oh my....

I had an e-mail waiting last nite. Tante Lotte. She said she understood that that Peter can't be here in Graz for her 90th birthday party. She understood my reasons and concerns. And why it can't happen, and then... she asked me if I could be there, and if we could go to Gamlitz beforehand and help her get there.

I really lost it. These past days have been so difficult, hell the past two years, hey... I was completely confounded. Of course I will play tour guide to Gamlitz, that's on the schedule, hey. But being at her party for her ninetieth, as one of the family. Just blew me away.

So am sitting here silently crying. You know, your tear ducts get leaky, and all this salty stuff starts running down your face. It's pretty guesome.

Listen, I had to FIGHT to earn their respect, because there were things that they saw wrongly.

And there were a lot of things.... you have to learn, and fast sometimes. But I never would have thought, Ever, thirty years ago, that I would be accepted or considered part of the family, and there is so much about that, I can't express it at the moment.

I never would have thought.... Cripes, these past two days have done such a number on me emotionally... I am going to sleep for two days, because I can hardly take it any more. Good stuff, bad stuff, and you wonder 'where is the end of the roller-coaster ride, because I want to get off. Like NOW.'

Am sure it will look better later.

But everything was very heavy, and I need a breather. At the moment, I am just overwhelmed, too much going on.

Hoo-boy-howdy, that was quick.....

Well, most of the fait-accompli is accompli. Dorle woke me at seven, as I had requested. Was up between two and four a.m., worrying about everything and nothing.

So I hauled my lily-white buns over to Buchenweg. And things started off wrong. The doors to the bank wouldn't open, so I could pick up some cash in the foyer. They normally automatically open at 6 a.m. when you get close enough to the sensor. Nope, nada. Blast it, stymied again.

The center of town is closed off today, a sport festival of some sort. So the bus routes changed, to my chagrin. Last Sunday, I had to wait thirteen minutes for my connection, and I planned to hit an ATM, run into MacD's, and bring everyone something for breakfast. (And I know two people who will gasp in amazement at that last planned action. Because they KNOW I abhor that place, wouldn't be caught dead in it if I can help it, and it would have been the first time in over twenty-five years. But would have done it... nowhere else to get anything at that hour on a Sunday morning in this 'metropole'. So, saved by the bell, or better said, bus.)

Ya think.... My connection was there and ready to roll. And I was cursing, 'fix-sakrament-hallelujah!' under my breath. That is usually what comes before 'summenabitch!', but I didn't have the luxury of time to get to that.

So I got to Peter's stop about five minutes to eight, and ran to the bank. Yes, RenB, who is so totally into the Churchillian philosophy of 'no sports', ran. I wanted to pay for the truck rental, gas, and the insurance for it for the day. It wouldn't have been all that much. And ran back, because not being punctual isn't an option.

So.... got the money, no breakfast for us, and was punctually there at eight, and there they all were. Dorle, her brother, her son, and Günther, who is doing spectacularly well. First they got a bit snippy, when I said I had to find Guido about the stuff in the kitchen, till they realised it was just about the kitchen block, and our beat-up table. They would have taken the table to his place immediately, but he said, 'oh no, I have to get my cleaning lady in first.'

(And I was thinking, 'hmm' not only paralysed, but not the brightest bulb in the chandelier either.') I got a glimpse of his appartment. This guy has been living in a social services appartment, a nice one, and there is nothing in it! NOTHING. I don't even know if he has a bed, for cripes sake. These appartments have a kitchen area, but they are unequipped. And he doesn't have lights! Just wires hanging out of the ceiling. Thank whomever that woman let me know.

So I had him in the kitchen, and get your mind out of the gutter... badly formulated... And I said, 'OK, here's the deal... I am totally incompetent at dismantling, and remantling a whole friggin kitchen. So YOU have to round up some friends who know how to do that, ok? And it has to be before June 16th. So you call me as soon as you can, and I will come down, open up, and make sure you get what you need there, ok? Here is my telephone number. I am home most of the time, ok? You call me.'

And he looked at me shyly, and asked 'How much will it cost?', nearly afraid, hey. And I said, 'Nothing but what you pay your friends to move it. Don't you read the newspaper? They moved Christmas to May, hey.'

He was pretty bewildered, and am willing to think he was thinking, 'Where is the catch, here?'

Whelp... there isn't one. And I hope whoever he rounds up knows about electrical things, because he's getting all the ceiling lamps. They were installed by Christian and Maria, and they are so ugly, you could just revolt. But the guy needs some lights there, demmit.

And he looked shyly into the living room, and asked if the tee-vee was going as well. Gawd, that killed me inside. And I said, 'I am so sorry, but that belongs to my friends, and they only loaned it to Peter after his died. I have no say.'

ooooo, that was difficult.....

So I went back to the living-bedroom, and Günther asked, 'What about the tee-vee? Does it stay here? We don't want it.' And I said, 'Well, I guess social services will get it. Unless you want to give it to the guy next door... Günther, he's got NOTHING in there.' And he said,

'Let's give it to him, with the little table underneath.'

So 'Guido' got the tee-vee. We went over, rang him out again, and I said, 'Thank you, Günther for helping me do my good deed of the day.' Cracked him up.

