamed lobster and crispified peeling skins
Fortified and la de da da
Between you and me, a bottle of gin
Fortified la de la da

Tickets:

A ticket for illegal parking
A ticket for speeding
Another ticket for speeding
A ticket for flying off the road
A ticket for not using the dog's seat belt…

And yet another ticket for speeding.



A ticket for "I-didn't-see-a-stop-sign.”
(Believe me, ‘twas covered by trees.)

A ticket for not "clicking it."
A ticket for your thoughts
A ticket for cell-chat-phone-talk --- I had to make a call to Golden, CO
Just cuz I gots the blues.

Someone got arrested at Encinitas Beach
'Twas Dr. Kush in the parking lot with a lead pipe!” says I.
"Dont you worry a wink, Mr. Officer Shat; I believe, in my bag, there’s a card for all that."

Expensive Mistakes in Provo:

 A trip to Rite Aid to pick up a
"First Response Rapid Results!"
Just to be sure, and
A tank of gas for cruzin' the highlands
Squealing and squalling, "We found her!"
"We found her!"

Always, for always just one soda orange,
For shakes on the go just a coffee with cream,
But Sundays are different; we eat as we please,
In the kitchen of Ram Bam—meats, taters, and cheese!
So many mistakes, so many repairs,
But it’s hard to believe
It’s more than just shared.

 Just us—witty you, funny me.

A burger for two, a shake and some poo (baggies for chandler)
A can of spray for a pesky knat
A tube of "goo" (be gone, be gone, I say!)
A replacement Spalding for a donkey piñata
Over the cliffs of the cove
Lost undies and one spilled horchata!

'twas worth the cost, oh Love, my Love!

 (But since the recession,
Maybe we can find some inexpensive mistakes at Marshall's;
We can always tie 'em up in pretty pretty wrap.)

none that I can think of

Its not until later that I realisze the beats of the drum that were coming from the neighbors party wrere like the sound of his footseteps coming down a hallway that echoes fror miles and that those footsteps that are coming down the hallway will inevitably lead to the door screeching open and screaming ompen and the words open open open  this door up now open it up open it up get out of there come out now come out now and I am pmy heart races as my hands shake and aI hold as still as  can because if I move if my arm of or leg or nhand moves a it moves at all, somehow I will be brought back into te present moment where instead, right now, right now, as I am siting with my hands and feet and clenched and my hands are held together tightly, right now I am allowed to go somewhere else in my heaehead, I am allowed to thing of a wallpaper that is cso neutral that there is absolutely no thought that goes iinto ait it is just the eyes watching the paper and the paper where it curls is something tsomething that my eyes are fixated on so tightly ound wound so inextricably around that tiny spot where the paper is curled bak and how the fleur de lys is repeated over over over over over and over again along the lines in crossword puzzle movmotion that somwhow, for a  sa second and then some seconds after that, some more seconds after that, if my hands shake and suddently I beome aware of the shaking if suddenly I becomeaware of the shaking then at some point, at some point I am forced to hear that yelling, the screaming, and the knocking the pounding on the wooden door so hard that the door shakes, and the bibrations are so hard that they make my heart stu they make my heart and my words and my thoughts all stutter tso that I am forced to re clench my hands and stare ahead and then I stare at the bleached white twowels how they are so white except for a small patch of yellow copper sandy y dyellow beans poopopcorn yellow oil where they are not so white, where they are not white and I know that somwhow this brings me back to the shaking hands and the stuttering head, my head is so clear sometimes and then all of a sudden I can feel my heart and it drums againsg the cartilage of the ribs and it pulls thmy shoulder sforwards in its weins are arteries that force blood at paces so face, the freeways, the freeways they spin, oh jesus I’m dizzy now I’m dizzy why can’t he stop poundin g the door, is he smasmashing it down swith a hammer? Is he going to break through like the guy on the shining with an ax and then pear through with sucer eyes like the dog win the movie that one movie with saucer eyes that grighten and widen my own auntil they are so big that the lids disappear and the black of the iris pulls through the white, and wsoon there is no more white, there is only the toweles and the orchids and the cupborards of the kitchen and the lightbulds lightbulbs of the ceiling with which are white too and the columns of the door that are mathematically engineered to lok so white that the brain only sees white and that means that there is nothing that is black except for the back to black [Amy Winehouse died the day before this was written, on July 23,2011]]  where the iris kind of bleads or melts like a dye like a Chinese [Japanese] liquidye that goes out of the pupils and through the whites of the ey and it spread blike spilled china ink out oand out and out and out COME OUT OF THERE TNOW I’M  GOING TO KILL YOU GCOME OUT OF THAT ROOM UNLOCK THIS DOOR NOW , THO OH MY PLEASE DODONT KNOWCK THE DOOR DOWN.  He’s oing to know the door don and the a showvel is going to splinter the wood and the eyes are saucers the eyes are sacuers and the djaddlkf ta;kldffjfjsad;flkfjd af;kfjeifkc, v the figers are not moving a I mean they coant stop moving bther is so much puling there is so much force behind the thoughts that the body compensates in rigid motions of send sned sned fire fire fire fire the message of pure chemical fear is shot through the blood and the footsteps come closer closer closer and that way I can almost feel the ryrhthms of the ethe feet that are at any minute minute going to yank [wrench, chicken-bend, smash, ]] the door open the light will flood in and the small pieces of light that surrounded the door will be absolutely gone, and then there will be white and screaming that something I did was so wrong that I am bein screamed at anow I am being choked , I cant breathe because I’m coking for some reason I ded something that means I’m choking in the bathroom because the footsteps mean the door and its handle is going to twists it is going to twist and shake and quivere and pull and squeak and sd- 40 until th kingd dom the kindgowm of god is wreching the thunder and lighting through the clouds and thre storm begins begins to fill the tub and the bathroom bloor is so wet because the rain in  inis coing down throught the ceiling and the faucets are closed but dripping and soon the dripping turns to pouring my and my head feels dkind of dizzy dkind of dizzy ind of dizzy and my stomach feels like its going to re throw the things that are in it which is I don’t donw, something that wasn’t so great because it was too great and something that is made to be too great and too perfect somehow in my head doesn’t make it perfect, it sateras sit starts to look really ugly. It starts to look like a sterle scalpel the sterily is white, and the sheets are white and the feet that climp clom p patter pitter stopmp tromp through the wooden brick and marble hallways are louder like drubms the drumbs of mmahler the mahlers drums the cotton tick pitter pick is pounding against the old skin drums of the old drums made of the skin of cats that wawas also used on the PRINCE these oare the prnce tennis rathackets that at once once they workd we wer hitting the yellow green balls that aren’t white, they aren’t white, but they smell like chemical romance, and that smell is relesed when the pin pulls like the grenade, the grenade is pulls and then the racket is pulled pbakc and the grenade drops onto the groudnd the grenade drops to the gournd and it falls towed the grean towards the green that is not clay it is not white and it is not grass, though I wish so badly that it were tgreass because that way the grass willl hold my skin inside of it and I can lok up at the skies and my eyes will wander freely without the black or the iriss meltingng meliting like the ink of the pen that spears them so that I can watchit the cloudn and leave my heart that beats with the sting and an ache away I can put it away in a box for a while and it can stay there so it doesn’t have to hurt so badly the body doesn’t have to pull on the shouldings on the heart, and in the feet in the toes in the ear,s it  at it alls pulls and its cant relese until someone says its ok oit ok nothing is going to hurt you right now, its gjust white is it not going to hurt iyou. Bu tht egrenade dor flourescenet green that smells like chemical romance issinks instantaneously into the tennis courts soft ground and the head is spillsspining oh my god I am so dizzy I am going to faint my head needs to stop my head needs to release and go between my legs so that I don’t thrown  up throw up all over the tennneis oucourst and tehn I pull the cat racket tennis mallet back behind my back and pull it forward so that it strikes the grenade and the grenade goes into the air where it is airborne and thereis a sense of the body releasing because I know I’ve hit the ball and it hasn’t oh my god its going into the hands of the net, falls trapped intot he black sucked down and falls, bounces into the hairs of the court and I am sentenced.

