Black Angel – Got The Broke-Down Dreary Taxi Dog Blues

Shoulda thought about it months ago.

They are the best of me!! My comments: the correspondence to other bloggers that make the whole blogging endeavor worthwhile. And they’re sprinkled around on other peoples’ blogs. “What hath God wrought”, he thought, clear as a Bell. [Shit!! There he goes again.]

Or maybe I’m just wasting your time; regurgitating leftovers from s poor writer’s pantry. Thyme will tell, said Rosemary with sprinkle of zest.

Stop!! Stop!! You’re killing me.

—

Like this interchange between Maesha and yours’ truly:

On Death

by #Maesha

Seanmháthair told me that death should come with the same relief I feel when I flop down exhausted on my bed after a really intense race. She said if it didn’t, then I must not have worked my life hard enough. She asked me to imagine the restlessness one might experience laying in a bed from which it was impossible to rise. I guess it pays to work like mad in this life because, in some sense, it would be really nice to someday be able to actually enjoy being dead. My Mamó was such a card.

TD’s response:

Been dead! Life’s much more fun. Even when my arthritic hands are throbbing and my paralyzed right side makes me walk like Boris Karloff doing the Kazatski in a death camp.

I like living. But I’m very sure the Black Angel, who awaits us all, will recognize me from the last time. I’ll be his tickle-bone, and we’ll go on laughing together. For Ever.

What else should I say to Maesha. Or write her yourself at http://maeshashannon.com/2013/04/01/on-death-2/comment-page-1/#comment-259