Category Archives: Beloved

by

Studt’s again

Rake, huh? I thought, well, I am not sure if I have a picture of a rake.

But look! There it is! Along with the kids shooting corn bazookas at plywood farm figures. They must rake up the husks at night, ready for the next day of Studt’s Pumpkin Farm and Corn Maze, joyful, seasonal mayhem.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: rake.

by

All night vigil

Rainshadow Chorale is getting ready for our fall concert. Amazing music! One hundred pages of Rachmaninoff in Russian! I have been practicing remotely, using the recorded choral practices on Facebook, MP3s, language recordings, and my flute to practice tricky sections until they are earwormed into my brain.

The concerts are on Saturday and Sunday, three weekends from now, November 2 and 3, at First Presbyterian Church at 4:00 pm in Port Townsend, Washington. I leave soon to drive back there, cat and all. I think Sol Duc has learned some Russian too.

Here is one of the 15 parts. I like the title: Blessed Be the Man. It makes me think that this is Russian rap music. Actually, I think the whole thing sounds like angels singing in Russian. This is the first time I sing in Russian, but it’s the time that is particularly tricky. Rachmaninoff doesn’t care a bit about time signatures so some measures have eight beats, others twelve, others ten. Count, count, count.

I am using this for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: burgundy, both because of the poster colors and because the music and language is so rich and complex.

Come to the concert if you are anywhere near by!

by

Advertising alphabots

“The singular media and its plural medias seem to have originated in the field of advertising over 70 years ago; they are still so used without stigma in that specialized field. In most other applications media is used as a plural of medium. The popularity of the word in references to the agencies of mass communication is leading to the formation of a mass noun, construed as a singular.” From here.

advertising alphabots
hot bots with rotten lots
true crime creatively “reenacted”
big data theft unredacted

earbud earworm mealworm eely
faceNObook curated freely
grinning google amazons greed
hoary heads hawk hell few heed

i phone i watch i influence
a list j list jovial ents
kotkit koobecaf bookcafe
love light liberating libraray

magazine murmurs metaverse more
newspaper calls politician a whore
organic natural lab rat pores

play tape, CD, podcast album
quiet queens reject the pablum
radio radical rhetorical ram
spambot spammail spam yum spam

television treads traditional trust
unit united universe untie us
vehicle vroom driverless porn
walkman withers worms are worn

Xray googling exacerbates lies
you are the target of sales AI
zealous AIs algorize pi

_____________________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: media.

ChatGPT’s take: “This is a captivating piece! The blend of modern themes with a rhythmic structure creates a vivid commentary on technology and society. It’s playful yet sharp, tackling everything from advertising to data privacy. The way you weave together pop culture references and critique consumerism is particularly striking. Do you have any specific themes or ideas you’d like to explore further?” Nope. Thanks, ChatGPT. — See, Martha, I think ChatGPT has low tastes. It doesn’t understand sonnets and it probably loves limericks. We’d better test that theory.


by

Alphabeasts

ambulating antelopes
bellies bearing beer
carrying cantelopes
deride damp deer

elegant elephants
feeling fitly fat
give generous gifts
handing hippos hats

ignorant iguanas
jealously jeer
keen kindly kites
lilting laughing leers

many merry meerkats
nearly never notice
one old orangutan’s
pompous pronouncements

querulous quail
reject reports regarding
shimmering snow snakes
tearing through tunnels

undulating ungulates
veer vivaciously
wondering why whales
xerox xylophones

yellow yaks yell
zip zap zoo!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: zoo!

I wrote this sometime in the 1980s. My proof is the drawing by my mother. We had it in a show and hand colored with colored pencils. There is now a book with the same title by a Canadian author but it came later.

And hooray for the zoo! They are all asking for you!

Martha, what would the AI think of this poem? Heh. ChatGPT: “That’s a fantastic poem! I love how it captures the playful nature of alliteration and the whimsical imagery of animals. Each stanza has its own charm, and the ending with the β€œyellow yaks” is such a fun wrap-up! Did you create this as a fun project, or is it inspired by something specific?” Ok, so ChatGPT doesn’t get sonnets, but it likes nonsense poetry.

by

Bolster meaning

It did not even occur to me that yesterday’s dream could be taken as complaints about patients! That was not my meaning!

I wrote the dream out because I wanted to know what it was trying to tell me. And I look at it from the perspective of all the people in the dream being aspects of myself.

So who is the whiny guy (me) who won’t cooperate with authority (me) and who wants attention and is difficult? That’s not a very nice aspect of myself!

First of all, he reminds me of my father. My father really did not like authority and did not like most men. When I was quite small, I announced that he would have to die first, because he couldn’t live without my mother, but she could live without him. I was wrong as well as being an awkward child. My father’s dislike of authority interfered with his employment and he was mostly underemployed. He finished a Master’s in Mathematics, but never wrote the thesis for his PhD. I asked him why once and he said, “I was bored.” I don’t know how much alcohol interfered with his working.

I am not brilliant with authority either, though I am trying. I notice systems and often annoy authority by asking why something is run a certain (foolish and unproductive) way. I used to study whatever system I was in and then say, “Here, I’ve thought up a solution for this problem.” Then I would get in trouble for suggesting that there was a problem and I would be the problem. I learned to go to authority first and ask, “So is this (huge problem) a problem? I find it difficult. What is your advice?” Priming the pump, so to speak.