His racket snaps. It snaps as it cracks against the ground after he up chucks the beautiful metel egg oar. It snaps  and it makes a popping sound like breaking bone. Bone is breaking because the cat hyde is pulled so type it collapses, and the inkn in the eyes drips out of the soupy dish and into the cradle of the white, where it is no long a small dot but a pool of lake water dripipin because the darknesss of the lake is deep and the ocean water is full of life, but mostly because all I can hear is what is wrong with you/ why are you such a wussy ?  you’re not even trying…. Do you want to go back? Is that what you want? You want me to take you back? Let’s go. The voice seems calm but it feels as if the veins are going to explode into firewords of blood platelettes. I am terrifred. Fred is not funny now, but that is what I want to hear, hey there its fred,

Oh there’s greg and the net and the broken rackette that is left behnd sunken bitter and sour and repulsive twisted and mangled half in half stuck nail head out where the head meets the eye of the garbage hole. hAnd the hole is black the hoel is stinky like poisen garbage rotting oranges and putrid snails slime and the beer of the regurgitated homeless man whose beard grows ever so sweet like mice meat like the tails growing from the lids of the eyes, the sour fuming alcohol mushrrom and green provolone, snot, uric acid, uranium, dishwater that has been found in the apartment of a murder crime. And the body is in the garbage there with the man who sleeps, who rests his head who cradles is body in newspaper, where are you? The lines of the coke are not coke but the lines of the metal racket, thgouh it would be poetic if it were wood. Its would be softer if it would be wood so that when it strikes my side, my collar, the inside of my knee, the pain isn’t so explosive. The pain is white, and the fire piston fire flies engine reffed and sparks igniting popping light bulbs, buzzed cut filaments gone dark and the grenade was launched poured stick thrown fired and tossed until the town is beaten balk. Black. But still the sheets are white and the towels are bleached, and the linens are wrapped in noisy celephane plastic sheets that could just as easily cover the dead. But its all white, and when its all white there is nothing to take the eyes away from the white, and all the white takes over the sour, the red, the fuscihia , the sandalwood, the chemical romance, the battery acid, the liquid nitrogen sending its wicked steam vat treasure cloud into the blazing fire skin. Burn you wretched wart a thoughsand a thousand thousandth time over so that the frozen dot on the tip of the thumb where the blood blister forms and the bruise of the impact is love. When does love feel like a frozen blister thmb tack? When its in the heal of the foot. When its stepped on so many times that the stepping becomes the foreshadowing of the breaking down of doors, the pulsing of an aching art, and the flinch of the head, the ears, the shoulders when my name is said too abruptly. Be brave yoou little wussy. Be brave you little wussy. You’re oing to have to learn how to be brave. Welcome to the real world. Welcome to helllll…. This is you’re world now,. You’re world is going to be my world. … or at least.. at least the world I wanted you’re going to manifest destiny…. Oh man oh dear god ar you crying? Why are you crying? Why are you being such a god damned baby? I’m so sorry . I’m so sorry I put a hole in the ten thousand dollar painting. I didn’t mean too. I was just playing. I was just playing. I was just trying to be a boy. I was just tying to be a boy a boy in a house a boy who runs a boy who is rosy checked and freckle dusted, but I pulled the ruler too far back and the ripped the canvas through the skin. I don’t want you to see me cry. Yo’re gonna have to learn to be a lot braver. Did you take anything. Listen to me? Did you take anything?

No.

The door is going to smash open and the veins are going to ignite my throat will squesse with heavy cream sin hands until air is gold precious fuel for the highest grade Beamer. Don’t touh that. Shit. I’m late. Don’t’ tell you’re mom what we talked about. Tdont tell your mom what a scumbag I am. That’s a direct quote from someone. Why are you driving so fast? You’re scaring me. No. you’re hurting me because my throat needs the air. The throat needs the sky and the leaves of the trees, and water and friends, and the scent of bravery. But mostly the throat needs love. There is none here, this is scalding water on open wounds where there is salt that is supposed to heal but burns right through the skin until later in the night, later when I try to pull the sheets over, my side yellow jelly bellow underbea tightens and I’m stung by the garden army of bees. Please don’t let him in. The doors are poison. The white towels are poisen. The orchids are beauful killers. Tricky tacky theifs of life. Leaches of substance green to live a sunbeam. But the white only flashes momentarily and then there is a realization that my shoulders can’t move because the muscles are sending signals to each cell that that cells are in danger, the the skin is in danger, the skin is pink with the rising cost of blood temperature tincture of time cucumber nimbus clouds benaththe  hazel trees where the horses trot by and bring me back from where I dream, where I long to dream again.

White orchids delicately fall, draping themselves over the hedge of the granite-top/ granislab… by the sink, in the room where we sometimes watch a shownow. , in the room where white and black keys are touched to tucker a tune. Tough they grow for an inch for a mile, though they may wrap their leaching burning filaments around my throat until my breath is stuck… while that may happen, maybe, just maybe, there’s a way that I can tell myself that’s its not really going to kills me.  That whatever doesn’t kill me—the white, the broken cat rack line egg, the drilling of the magnificent doors, the ice cream the melting vanilla that leaves the beans behind, the milk, the veins that look like they’re going to suffocate me—maybe there’s a chance that someday my heart doesn’t have to run heated over bone drums. The reaction to pull the shoulders up towards the ears is instantaneous, but for some reason, tonight, I recognize that its just her feet. And she’s walking towards the door. But tonight she passes by and does her thing. Tonight is not all the other nights. Tonight, though it is ugly and screeching, and loud, and very much unwanted, it is very much, absolutely under no circumstance beyond time travel, anything other than tonight. Not the other nights. Not the other days, but the night that is.

Popping filament glow strings

Burn

Snap trap boobie clap ‘’ save us, save us, save us all.”

Tennis ball grenade is launched

And ready to play

Acid Reflux puke star

The dress of a fresh tornado

Dished to the strings

Pierced, pulled, released, the aluminum lid of pain

hisses like a drop of water on iron grill in flames to steam

pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

“how great thou art…. How great thou art.”

Its so dark tonight

The Viking hums D4

One of the lightbulbs popped dark snapped to black

Fur – beast—noble – snack—loving tail beating hare stare-fixed horse-wide  eyed with the smell of meats… just now steady breath has found his place of rest

quote from Arabian Nights-- also used in the movie Never let me Go.

From Basrah we sailed, day after day, night after night, over the sea, visiting island after island, and land after land, selling or bartering our goods at each. One day, after some weeks of sailing out of sight of land, we saw an island in the sea with such fair greenery that it appeared like one of the gardens of Eden.

-- Arabian Nights

poem in progress; feedback welcome

 gELATO

this journey is colored lapis sunset swirl   (PATCHY, MARBLED, SWIRL)
with a hint of mint
smells like seaweed, OYSTER pearl, GRAPEFRUIT OIL AND SALT CRYSTAL.

I want to walk the rain wet stones in a slicket-slacker
puddle packer
trapeze a river ice tide chunks
turn the wooden handle on the manual ice cream machine
So that we can eat and have our cake too.
Dangerously. Before the dry rot of the wet preserves.
mmmmm. cherry drops, and apple pies in shops with local paint
from mr. mcGruff

In the outside the dogs bark and sniff shrub trees
Maybe they're onto something tasty
like a hare or peanut butter and jelly burrito.

the past is a graying tooth
a little sickly, but strong-boned
It wants to cling to the gums with white flash roots
PING!
A drill smokes as it spins into a crease of tooth canyon.
Animals with tusks: 
Out Out!

Sugar pill-slips spill on the linoleom, and several spots of cream too.
I taste a strong will.
A living one that wants to exceed transformation.
Won't you come with me dear?

the bait is out there, or is it here?
I cannot feel a buzz
the benzocane is cheeky
and I cannot see the sun


torential storms pull from a silver pocket nook book
a recipe which has burst into LEMON/ CHERRY.. SPOOLS/ DROPS
falling lightly upwards a moon
That is where... metal clipped jazz feet provide the beat forms.
"shirley Temple, PLEASE."
"Surely you can't be serious," HE SAYS
like a graying tooth, a little sickly, but strong-boned.
click tap tap click tap tap click tap tap click tap tap
tip tap tap tip tap tap tip tap tap
"Oh jeez, i just want this damn thing to pop out."



A jungle of monkey mint
I want to go there
with you, my friend.

Now pour the chocolate in a dish, drop a clown sized scoop on top,
Banana on bottom, cherry on top
Its cold out there and delicious like home-made gelato.
won't you share with me my dear?