(I keep 'Guido' in quotes, because the name on the door seems to be Turkish. Almost no vowels, and sorta unpronounceable for Westerners. So I guess he tells people that to make it easier for them, ya know?)

And somewhere in the middle of all this which was going so fast it made my head spin.... Günther came in, and said, 'Someone outside wants to speak to you.' And I thought, 'Whaaa? I don't know anyone here', thought it was the 'pay it forward' lady. It was a lady with a walker pushing ninety. She asked if the apt. would be available soon. She's a bit deaf to boot. So I had to yell, which makes me uncomfortable...

I told her it would be after June 16th. She told me she had been living in the project for over forty years, but her place was on the fourth floor. (Walker, remember, and no elevators there...) So I yelled, you contact the administration office, and I hope they will give it to you. The bathroom is handicapped equipped, and I think you will like it in there.

All of this happened in ninety minutes, and clearing it out, forty-five minutes. I thought the fire department had come in on the charge, and whoosh.... it was gone.

So... yup. It's all gone. Some goes down to Gamlitz, the rest gets sold, if Dorle's son finds takers, and the deal is 50-50.

He provided a moment of inner hilarty in all this. I was giving away stuff that can't be sold, because he was looking at some stuff because it isn't a full set, turns it over, and said, 'Oh, Villeroy and Boch! Expensive stuff! I was in one of their WC's once. It was wonderful.'

That HAS to be one of the best non-sequiturs I have EVER heard, but I have an odd sense of humour, as we all know. And no, Preciousses, I was afraid to ask.

So ok, that was a lot to take in in forty-five minutes. Dorle and Günter are back to Salzburg today. Life will go on, and it's all sad, but a burden. And on the other hand, feel lighter, free. Doesn't make much sense, does it.

And I am so grateful for the help and kindness shown to me today, I could just cry.

It was, after all, OUR stuff. And Stuff can be a burden sometimes.

Tja... so the last of the Mühlgasse is gone. I guess at least I have the pictures to prove it, as John used to say. And none of the negatives... of the pictures of 'fun'.

That is what life is, I guess....

Peter was his usual cranky self when I told him about the woman who wants his apt. After hearing about the Guido thing. He started yelling at me. 'Gawwd dammit, Ren, do you KNOW how many people on the planet have nothing??? Nothing at all? You can NOT go running around messing in other people's lives like that.' Ooooo, he set me off. 'I didn't give him anything of your stuff, and the kitchen block was Maria M's work, and the table needs to be refurbished, wasn't expensive, and the state would take it anyway because it isn't WORTH anything, so get the fuck off my case, hey. It so happens that someone NEEDS it. And I don't run around playing Saint Ren. But it is also true that if you see someone in need, close by, and they need help, you give them a hand up. So I am NOT trying to save the planet. But I DO what I can to help my neighbors. So give it a fucking rest, hey.'

Yup, am just a charmer when I get crossed. He didn't have to unload all that 'stuff'.

Mensch. What was that below? I Hate it when he brings out my bio-mom's bad genes. And get emotional. And as everyone in a relationship knows, everyone knows what buttons to push.

How does Charlie Brown put it? AAAARRRGH!!!

There, I feel all better now, see? Maybe there was something to that. All I have to do is a mantra, telling myself I am a rational if ageing adult, and all sorts of things will be well, yup, they will... maybe.... somehow... somewhere... don't know.......

Deep breaths... and whaddaya know, am not gonna have an asthma attack after all...

Moving is the pits, we can all agree on that, I am sure. Moving someone else's stuff, packing it, is waaaaay trickier, and like trying to find your way through a mine field, especially if you have been together for over thirty years. And I will let you in on a sneakret: I never looked through his personal things, EVAH. And I hope he respected my private spaces in our house.

Peter is the world's most extreme hoarder. Horrible. After only 1 year there, I had to take three sixty litre bags of junk out to the garbage containers! Which made my ischias nerve hurt. Omanomanomanomanoman... I had to look through it all first. Some of it was really .... well let's just say I wasn't liking what I was seeing. And in the middle of it all, I suddenly realised... his favourite photos in silver frames were gone.

Fambly stuff, some with myself in them... And I got this sinking feeling, you know? Like you're on a fast elevator going down? I did find the pictures clearing out the bookshelves. He sold the frames for some tomfoolery.... That one hurt. I was so wanting to throw up.

Preciousses? You should never stick your hand in wasps' nests. And if you do inadverdantly, expect to get bitten.

I was taking out the last bag of junk before I was about to leave, and ran into a lady whom I had spoken to a few times, she is nice. She was with her wild daughter, and her daughter. But are actually nice. And they asked about Peter, and I told them telegramm style, and explained that I have to clear out the apt.

And they jumped right in, and told me about Guido next door to Peter's apt. That is a sort of odd story, Guido. He is in a wheelchair. He had just moved in when Peter had his second heart attack, and the ambulance had taken him off, I locked up, and there he was in a snowstorm, trying to get up the street because he had to get to some social services appointment.

Well, I had both hands free... and went up behind him, and asked, 'Need an extra shove and some power?' And he said, 'Oh. Thank you, that would be good.' I hoisted him into the bus, and got him off at Jacki, and it was snowing even harder, so I asked if he could get to his appointment in time. He said yes. So I wished him a good day, and went on, sorta super-down. Last words were, by the way, I'm Ren.' And he said, 'Guido'.

