The what to say is harder sometimes to say than remaining silent. Silence = Death. So I'll type with a tenacious Spirit...
...my Lodge is quiet this afternoon. So quiet I feel near total Deafness.
This early afternoon has been a challange - as was the morning. I have shed my tears and will soon push myself to task.
My poor gardens are over-run by weeds and some spider like grass, it's a one thousand root plant with many arms above ground. The Summer has been a difficult season for me. The last few weeks in particular...
...Meniere's has had me in it's grasp for much of what my life has become.
At this moment the nausea is a strong seven. The perspiration/sweat is sliding down my neck and then down my chest...
The dizziness is enough to keep me on guard and carefull with each step I take. It's difficult to be graceful when every step could lead to a slip or trip and fall. So I use caution. What more can I do? What more to say?
The silence is something I would prefer while out in Mother Nature, or maybe canoeing down Silver Springs. Or sitting in the Gulf of Mexico.
I just don't think I'll ever get used to the power of the Deafness...
...it's so quiet that it roars with it's silence.
With the exception of an ocassional beep my Left Deaf ear has in fact been deaf today. The dear ear is always Deaf - it's just the nosies I pick up between the ears that drive me near madness. I've probably damned myself by sharing, so it be then. It's a madness that leads one mourning the loss of hearing to beg for silence. I figure there is some sort of chemical imbalance in the brains that have me this way. But then, I guess this is the way it is and the way it was meant to be.
My Right-Good-Bad ear is having a really poor day. Either poor hearing or listen to the voices that haunt me...
...or the sounds of the tank in my back yard. Presently it's shit poor.
The worms act up and have me thinking about taking an ax to the side of my head. The left side. Where these frustrating sumbeachs reside. Maybe if there's a cut or hole they'll vacate. Huh? Nah. Wishful thinking.
Enough has been said or not. Think it's time to get my Mr. Gripper and my knee cushions to go terminate these pesks in my garden. Oh yes, I will feed my bird cousins too.
Lord, please no snakes!
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