ROBERT FROST, AMERICAN POET:

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life — It goes on

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Good news—or as they call it in religious terminology, ‘gospel’, is what is on the agenda today. Dammit. I mean it. Sick of bad news,like OS going down.

Good news Sunday...?

Well, the best news is that it is my birthday and people are pouring in to wish me a good day. People from everywhere, even other continents & time zones. Weird but wonderful....

...........................

Gotta admit, it started off oddly. Robert Frost, my bald 50ih housemate, pounded on my door at 6 am for cigarettes and the proverbial shoulder to cry on. Poor f-er was drunk or high, full of self-lament. He is to be evicted, for nonpayment of rent.

"Jimmy, ah gonna miss this kitchen. This kitchen? Gonna be a mess when i go...I gotta go i guess...gonna miss the 'man upstairs' ..what am i gonna do when i need cigarettes?huh.."

"You do indeed keep a clean kitchen, Rob," i said, hiding behind my half open door..

I chose to ignore his messed up state.Why intervene? Hard to talk to an irrational junky guy, even if he is superb at cleaning the kitchen, and stocking it with bread from the soup kitchen.

 Earlier, he had disturbed the lion, Sarge, my upstairs neighbor, with his foolishness.

For that you get ‘blood on the floor, yessir’ as the old Georgia boy vet says. Best not to disturb Sarge when he just gets up. Or any other time, really…

Sarge would love nothing more than to see this guy gone. Me?  I am ambivalent, mostly because it is cool to look at the house mailbox and see, written , one name under the other, “Rober t Frost/james  emmerling”. Did not the real Frost say,

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in…”? ("The Death of the Hired Man).

And:more apropos regarding his namesake:

“I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

§  "The Sound of the Trees”

ha. that is my r. frost's fate i guess.

……………………………………

“Hi sarge, good morning ,sir”

“Hi Jim..how are you?” a bald excrutiatingly pale skinned,bespectacled victim of PTSD, COPD, a spine injury, the handyman , the "hired man" of the property...

“Very well, sir. Ah, and our neighbor, mr. Frost?”

“Than sunnoffa #$%^& is goin out on his ass, and that is for sure, and man,” sweet Southern drawl, “I say, sooner the better.’’

‘Well I always thought he was a good guy,’ I said with utter ambivalence.

Sarge did one of his dramatic pauses, and with a big lovely sharklike smile, said, “jim,he may be good, he may be bad, but he bugs the shit out of me. And not only me..the Big Lady too.”

The landlord’ s daughter! A tough gal indeed. I schmooze an elicit love from her as I pass the cash every week. There are usually sober girls hanging around her office, in the sober house next door.

She is big Mama.

If Big Mama don’t like him no more, I pity the guy…

Always, always, keep relations good with Big Mama, is one of my mottos for life

…………………………

Good news?

Gonna go on a walk with sister L and Georgie Puppy later. After L and I visit the Verizon place, where she has to replace her defunct cell phone.Seems she went for a 10 mile jog and stored it in her running bra. It was exposed to moisture, and called it quits. She needs a more modern phone anyway. I hope to help the salespeople talk her into something that she might enjoy. Not too modern, but at least one where you can text properly. Her texts are like from a Romanian orphan being taught English by a Russian schoolmaster.

Example “birthday happy see you soon will have plans? Running now down. Meet you at have a good day”

L & New Guy:

…………………………………………

Good news? I am gonna watch some tv now, the news. Sunday morning is a good time to catch all the savvy old journalists shooting the real shit. Ah, Chris Matthews on NBC.

A lot of old talking head friends. “A perfectionist drive for unity,” is what a writer says of our poor President.

“He represents opposite forces..his essence involves that…looking for peace and harmony”

“Can he keep his own sense of self in the Washington crisis?”

“A completely different set of survival skills than Clinton,” author of Clinton book says.

Oh such interesting psychological/political analysis.

…………………………

CNN………..Egypt election results soon. I see thousands of people in the square, behind the newslady’s fantastically flapping hair. Much drama. Just like here in America, the Land of the Free. Like when we queued up on the tv screen to see the Queen’s Jubilee, and realize how tiny that queen of ours is, and how lovely Kate was in pink.

Fox news: “this will change the future of the world..islamist state in Egypt…russian president gonna meet with Israeli head guy…netanyahoo….ann Romney has a disease, and is gonna spill it. “ She is kinda sweet. Hard not to like these Romneys as people, but easy to hate them in their ideas.

……………………………..

Georgie puppy just called.

“Uncle, am I gonna see you today?”

“You bet. Back from vacation, hm, kiddo? You gotta fill me in on the good stuff..”

“What good stuff? “

“the fun, man!”

“I spent like all of it in a crate, Uncle! Lots of bones though. And peanut butter, how Momma puts it in my toy. And there was the nights..weird…not normal..”

“what do you mean?”

“Momma gave me melatonin! When I had to sleep with New Guy and momma. So I wouldn’t get all nervous and confused and have to get up and pee. “

“Melatonin is harmless. Actually beneficial. It is natural”

“Yeah? Well, I am not so sure it is good for puppies. Makes them sluggish. Couldn’t even move much in the morning..anyway…what are you doing now? OS?”

“Yes, and the news.”

“Ok, tell everyone I am ok. Home. God, home is my favorite place.. Cape cod was ok, but..well, no place like home.”

“Ok,man. We will catch up soon. Hey, this Egypt election thing is very interesting. Gotta go. Bye.”

“ok. “

Georgie is like a son to me. He needs me. It is nice to be needed, even by a crazy precocious puppy.

Now no joy but lacks salt,
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain

Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.

§  "To Earthward" (1923), st.

FROST.