So... nothing to write home about, ok? An incident. I saw Guido for the second time today, in the supermarket in his wheelchair. And he asked me about how Peter was, and I told him I had to clear out the appartment.... He looked sort of sad that he wasn't coming back, don't know...

So I was taking out the last bag of trash.... and ran into a woman in the house with her daughter and grand-daughter... And she was fairly upset about what-all happened since February... Except it turned into something else.

She told me that 'Guido' next door... has no furniture, doesn't have a kitchen or anything to cook on, and she told me in no uncertain words, 'If you have something to help, you pay it forward.'

Now... this is a sort of Socialist idea. So my family must have been Socialist. Because, when the kids took off on their own, and had basically nothing, they stepped up, and gave them essentials till they got on their feet financially. So yes, it is Socialist.

I know what I am going to do tomorrow. Someone is gonna get a kitchen and a table, or my name isn't RenB.

Did I mention I hate days that make me emotional? Take a note.

Just an addendum to yesterday's 'excellent adventure'...

Things happen that are 'unimportant' at the time, but gain importance later.

Peter has a 'girlfriend'. Na, na... I was wheeling him out of the home, y'see... And this absolutely foxy lady was coming up the slope, and said, 'Hey guys! You up to no good?' She was so jaunty, and nice, I thought... 'I could really learn to like this lady'.... She is very attractive, would assume about forty, dark-haired, thin, and a stellar smile.

And Peter was absolutely fawning all over her. Which is news to me. He normally isn't friendly to women. It was just a small exchange of words, but seemingly, he really gets off on her. I liked her immediately. And I liked the chemistry there. Peter was all, 'what shift are you on today, and will I see you????' And she was all a bit dialect, and it was, 'Oh, honey, you know I'm gonna look in on you....' And his face lit up like a fire-cracker on the Fourth of July. She's a nurse there.

Nice, isn't it? Looking back, it made me feel good about where things have gone so far.

There are four people there who make me feel I know he is in good hands and care. My favourite so far is Juliana, the assistant director. She gets my humour, and that isn't an easy thing for most people.... And Ksenia, a head nurse. You could drown in her eyes, and only see good.

When we got back, Juliana was all aflutter. She had looked for us downtown---if you can call it that. Because we had a fun sparring match in the lobby before going out, and he wanted a hat with a visor, you know, like a baseball cap. And he was testy. To the point where I said, 'Look, if you don't stop, I'm gonna bring you your toque from Missoni next week, and see how you like that then... ' (It was 27 degrees Centigrade... bloody hot.) So we got back, and J was all aflutter, saying she had been looking for us 'downtown'. And she had a green baseball cap for him. I said, 'Well we only went to the supermarket, and then had a stop at Wratschko's outside.' 'Well thank you for the report, but I found a cap, and wanted to give it to him.'

Peter likes his baseball cap. I assume it is from someone departed from the home, which is sort of creepy. We went to the lift, and he turned it around backward, and said, 'Isn't that the way Americans do this?' I could have smacked him one, but I found it funny. And I said, 'You watch way too much tee-vee.'

He knows exactly how much I hate that, and I assume he got it from 'Doug' in 'King of Queens'.

Sigh..... America's exports aren't always tasteful, y'know?

Listen, am not bitching here..... I found it all funny, somehow, as in, to smile about. I don't get mucht of that any more. But there were a few flashes, so to speak.

Was down today, and called the Venerable. That is always an adventure. As per usual, his hearing aid was turned off, and it becomes a challenge of the first order. 'DAD???' Who is this?' 'Ummm.. your son....' (yelling). When he finally got it and put in his hearing aid, it was 'Oh!', and his voice lit up.

And this is only for Annti. Darlin', I don't KNOW how you do it. But 'The Venerable' was on the verge of bragging about how you call him on the telly-phone, sort a one-upmanship man thing. You have made him so very happy, doing that. And it was clear that he really likes you, and those calls have been special to him. Bless you for doing that.

I wanted to talk to my cousins, but the damned time zones.... I hate answering machines.

So... Another day, another problem to solve, but it is getting better.

One ton of weight off my shoulders, another to go...

Ok, yesterday was Gamlitz. I had a mess of stuff on my mind, and clinked out last night. Travelling sort of overloads my senses as far as input is concerned. Normally I am just home in my apt., and I don't bother with anyone. Sort of depressive, and trying to find out what is best for the next step in getting the other ton of cares off my ageing shoulders. These public benches attracted my attention a few weeks ago. The metal plaque basically says, 'Your mayor wishes you a good rest.' This is in Ehrenhausen, btw. I have never seen anything like that. Talk about self-promotion. My smile of the day....

Pfingsten was last weekend. Pentecost. These 'roses' bloom every time at Pentecost. They are hard to grow, had some, and it takes five years before they bloom if you plant them as seedlings. Actually, they are of Chinese origin, and related to the chrysanthemum fambly.... or so I have read.... There are pink and white ones, and the scent is better than the best perfume, believe me. I felt a little home-sick for my used-to-be garden.


