Sunday, October 6, 2013


I want to thank Jade Kerrion for allowing me to participate in her book launch for the 4th book of her Award-Winning Series, "Double Helix -- Perfection Unleashed!" 

It's easy to do stuff for Jade, because she does all the heavy lifting and besides, she's gorgeous, funny, brilliant and oh, so original. So, she's always welcome here on Nebraska Ave, 33605, 33602, 33604.

Seriously, I just fumble around, do a little HTML code stuff (badly, if you haven't noticed or been blinded by the appearance of my blog) and punch some buttons, and voilĂ ! I'm done. Not that I'm lazy. Much. 

Last year, Jade told me about this little shindig called NaNoWriMo, a festival of finger cramping, where you type 50,000 words during the month of November. I guess you're supposed to have a plot and characters and things. Naturally, I was immediately taken with this concept and got very excited and signed up. I wrote exactly 1737 words in 2012's NaNoWriMo. I hope to best last year's total THIS YEAR; that's all I'm going to say. Life keeps happening. On November 3rd of 2012, my E. T. (Essential Tremor) powered up, or leveled up, for you gamers, or in normal people's jargon, got worse and it was a mess. This not having medical insurance and all back then, was just one disaster after another.

Besides being a first-rate ranter, and an imaginative cuss-word artiste, Andi-roo is one of my first blogging buddies. Truly inspirational as well as ferociously honest and loving, she is my hero! xoxoxo (Andispeak for love and shit)

Andi-roo says calamity now makes for great stories later. She's absolutely right and I have some humdingers. A quick glimpse; I celebrated "Mental Awareness Month" by being committed for most of it, and this wasn't what I had scheduled for March of 2011. Ironically, that St. Patrick's Day in 2011 is one of the few I remember, because throughout my adult life, like all good Scots, I was usually blotto. Let's not even talk about St. Andrew's day (patron saint of Scotland, November 30.) By the way, I quit drinking years and years ago and smoking, too and have the lungs of a coal miner. 

Amazingly, I look pretty good for nigh on 60 and all the self-inflicted damage. There's probably a picture in an attic by now, that is so rotted, it's just a frame. Thanks, Oscar Wilde. 


Gina writes about funny things, or rather, ordinary and sometimes not happy things and makes them. . . hysterical. Posts about trying to find alone time in the bathroom, yet dealing with questions from the "pack;" running the gamut from trivial to existential. Road trips that go on for years, replete with more endless questions from the "pack." Sheer lunacy meets happy impromptu and pointed remarks. I still can't figure out how many 2-legs and 4-legs are in that domicile. But I loved her comment on Facebook, something about it being a long day, as the dog just ran through the door with a couch cushion and jumped into a mud puddle with it. All written with grace, humor and love. Gina is a keeper. I want to thank her for her inspiration and just her presence in my life. I never have a bad day; I just go read something about one of her trips to the E. R. and feel instantly better!

Lynnette Conroy writes with an elegance and a ferocity I haven't read in many a year. And that says a fuck-ton. I am deadly serious.

If you haven't read Lynnette's post, "Open Rant to Congress," please do so immediately. I re-posted in several places, but what I really, really wanted to do was go and throw tea in some harbor, man the ramparts, or fire the "shot heard 'round the world." We need some damn inspiration around here! Where the hell is it? The 60s would have had sit-ins, lie-ins, love-ins, eat-ins, and every other kind of -in you can imagine. Where in the hell is the outrage? We should be outraged. Supposedly, Lenin said that "every society is 3 meals away from anarchy," although it has many attributions. I say, balls. But really, I say, thanks, Lynnette, for getting me fired up again. I just wish it was 1983, so I could go march around the Union in Ann Arbor for Solidarity and give my dad in Los Gatos, California an excuse to call me up and chew me out over the phone, hollering about lists and McCarthy. My mom was the Anarchist in the family.

My own goals for #ROW80 are nebulous. Tenuous, as is the state of my existence in the sense of, I never know what's going on. I can say, "Hey, I think I'm going to write a book. The Title? Fifty Shades of My Little Pony." 

Actually, I have and have had enough material to polish and publish a book about my experiences in music and in the computer industry, as well as the interesting and very broadening experience of losing a house, becoming homeless and sick and ending up here in this chair. Or, I could just end with this:

 Source: Huffington Post                                 

A Silver Lining, of a Very Dark Cloud

Maybe I'm just a one-liner, lookin' for a stage.

After further reflection, I have started a "goals page" as a way of keeping track of what I hope to accomplish during Round 4. I feel good and I am ready to take on some new things and re-establish some great old habits! 

Based on Raising Happiness, a New Theory of Elite Performance, it's actually part of a very old practice that I inculcated during my days in music school and repeated when I took 4 years of college Calculus, Trig and Computer Science in 2. I am gifted in music. I am not gifted in Maths by any means, but I had a 4.0. Unreal. I still wonder who was driving. Anyway, this is where you can read about my goals: DELIBERATE GOALS OF VIOLA FURY

Good luck everyone! It's going to be great and we shall sing the song of our peoples togethers, (sic) as they once did in old country!   

                         ♫ ♪ ♭ ♩ ♬                   

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