Hot as an Iron pot on FIRE!

mary weather and the turtle oeove who ate thwith the gold spoon of the sphynx from the egyptian martiar mr tyeland truster who was also a band leader in the castle fo vaieries . I cannot stand that mr castleshooter said the yojg man who had jst recieved his badge in honor of fighting the trust war. trust that that seems to be somthing that comes ourt of the clostet a lot these day.s there are the villains, the criminals with brown mstashes and seedy brown yeyes and the whites sheets with the bleached stains of being let too long in the red bucket beneath the sink sinking the wahle beneath the bluye tide of consiousness he comes up to get a breath of eair but oh my! the sharks are too close this time and the baby cokc whatle wahale what do you call it? the baby shore comes close to the underbelly of the great blue thing that sink or swims depending on the climate of the day. But to day no oanother day. a woman in a yellow hat with a yellow canariy at the top shrieks1!!! Oh my god! what is happening to that great big piece of meat. He is being devoured by the orcas who circle and  ircle in the geometric shape of tides. they prepare the feast for martyrdom as the baby watches the mother pap? or father mum?protect and discect. this is the reality ofthe world of waters. the water for worlds and the worlds of the elephant. welcome and sit and watch and attempt to be still still still with a lingering note of harmonic sixths that goes for several minutes and queitly disapeers throught the halls that begins with the tiniest of sounds in the throught twhere there are two tiny wet little snail folds that vibrate so silently it almost is invisible. But you canfeel it. You can feel the air when it massages the inner lining of the throat when it is too early in the morning, or too late in the afternoon. There are pepples in the lining of the throat at this time. Drink plenty of water without ice. Don't chew the ice, jst appeal for the absence or sbsince tha absinthe of the ice. And the water will heal . the rocks will discharge into smoke and ash that cough up through the teeth and tounge where they away they go into the air to be taken in again with the lungs another groggy day where the smoke fills the sky pink . Orange they eat it raw and it smells liek orange and grapefruit oil which is beautiful becuase they said they said that this particular whale of an oil flesh brings joy joy joy! of joy illimited where the man watches the crow sing and squeel but really all the gray and darkness that seems to be in the garden of smoky leaves and broken swings are really just the beginning to the imagination where one can see past the wall, if one really focuses hard enougt. I saw it. I saw it when tapping the forehead on the lover sitteing skiwampus away and angular him at his left and I at the right where perpendicular meats the crow. and tapping tapping tapping I told. the ways were too close to image. But close your eyes I say, close the tired eyes and find the loosely gartered ring of repose. there you will travel through the vibrations (ought there to be anohter word for this wave of something)? I wonder. there I say, there you are, amid the cathedrals and dandles resting and bumping on the kneee of consciousness. Rest and look forward where you can imagine the shells of barnacles and the wet juicy triangles going through the tunnerls of the mind and the body becomes so heavy that the arms are carrying the world as well as two purple weights of two pounds each on every inch on every square inch they pull attached to rope that has ben yearned of white haired ladies in the southern states, claiming they have taken threads through old singer manufactured arts where the needle goes up up down down in a balanced rythym of precausiounary tension. They will weave you a fortress. But now allow the colors of the spectrum that you know and do not know pervade you. Forget about the stairs and the noise that goes long before the drop down town history where the boy spins in a feathered boa and the others sip their jingle juice. I am not meant to be as crass as one might say I am. But Peter. Thinnk and do not think. Listen to the tapping of my finger.
She screams! The orcas are contaiminating the water with BLOOD! Stop it oh stop it! she looks around whre there is no one but eyes that watch the scene. Swimming and closing in they bring in the weight of the water which has come from the deepest coral and highest sun. Shining down on stripping pieces of flesh and rubber blubber, where the babe is not safe, for the mother has been swallowed whole. But not really, just piece by piece. When you are save you are not safe, for the orcas are hungry in their tummy tim toms. Cannot they find a little scrap of weed seed smoke? I purpose they connot. Forthe laws of the vial are secret as the graves from which the birth are taken in. And the grasses of brown summer color are not growing but taking in the rays of the suns. Vibrations.
Focus now on the sound or the feeeeeeling your throat is making when you allow the air to penetrate and the lungs pull in pull in push out, let out.
There is the calm. There is the rage. But the colors that you have been taking in since the eyes relieved themselves of the silicone plastic rubber cheese melt, you can count on them now. they may looks like lines or geometric patterns of triangles squares or circles or even the tailfin of the orca. You know that even this looks lie a triangle, my peter. there you wil find, once you have traveled far enough, the mathematics of race, the mathematics, of the sun, and the mathematics of the percy wetty shetty shelly fish. Where the red fern does not grown, but numbers spring to the sky. She screams again!!! Blood Blood Blood in the wake!!! in the wake there is blood, blood there is in the wake!!!! Do not wake, but sleep now, my peter  my peter, when there was a time we stood against age old stone that had been crafted from raw hands mayble slave people withtheir skin unprotected by the spfs of the ancient golve glove. and the faces are only protected by the sheen of the rim. and the head is bend over the back facing the god of son, wishing for the sweat to become clean as the peak of everest. The snow will melt into summer. We will drink again, peter. we will taste the snow caps! But now, maybe now it seems she screams because she feels the plight, the sound, the vibrations of terrror because the sea is blood, the sea is blood. But look past and you will sea the horizon peter, and there, where the horizon meats the heaven ward, there the spirit is free, there the body of mum and the body of papa will meet with a great shadow of force and teh web of mathematics will cling to each its own point of connection. See? Where? There. where the skiy is line. The sky is line. Tap Tap Tap Tap softly I tap the forehead where, the softest note of sea travels through the nasopharynx and the bones of the tip of the ice nose berg head. foreshodowing! Foreshodowing what is to come. !!! There may be the blood of the sea, or the ringing of bells. Bells ring through the nose. The rose blooms foreward as the eyes foreword the silence in chaos. What what ? Can you not see the spiraling bells of methematics? See the sheells, the caves beneath leonard that once were rivers beneath the survace of the layers of rock. William Hill I call upone the eithgth lord of caves. Do not find your abandonment, but release the noise, and find teh turning of shells. You, there will my peter be lifted and taken to the shores of horizen. Where there is no end, but end is now. For there is no eternity but that which is the ever present Now. Look peter. Do you see something you have nevr seen before ?What are you doing to me you crazed duck lick goose knob? How could I ever harm you? For all the sitting conversations of the past and teh brilliant future of pink shadow gold dream where the turf meets the surf. Ride them bloody waves! Surge of surf, mind of matter, matter of surge, surf of mind. the tunnel of wake, as the earth beneath the blood waves shuffles, quakes, where the shodows of ablatement turn to dandles. The pocket of the ringles the circular order of the pringle shell turns the widening gyre, the birth can meat agian together. The joints that we thought were borken are no longer separate but repaired in the welding nickel soldeirng steal! She screams the weaves are blood the weaves are blood. But the day has past and teh sun is sleeping. The whale is gone, the baby rests against the paper skin of the sea top without its mom. Still the baby breathes. Water as dust appeals and sprouts as inverse rains toward mother sky. As the sun also rises, the blood, another day shall disappear.
Peter. Are you there?
silence.
but the movement of sound is felt, not heard.
Ah! To sweetly watch Neuschwarnstein, and taste the infinite air of stars in the trees! You and I, together we go.

alas a furious joy!