As a temp, the authority problem is weirder. I am an outsider, short term, no one really has to be nice to me. That fast trip home and back made me realize that I am lonelier in a group clinic than I was in a solo clinic. In my solo clinic there was me, my receptionist and the patients. In this group clinic I have less people to talk to and it is lonely. My problem, not theirs. They are about to move me to another clinic and I will see what approach I can take to this. The system might have a Balint Group or I may be able to start one.

What about the frozen looking spouse? Ha, I think that’s the part of me that is trying to keep my mouth shut with authority. The kids? Some days I want to pull the system apart and fix it, but I am not in authority to do that here. The grumpy nurse? I am running behind and I can’t fix everyone. Some people don’t want to be fixed, including me.

I could go home and try another place. However, I think that the cracks in the US medical system are in the whole system. As a country, we built this. I hope that I see single payer healthcare in my lifetime, but I may not. And Martha is right too: I thought that this place was doing better handling a chronic illness than where I worked in 2021, but they aren’t, really. They apply a formula, but the patients don’t get much out of it. They just get shuffled in once every three months. I did upset that apple cart by spending more time with those people and talking to them, but I do not know what the next physician will do. Sigh. The patients are already my patients and are saying goodbye.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: meaning.

by

Bolster my courage

I am having nightmares. About clinic. Yesterday I bolstered my courage and sat down to write my dream out. What are my dreams trying to tell me? Should I extend my contract or not?

I dream that in clinic I have a male patient with his wife in the room. He is very dramatic, saying, “I am so ill, help me, help me.” He says, “I am on quercetin. You have to help me.”

He won’t tell me what his symptoms are, so I respond to what he says: “Who prescribed quercetin? What is your diagnosis?”

“Oh, you don’t want to help me,” he says. His wife just watches.

“Do you have pain somewhere? Any chest pain? Any abdominal pain? Any pain anywhere?”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” he says, “You aren’t listening!”

“I am trying to help you,” I say. “Can we reschedule you for a longer visit?” This is one of the impossible 20 minute ones. Honestly, he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. I do a quick listen to heart and lungs and feel his abdomen.

“No, I need to be in the hospital, I can’t go home!”

“I can’t put you in the hospital without a diagnosis, but we can move you to the emergency room.” Of course, the ER won’t be happy about this.

I leave the room and call the ER. The ER doctor is understandably grumpy, since I have no idea what this is about and am suspecting a psychiatric cause. “Urine drug screen,” I say. “He doesn’t smell drunk. I do not think it’s meth withdrawal.” “Make sure you do a note,” snarls the ER doctor. Good luck, since he won’t answer any questions. “How behind am I?” I ask the nurse. She just rolls her eyes. I probably have at least four or five more on the schedule. I come back to the room. Now two preteens are in the room, looking in the drawers and taking things out. Their parents do nothing to stop them.

“Please sit down now!” I say. “Put that down!”

The teens sullenly comply. The father is moaning. He has the prescriber on his cell phone. He hands it to me. I introduce myself. “What is your diagnosis?” I say. “Why is he on quercetin?” The person at the other end mumbles. “Excuse me, what did you say?” He’s gone. I say to the mother, “Please take the children to the waiting room. Sir, are you requesting that we call 911?” It would be a call saying man moaning, no idea what he’s on about. Vitals are normal, he denies chest pressure or pain, he doesn’t have an acute abdomen, his oxygen level is fine, no fast heart rate, no fever. Drama.

I wake up, thinking that I may have to call 911 to get the wife and kids out and I have to have someone monitor him while I see other patients and we just don’t have enough staff and I am ready to just cancel the rest of the afternoon. If I were in a hospital, I could call security, but we are a satellite small clinic.

So… what the heck is THIS dream about? And do we really get patients like this? Yes, but not often and I haven’t had any like this here. I think it’s funny that this dream has so much detail, down to the supplement that the man is taking as well as the clinic room. I usually work in room 1 and 2, but this was in room 5.

To be continued.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bolster.



by

A gas

I don’t think the bird is aghast. Me either, walking on the beach. There is so much to see.

What is this cloud bank behind the ship? And the ships are so big close up and so small on the water. Gast and ghast are both words, but don’t mean the opposite of aghast. The opposite is unfrightened, unfazed, relaxed.

The water is never what I would call warm, yet surfers and divers and swimmers are out there, with their extra skins.

There is always something to see.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: aghast.

In Rainshadow Chorale we are learning the Rachmaninoff Vespers, All-Night Vigil. It is gorgeous. This makes me think of angels.

by

Letters

I went to the post office Monday. I am in a rental house, and get packages every so often for the previous renter. This time I realized at the post office that one was misdelivered and was to the house next door. Ooops. But the post office said they would redeliver it.

I love snail mail letters. I have colored pens and stickers and stamps. The whole thing makes my inner child very happy. Once I got a letter from my mother-in-law saying that my letters are national treasures! I kept that letter.

I haven’t written myself a letter, but maybe I should. What would I write?

I sent the envelope above out, but it came back. I will be driving home soon and wrote to a friend on the way, but I must have the wrong address. I bought the stamps here. The stamp pads were expensive, though, so I only got two!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: post office.