This is another thing that I have a spleen about, btw. They fascinated me back in Salzburg in 1972, and I STILL don't know why it shouldn't be standard in the US. And they aren't even expensive. Comparatively. I didn't get it at a good angle, but it is a convex mirror placed at intersections where people who want to drive into a major road can see what is coming, traffic-wise. These mirrors enable the people coming out of a side road to see what is coming traffic-wise from both sides, and the people on the main road see what is coming out of the blind side. I would think that these mirrors have prevented many accidents and deaths, and it just irks me that it wouldn't get 'taken over' and used in the US. It isn't as if it were a billion dollar solution to anything for any one place there. It mystifies me.

So I got down there, and learned that the State has given permission that he can stay there. He sees it as a death knell. I see it as I know he is in very good hands. The staff is competent, friendly, no-nonsense, and put up with his occasional stubborn tantrums. Gawwwd, what a relief. These past months have been just brutal. Not knowing what is permanent or not. I thrive on constants, y'know? I hate surprises, So I went to café Purgatory at the station, and surreptitiously snapped this photo. It is not a good photo. But you see those two kids at the back? (and there were more people, absolutely raucus and rowdy...) They only had eyes for one another, and they were beautiful. The one on the left chained smoked and chugged down his beer. His friend was quieter, more reticent.

It was like seeing a flash-back to Peter and me, maybe a bit older than they were, but the mechanics were the same. They were drowning in one another's eyes, it was sort of beautiful. And they were drop-dead handsome. They made me sad. Turned out we were all waiting for the same train to Graz. (Chuckles here....) They got up and spent over ten minutes tucking in their shirts, adjusting their clothes like fashion models, with their Dolce and Gabana belts, tailored stuff, and the waitress came out and said, 'You are two very vain roosters.' Sometimes, things crack me up for hilarity inside. I don't know if she knows them well or not. Doesn't even matter. I just made sure I didn't get into the same car they did. I was sad enough as it is.

The other ton on my small shoulders is getting Peter's stuff out of his apt. this weekend.

And OH YES, Charlotte is coming to celebrate her 90th birfday with us. She has this idear... she will pay a taxi to take him from Gamlitz to Häuserl im Wald, a restaurant up on a ridge. (Picture me making the sign of the cross in silence fifteen times... because.... it ain't gonna happen.) The bathrooms in Häuserl im Wald are in the basement, with very steep stairs. Just to begin with.

She mails me often, means well, but NO. So I waved my conciliatory flag.... we all go there, and I would find a restaurant that is just as good. So the best thing you can do in that situation is ask the locals. 'What is the best, very best place in town to celebrate a 90th birfday?' Unanimous decision. Gamlitzerhof. It's on the main square, if you can call it that.... I had Peter out yesterday, and we scoped it out. Good weather? Fine. Bad weather? No way. They have three steep steps, and no handicapped ramp. Nothing down there does. So I could get him into the mayors' place, but the cuisine isn't top notch. All the other places have four to five steps to even get into... big ones.

So, Preciouses, I went into my Laurel and Hardy number when we got back, because I had asked the assiistant director for advice. You have to do it subtly. And I explained, and I said, 'over fifty per-cent of the shops in town aren't accesssable for handicapped people. I'm not complaining, or anything, but it can be frustrating. And it isn't about Gamlitz, gawwd, GRAZ crows about how hanicapped friendly they are, but it is a joke..... I should know I'll have to figure something out.'

Preciousses... Juliana was on the phone to the mayor before we even got in the lift. She can be awesome.

I guess it is best not to push people, you know?

They take pride in their place, and that is a good thing. And now that I have been a total bastard, well, it was for a good cause....

I finished the DVD power cycle fest

Glee. The first half of the first season was really good. It brought back many memories, most of them bad. But it is a very interesting and entertaining one.... and makes you think, and the underlying message is positive.

And it isn't Disney. It gets very close to reality. About 'losers', who have some talent and turn things around, but nothing about it is 'happy end'. It's uplifting enough. If you believe in yourself, you get to go on somehow. Except.... it isn't a picnick.

Well, I know about that all right.... A couple of episodes made me cry. Not boo-hoo, sobbing, but found tears running down my cheeks. Am hypersensitive at present.

My high school years were the worst in my entire life. I hated every single day I had to go there, and homeroom was the worst, and always the first thing on the schedule. We were seated alphabetically, and the kid behind me was privileged. And he made my life hell, every day. And he would take his thumb and forefinger, and hit my ear like a gun-shot. And say, 'You faggot...' He was a bully. He was on the football team, and I could never take him down in a fight, so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ignored him. Which made him angrier, I guess. In the long run, he ignored me because I would not give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was getting to me.

Later in the third year, something happened in the locker room, and rumour had it he was the leader and they raped a young kid because they thought he was 'weak'. It was an underground scandal for weeks. He has a car dealership, and I hope he went down the tubes since and got his existance wiped out forever, that loser....

It was a difficult thing to watch sometimes, some episodes, but it was so on target....

It seems to be a terrific series, fresh, innovative, and not so full of bullshit that you want to barf. On the other hand.... I did want to barf over some things, because they hit close to home.

