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My father is a Man made of Copper November 9, 2012

Delirium is real. 

My father is a man made of copper. He is valuable, and useful no matter if his head is bandaged or he is in a hospital bed bitching about anything–yesterday when I called him he answered the Phone.  My Dog loves me, because he said “I’m on the port-a-potty taking a shit can we talk later? ” I never wonder where my strange and disturbing perception of life originated. Candid is my nemesis. Any how, I pulled this link from Public Health site about delirium. My dad’s tests for that will be modified for “I’m not right in the head” tests.


I Have a Feeling a Better one than Last Night… November 7, 2012


at the age of 20 (me) I looked so much like this, when I saw the image I saved it. Listen, not pulling a fast one–I’m old now. twenty plus 18 years…the dog never stops chasing my heels.

You know, I’m proud of the junkies from the dirt path up to the junkie with a pretty habit cause I know they voted. No one ever asks about more services (social) for the knocked up crack heads or the pill poppers. Who fights for them? Grossly underpaid and very stressed out social workers who need new office chairs because while the addicts lost their weight and a real live dead skeleton would weigh more, social workers (my mom for one) worked hours and years and decades and now have the asses of, ummm,oh yeah inner tubes I use to swim on as a kid. They deserve compensation and a damn good reason why…yo no se. I voted around 8 pm. Father had brain surgery on Sept. 13, 2012 and he arrived to his house last week, well, he fell and broke his femur  My awesome husband drove me to the hospital in York PA (an hour and one half drive)–my dad is a fukin bionic man. 7o years old,  three brain surgery’s, prostate cancer (in remission) and I think it all started with a hole in his lung (I never said  he was the Marlboro Man). He retired from his job of 20 years just this past August.  Hope everyone is well. Thank you for reading my blog. If any of you know why a vagina’s and ass hole resemble one another–kind of in holes and out holes, really make my day and put your spin on things. Go Prez!!!


Impressed? Will the Real God Please Stay Seated? October 3, 2012

Drinking booze at 13

( and loving the illegal’s), 

Cool, chill, Hank is all thrills.

My muther father Bukowski heart me.

what a physical thrill to instill.

Ambien, Lunesta, Ativan,

a sleep managed by man.

Luvox, Effexor, Welbutrin,

the doctor’s guess as good as mine.

Lithium, Depakote, Tegretol,

am I rock steady yet?

Serequel, Zyprexa, Risperadol,

I’m 400lbs. but I’m not hallucinating.

Methadone, Morphine, Oxy,

opiates that increase the pain, mental.

Oh what the hell, if meds didn't work.

Just another day in hell.

I’ve taken more meds than this in my lifetime.

I’m still insane and searching for the right feeling of fine.


Green MarblesYo… September 7, 2012

Green MarblesYo…. Please read this entry which I wrote during my dad’s first brain surgery. Now, on his third, I’m accepting that this tumor is like superman, but I pray for God’s will. Good orderly Direction. Thank you.


CRS August 11, 2012

I’m horrified that I arrived home with the excitement of a girl holding the secret to the perfect movie, and all the action to surfeit disclosure depended on me inserting this disk dohickee into the greedy, hungry slot of the extraexperimental machine beneath my TV in a wooden slot:it lives there. When I sung out in chords never received by the ambience of our little homepad the safe arrival of my jewel to my cohort in life he sung back in a b flat tenor: we saw that movie. I try to recall the plot (twists?) or god it sucked asscubes, but the medication for my migraines, though I stopped it a week ago, still not only keeps my shit out of my ass stupid it also has a lagging effect of making it deeper too.

Not even my dog can pull me out of this fast enough, Miraculax?


Why I hate Westerns. (Sorry Haters is a mindblowing film. Watch it!) July 17, 2012

Filed under: humor,life,Love,philosophy,substance abuse,Thank you,Uncategorized,unthinkable — jessicawritesnow @ 1:51 am
Male Nude by Miriam Shulman

Male Nude by Miriam Shulman. Try not to be stiff with intolerance. Alpha male.

