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 |   The catch-all for items related to and/or inspired by the music that shaped me. |
  "'It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.' -Rainer Maria Rilke. Use this quote in your blog entry today."Hey fam!! Been a long time since I stepped into this pair of well-worn shoes my portfolio's closet is storing. Been tryin' to keep up with y'all on the newsfeed here and Facebook and Twitter, but lately it's been #WDCafterdark and OMG Cinn  is back and SB Musing  is back and and and And on top of that, I had shoulder surgery a couple weeks ago, but I'll go further into detail about it later (which might not be much later cuz I do get fatigued easily when I'm not in the sling still). So anyway, Spring. Yeah, I totally get what RMR is tryna say...the rebirth of beautiful things and all. When I was a younger man with seeds a-waitin' to sow, I loved springtime. I felt the renewal around me like it was a second heart growing in the empty spaces the cold, icy NY winters vacated. Sometimes seeing fresh green grass after 4-6 months of it being covered by snowbanks means something...it means your ass better get out there and clean up all the gum you chucked out there before entering the house cuz Pop Diesel can't stand your gum-chewing. Wads of gum are very unbecoming in the front garden, my friends, and they do nothing for the land. Spring though, seriously, always made me a tinge more motivated and romantic. Renewal. Rebirth. Restructuring. Baseball season starting. Hockey playoffs. Easter and Reese's PB/chocolate eggs. A young man's heart turns to thoughts of fancy, or some shit. And I truly believed in it, whether I was in love or not. And how can you dissuade a man who has all that optimism and everything under the bright yellow springtime sun going for him? That's why I'm here, brothers and sisters. Pull up a chair and lemme tell you. At 44 I've lived through enough springtimes to know it's all bullshit (#sorrynotsorry for the harsh language, but it's true). First off, it's the end of February. Spring isn't happening for another month. Last night in Central NY it rained. Hooray! Did the snow go away? No! I live 8 floors up, and I can see the tops of buildings, and the hills in the distance (I have a great view), and the park across the street, and there's snow still all over every-fucking-thing. That's not cool. I don't make the rules, sorry, but that's not cool, and you know it. Plus, there are rumors being floated by weathermen and weatherwomen that we're supposed to get a major snowstorm later this week. Like, feet, not inches. Of snow. Kiss my ass. My weather app on my laptop said it was supposed to rain all afternoon, so I cancelled my physical therapy appointment (I was also stuffy and feeling not up to snuff as far as the shoulder goes, but whatever). I'm not fond of going outside when I don't have a jacket I can wear over my sling and can basically wear a hoodie and Skidz  (yes yes y'all, Skidz are back!! And you know I grabbed a couple pairs, cuz don't front on my 90's style...Kylie, you know you want the tie-dyed joints!). I ain't tryna get sick up in here along with limited use of a limb. Especially not with the Coronavirus goin' around and our president DGAF about it (but that's another blog entry for another time yo). But whatevs, anyway, as gloomy as it's looked all day, it never rained, and I should've gone to PT. February is the worst fucking month ever and should be replaced on the calendar by something involving a beach, drinks, swimsuits, and frolicking. Adults need a damn Spring Break too! Mandatory good weather and a little time off in the middle of the winter blahs (or worse). That's not asking for much, is it? I don't think so, and hell, I usually have no reason to be anywhere important ever. I'm doing this on your behalf, friends. Let's get this, and let us move on.   Ok ok, all y'all knew I was going with my man the diabolical Biz Markie today. I was an even younger man when this joint came out, and you know you loved it back in the day. There isn't much more I can say about this blast from your past. Just enjoy the funk and the amazingness of the Biz. "Spring Again" -Biz Markie"Don't you like when the winter's gone and all of a sudden it starts gettin' warm? The trees and the grass start lookin' fresh and the sun and sky be lookin' their best."   Ok, you know my homegirl Samberine Everose is searching for WDC's Heartthrob Poet and is looking for your help! She tagged me at one point and I was like "Yo, I just had my body ripped open, and I don't write lovey-dovey stuffs on the usual anyway" but other people did and you can be heard here:
 And y'all know I love Lilith of House Martell  ! There's a new prompt up at her jam, which is way too festive for me and speaks more about my makeup than anything else.
 My💯 homie for life Cinn is bringing back "Invalid Item" and I can't promise I'll take part each and every day but I may stop in there a lot just to check shit out and scope out some new poets and maybe share some friends I've stumbled on along the way. Kylie needs some donations though, so if you respect poetry but don't get it, here's your chance to show it some love.
 And finally, ok. Many of you know. At the beginning of the month I had rotator cuff surgery. It's the group of muscles that holds the shoulder together. Apparently, I had a lot going on in there, necessitating the shaving of my collarbone and rearranging the muscles and tendons after getting rid of bone spurs and arthritis nonsense. Don't take for granted what you can do with two arms or even your good arm. Part of the reason I postponed PT today is because one of the five incisions (the big one) still doesn't feel right (it's not infected though) and the shooting pains I get when I move the wrong way make me feel like I'm not ready for PT yet. But you'd think everyone in town's getting something worked on, with the tightness of schedule my place is dealing with. Til then, I'll do my little exercises at home, loosen it up, and get pissed off at the sling when I try to nap or sleep through the night. "Let your body heal" they said. It'll be great, they said. There is no comfortable position in which you can sleep in while wearing a sling and cushion that is about the size of a brick and a half, with very little give. Oh sure, it looks like I'm injured doing badass stuff, but it's been going on for almost a year. If you're Instagram-friendly you can see the loaded diaper I was packed with upon leaving the hospital. At least my tattoos were not bothered...the snotty nurse, on the other hand, wanted to take out all my piercings (they can't be taken out by me, cuz I have no idea how) and was a total bitch about it, until the anesthesiologist came in and was like "let's tape over them" which was great until I realized I taped my hair to my earrings. Exponentially was the discovery that no care was taken for my chest hair while bandaging me up as if I were being shipped overseas. The swelling, the bruising, the ripping off of everything...I hope you never have to suffer like that again, while witnessing your open wounds. My chest isn't what you'd consider "bushy", but for the love of all things I stand for, under normal circumstances if you rip out my chest hair we're gonna fight. To have it ripped out by what looks to be the color of packing tape, I will just start drama under circumstances of duress while not knowing what I'm doing, and for that I apologize. Whatever the pain pill was, Hydrocodone, isn't my friend and does nothing for me as far as pain, nor does it curtail my whatever it is when I'm under the influence. Alright y'all...you've heard about enough out of me to last me a few weeks or so (save PTH). I'm gonna go make me some dinner, whatever than means, and take a nap before #Sabresafterdark (and if you don't know, don't bother asking, please). Y'all know I love you guys...peace, thinkin' about the ol' happy days, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! If you don't like this we can't be friends.  |
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