Remains of the day include a snuggie, a marbled snail of Arabian decent and  a yellow feathered turtle bus. Reduced to a shimmer, the fuzzy spreckled con man entered the swamp arena underneath the groung. The party had begun three nights earlier but it continued underneath the confines of swere sewer systems and caves. One could hear the band from three miles away but I didn’t actually see them until I passed by the pillards underneath the freeway where stampedes of unseen cars flew by sounding more like a train than a car. But the band screamed into microphones hailing the demons of our time and looked at the black haired mongoose who was dressed as a pirate and he looked back at me and winced. What? I didn’t think that anyone could be the one to talk. After all, the pirate was holding a jug of jin and in the other lanky fingers a jug of smelly old wine. A woman who had been talking to a portrait on the wall that had been spray painted in cans of fumey fumes. Oh to be able to describe the walls of the interior space of those sewers. We couldn’t see. It was too dark and the night blanket was around everything but the other side of the world, which was certainly warm enough from the sun. “abandon all hope ye who enter here” was markered on the curvature of the tower beam, and I held my phone up to the paint to ssee the details and I thought of American psycho first and how the book begins… but then dante and his little masterpiece, which by the way, was taught in a circular classroom where desks were not separate but attached as an elongated table where chair met next chair next door. An Italian man talked with a heavy berry rico bacon accent with the I’s and the ahhhh… I couldn’t understand most of the words that came out of his class, so of course, I dropped it. And danta can wait for another day when an Italian man doesn’t have a blazer with an orange sticker with an upside down smiley face. I wondered about that sticker and what it meant, and I wondered that night as I passed through the first of four caves of the sewer . this was a new inferno. It was an inferno of younger people with cans of spray paint and eyeliner, drums, and screeching voices echoing through the underearth... I miss the tunnels. But it stank. Someone said that we needed to be careful of our steop in other words to follow the path of the papercard stock stepping bores and the slippers of suede and sheep skin were wet and crapped on and I thought I heard the scratching meat sucking of a large mouse rat canoon. Oh a canoo would have been very appropriate for me. There is nothing more appropriate than appearing at the band within the depths of the sewer in a green canoe.  Make the cameo with a canoe with its markings on the side KCUF 999 oh but that would be cliché I must say. Drumming hip dip and swing a rythym, trashing the trashed thrashing the thrashings of society, where only the blackened eyes of the boys can see what’s coming . And really there is only one thing coming and that is the wave of silence that happens when time stop momentarily like in the matrix where neo is slip sliding bending backwards with the devils demon trickster pollywoop gymnaccrostics. Silver streak of starlight where the 3^rd rock from the sun comes tumbling down to a place where there will be a gentle divot in the land of the kutra people. Within the trees within the vines the old ruins of falling stones and lakes that are deep within the bark and brush thick with lime. A colorful bird with twitching wings cocks his head and cries,  “there are no more people left to imitate.” The crow, thought it is not a crow but an imitation of a crow dressed in the featheres of the cockadoodle doo to you parrot dice. I wonder with a shake of the wrist with the paradice stike midnight where the sound begins again screeching drumming beats through past roar and helter skelter. And I hold my camera against the walls where someone has painted a name that I don’t recognize. Sydney Marinus. And for the first time I remember the boy who stood staring at something and thinking everything and not aware of the thoughts but comepletely lost in the bliss of lost consciousness. Painting the bloom red, Sydney cuffed the back of the railing. A small rain bagan to fall inside the “crossroads” colored walls where everything is clay and the ashes of the buried bones. Those were the only ones left that anselm could use. How could he use anything but these. These were the stories, layers and layers, foundation against foundation where plaster, rock, limestone, rock, twigs, teeth and bone-dust complemnt an elephant skin fooring. Looking down at his pumps, he releases the founding fathers bones bones bones everywhere bones with no more land to roam but the land of the stolen fathers. Complacent in his moment, Sydney attempts the impossible; he is reclining back, straight backed and head 45 degrees against the graine. There he stays momentarily where he is allowed to stare at the movement of ceiling and floor, rain and muddlewords slipping down painting lane. It looks like the drippings of water plugs slipping sliding down shower glass, and sometimes, when one cries, a water-wet sticky-proof skin of many shades. Many different feet will touch this ground. If not another like it. Oh Sydney don’t stop your brigade. there are flags to be posted on moons and planets, stars and the pink stones of the kaleidoscope.backwards falling, the lids of the eyes- his thinnest skin – lower lash downwards. Look up look up the great work begins mr. marinusss. This is his epiphany. What is the great work? You  see it in front of you. You have seen it in front of you all your life, but the eyes weren’t able to tell the brain the right signals and so the feet just kept walking, the arms kept moving and over the years, you learned to do what you do best; imitate life. There is none other than imitation is there mr. marinus yourself? What is happening the 45 degree angle where his  heels connect the floor point laser-like a light the weeping paint rain. A guard pulls a flashlight from his belt. A skylight pours a gritty glow patch and sends a flash of camera blink against the higher jaw bone of the temple. Lightning. My denim is wet and wild. A Diesel would like to be a truck, but no, now a pair of American pants important from italy I mean imported from italy. What is the shirt you wear mr. Marinus does not move he is a photograph in time a quake of consciousness. Seagulls, caught in the blister, wings pulled down and some pulled heavenward nearly collapse with the power of the lens. Surveillence. From which eye am I going to be seen today?  The third eye, perhaps? The one we don’t know enough about but marunis today has painted in read against the top of his nose where the creases have appeared aafter worrying about the morning milk and cream for the cat, the afternoon lunch our when ther is never enough time to finish the clockwrk. But somehow there is still that prity of thought where the river of flow just goies and doges goes and dgoes, and goes, folling a carres of the shirt when the wings of the tail collar used to blow, a shuttle now takes the a passenger to the scene of the crime. Awake AAwake AwakeAwake. Back to the canoe hwhere we will paddle hard against the river against the lapping pools. There wwe will watch a the walls painted graffitteid clowns and battle cries, monster mash, lettered hearts with initials plus other initials. The walls become the heart ad the the eart becomes the walls but they are concave and splendid in their low brow kind of way. And now one can say , not even the king of Frankfurt, no one cn say that the lowest of the low are exempt form the crime. Because there we were, and if nto a can a paint, a brush with oils, a finger spread with the metallic of sea shor e mercury. Dripipping and it continues to drip drip drip . the bones wit the bones will soak into the elephant skin earth and will regenerate the m color ful monkeyblume hanging from the stem. Upside down upside dow. Falling still, Sydney inwardly pulls, browns like butter in tephloon pans. Pulls in, browns pulls in, he disappears. The guard turns to the moa lisa emblam, the wing of the griffin coming out from her shoulder blades. I will not be albe to let this slide says the officer of the law that watches the paitings day and someof the night looksback towards the e entrance where the glass revolving doors are being replace with new ly aquired hanging beads. Hanging beads. As the arm ofas the arm of the yellow black parking woodie collapses, so too does the meter, the kisok itself. Crumbling like the cities only revealed to some under earth under sand water bearing worlds where the green of life can breeed freely, where the green of life can make what it need to make. The seed. . and the guard, tas the guard the guard, as the placeholder in time – Gettyperceptuman—collapses. At last the gaurds  stands above a pair of sneakers and pima cotton, where all that’s left is the seed.

Farmer meets a punk, treacherous sling, put away your arrow, I put away my seed.

Away with the tunnel, the youngins of the sewer world away. 

Cherry Coffee Cake

I found this recipe from "Lifelines", a patient newsletter published by DaVita. It looks tasty, but risky.


Ingredients


1/2 c unsalted butter; softened

2 eggs

1 c granulated sugar

1 c sour cream

1 tsp vanilla (extract?)

2 c all-purpose white flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

one 20 ounce can cherry pie filling

Preparation


1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Using a mixer, cream butter, ceggs, sugar, sour cream and vanilla.

3. In separate bowl combine flour, baking powder and baking soda

4. Add dry ingredients to creamed butter misture and mix well. Pour batter into a greased 9" x 13" baking pan

5. Evenly disperse cherry pie filling over batter.

6. Bake for 40 minutes until golden brown.

Helpful Hints:


Substitute blueberry or rasberry pie filling instead of cherry if desired.

Cut into 12 servings instead of 24 if you need extra calorie.

Lower sugar options for those with diabetes include using sugar substitute for baking instead of sugar and using low-sugar cherry filling.

note from matt: you may want to have your heart checked after eating this if you don't already have heart issues.

bland steamed white rice

What if after the ultrasound I took a noodle vein and wrapped it around the round turning thing on the edgwick sinspter mobile and then took that noodle wein and spun it through the wiring where the needle goes up and down up and down so so so fast it goes it bounces and it whiiirs like a little engire engine as the fparetns foot goes down and up down and up the foot stool controls the spaghettic string oops I meant noodle but that’s the noodle there is only one so that the noole goes from the spinster to the orooof he just barked and then he did a little fart like that bee I used to think about mr pinkerton h=and how his bee wings went so quickly it only took a slow motion capturing cameria to get a glimpe of one second of the mr pinkerton looked out over the sea of waes and the fresh hives he had wanted to taste that fresh honey bunces of oats. No just honey real spun honey that reminds me of a storry said that caterpeller dressed up in a caterpeller suit. I’m thinking of a man with a mustache and bifocals that has a mustache and the lens that goes from his eye to his ear, this bifocle hass a toune aoh no wait I want it to be, I ai magically take the wand in my lef t and right hands oh no fingers I mean because the fingers are the ones that type and we go back to that man with the mustache and round brown eyes with the oracle from an ayeeye to an ear where there is a fleshy hearing aid that one has to adjust with a tiny little earglass screwdriver – the ones that are so baby cute you just want to eat them. That makes me think about how if a small corn on the cob were to mate twith the ring a ling the eyeglasses would not be there a baby ? I thiknk so what would the baby be but a little chicklet that comes in a plastic abox. You know whats funny I thnink about foood so much a strawberry a kiwi a lemon a n orange but can I thnkk abou something else? Yes, the first thing that comes to mind is a little squirrel with a befriend that carries a small acashiew in his satchel . he sings a little toon that tune that goes something like, when my cashiew was a little baby nut, it did not taste so cut. It had to grow it had to grow so that the ut left lost its leaves and dropped the leaves to the starch floor wood. And then when the ahsiew surbibed the fallDont we all! Yes survive the fall! And hand in hand they went no looking back some natural tears they wept but wiped them soon  and then said, I want to go back to the little garden. I m not goinna let that little demon angel kcik me out of my homeW this is our palenstine. You gae us a gift, jesus. Why did you want to tkake aay a good thing. Someone sometwhere is holding up the wriknkled fitty fist and thaking an index finger to indacate a motion of disapproval. And to that I say. You , I can with you certainly sympathize. I can understand that but once there were two pictures that had a crow and a cock with orchids and the like with bits of chiken snaps. But on the speaker wen about this and that about theravenous merceez beans that had been falling from the sky in april there was a dry spring… and april for sure is definitely NOT the crueles t month. In fact, I rather like april. It kind of got a little glow going on and the owls and the larks are twitterpated and su h so that the branches of sycamore trees are smiling and the painted gold yellow pink and lightitsh bluoooo hare all smiling from here to Nebraska which is a place Ib’ve never ben but when I sthink about Nebraska in the winter I think about a country place like with snow and ide and rouds and a brown wooden farmhouse with a porta potty that is definitely not attached to the house. The pillars, the pillars they are leaning the wrong way. I’ll fix that. Take the tape measurere son tand hold it up to the pillar at a nintely degreee anle so that the piller stands at a perfect ninetly u degree angle at the sound of thw whistle 