 Enjoy the trailer (It’s the official one. I know-it’s very quirky of me to do anything officially. The official (I see a police badge) non-blonde dirty hairy in me always starts the calm sensible confrontation with “What The F##K” or “Who The F##K”, or You F##KING asshole, moron, idiot: You F##KING  bowl of creamed on weenies. I write for the right to earn a paycheck by writing. Yentils still never ching ch ch ching started the smallest sand bucket around the country USA for my bullyshit. Penny’s why in the name of Jesus’ Mary, Okay stomping on other people’s kingdom here, I’m just going to call them marries. God, marriage and marries and mary’s and marred, I know people who crossed the threshold drunker than a marraed to a mary for little or know marries in the eyes of God. Next morning, the poor Mrs. Mary now as the gentleman-alpha male tried to quit his deluxe sweet-hell–well Mrs. Mary finally used her batting swing with her five-year old’s tee-ball bat on alpha was man now with domestic issues. Now alpha dog tried to creep into invisibility. Mrs. Mary saw the pretty penis and pointed while she laughed hysterically,  because she knew his big chock that he slapped her with the night after the ceremony she raised with two hands like a cucumber on dirty rain.  Tool song with lyrics. All I will say is that it is an older song. I almost cried, because  the point of the song, the meaning, rather, now is moot. It’s almost trite. God this sucks. 

(Yawn.) Hey guys. I just woke up like an hour ago. Sometimes I write while other stuff occurs (I shall say.)

Oh, I hate westerns because the alpha male always “saves” the day. That’s why it’s a genre special and to me dumb. It’s the least expected out you, me and the person in front of you (at the Cleaners, Movies, Coffee shop, Nut house store, College Pub, Bar, Game shop, Barber, and usually it’s not the person who has access to a weapon.) I say to the brave citizens who help me breath one more second in this life–Cool to the P for the personified.    Do you mind: I’d like to say a prayer for the people who I know are ripping up their stories, or shredding them into strips of differing diameter, a page, ten pages or chunks at a time by signing on a dotted line. A line that lied to each one, and encouraged each guy or gal to give up on hope because hope no longer shined on their address.  Go into the Lion den, men and women alike, it burns and sizzles in there, but for a non-profit drug cartel feeding starving babies in Guatemala–give us your last donation…


St. Francis wrote a Prayer that helps me Help You…if You choose it. June 30, 2012

Filed under: humor,life,Love,philosophy,Serenity,Thank you,Uncategorized — jessicawritesnow @ 11:56 pm
Tags: , ,

Jessica Lintor “Beginning of Time”

Okay folks, yes this man was a Catholic Preacher and monk. He started the Franciscan order in which their primary function was to live in poverty and weirdly enough show love and affection towards animals. St Francis also started a women’s order and another group of which I know not a frucking thing. But when the grass grew too high that I could no longer see the holes gophers made and I lost one shoe I reflected that perhaps… and off I started to fall off the end of the earth into a sea of ink on fire with that light purple shade–Ahhhhh, I dug in my mental heels into the gray matter…so I contemplated as the sun went down, and the mosquitos I noticed ate my skin for dinner, how much better can life really become for a girl like me.  “I’m a smartass”, I thought to myself, and “I’m witty and I’m pithy,”- none of those words comforted me. I thought of the word, “pillow” or “river” or “sea-bed” or “God”. I stopped. My family never attended Church; my swimming meets always maintained a higher priority. The only time I spoke the word “God” happened when I learned that neat phrase by the loved and never forgotten Nietzsche “God is dead”. Not so neat I learned later on after all those days chanting that phrase. My Dad always reminded me as if it were a reminder, that I would learn to regret saying it. I asked him why. He just replied, “You will, and you’ll know why.” Their be and went my religious training until much later. 

Thank my stars that I learned this prayer after the starvation of my much-needed nutrition deprived spirit: Sarah M. sings

Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi:

[Lord], make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury,pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

and where there is sadness, 

Grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;


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