I have never liked looking back on that time in my life. I underachieved, because it was pure stress and negation. But I did LEARN something. I learned I was not socially acceptable, because I came from the wrong side of town, I learned that I was supposedly not worth anything, and my guidance counsellor laughed in my face when I said I wanted to go to college, literally, if you please, and I learned that you have to have the right clothes, the ones we couldn't afford, oh yes.... it was a learning experience, all right. I just retreated into my shell, and was totally angry. My senior year, there was one person who would seemingly like to talk to me at lunch breaks. As far as I know, he died in Viet Nam. Some people are still looking for him. He was funny.... Always called me 'Rosenkrantz'. Saw me with a book of a play, 'Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' by Tom Stoppard, I explained what it was about, and suddenly got re-christianed...

But at the time.... I was thinking, 'what the hell does he want, is he gonna do something awful and set me up?' I had no trust... Well, I will never know....

High School was traumatic, in other words, and the series came close to it. Good stuff, and cathartic.

Was in Gamlitz today..... oh boy..... that is for tomorrow.

What Disney hid in their High School Musical series

Which are beloved world-wide......

Had a massive mess-up in my bill for heating. I have all my running costs automatically deducted, but was informed of a massive change, and got the steepest bill I have ever run into. Luckily, I can cover it. Luckily....

So I got depressed, and ordered a dvd. For many months, I have been seeing references to a show named 'Glee'. From the Today Show to Joe.My.God, it has been cause for a lot of discussion on blogs. No, it isn't like American Idol. It is just a series. About a high school, and their glee club, and they are losers, and this teacher inspires them. So much for the Disney aspect.

Everyone has been to high school. Glee Club was sort of the cellar. I was in the sub-cellar.... not the right side of the tracks, didn't have the right clothes, things happened, it was the worst four years of my life, but I survived it somehow.

This show is pushing the envelope so hard, all the 'wholesome' myths get blasted to smithereens, and I have only seen the first disc. Which ran about four hours. Now I know why so many people love it.

There are so many plusses, I can hardly begin to count them. Abstinence cheerleaders, (in Ohio) and one of them gets pregnant and wants to hang it on the one guy she never slept with, and convinces him it happened in a hot tub. Mean teachers, empathetic ones, and nuts in between. A totally out-there gay kid who comes out in the first four episodes, kicking the one winning goal in a football game to impress his father.

And woven through all of this, spectacular music numbers. All of these young people are so talented, they leave you speechless.

I only ordered it after seeing a half-hour interview with the 'villaness', the coach of the cheerleader team. She is one mean woman. All the chemistry works. And I was dismayed to find a familiar actress who already played a really mean role in 'Nip/Tuck', and she is at it again, she does it so well....

As per usual, they split the first season into two parts, and the second will come along in a few months. That is no fair. Power cycling is neat. No ads, a linear story line, tightly written, amazingly well acted... Get the DVD.

No saccharine. No Disney. And some truth. Love it.

Odd... was thinking about keys... how strange is that???

W. came by, and picked up some of his things. But left some. He's up north now, and I think it is like insurance that he will see me again, or something. He seems to be doing very well, and that made me very happy.

I needed that.....

And, don't know... keys came to mind. You can get a key to help someone, sometimes you don't have the right key, and they can die. (Which happened once... in a blizzard and it was horrendous.)

Isn't it odd that from the time I began working at 17... I had a mess of keys. To this day. Most people have the key to their house, maybe the garage, and the car keys. I had so many, it is sort of sick. Still do. And used to misplace them a lot. Sometime in the 80's I met John Roberts. And he came back three times, and told me he loved me.

I loved him, but not that way... he was wonderful, however. And he used to do work with the NY City Ballet, and one year he gave me a hanger for my keys.... in brass... which was a memoriam to the late choreographer Jerome Robbins, and it was a print of the ticket to the seat he would have had the night he died. Powerful talisman, hey. So I didn't lose them so easily any more. John died as the result of his heart medicine which gave him heart asthma, and it was a loss.

But there are always the keys, and each means some heavy responsibility. The more you get, the heavier the burden.

Whether it was the cinema, and the key was the combination to the outer and inner safe also keys and a mess of ones that gave access to all sorts of rooms, and I didn't like that much, and my boss would go away for vacation, and the first thing I would do when he returned was say, 'Here's the financial report, check the safes.' And he would say, 'I don't have to. I know everything is in order.' That sort of trust at the age I was..... was overwhelming.

Keys are a burden. And I still have a mess of keys on that brass holder that John Roberts gave me. They all represent some sort of responsibility I have. I would wish right now to give them up, and have just the ones to my appartment and my post box.

So yup, that is strange... maybe symbolic, don't know. Just running amok on the keyboard, hey, but things can be symbols of power, and I have been definitely reading too much Steven King at the moment. (Dark Tower, wish to finish it.)

I guess Freud would say, relinquishing the superfluous keys would be relinquishing power, don't know. But I think that would be true.

oh, oh, oh.... I got a letter.....

From Energie Graz. Man, I hate them like the pest. My electric bill is such. I adjust what they charge me every year, and it gets taken automatically out of my account, and I don't have to worry... mostly.

You never have to want to deal with them. They are the most rude, insulting people you ever want to run into. I had to deal with them on Peter's behalf, because he did not have his running costs automatically deducted from his account.

They got so crass, I had to the the Communist Party member on them, which brought results.

We had a phase where they cut his electric off, and as the heating system was electric.... well, dire days... And I had to 'deal' with them.... and not offer chickens.

So they put in a provisional thing, and you had to charge up a chip card at their place, so you could load it into the meter, and it would come back on. Cut-throat.

