A Night of a Thousand Deaths

Another night at work, keeping the dead alive for another day or week or month...waiting for them to become really dead, not just mostly dead. And while waiting for their honest to gosh death we turn them every 2 hours and suction their mouths and gently, oh so gently, bathe their bruised and broken bodies that we have penetrated with ghastly devices intended to keep them alive; foley's and chest tubes and endotracheal tubes and nasogastric tubes and PEG tubes and central lines through which we pump the life sustaining drugs that keeps the blood moving oxygen to the dying cells and keeps their bodies alive and on earth for another day or week or month so we can turn them....

Haiku on a Bike

Biking today I found Amelia Earhart's plane, lonely, in a ditch.

Change is Good

I've traded out the Klimt Kiss that hung on my wall.  I have wanted to change it for years and finally have but only because I painted the walls.  What kind of justification for change of art is that?  Why do I need justification to change the art anyway?  Why do I have to justify anything I do?  Who am I making excuses for and to whom?  Who cares?

Now Murnau by Kandinsky hangs against the freshly golden wall.  It looks good.  

Change is good.