Classic Baked Chicken recipe from Simplyrecipes.com

This looks like a good chicken recipe. Since I'm diabetic I have to cut down on the salt. And my renal diet doesn't allow a lot of chicken or potatoes, so I would probably make this with steamed rice; maybe add some steamed carrots, corn and peas for a little variety.

http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/classic_baked_chicken/


This recipe was found on www.simplyrecipes.com and is under the label, "classic baked chicken." Enjoy my fellow cullinary aesthetes!

the commercial, "if you don't get help from us, get help somewhere..." (over the rainbow)

Here goes my molten mates! take a boast on the rollerride, along the coast, along the coast.

break---- real thing:

ROYGBIV glowsticks habg upside down from the cave of delirium and then the rabbit says this way and points down a staligmite hidden wardrope of opening where I think I better not go that way because a penis might fall on me. But there are times when I man was must do what a man has not done and that’s the truth of it. So the red candle is against the clock and looks like the hand that tells the time but soon that candle turns into an orage carrot that click click click tells the cseconds of time. But how can that be says the little woman with the stubborn nose. I hate that mole I hate  hate hate that mole that sticks between the flap of nose and chek of lip. OH my, I will never reveal my credentials they are non existant must you be so silly little pollywog tthere wasn’t anything I could do but watch the fall fall down with the burnt leaves and yellow twigs. There was once a n old man who lived in a louis vhitton boot. Not really surte how to spell that but it seems to be the way that most people spell who it who are legitimate sellers of the prodeuct started in … wha whah wha bleep goes the bell you guessed it! Johnny boy you ot it and now you get to receive yowhat you’ve gott coming!!! Yes you do and the prize and the prixze he repeats hmslef is a stubborn old toad woman that kissed an electric eal that was once wwimming but got hits head chopped of itn hell’s kitchen . ooops I idn’t mean that . But nevertheless there’s a wise oold patriarch who mutters the words dear hell under his breatht and looks at the brightly lit str a o  the Christmas mantle loava molten rock you abase me ! how dare you! I will not call the  busters this tiem time, but there’s always next time so prepare all your twentu neuggests so prepare all your twenty nuggests like soldiers lining up in the cocker pots and seave your five dollars for a rainy day. I didn’t say that I take it b ack. Save a penny gain a peeny I ca t keep goig like this nothing is coming but then I know what comes what comes a little part of sandle that that damn dog took etween his little damn dog mouth and cipped a nail spur like there was neothing else to do. I want my sandal back . The little pinnochio I mean what’s his name? Normal? I think that little chihahwwwwwa stands on its crooked back legs and tuts his front spaws on his hibs where the doggie ribcage ends. He looks at me and says the folling. Your sandelal is not as important thas the rug that I just took a poopie on. So clean up the cppop now, and save your sandal for the beach rain. Oh my doggie pains. You got a voice like that guys that pays god in the Truman show, I think his name was christofff. Kind of like an anagram of Christ but something else entirlely. I lok bag back at that little chiwawawawawa with this hands I mean paws on his hibs read rib cage, and look him str9 in the little bulging eyeround eyes that say to me … don’t you mess with this little chiwawawa and that’s a rap folks thoh yeah, I forgot to sya what I said to the poohc. I bought that leather sandal in the spring of 2---1 in an Abercrombie and fitch weaved basket that sant in front of the checkout line where the white toothe  white toothed  brown crown boys in the cargo shorts whistled at the guy in the front of the store with his pecktoralis majors just taking up a heavelheavenload likke a box space of time. Or something I wanted to say a medium sized bookboxy that u haul produece. I bought them sandals I continure with three peenies and  a twenty dollard bils. So that makes the total 20 dollars and three cents. But of course, I ghabd to give a little more away because I ended uppaying the maleman who was standing boom boom pow the music goes on the the beachies surf throughtout the store finding the perfect jeam fit, for the leggings are not hot yet.  uOh but they will be come three years. That legging that you didn’t wsee in 200-5 will  om agin int the 20011. But wait! That’s not all folks, there is a winner amon us and that winner is going to win a trip to Canterbury lands where he will mean meet the pilgrim the knight and thw wife of Bath shut it! I say there isn’t a oie in here, just a maple leaf. Is that so, well I take upon myself your maple leaf, annd raise your celeb celery stick poooncho ponsho where the hell idid you come from phncho? Serioiusly? NO no  no carrot top. There wasn’t any coarrots around here totototototo. Oh jesus there was a pretty little tune that sarah may sang along coast highway 101 when there were no cars just shifty bikes that the bm brown boys stole around the corners nah I think about the tune from the wizard of oz when the olad lady aunty em is riding her bicicle tryig to get a hold of to to to . Why does she like that dog so badly>? I thnk I thkn he’s actually kind of a sweet pooch, I do. But those fingernails on theose paws are painted flashy pink! Who would do that to a og. At least pick a color that goes with the name to e toe toe … that dog is a menace to society she says and points a scaly alligator finger at the muszzle of the cchumpanzeee. ZEEE!!! Seee that was a good fingerlookin/

 Good time I got ther. But now be warned skyscaper there are onsequesnces for your aactions. This time you may get away with stealing the metal capte that has the magic flowers instead of powers but hell s no! You wounldnt ignore me would you. I follow the map on te wall. The wmap on the wall, the map on the wall with the exit trap oodoor that says go this way. A trap door? Where did this trap door come from? I will tell you it did not just cartoonishly appear out of nowhere like that basball glove that bopsopops about of a rocket box twing twang. That’s not right I tell you there was a boxing glove and idd it win bext picture I should hope not! Bear skyple!!! Bear that way! The boy with the oily hair points towards the man in the beaar suit wholifts the lid of the hurricane stowaway lid, and says, follow me, men! I couldn’t do it. Oh and that hurricane wept like a gingersnap . Wet and soggy was she, this hurricane , sweeping sweeping weeping seeping accrous the lands of Narnia and behond! Get thou down this trap door said the crater man with the spugs. No, not that way That way is to the fairy castle . We are going underground undground undgeroun I tell you. Oh yes, and meegosh, gloss that trp door behindyou so the sinds of the willows cannot trapeze our company and fly let the abies fly through the sky. He turns to the wizersds with the cone caps. We don’t want tha t babies to fly away. They wont said wizards noumber 1 unlesss… and he lowers his head to whisper to meegosh. Unless you take the key with the kabali stirng and make it into a turnip sausce. I hate I hate I hate turnip turnip szuace. My grandother made it with a brown uttkey stuffinf, and that ws the one tie I dare say I did I DID throw up that pastry. Grandma said there would be never more a thanksgiving unless I hate my mashed potatoes. Oh dear said wizard number 007 > I didn’t know that you’ve hate such a grnad old time with that turnip juice. Hmmm the wizard thought. I don’t want to make meegosh turn this string of thread into a turnip. Sooo I will make him put it in his mouth at one ends and then pull the other end out of his nostrol nose. Sniffer gong bong. Hmmm I like that much better said the boy, his long dark eyelashes batting with a thoughtfull grin. Oh you little sinner. You grin you gr grin shows the markings on your SOUSOULL~!!! Your grin is farrrrr too big sai the pirateOH my! Where did the pirate come fromsai Dorothy. He needs space to think to. We would not want him to wash away with the stom on or without the plankety plank ship ….. or was that supposed to be a shit on the little chow chow. Ohhh that sound syummy said darth. He was thinking of a lithght mayonnaise suase on spaggehtti with a side of shoeballs. Never in my life, darth cried, habe a tasted anything so delicious. He stopped momentarily. As a tear came out from the big black plastic maske!!!! What? I habe a son!1 that’s not all folks . Darth, said the wizards we are going to tell you one last time that you absolutely must not cry unless there is a doue a good reason. But but but You didn’t know what I was theinking and that breath came through the coils of the bottom mouth mask. Heeeeeeee…. Heeeeeee…. Heeeee I was thnking about spaghetti and mayo .

What said thae boy . No way said toto that’s impossible. I haven’t heard of the may and spaghetti until wait no I meant to go back in tieme to the desert where the feather topped a dirty red facce. With a scalpel and scaplp in the right hand clutched bravely cleanched with veines popping out of sindian jam bone. This is my scalpel and my scaple scalp of another beastly man trying to take our land. I hold this here scalp” and the Indian looks towards the master chief who said yes my dear. I gforgot to mention that this is not really a typical tripe of American Indians this tribe of Indians are all gay and with this gay spirit they are able to conjure the gods of all the penissis who ever walked our earth. An And my time is up folks I gone on much too long thatn I intended too…. 