And one day, I came down from Laßnitzhöhe where he was in rehab, and needed to charge the card. And they had changed the rules, upped the minimun, so I had to go to a bank, and this sawed off shotgun of a guard gave me a lot of grief. And said my pants were dirty. (I had inadvertantly sat in a chair in a café where some kid had spilled some ice cream.) It was pure Kafka.

So when I get this mail from them, I go fully bonkers inside.

Except.... I have a credit, not a debit. I saved a whopping 34 Euros and some cents, and and that goes to the next one. And used less electricty this past year. 175 kilowatt hours less.

This was nice to know. I was in Peter's place this morning. I will have to pack necessities. Swell.

Your moment of Zen.... and what to do if you hear a real live cuckoo bird...

Yes, was in Gamlitz, lots to discuss, and Peter was ornery. He had one hell of a fit down in the lobby this afternoon. And THAT with one of the nicest nurses in the entire facility. It was silly, and he was petulant, just one of those days, hey... and I was defusing it right and left, but I guess they are used to this stuff, and if the truth be told, most of the oldies are so irresponsive, I think this one gets a real kick out of him. Frau L, the assistant director was in her cubicle, and I was doing my Laurel and Hardy number, and the nurse, Frau K had trouble keeping a straight face, and kept winking at me, as in, 'am so not taking this personally'... In one of his more outrageous things, I really got irritated, and said loudly, 'Oh, come ON, hey, cut it out!' In English. Frau L. fell apart laughing behind the glass.

This is a phenomenon I was told about many decades ago. I was told you can speak a foreign language perfectly, but there are two exceptions. You curse and you do math in your mother tongue, and it really is true. Sounds stupid, but it really is the case if I lose my patience. And if you get an Airies and a Sagittarius at loggerheads, oh yeah, it can happen.... fire signs. I'm glad I didn't come out with worse stuff, he was very trying. And I have no idea what that new plant is outside the entrance. Never seen one before.

One gardening thing I keep seeing down there are circles of cement filled with pebbles or stones. In some gardens, they are done in geometric patterns in different solid colors. And are only part of all the other stuff, which is green, and manicured... Outside the entrance, they went for multi stuff. Seems to be a new trend.
I would have liked having a small space in my used-to-be garden like that.... with rocks and shells I had collected on my travels... But I guess I am weird...



There is a monument downtown. There was some battle in a place called Chlum in 1866. It is for the two aristocrats who died in it.... and the 54 other locals who died there. That alone raises my hackles. But there is a word in there that I really hate. 'Heldentod'. (Hero's death). It was used a lot by the Nazis in WWII. But this was waaay before that. I don't think those 54 people felt like heroes being cannon fodder, and it is romanticising something that should not be.

Oh... just googled Chlum. Peter and I were trying to figure out which war it was, and we both guessed wrong. Silly of me. I should have known. It was the war between Prussia and Austria, and one of Maria Theresia's biggest mistakes. Chlum was in Tschechoslovakia, and one of the worst debacles, the worst being in Königsgrätz.


So here is your moment of Zen for today, or mine, at least... The view from Peter's window. It had been raining, then stopped, and the air was wonderful. And then we heard it. A real live cuckoo bird. At first I thought it was a clock in another room. But it was a real one up in that stand of trees. I had never heard one 'in live' before. And was sort of delighted with that. And as we were leaving to take a walk, I mentioned it, as in, 'Did you know that there is a real cuckoo bird up behind the house?' And she told me a superstition about what to do if you hear one. You have to rattle any loose change you have in your pocket, and it will bring you good luck. That was a nice idea.... I liked it.

Oh, I needed a good laugh.... this is so funny

Although the intent is serious....

I just lurvs me some flash mobs....

Just something that cheered me up, and on the classic side....

There are days you should just NOT get up.....

Yesterday was a classic. Yup. I conducted a series of telephone calls, and learned some cold hard truths. As in: I do not have any friends here. Isn't that a kick in the ass...

A lesson in semantics: there is a word for friend. Most people have a select few whom they can depend on. All the rest are 'acquaintances'. So I am an acquaintance. If I visit, they like my company, but that is all.

The coldest, hardest conversation was just about that, and was explained in one of the crassest ways I have ever experienced. But it boiled down to that. I'm an acquaintance, but I am not a friend. Explicitly said. With the addendum, 'I would hate to be you.' It was like being in an ice storm, yet so calmly said, and brutal. Hard truths can be like that.

The other conversations weren't so 'fun'. Circumspect, but it was the same message underlying them. The reason for the calls was actually trying to do some good. I wanted to offer some things Peter has before his place gets gutted next month, and would rather see someone have things for free than have the State take them....

No takers, so I guess it will be just gone, without anyone knowing that it all meant something once.

It's sort of funny, you know? I grew up 'poor', but never felt like that. And when people were getting started, family and friends came around, and gave them the necessities like a chair,a stool, a table... whatever, and helped out. Seemingly, that isn't necessary among the people I know. I guess I was doing a throw-back to what I grew up with, and wanted to pass it on. It wasn't appreciated.

The photo is of some irises I saw on Tuesday. Tried out the macro setting. I had some in my garden for two years, but I didn't like them so much. The blooming time is very short, and then you just get this salad greens and they look like weeds, or something. (shrugs)

I really like this photo... the top hat for Congress...

