So I Say GOODBYE

In the morning I may wake 2 smile or maybe 2 cry
but first 2 those of my past I must say goodbye

--Tupac

I really wish I could start my life over.

She has legs

She had young legs. They were long and lean and ended in a tight, heart-shaped ass. The outline of her thong pushed through the thin material of the beige, designer jeans, high cut, with cuffs. She was in constant movement, whirling, dancing, and bending, so your eyes were always drawn back to those legs. The red sandals had a raised heel that accented her calves just enough. The red blouse kept flashing into your line of vision, but those legs kept drawing you back. The sweep of light brown curls on her head was also in constant motion. Being Hispanic, she wore a tube of bright red lipstick. Eventually, you did actually look at her face. Despite the arch of her neck, her throat hung rather loosely. The rigidity of the botoxed cheeks contrasted with the suppleness of the legs. The final picture was somewhat different from the initial impression. Kind of like when you finally find all the parts of a Picasso Cubist portrait of a woman and then realize she's nothing special. The lady with the legs wasn't quite what she was trying to be. But then, who is?

KU-U-I-PO (Elvis Presley cover)

I discovered this amazing young woman while not sleeping last night and going through videos on youtube on my iPhone. I love her covers of Elvis' songs, but she does a beautiful job with every song.

Every breath I take

It's always amazing when you experience something new and then you run into people who are all experts in it or know everything about it. Now that I've done the second part of my sleep study, I've run into a bunch of people (either online or have really met them) who either have sleep apnea, sleep with someone who has it, or know someone who has it or know someone who sleeps with someone who has it. If the decision is made that I have to wear the mask that resembles something a fighter pilot would wear, I might opt out of it. It will be interesting to see what my oxygen levels were during the periods when I was actually sleeping with the mask on as opposed to the first study and those oxygen levels, which dropped considerably when I was not actually breathing. I described it to someone as imagining that you're sleeping with an octopus on your face. I thought of a couple other analogies, but I'll keep it clean. Still, it is funny how many people have told me they wear the mask or know someone who does. They say it will improve the quality of my sleep and my life. That's probably a stretch.

The sleep part will probably get better. My life will continue to suck.

Mono no aware

"Joy is easily forgotten while grief and especially the pain of love are long-lasting."

Motoori Norinaga

"The Littlest Church in America"

If you Google the smallest church in America, many candidates are presented. I was curious because I remembered seeing a sign for "The Smallest Church in America" alongside I-95 when I would be driving up North. This time, I was determined to stop and see it. As luck would have it, when I went up to Boston this time, I didn't follow the same route, so I didn't see the sign, which I thought was in South Carolina. On my way home, I came down from Buffalo and took a different route. Eventually, while driving through Georgia, in between the deluges, I saw the sign. This time, I was determined to see it.





The church was built on land donated by Mrs. Agnes Harper in 1949. She didn't have much money but wanted a place where any traveler or anyone else could stop by and worship God as they deemed fit. A Reverend G. W. Ward became its pastor and offered services there. It happened every third Sunday, but they also did baptisms and weddings. Reverend Ward also maintained the church after Mrs. Harper died. He died in 2003, and it wasn't clear who the pastor is now or if there is one. A Mrs. Effie Young became the caretaker according to the brochure in the church. It exists on donations (I left money in the collection box--which sometimes does get robbed). Its income was about $300 a year. Apparently, the McIntosh County Chamber of Commerce took it under its wing and looks out for it. I want to pursue that and see if I can help out.

The building, as you can see, is tiny, about 10 X 15 feet. There are wooden chairs inside, and it could hold about 10 people. There are stain glass windows, which have sometimes been stolen or broken by vandals. It is never locked, and when you open the front door, the lights go on. It does look like it is still in use. There is also a notebook that people have signed. The trend seems to be to sign in memory of a departed loved one, so I left a memory of my late wife, Alberta Mary.

Not being overly (or overtly) religious, I admire what Mrs. Harper did and started and the tenaciousness of the little church. If you are ever driving up or down I-95 through Georgia, get off at exit 67, and visit the church. It's just down the road and a century back.

With apologies to Robert Browning

My Last Duchess

There she stands as if alive.
--Robert Browning

My last duchess hangs alone in cyberspace.
Megabytes and gigabytes dissemble her face
yet her countenance beams a smile too kind
when drawn forth to the monitor of my mind.
Would that an artist’s hand had created this alone
so that her image and her memory were my own
and not for anyone who gave her a passing glance
who she deigned to engage in her ritual dance
blithely slipping and spinning away with youthful joy
exchanging her suitor, aging and gray, for today’s boy.
Mistake me not, dear sir, for she did smile for me,
and even now I hold her memory with certain glee.
Though from my midnight embraces she often fled,
I thought all would lie well once upon our marriage bed.
Sharp intellect, rapier wit, and clever conversation
could not erase the image of impotent prostration
that contrasted so sharply with memories of lovers
past and passion spent in the arms of ghostly others.
The once-wild stallion, limping home at break of day,
cannot compete with the lusty reveries of yesterday.
Let me clear the screen of her before we speak again,
I see you lingering upon her features as did all men
wishing you could have beheld her in her living state.
Vex me not, my friend, lest you end up sharing her fate.
Come now, surely you saw that all was said in merry jest.
Let’s go out and stake a new maiden above all the rest.