The following is a press release for patient advocate Lori Hartwell

Patient advocate Lori Hartwell has fourth kidney transplant

Kidney patient advocate Lori Hartwell has headed home for rest and relaxation five days after her fourth kidney transplant on Feb. 4.

Hartwell founded the Renal Support Network in 1993 and has acted as a voice for kidney patients on issues such asanemia, the ESRD bundle , the transition adjuster, the Kidney Care Quality and Education Act of 2007, and forcomprehensive immunosuppressive drug coverage for kidney transplant recipients.

In addition to legislative advocacy, the Renal Support Network helps educate and empower patients to take control of the management of their disease.

RSN provides a toll-free help line, the HOPEline, organizes a renal teen prom every year, conducts patient surveys, holds an annual essay contest and even produced a critically-acclaimed play.

Hartwell has also authored many articles for NN&I.

In addition to her work with the Renal Support Network, Hartwell also authored a book, Chronically Happy, and writes her own blog.

"An illness teaches you many lessons and allows you the opportunity to meet incredible compassionate giving people that help you on your journey," Hartwell wrote in her blog.

The renal community is lucky to have her.

Dr. Hilarious has lost his sense of humour....

Sequined dragon iht the glass and hollow tail hollowed be thy name in 198454 th herrick twins were observing a flowering cactus plant when their mother called from the kitchen of smoked red brick. The signs are just coming in from the paper. The letters from the editor have arrive boys. I don’t want do read it, derrick said though when he looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders the other brother the herrick twin could only guess that what his brother was really fearing was a sense of fear itself. Maybe he idn’tt want to find out that the letters were negative or maybe he didn’t want to find out that he had fialed. But really, what he didn’t want to find that that over and over and over and overt agina he had been used to being let down. In in the summer of 19645 theherrick twins were the first to receive thre letters of reommendation when his nrother was dialnosed with nd stage renal disease. This was not an uncommon trait or diwsease nut was was common were the letters going out to the families indicating that the time with the sons as limited. Or thrather that the time with the daughters awas s;imited how couldn anything bine more dissapointming thtthan a letter sayint you’ve been chosen bfor the greatest team college you wanted. You can have the beaufiful glass castle with the red shades and shutters of light brown majogany. The leather coered antigue Joshua tree that sits in the Italian made vase circa 190082 its

Is sooo old, he thought. We atre gtting so terribly terribly old. No were not. You are not at least.

I knownbut now you know thatwhat I’m seeing? You know what I’m beginning to see? I’m beginning to see a generationthat is so aware of its cold nature – the science of the life0- that the nature itself has been rep;aced with a cold new world of stmechanics roboti features, claws that pull human organs from their positions isn the human torso, and exchange these organs with the ones that don’t work. But one of the things the newer generation is discoving is that this comes at a cost. The cost is the humanesss. The cost is the renon-scienfiti commands, the hands that work inside the skin. There used to be a sense that when a physician laydelle his hands inside the cribs aof a dying man that the man had everything to lose and also everything to gain. But the old man didn’t expect anything. Now there are people who expect everything of science and move tin that direction accordingly. They want their gadget, their hgismost a pletnly. They want robotic arms that crain in the direction of the brain and pull from the lobe soft pieces of tissue .ike look like sausage meat. On a cabootdle. But what the machines really spit aout is a piece of humanity.. the I am” am fragile” capability that only the hans of a man or woman can ictagte over through the course of touch. The hard steal metal plates are awfully clean. They are gird and cold. They are they are a kind of sterility that can only be achieved in an artificial enfvironment. Envirtonment. The people of the kind of place tht is happening right now is both exciting and very sad. The reality is I don’t know…. That is the reality I live in a transition between the cold plates of steel that dig into the very human bodies lying on the ooperating table – that and the computr itslef00 making way for the extension of a life that is not more human—but artificially extended.

I don’t know if I can tolerate that kid of behanvior, said marggie.

I can’t imagine a place where the ducks that used to be simmin gin the tub are now popping their wide eyed glares throught the app of an iphone.

What kind of bath is this? What kind of cruel bath drowns the rubber duckie in his wide eyed crystalilized glare throught the looking glass at jesus face. There are no more .. .well maybe some—certainties. But not good certainties. Just frightening certainities that we have to at in the rain, like small rain drops that fall on our senses and dull the roots of ts elliots lengthy lenthy lenthy prose prose prose.

What I don’t wnt yo to feel is alone.

But that’s what the machines feel.

No they don’t

They don’t feel

Tey feel alone

They compartamentalize data over and over and over again

The repitition of number and letters becomes a kind of poem inside the wires that nobody really understands fully. What has happened today?

The letters are not sent out anymore. They are distributed by a click of a touch. The fingers touch the mechanical engine ant then the information si isent out to hundreds if not thousands of people. I am not complainting, george,

What a mouse was this?

You hid in the corner to find a cradle of haystacks.

What dirty floors that used to parade around the fourth of july on a Sunday afternoon. The sun was high hgigh high. The craters in the trench were smelling of dirt and pie and a la mode. There that can’t be undone. But how can it? Now the trenches are gas. The gas kills. And the gas will put to sleep the aching bones of the failing bodies. There is something that looks like love, approaches some kind of love, but never really has the weight of love.  Love is the weight of iron. Heavy and durble and it doesn’t break down under pressure. That’s the old love. The new love is in a machine carrying information. I love you, the machine says. And maybe the machine means to say it, but there is no substance to the letters or numbers or l or o or v or e. There is just the data that says something that means something that we know theoretically but can’t really carry the way the pilgrims carried their children across the dirt. Tehre is a teathered ball that swings around the poll.I hit the balls over again, swinging even when I miss, I miss you. I said. Come back to me. Come back to me. There, the ball of the teathered pole swings round and round the other peson is not aware how madly mad the ball needs, it needs to tighten to grasp the pole hard enough so that the rod quakes, it shakes, and quickers underneath the pressure of the tanted ball. The yellow ball. The sketched and tainted tied to a rod ball. Balls and chain. Swing the balls around the chainp--- champ. Part champ part rod, part chain, and part winner of the game. You never lost to me. I always won. But that’s not true it just seems like a cliché again along the borderline of another stupid cliché. The never never land where all the blue sparkling eyes get tossed into a crater of mud where they will loosely fall apart like the little white freckles of tost that crawl into the gras when one blows the lily fronds. Front yards are full of these miniscule umbrellas made of sparklers of th night that seem like stars. Stars in the day walking through the sky… flying an umbrella of protection. My wishes are that there be stillness, a kind of peace that can only come from wishes. Maybe not. The battle is a long one. The soldiers sing dirty songs with their flutes in their hands, their eyes gaged with intensity of mind. “My eyes” My eyes. They cannon see

You you you are blind, and what does the blind do? He of course leades the blind? Yes yes.

So there you go, doctor. Take your hands an dmaneuver them into the cradle of laproscopy. The cradle of forgiveness, the hands that heal are no longer human hands. They re the hands of the rocket. Pynchon, you were right all along. The rockets, especially the v-2 no longer the kind little penis rocket that had the power to propel life. The rockets we have now destroy the very life that the flesh rocket once provoked. Oh, how the little girl walking through the field of daiseies wishes she could lie there and just smell the smell of oldness. There is only the not smell of sterility. And that is deathly hollows. It is an empty smell like a fridge that has been emptied of contents and is only left with the iodine powde0—the white that makes that rotten cucumbers and boiling faling twisting tomotes browned and Brazilian old cheese from the inner ear it stinks so bad. Clean it up though. Let it wash away with the salt of the earth. The salt of the cheak that lay in the sand next to a friend in the sun of shore. Tides were late. The moon was low. But we didn’t want to go. We didn’t want to take the hike back up the cliffs where the toadstools had fragrence, where the cars wer parked reary to ride back back ucsd, past the institution of knowledge.e We had some kind of knowledge ehtne, you and me. We had the sun. It was all we needed, and maybe some sandwhiches or crabs from the bayliner that came in after 10;00 . We were not the early birds that the men out on the fishy ships were. We came in late when the red was bleeding into the sky, maybe on some days we saw the moon low even when the time on our phones read 4:00 / date / time/ ssituation/ comedy/ tradegy. It told us everything. It told us of the beer that was not to be tasted but yes you can drink it from a phone little one. How darling. Look at the little tike, sucking on the corner of the phone. It looks so alarmin!So young and so mature to taste the golden ale in the summer. We had our knowledge you and me. In the meanwhiles…. There were suckling babes at kettle branches stung like fuckering that distilled the brine. Brine branches that wipe the skin against the sour lemon raggedy lime juice. How the aloe healed the pinkish salt skin. I brush your salt skin. It feels sandy and glassy,; it smells like the waves. Seeweed wrapped around our shoulders dancing dancing dancing. And a smile beems from here to kingdom come the sun will glow in the evening and I take a picture. The camera snaps, it works so well to take a snapshat of our lives that we are wantinto capture. We capture us. We capture the sea, the weeds, the smoke, the chambers …. The songs the way we sang outr songs. They echoed through catholic halls that meant no harm but fishy went wayword, when catch a till, too many and there are nothing left to fish. They went somewhere theyclimbed the rocks at sunset. I watched as the boys disappeared int the upper ledge, and I imagined how they would look over the bliffs our ways. Back the ways we came and think, that was a good ride. That was a good time.But it keeps going! It does! Don’t forget that, ever little tike that dances with the weeds on her shoulders. When the legs are burning from the hike, lift up the shorts, pull the red bandana over the scalp that the Indian sun wants to tear apart. There is so much knowledge to be had behind the wires, behind the heart, and it hurts to know that it has all been lost and not lost simulataneously. But what of it? What of the stinking rags? Ad the aloe succulants that drink my water bushes? I will feed them all they need, says the sand and the sea and the beach and the water liiies. I will give you all that you could ever dream…

The lotus eaters sigh.