BP's solution to their ever-growing disastrous machinations. Found it on Crooks and Liars. Can someone please tell me where the accountability is? Money for oil, big bragging about how they, Bad Product, can handle anything whatsoever, no problem???

Why, after nearly a month since this disaster began, is BP still calling the shots? Why aren't environmental experts being allowed full access? Because maybe it is worse than already being reported???

If anyone thinks that this news is only interesting and totally dismaying to people in the US... Well, I had an interesting encounter with a taxi driver yesterday. And she had on the news, taking me to the train station, because I was running way late. Nice lady, probably late thirties. And all of a sudden, she turned off the radio and sighed deeply. So I said, 'What?'

'Only 15%???!!!' That pipe they put down there where they were 'confident' that it would get 85% of the spill was reportedly only getting a fraction of it. "If they keep this up, mankind is going to kill itself, and we 'little people' have no say whatsoever as usual , we're just the marionettes...." Smart lady, hey....

Why does this remind me of something? Errrrm.... the aftermath of Tschernobyl, and how it affected the area I live in, for instance? I know a lot of people will say, 'oh, but that was far away from where you live, it couldn't have been that bad...' 'Far' is a relative thing, however....

There is this thing called the wind, you see, and it dumps things 'far away', it really does. You would think you are living in times of a biblical curse. Like the day I woke up, and everything was covered in fine red sand, and I thought, WTF???? Turned out it was from a storm in the Sahara desert, got caught in a high-wind air stream, and dumped on us. Weird things can happen.

So the wind dumped a mess of radioactiveness on us in Austria, back then. It impacted almost everything in daily life, way back then. Even today, I will not eat certain sorts of mushrooms from certain areas, and it will take about 200 more years to get rid of their cesium poison.

This disaster is more tangible, however. It is visible. Although one will NOT see the stuff affected by the dispersants BP has spilt into the Gulf in any way, or know how far those chemicals spread if they get into the so-called loop and then the Gulf Stream. Why, it could go all the way up the eastern coast, what a comfy feeling.

And it will be just like after Tschernobyl, because no one will see it, smell it, be able to taste it, and it will be deadly in some cases.

Some people will accuse me of hyperbole here. And no, am not a scientist. But I am not dumb either. People tend to grow and learn with age, if they are curious about their world....

So why the fuck hell are they letting BP run the show, and not call in experts?

Sigh, yeah, I know. It's always about money, and screw the poor. Way to go....

Have been quiet....

There is a lot that bothers me muchly... The photo was my moment of Zen for the day... waiting for the bus in Gamlitz. Imagine living in that house, and having a huge vinyard outside that is so steep, I'd go nuts trying to drive a tractor through it. Which I actually saw last week, and it creeped me out....

Yeah I finally got to Gamlitz. After a hectic morning, because I had to go to Peter's Graz apt, and pick up a small bag he needed, and some sundry items. Was running late, so took a taxi, spent five minutes rifling through the apt. and grabbing what he wanted and getting the friggin' mail.

All the while having the heat of one thousand suns for angry inside, because yesterday I learned he is going to be forcibly de-lodged from his Graz apt next month, as he conveniently did not pay the rent.

Leave it to Peter to blind-side me every fucking time. It's pathological, hey. I worked for over two years fighting bureaucracy to get him in there, for fuck's sake.

He's got some valuable things still in there, and it is like: 'oh, it can wait...' We have less than a friggin' month!

As per usual, I do NOT know what is going on behind the scenes down there.

And oh, yeah, had to lug his notebookdown therewith all the other stuff. On the train, in the bus... Because, you see, they have internet, how nice. He only got one recently,and doesn't know how to use it, actually. He wanted it to watch porn, and thought it would be easy, or something.

(Shakes head sadly... I didn't help him with that btw...)

The assistant director said I would have to turn in the computer for the service guy to put in a stop-gap so that he wouldn't be able to access their records, as it is connected to their server. Which was fully understandable to me, and caused much inner hilarity. Peter can hardly do anything with a pc.

He is still learning a left single-click from a double click. So newbie.

But I said, 'ok', and told him. Nuclear. I 'exposed' him as being incompetent. Oh boy....

The doctor down the road..... he seemingly 'fired' the normal one... came in shortly before I left, and said his sugar levels were alarming and wanted to go over changes with him, and Peter was beliigerent. I wasn't sent out of the room. That would be normal in a hospital. Will spare the details, but the new doctor wants him out of the bed and exercising more.

Peter said he had some dumbbellls to lift (sp?) and the doctor asked me if I could bring them to him. Did a rubber-neck-double-take. 'Ummm... I don't drive, have to take them on the train and bus from Graz to GET here? I don't think so. I have trouble carrying groceries before a three week horriday.)

And he said, 'Well, my wife drives to Graz every day, and could take them down here.'

I would have gladly accepted... but I do not want anyone to see his place as it is. The bed and his wheelchair are fully be-shat. Because he often couldn't get to the WC in time. It is pretty horrible.

I do not know if they will take him on as a charity case. And everything is up in the air again, when wasn't it.

If you are young, it is an adventure. If you are getting old, it is just.... the pits.

Lewis Black

Did the rant of the week regarding Glen Beck. The end is especially hilarious.

