Red Mosquito

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Malloy wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

96583UP wrote:fuck man, that sounds terrible

i hope it gets better

stay strong

Thanks, bud. I'm planning on getting the glasses fixed on Monday.

regale me with detail, leonard. what brand?

The left nose piece broke. I could probably superglue it.

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Malloy wrote:no meds for this. and some meds can suppress vestibular function, which is no good.

tonight is particularly bad because i can feel it getting worse and there's nothing i can do. last week it woke me up in the middle of th night and it was so strong I thought i was having a stroke. profoundly disorienting dizziness. and im scared its going to happen again tonight.

nothing to be done though. so im' here. and really started posting again because rm has been a comfort to me for 20 years.

I feel you. No joke i'd probably have suicided by now if not for RM.

Just curious, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what kept causing you to relapse?

Malloy wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Malloy wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

96583UP wrote:fuck man, that sounds terrible

i hope it gets better

stay strong

Thanks, bud. I'm planning on getting the glasses fixed on Monday.

regale me with detail, leonard. what brand?

The left nose piece broke. I could probably superglue it.

i remember now. what brand does alex wear?

JuanHamm wrote:I'm glad you're both here too.

Malloy wrote:there's always smog and silver jews records to lean on

Malloy wrote:last winter I listened to the purple mountains record every morning on my way to work

Jorge wrote:I wish I could help

With my penis

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.