Archive | November, 2012

Aspergers syndrome

30 Nov

Aspergers syndrome – What it is like

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Dope ass version of “The Walrus and The Carpenter”

28 Nov

Da Walrus n’ Da Carpenter

Lewis Carroll

(from Through tha Looking-Glass n’ What Alice Found There, 1872)

 

Da sun was shinin on tha sea,
Shinin wit all his crazy-ass might:
Dude did his straight-up dopest ta make
Da billows smooth n’ bright–
And dis was odd, cuz it was
Da middle of tha night.

Da moon was shinin sulkily,
Because her ass thought tha sun
Had gotz no businizz ta be there
Afta tha dizzle was done–
“Itz straight-up rude of him,” her ass holla’d,
“To come n’ spoil tha fun!”

Da sea was wet as wet could be,
Da sandz was dry as dry.
Yo Ass could not peep a cloud, cuz
No cloud was up in tha sky:
No birdz was flyin overhead–
There was no birdz ta fly.

Da Walrus n’ tha Carpenter
Were struttin close at hand;
They wept like anythang ta see
Such quantitizzlez of sand:
“If dis was only cleared away,”
They holla’d, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maidz wit seven mops
Swept it fo’ half a year.
Do yo ass suppose,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“That they could git it clear?”
“I doubt it,” holla’d tha Carpenter,
And shed a bitta tear.

“O Oysters, come n’ strutt wit us!”
Da Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant strutt, a pleasant talk,
Along tha briny beach:
Our thugged-out asses cannot do wit mo’ than four,
To give a hand ta each.”

Da eldest Oysta looked at him,
But never a word he holla’d:
Da eldest Oysta winked his wild lil’ fuckin eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meanin ta say he did not choose
To leave tha oyster-bed.

But four lil’ Oystas hurried up,
All eager fo’ tha treat:
Their coatz was brushed, they faces washed,
Their shoes was clean n’ neat–
And dis was odd, cuz, yo ass know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oystas followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick n’ fast they came at last,
And more, n’ more, n’ more–
All hoppin all up in tha frothy waves,
And scramblin ta tha shore.

Da Walrus n’ tha Carpenter
Walked on a mile and so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all tha lil Oystas stood
And waited up in a row.

“Da time has come,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“To rap of nuff thangs:
Of shoes–and shizzles–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why tha sea is boilin hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” tha Oystas cried,
“Before our crazy-ass asses have our chat;
For a shitload of our asses is up of breath,
And all of our asses is fat!”
“No hurry!” holla’d tha Carpenter.
They gave props ta his ass much fo’ that.

“A loaf of bread,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“Is what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses chizzlely need:
Peppa n’ vinegar besides
Is straight-up phat indeed–
Now if yo ass is ready, Oystas dear,
Our thugged-out asses can begin ta feed.”

“But not on us!” tha Oystas cried,
Turnin a lil blue.
“Afta such kindness, dat would be
A dismal muthafuckin thang ta do!”
“Da night is fine,” tha Walrus holla’d.
“Do yo ass admire tha view?

“It was so kind of yo ass ta come!
And yo ass is straight-up nice!”
Da Carpenta holla’d not a god damn thang but
“Cut our asses another slice:
I wish yo ass was not like so deaf–
I’ve had ta ask yo ass twice!”

“It seems a muthafucka,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“To play em such a trick,
Afta we’ve brought em up so far,
And done cooked up em trot so quick!”
Da Carpenta holla’d not a god damn thang but
“Da butterz spread too thick!”

“I weep fo’ you,” tha Walrus holla’d:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs n’ tears he sorted out
Those of tha phattest size,
Holdin his thugged-out lil’ pocket-handkerchizzle
Before his streamin eyes.

“O Oysters,” holla’d tha Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall our crazy-ass asses be trottin home again?’
But answer came there none–
And dis was scarcely odd, cuz
They’d smoked every last muthafuckin one.

Turkey in the Straw – Happy Thanksgiving

21 Nov

 

Turkey in the Straw

Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes

14 Nov

Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.

Henry Miller

from: For The Fallen

12 Nov

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Laurence Binyon
WWI Poetry: On Veterans Day, The Words Of War

Hiding with my loneliness

4 Nov

 

Wiki info

 

Sometimes you got to be “Cruel to be Kind”

2 Nov

This song seems apropos (video Рnot so much, in fact it appears to be uncorrelated)

Later version by Letters to Cleo: