| Aug 27 2011 |
08/27/11
Tonight, my dearest friends, and ever-loyal readers, I regret that--while my 'offering' may brief-- it, nevertheless is my most fond hope that I may in some way help you cope, and to make it through yet another evening.
For two days, now, I have been caught in the jaws of utter Fibro-Hell; I cannot ascertain exactly where I hurt the most, as it is global, ruthless, and seemingly without end. Funny, but even my eye lashes are afire in agony.
Tonight I feel weary, both of the illnesses...and, of the world, and have become enveloped in a depression so black and despairing, that I cannot tell what agonizes me the most.
But, in all other ways, it should have been a 'good day'. So, as much as I would like to apportion-away all blame and responsibility, it does appear that--upon deep considertion-- that, in being out of control, that it is I, who have been the serpent in the Garden of my own Eden.
However, my dear friends, I am pledged to you to try to help support, sustain, and--if need be--carry you a while whilst you recover.
Whenever I find myself in this position of utter uselessness, I try to look for any distraction, any anodyne, anything that might prove to alter my brain chemistry at least enough to survive the evening.
And, so to you, my dear friends, please allow me to present you, with some little, harmless fluff, that--nevertheless--I have watched twice, already; and that it is slowly restoring to me a sense of quiet, of tiredness as opposed to despair and weariness, and which I hope may help you as well.
For, if you are able, go to 'YouTube', and there, type in, ( carioca, in flying down to rio, 1933 ).
It may take you a while to find it, and I cannot now recall whether it is uppercase sensitive, but, it is a long music and dance extravaganza with Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire.
And while you may--at first consideration--dismiss it out of hand, as old, silly, and without purpose, I would rather that you give it a chance, and revel in sheer 'eye candy'. The setting ( on an enormous sound stage ), is beautiful, the dancers smiling and happy...and as to the music...I almost guarantee that within two minutes, your feet will begin to tap.
As I sat back, and listened to the music pour over me, and watched that fantastic spectacle, I knew that I wanted to be there...at least for a while; and there I could--perhaps--see myself, younger, handsome, carefree, and with a most lovely lady at my side. I loved the music, and wanted to dance, and to enjoy--under the Rio stars, above--a night of music, and of magic, and of happiness.
For surely, once, I looked as did they; only the inevitable passing of the decades, illness, loneliness and pain have caused my evil stars to allign. It is nobody's fault, and I seek to not aportion blame; but, in some tiny part of my heart of hearts, I long to join them.
From there, move to listen to Maurice Chevallier's singing, " A Happy Tune".
For even though I am still in pain, the dark veil has at least partially opened, to allow some respite, and some quiet to seep in. At last.
It all may sound so silly, my dearest friends and readers, but when one is in complete pain, and trapped--besides--in a dark pit of despair, ANY lifeline dropped down is welcome...even if it be composed of celluloid film, seventy-eight years old.
And so, dearest friends, although this is about the only hope I can offer, it is a genuine one, from my very heart. May everyone know freedom from pain, depression, alienation tonight--at least--while Rio's heavens are alit with an ethereal, and untrammed bliss. Love, 'Zahc/Charles'
Tonight, my dearest friends, and ever-loyal readers, I regret that--while my 'offering' may brief-- it, nevertheless is my most fond hope that I may in some way help you cope, and to make it through yet another evening.
For two days, now, I have been caught in the jaws of utter Fibro-Hell; I cannot ascertain exactly where I hurt the most, as it is global, ruthless, and seemingly without end. Funny, but even my eye lashes are afire in agony.
Tonight I feel weary, both of the illnesses...and, of the world, and have become enveloped in a depression so black and despairing, that I cannot tell what agonizes me the most.
But, in all other ways, it should have been a 'good day'. So, as much as I would like to apportion-away all blame and responsibility, it does appear that--upon deep considertion-- that, in being out of control, that it is I, who have been the serpent in the Garden of my own Eden.
However, my dear friends, I am pledged to you to try to help support, sustain, and--if need be--carry you a while whilst you recover.
Whenever I find myself in this position of utter uselessness, I try to look for any distraction, any anodyne, anything that might prove to alter my brain chemistry at least enough to survive the evening.
And, so to you, my dear friends, please allow me to present you, with some little, harmless fluff, that--nevertheless--I have watched twice, already; and that it is slowly restoring to me a sense of quiet, of tiredness as opposed to despair and weariness, and which I hope may help you as well.
For, if you are able, go to 'YouTube', and there, type in, ( carioca, in flying down to rio, 1933 ).
It may take you a while to find it, and I cannot now recall whether it is uppercase sensitive, but, it is a long music and dance extravaganza with Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire.
And while you may--at first consideration--dismiss it out of hand, as old, silly, and without purpose, I would rather that you give it a chance, and revel in sheer 'eye candy'. The setting ( on an enormous sound stage ), is beautiful, the dancers smiling and happy...and as to the music...I almost guarantee that within two minutes, your feet will begin to tap.
As I sat back, and listened to the music pour over me, and watched that fantastic spectacle, I knew that I wanted to be there...at least for a while; and there I could--perhaps--see myself, younger, handsome, carefree, and with a most lovely lady at my side. I loved the music, and wanted to dance, and to enjoy--under the Rio stars, above--a night of music, and of magic, and of happiness.
For surely, once, I looked as did they; only the inevitable passing of the decades, illness, loneliness and pain have caused my evil stars to allign. It is nobody's fault, and I seek to not aportion blame; but, in some tiny part of my heart of hearts, I long to join them.
From there, move to listen to Maurice Chevallier's singing, " A Happy Tune".
For even though I am still in pain, the dark veil has at least partially opened, to allow some respite, and some quiet to seep in. At last.
It all may sound so silly, my dearest friends and readers, but when one is in complete pain, and trapped--besides--in a dark pit of despair, ANY lifeline dropped down is welcome...even if it be composed of celluloid film, seventy-eight years old.
And so, dearest friends, although this is about the only hope I can offer, it is a genuine one, from my very heart. May everyone know freedom from pain, depression, alienation tonight--at least--while Rio's heavens are alit with an ethereal, and untrammed bliss. Love, 'Zahc/Charles'
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