There was a cship that had washed up on silly seaward. There were ships along the coest but only one had the courage to dock and shock the rest of us. Loosely this is based on te ever steamy rock-talk that we had during the song” never let me go”. I was saying, yes you were saying. There was one boy who looked out over the sand from the ship he waved, the smile and laugh were like the puddles mixed with soap. Ashes and Bubble pops … otter pops that burn the upper nose.

Oh my Heavens to Betsy! My nose is Burning!!! It is the devils powder up there!!Dobnt let the sting get to you, the hotty totty ice mack can let you down. But never does it last.

OH, is that right old chap?

Oh young one, I am that one. But it doesn’t feel it. The age of the day travels like the speed of the camera lens on hyperwarp—the magnification, hyperventilation—of time.

But what of the docks? There were docks that never meant much, and somethat meant a peach pit. There were docks that held the rock-lives handed into spring-such painted with smiley faces. There were rocks that were painted with the lines. Pray. Tongight, pray. But did you ever pray to a rock ?

Sirus looks at a broken nail, and pulls at a piece of skin. “I wanted to believe in more than just a piece of earth.”

You will. I think you will. Right now it may just look like the cliffs are made of rocks, and the boys are climbing the stairway to a trailend where snakes bite and bit and the corals never sweep again. But boys will be boys, yes they will.

Now, now, I think looking up at that cliff, where I smell sweat and canopies of ginger juice on wet cotton collars sleeves. That is the time that we loved. The Nudes wrapped in nothing the but the blanket of July heat, and eucalyptus oil too. Banana boat, haninging in the cotton pouch for those who didn’t feel the necessary pride to parade the showings. The real estate homes sloaped over the edge of the bay. It looked as if the ramblings of an older author had left these homes for someone to pick up. To clean up the mess. To put the prose back together again. What happened years ago? What happened when I looked at the eyes of the text and the eyes didn’t look back ? they just wandered somewhere off into the next thought? A broken house hangs from the ledge of Tibbett coast.

You were there, you remember. Why don’t you just tell me? Stop with the fragments. Someone needs to rise, pinch the threading and knead the letters into a tapestry of words that actually mean something. The weight of the words can’t be found in a feather of fragmented thoughts. The thoughts are the flying umbrellas that we blow in the spring. The thoughts are the afternoon starbursts promising wishes to come. Say it aint so ash face.

Poppy licker.

Como Chingas. Growing from the weeds, in between the chopped fragments of grass, I will pull at my wishes, blow a stream of air through the thoughts, and there—wherever the wind takes the glowing dandy grains---there my dreams will grow.

In 1954 the herrick twins discovered that Lenny had a faulty organ. The keys, also called the nephrons, didn’t sing quite on key. Off kilter a kilt, to save a kite. A rocket will burn through the kite, and the boy hold the plastic yo yo looking dradel will be left with a limp noodle of a rope/string. I loathe that rocket right now. But the rainbow is appealing…. We’ll seee.

In 1954, in the bleached groins of the physician’s exam room, Mr. Hector heard an intonation he would rather not have heard. The intonation sounded like the respone a child gives when his mother has found the pieces of broken lamp glass lying on the floor. It seemed to say, what’s done is done, and…. It may not be the way you want it to be, but you’re going to have to turn lima beans into lime cud. Brave and cocky soldier. Get rick of the cock and just be a little brave with lower case limpers for once. Twist my arm and jingle a satchel of Chinese ringing ranging dangling cuttle spheres.  You know, the ones that make the ding dong chimes—sounds that seem to be coming from the space beyond the fingers five. One pinger and then the other, 1,2 3, four, five like the segments of the caterpeller, rotation and turn, pull and release. The spheres are moved.

Don’t let the salty sea choke you. I will watch—because right now I can’t swim—you will float. Treading water sideways inways underways. Take the million little pieces james, the pile—no the scattering—of cupcake rainbow spreckles. Eat em. Let em dissolve between the bottom tongue and tooth. Tooth and tongue. Watch it become something else. Transform. Transformation.

Simon calls from a rest-point where he rests his heavy buttocks on a nut branch.

You wanna go ahead? “ gesturing upwards, simultaneously wiping the sweat with a fruit of the loom cotton-sleeve.

You go ahead. I’m going to take a bag of trailmix out of my kit and cabbottdle and eat it with a spork.

Yeah?

More fun that way. And I hate raisins. No really, I dislike dried up grapes a lot.

Oh oh oh why let the blues sag the boobies down. Don’t got no braw, but gots my dignity… Gots my kidney beans. I make em into a stew—clever, huh? Chile with Coriander and mellow cumin. Organic, of course. 100%. Mmmmmmm with a seed-filled slice of watermelon on the side. Oh dear. I may not be able to publish this. Not PC. I love my friends, though, everyone of you. Even if you’re only in my head.

There there,” grandma sheivgard reached over to pull the pistachio cradle from the meat of the nut. “I gots it hunny.”

Oh dear, you know you’ve hit rock bottom when gradma has to split the nut. She’s got the wild fever, so she can take a couple wrinkly little fingers, use a little prune-lip action (the way a baby might suck on a pink nipple) and remove the shell from the good stuff.

“Don’t you just wish…” the coriander reminds me of dandelion, and that glowing afternoon starburst drifting off to bloom. “Don’t you just want a machine to do all the work?”

The boy in the overalls, osh-gosh-b-gosh— pushes a heroe’s plastic little tike toy mower across the lawn. The birds above the poolouse continue to yawn. Or rather, test their range. A beak is sheik. But inside the main house a physician prepares a slide of organic matter that will change everything.

“Don’t shay I didn’t warna, einshtein.”

a free-for-all letter to someone special in my life

Jennifer said that she wanted to sleep in the afternoon but the Carloggs would be arriving via train through Via Del Ragu on track to arrive at approcximately 2;-- pm. This iwould give us just enough time to pack a tin of apple slices and sandwiches with tepid cheese. Not warm because it is fresh cheese, but warm because it haas been sitting in the afternoon sun. Not in the shade but neer the beach water which is foaming at the mouth now. The flags warm the surfers that the tide is stronger than it usually is and that those who are inexperienced (much like muslf_ should keepaway from the water. Instead of jetting into the water, the rocks call like a rock does in the spring but really this isn’t spring but ummer , but it calls anyway. There are certain momets when one wonders if there is anything guiding the thoughts other than the rolodex of experiences being sifted through over and over. O e cared this day and another card that says the pink floyd concert at 80oo pm and then another which read the turdle dove art show will be showing the plaintiff seriers of lawman at the searer show. I wasn’t the best in my class, I knew that as much. I wasn’teven closs the to the top of my class. In fact, there was always a sencse that really, I was at the very bottom of my class. But that only menat what I thought it meant, which was that I was in reelation to the kids in my class, the one who scored the least on his testsand homework papers. But on comparison, there was a much greatere sense that surrounded this issue that came upon the discovery of the world outside of class. There are very few rules outdie the institution. The more you look at the institution, the more you realize how far away you are from any kind of real order. Ithe further away you movie from the order, the more the rules ben, or the more the spoon bends, or what, there isn’t eaven a spoon anyway is thetre? I hated hearing the rats at night, bthere was something about the feet moving along the baseboards that make me thing of swiss cheese, and how I never ever wanted to eat that stuff again. Where do the holes comes from anyway? I wonder if there was any kind of devil in the panes of the world. The windows were open to the nettlegrass but the horns were showing through even though mom tried to cover them with a sype of snake grease. The horns were nothing more than tusks that had belong to the tuscan elepant who had been pached like an egg in the winter of 1999 which is the day tht I had mytransplant. There are other concerns at this time but nothing too overwhileing. There is a snake ant a toad in the belly ad then within the confines of the toes a mokey sit. There are some things he wanted to say to his son. You are not a man, you are a boy, but you will not be a boy forever, the play will make sure thais is the case. The case. Oh yes! How could I have forgotten the case with three yellow ixon pencils and two red and pink pieces of screatch patper left over from the valentines day project that went unfinished because the girls wanted to suck their sugar free loolloipops. But I said, stop that . Stop that. You put those lollipops awyunitl you get your homework done. There are plenty of pop[s for everyone. There wasn’t enough to go around tbut there she stood, that behemonth woman with the dragon tail. I’ll let you know when its time to clock-out. Oh will you Shra? I bet you wouldn’t know a good joke if you had it licking your tomngue. That’s gross. I at e the tongue there are some people I know who have tongues that have caves and crevices and divots like the golf club. A divot is a spor ofn the grass where the lawn has bbeen pulled from the roots. It resembebes what I imagine a hurricane kartirna perporsing in the nightimte. But tsn’t such a thing as santa clause, said she, oh that kacly beth, she never knows when to keep her god damn mouth shut and when to keep her mouth open. Oh wait a minutew, acutlaly I think she definitely knowns when to open her mouth, but that’s something she needs to discuss with a ex addict counselnelr. There are words that don’t belong here, abut there is a clicking tackpp tap tap tap tapping of the keyboard that releases thewrods fo the days… eutting pfeelings into words putting feelings into words purttings feelings into words over and over again until the layers of words take up inches of space that and then wahat you have is a piece of layers of words that reselveme something that used to be just spoken but now how to be repeated in the format of text. Lets speak our thoughts. How are you feeling s beezu? I ddon’t really know how to put it?