Hmm... the wind woke me up....

This is odd for here. Huge gusts. A stay-in day if I ever saw one. It's just after six a.m. Will have to check the local news to see what is up, I guess.... very strange indeed, and am wondering why there is a horse carrying trailer down in my yard. Never seen a horse in this neighborhood.... Did we get to Oz overnight, or what? Oh well, it will blow itself out, I guess....

Still tired, going back to sleep.

Had two days sick in bed, which is always 'fun'....

Weather change, my asthma came back, which makes me one sick puppy... as they say...

I don't wish anyone getting up mornings and suddenly not getting any air, and then choking, and retching for half-hours at a time because one can't breathe, and then you retch, and you think you are going to never get another breath of air again. Till you get your honker cleared. Oh, that is so 'fun'. Not....

And I would give the proponents of waterboarding a case of it to see how they like it till they scream 'Make it STOP! I'll say ANYTHING!' Because that is how it feels from what I have read.

So I didn't go to Gamlitz Friday, and tried to stay calm, and get lots of air.

Staying calm is a key factor.

Today is a bit better. Weather is lousy, am not really up for this Sunday, and sorta blah.

I think the 'Incorriagable' aka 'Venerable' is up to something.

I put up a FaceBook page about seven years ago, didn't like it, and more or less forgot about it. Never go there, and they aren't safe.

And all of a sudden, the past weeks, get messages from fambly there.... Some of them really raise my eyebrows into my receding hairline. People I haven't heard from in over thirty years or more?

At first I thought, 'coincidink', they stumbled upon me somehow, ok.

Answered politely, and thought, 'ok, this is weird, why would they even care?'

Got one yesterday from a cousin, 'Hey, how are you?' Uh-huh. Am polite. And didn't think about it much. I hate chatter on those things, they annoy me. Either you have something concrete to say, or just do something useful, you know?

Tonight, she hit me at a very low point. I happen to know that her mother is in a nursing home, and has Alzheimers. And it nearly killed me to hear that. There is so much I could say. I never had a birfday cake until I was eight years old, and she made it. It was awesome, looked like a carousel. We met in Munich and Salzburg, and I was hyper, my first visit from the States, and we had much fun. And I knocked myself out making sure that they did.

When I was at my lowest point, and my Mom was gone, she called to ask if I were really ok.

And now she is headed into some twilight in her mind, and one of her daughters thinks to ask how I am????

Leave it to the B girls. (I do not put full names on the blog, thenk you...)

The B girls were my Mom and her sisters. And they were awesome, if sometimes strict.

Peter and I put up a compendium of all the rules on one rainy day, and he hid it, and mostly kept to them.

What I don't understand is why 'the Bulldog' is so concentrated on Familienzurückführug.' (Reuniting famblys...)

I am not really interested, I have concerns that are immediate, and I am sort of creeped out by it. It won't make my Aunt better. I can hold out a shoulder to cry on, misery loves company... but it will never relplace anything.

You lose people on the path of life, and it can be hard.

And it can break you.

Or you get through it.

My aunt was so concerned. And I said, 'well, y'know, you fall down, get up, dust yourself off, and go on for as long as you can.' And she said, 'You are a remarkable man.'

Ok, I rarely get any praise, but I treasured it.

It WAS meant as a compliment.... btw.

I do not need this right now.... I have a mess of home-made issues.....

If the Venerable wants to upset me, it's been successful.

I don't need extra stresse, thank you-....

And I told you, some things just can not be mended.
so stop looking for my Achilles heels.

UPDATE: the Venerable has denied any connection to the recent rash of Face Book posts, so retract that supposition most humbly.

Ummm Queens as in the NY borough....

Ok, you know I like musicals. And one of the hottest Broadway stars of the past few years is Kirsten Chenowitz. And I ran across a video clip of her on the tee-vee. This is a phenomenon that can really freak me out to the max. She sings like an angel. Really. When she talks... it hurts your ears, am not kidding. Queens, I would guess, from the clip below.

We had a fading opera star in our ho-tel. Incredible in her time, you could melt. She was a formidable diva, but her speaking voice? I had the shudders for weeks. What is up with that?

What in the world...

Does the Texas State Services Commision want looking here? Color me mystified. I've never been west of the Missisippi in my whole life, hey. (Shrugs....) That was odd, but at least I am out of gun range....

I saw a post this morning about the governor of Arizona. She gleefully banned ethnic studies from that state's schools.

Uh-huh...

To be honest, we never learned about Native Americans, too embarassing, I guess. And we never learned that the US killed one million people in Asia over a ten year period after they had established a democracy in the Phillipenes, then got killed in order for the US to control the sugar market. We never learned a lot of things, and btw, killing one million people is what later came to be known as genocide. No one taught us that. It was 'Murka, and everything was wonderful and good, and we were all 'Mr. Clean', hey. Yup.... Knights in shining (white) armour, oh yeah, pretty story.

Well, you'd think, huh?

We didn't learn a hell of a lot of things, input garbage in, you get garbage out, and that is how it goes down.

So Jan Brewer can sweep it all under the rug, and make everything tighty-whitey in her little state, but boy howdy, she is one destructive lady.

Tomorrow, am off to Gamlitz again..... Am not looking forward to what I see.