Ghimeabragh, Prose & Poetry

Consistency in my podcasting

it ain’t there. I admit it. When I had “FANBLA” which was my Colbert Report pod, it was consistent. Now? I laugh… it’s unfocused, and that ain’t good. it’s all over the place. and it makes me sad. and that sadness makes me procrastinate till “too late!!” play a rerun, kids. Hell, even my FB pages languish, and they’re awesome. Too many “Heroes of the Republic” and “Internet KØØks of the Week”.

What’s an Attention Deficit Chick like me to do?

I really need to get out more.

Prose & Poetry

The Curse of Cheetolini

This past Monday I suffered a nasty bout of food poisoning. or was it? Could it be that my body was just ridding itself of the “poison” that is our current political climate? The first indication that I was not at all well was the feeling of gas that felt like I was going to explode. Was this an indication that I could no longer tolerate the gasbag in the white house? Feeling not all sure, or even well enough to seriously contemplate this, I took to my bed. It just made the feeling worse. Even more unnerving was that every time I endeavored to sleep, I’d get the “run don’t walk” signal to get to the bathroom. Suffice to say I didn’t sleep at all that night. Then during one run, I barfed. I barfed ORANGE! ORANGE! and it was then I knew it was indeed the curse of Cheetolini, as I was fine food wise until I ate those damned CHEETOS.

No More!

Prose & Poetry

My first NaNoWriMo

A few years ago, I did the “write a script in 30 days” for naNo, and now, I am challenging myself to write and FINISH a novel in 30…..

Will I succeed? Or suck eggs?

UPDATE:  It’s now Nov29, and I can happily report that my NaNoWriMo outing has ended in less than 4 pages…


There’s next year.

And, now a song from Rocky Mountain MIke.

Chemo, Prose & Poetry, Reprints & Crossposts


I never felt I belonged anywhere. I felt “outside”. Even within my family, I felt like I didn’t quite belong there. Still do.  Why I feel this way, I don’t really know. I made a decision decades ago, that with exceptions, the people I knew just didn’t want to be around me. I’d want to call and ask if they wanted to go to the movies or something, but something inside me stopped me by telling me I’d be wasting my time.

This nonsense was amplified when I became brain injured and then homeless. Added to these feelings was an embarrassment and shame due to my inability to discuss contemporary culture. How can you watch the latest, hottest shows go to the theater or even read a book when you have no attention span, or even access to a tv?

Two years ago, I hospitalized myself because jumping out a window seemed a good idea. I am dealing with major depression. I lived in shelters for about a year –  you can read my series “The Sheltered Existence” on this blog it wasn’t a great experience, it wasn’t bad, either. it was what it was.

I’m in a stable environment, and was just getting myself stable, when Stage 1 breast cancer kneecapped me. Diagnosed in March, surgery in May, Chemo began in June. It’s amplified my depression. It’s made somewhat of a prisoner in my 200sq ft of studio.  Just because I get dressed and decide to go out, doesn’t mean it will happen.

I’m going to be live streaming the Farewell to My Hair, as enough of it has fallen out to reveal islands of scalp. My friends will be watching from California to hear in NYC and cheering me on. Tonight, I found out that crazy improvisers from the Magnet Musical Mixer miss me.

Truthfully, it made me cry.
I don’t feel too much of an outsider anymore.

Prose & Poetry

I have Chemotherapy

yes, chemotherapy. I had a lumpectomy two weeks ago, and although the cancerous spots were all removed, and the lymph nodes are clear, I have chemotherapy. I was diagnosed with HER2 Positive cancer, which means, even though the got it all, I have to undergo 5 years of chemotherapy, as it’s a rather aggressive form of cancer. Non-genetically inherited, just over-active proteins on the outside of the cell that turn to mildew from mutation.

So, I have Chemotherapy, and not cancer.

Prose & Poetry

Language Work

Yesterday, was a very long day for all of us in MacB*th – we were working with our dialect coach, “dialect doug” on the Original Pronunciation of Shakespeare’s English. Making things difficult, was that during this time, the English language was changing, so words pronounced in his earlier plays, such as Twelfth Night, had by the time of James I, were pronounced differently. most interesting of all, is learning that the “k” in such words as “knock”, “knight”, “known” was voiced until about the18th century. 

We went over the basics of phonetics, and the Cardinal Vowels, where the tongue is placed and how the tongue & lips form the sounds of that era. I must state, that “OP” is a scholarly reconstruction, by David Crystal,  based on Ben Jonson’s work, and clues in the works of Shakespeare and earlier playwrights.

It was a long day for all, starting at 2pm, and ending at 10 pm, with a dinner break. As my pia mater tired, I kept trying to focus, and found my working memory had taken a hike. Still, I did my best to properly place my tongue and use a rounded lip, and, it blew. 

“Go slow and let nature take you, always do your best, and be kind to yourself.”- Gary Busey.

Prose & Poetry

Memento Morii

From my facebook page:
My Father, Marcel Willem Nathans, passed away 15 minutes ago at the age of 90, after a brief illness. Born in The Hague, Netherlands, he attended the Universities of Leiden and Utrecht graduating weeks before the occupying Germans closed it. Rather than submit to the deportation order, he went into hiding. After the war, he joined the Dutch Resistance/Army where he was tasked with guarding collaborators. My father also served with the British Army as a translator, earning the rank of Sergeant.

He came to America, getting off the boat in Hoboeken, NJ. He moved to Berkeley to attend U C Berkeley, where he graduated with his Ph.D in Chemistry Magna Cum Laude. It was through a cousin that he met our Mother, Gloria Janet Harris (1922 – 1988),  in San Francisco. They were married for nearly 40 years before she passed. They’re back together, now.

I love you, daddy. I always will Kiss mom and grandma for me.
Marcel Willem Nathans – April 16, 1922 – December 8, 2012.

There is so much more to my father’s life than that short description. He played soccer at Leiden, though you’d never have known it. Dad wasn’t too much into sports. He played the piano. Quite well. He was a jokester. a good cook. He wrote a first year college chemistry text that is still in use, titled Elementary Chemistry. He worked with Edward Teller at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory. He is one of the survivors interviewed by Spielberg for his shoa memorial. He played chess very well. He never gave up. In some ways, he never grew up, either. He loved his children and grandchildren. Women loved him. 🙂

I’m here in NYC, several thousand miles away. It never stopped us from talking. I loved the sound of his voice. I am thankful I had once last chat with him. The last time I saw him, was at his 90th birthday celebration. yes, there were changes in him physically, still it was my dad. We even managed to avoid a food fight at the party.

My dad, ca 1938
My father, age 16

Good night, daddy.