There’s one way you can put if jeririg…

            Fine there’s not going to be a play said the salimander. Little wee coop is not going to do anything but swim in the doondoggles. I hate when I don’t get my way.

            Jerririgg” come inside right now you weasley little beast. I have something to show you that’s left over from valentines day. Oh really fool? What is it you want to show me.

I have a peppered ham.

No you don’t

Why would you doubt my peppered ham?

I love peppered ham I do, now slice it up and give me a pie full

A pie full! Why you little scragglefrock. I aughta box your ears I will There isn’t enough for everyone.

Suddenly there were too many eyes to count looking up from the dirty calloused homeless boy fingers But there hats were tipped to the side like the way they should be. Everyone listen. You get a choice, you either get to choose the apple fritters or the peppered ham slice of pie. Either one is going to kill you so choose wisely.

Come on mate, we haven’t got all day.

Jerririgg was trying to stall ever so schematically. He didn’t want to taske the peppered ham or the creamed lulligag. Everything is illuminated but nothing is clear. What What What? There was nothing I could do about that. Ok? Kapeach my little friend?

I think that ought to be a fine alternative. I say, let’s grow a peach tree and then eat of its fruit. But James took the last of the seeds for the trip. He’s gone now.

I don’t care if james took the last seeds of the moon. We are going to have a peach fest and we are going to do it in style, with juice and all!

Larrylag, how come you never talk?

I haven’t much to say, larry said simply. Although he thought momentarily in his head and he thought wait a minute, I actually have a lot to say, I just don’t quite know how to say it. Everyone thinks that the words are the only way to communicate but the colors say just as much wouldn’t you say sometimes? I mean, even literally there are moments when someone feels blew. And nowone wants to be near a yellow. That smells fishy. Categories put the order in the system but the system is so weak it can barely hold itself up. We have to hold it up said the chillens. We’re the pocking tape, the gooey galloosh, and the cement in harden times. Whens the rains a coming, the ‘creete is washed away. And that’s how I feel a little bit about the buidlng that’s going in downtown. There’s a big to do with Mr. Kelter, and Sister PrishMash, but the real problem isn’t the reality of the building but the time in which the building will last, wich won’t be more than 100 years of soliture. Mack says there won’t be anything after 2012. But Em says he’s wrong—0 that the mayans didn’t really have a mapped out calander just a calander that didn’t know the times after a certain date. What that means exactly really only looks like a foam sea that brings in a tide and sends the sand away with the sea. Tommy will wave goodbye on his forever ship and we’ll think of him fondly. But when it’s time to say goodbye we will shed a natural tears and move along with our days… that’s the way icarus goes now, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it seem to work backasswords that way? I don’t know said the little girl. Sometimes I think there was a santa clause and nobody really liked the idea of a fat old man bringing toys to tots and so the older grups just decided to x him out of x mas. Then all that was left of the jellybellies was the buttered popcorn flavor. You either love it or you hate it. On that note, there’s also the sour licorice. Lazy freckle wandering from the left ear lobe to the top of the temple. Why won’t you just fade away like the other fruckles? Little hub cap. Spinning the spuns. You’ve got the spins?So do I ! So do I . We can share the spins! You hold my skate and I’ll hold your hands. Together we’ll pair a nut with a tangeroo. What’s that mean, the tangeroo? Well, it means there something that comes around that goes around. I don’t want to give your hopes up. What if they were already given up a long time ago. What if all the hopes I once had flew away like the bird in the sparrow? Make it literary Thomas Pynchon said and that was that. He was birthed of a natureal cure for the common writers block. Remember gumby and block head? They were characters of the like. Seeping willings. I’m not willing to write just anything. I have my dignity! My fellow people, there were some of you that I’m afraid didn’t make the cut. For those of you that didn’t make the cut, please follow the man with the red horns with a large red fork in his right hand. His name is beelizbub, but he goes by many names… On with you  now. You wont be getting bodies this time around.

But but..

Nope nope, you won’t be getting bodies this time around. That/s just the way it goes. The speaker has spoken. Why you little cumnut. I won’t have it. The speaker has spoken and you will not only NOT get a body, but now you are going to take a dive in the tide pool. This is not a tidepool of comfort, mind you. This is a tide of lavarock and magma. Dr. Evil said it. Can’t you just hear him in the background saying magma I like it. Magma . It’s everyone’s fantasy. Well , perhaps not the coy little mistress with the flaxen hair. WonderlusT!!!! How could you be so deceptive. I told you the sercret about the crude colored valentine for little mickey. But she didn’t want it so I threw it away teacher. Fetch it out of the recycling bin. This is 1901. There is no recycling bin. In fact, I don’t think we even know that much about garbage anyway. In fact, the whold worlds a garbage we just don’t know it yet. But soon in the future very very soon there will be a man who coins the term WASTE. Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stomp the ingine running on you. There are so many ways in which I could say you are a blabbering genius. But I think I will stick to the gold and diamond studded bea, because  that is what I remember about you. I don’t like to get too sentimental but the hands that pinched my cheeks were always something of an anomlolie. There were often tears when you talked about you know who, how much he loved you, and how he gave you his heart in his hand. Sittin there in the Nantucket breeze I imagined the car you drove, the old ford t bone down the cobblestone but I couldn’t quite picture it so I had to think harder about what it was that you were trying to do with your story. There were small details, ike the worms coming out from the sidewalks when it rained. You recalled a yellow stamp from tuxcon that had a cactus sprig on its corner with a Mexican looking president in the foreground, a mustache attached with a gluegun. One time, the marble of an old expensive table collapsed and the boom shook the mansion just a little bit. Just enough so that my stomach jumped a little bit, twisted and my hand gestured towardsthe invisible flag. Everyone in the house went downstairs, jenny, Meagan, clark, Kelly, and there were quite a few wide eyed sausers. Sausages sizzled on conference Sundays. There was a drawer just belo the oven (which didn’t make sense because the oven reached such high temperatures) where the candies wer hidden from the kids. That’s the other problem. Who hides candies from the children in the bottom drawer where its most accesable? I don’t know but I still remember the closet with the triscuts and peaunut butter snacks taking them outside on a plate to the iron and glass beveled table. There was the suggestion to use a napkin which I never liked because my sleeve worked just fine. The apples were left to brown. But later that Christmas, the new c that I had just received played on in the east wing, come out my back side and travel with new york city she gone she gone away and I know not where to find my Jackie. My Jackie. OH Jackie, you been bad, but I still love you Jackie. Christmas found a mouse in the cupboard but that didn’t matter because I felt good inside down to my toes down to everything. Down to my penis even! It pointed in the right direction for once!!! Who knew? Not I said the little hen with feathers of tawny tan. There were others that wouldn’t make the cut. It wasn’t that the experience was particularly cruel, but that the motiviation behind the action was initiated by fear. And when theres the initiating of action on account of fear, then the who tide gets turned upside down. The sand crabs run from the childrens fingers digging in the wet sand. The red and yellow and blue san buggets buried halfway in the shore. Sometimes I think that I know what loves all about. But when I see your face, I know it’s alright, I know its alright. Even when it doesn’t feel that way whem you have to say goodbye. Goodbye old friend. My cheeks may not miss the pinch, but I will miss the way you ask, "are you still singing? Still writing? How is UCLA?". It doesn't matter that we're completely different people, because you found aspects of my life fascinating, and I still love peanut butter and triscuts.  : )