tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154494336156727092024-10-05T02:01:12.314-04:00Like everyone else, the world spun around me. I was it's axis... it's centerpoint. Then my children were diagnosed with Autism. Then my wife got Fibromyalgia. Then I got M.S. so bad that I couldn't play music anymore and we had to leave L.A. and move to Rhode Island. What happens next...who knows?ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-42606282478778142532012-11-08T10:02:00.001-05:002012-11-08T10:02:13.316-05:00

I HAVE MOVED! Please come visit me on my new page... http://www.alexkimmell.weebly.com See You There! Thanks -a

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-32178406332143165382012-02-27T13:39:00.001-05:002012-02-27T13:39:55.293-05:00

New post today...http://alexkimmell.wordpress.com/2012/02/27/think-ill-go-eat-some-worms/

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-9304377929856371852012-02-23T13:48:00.001-05:002012-02-23T13:49:09.461-05:00

Go here to see the post on my new page: http://alexkimmell.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/t-o-a-j-d-a-s-a-h-d-i-r-i/

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-14230644594567419612012-01-29T17:46:00.001-05:002012-01-29T17:51:33.530-05:00

In my last post I discussed some effects of racism on our society as I personally see them. It appears that in some of the stories told, I mislead my message. By no means whatsoever do I want anyone to think that the people here in Rhode Island make me feel slighted or discounted in any way. No one has presented themselves in a remotely derogatory way toward me or to my family at all. In fact

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-4463096664782379522012-01-25T11:02:00.005-05:002012-01-25T11:12:24.733-05:00

"racism - rac·ism[rey-siz-uh m] noun1.a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.2.a policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.3.hatred or intolerance of another race or

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-70558231377290458992012-01-19T10:43:00.002-05:002012-01-19T11:30:14.643-05:00

2012. Already. Weren’t we all just freaking about the world ending when Y2K struck us down? Time is a sprightly little bugger. There are moments when it creeps like molasses though. Especially in this day of instant information. Our microwave culture demands everything instantaneously. Now. Now now. Nownownownow. NOW!The other day I offered to help my neighbor scan in some old family

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-53843486764077500252011-12-12T11:08:00.002-05:002011-12-12T11:15:22.747-05:00

12:04 AM Monday morning. My eyes are blurry and unfocussed. My hands are shaking and I have to watch my fingers carefully so I can type the correct letters. I can’t stop my leg from bouncing up and down. If I do I don’t think I’ll be able to feel where I am. It’s been three weeks since the surgery and my left foot is still numb. If I’m not wearing shoes it’s not so bad, but when I do it

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-28226282633635217812011-11-29T11:31:00.004-05:002011-11-29T11:37:54.071-05:00

emptyblack-cough-black-cough--cough-empty-cough--cough-*thought “what the…”black-cough--coughcough-*thought “can’tbreathe”black-coughcoughcoughcoughcoughchokestrugglecoughchoke choking-black-coughcoughchokefightcoughfightfightcoughcan’tbreathefightordiefightnodie-black-coughchokefightnodienodienodienodiehcan’tmovemyhandscoughcoughgag-black-coughfightcoughcoughgaggagfightfightfight“Shh. Honey

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-80585765545931978992011-11-08T21:38:00.002-05:002011-11-08T21:59:31.286-05:00

I was thinking today about how our society is completely horrified of aging. How we choose to ignore that we as a species in fact do grow old as the years go by. We try to prevent it with skin creams. We fight with plastic surgery. We battle time’s onslaught with prescription and otherwise illegal drugs. None of it works. Plastic surgery makes the majority of its recipients look even older.

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-18602979056508100712011-10-31T15:21:00.002-04:002011-10-31T15:39:47.564-04:00

-Josephine-It’s hard to clean them out. I pulled out the thin file, tip curved under the nail thingy that’s on my fingernail clippers. You know the one. The part we all use to clean the gunk out from under our nails. I think it was originally designed to be used on the cuticle or something. But I don’t know anyone who uses it that way. Jamming it underneath the jagged edge I realized I

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-88115407605724625332011-10-14T14:55:00.003-04:002011-10-14T14:57:37.010-04:00

Early in the last century any attempt at surgery on the human heart was considered impossible. Every medical student was taught to never touch the heart. It meant certain death to any patient at the time and the prevailing concept of “nolitangere” would never change. Dr. Alfred Blalock and his lab technician Vivien Thomas swam against this stream and performed the world’s first successful

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-1104755743626455122011-10-05T12:45:00.002-04:002011-10-05T12:58:16.572-04:00

Writing is the loneliest thing I have ever done. I can’t say that I enjoy the process of writing, but I do love having written. There are fleeting moments when I get lost in the words my fingers are typing out and I am completely the story. No Id or ego, no I or Me, just the events occurring on the page.Back when I was playing music I would get this out of body experience sometimes. It didn’t

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-64871678796190785152011-09-30T18:53:00.002-04:002011-09-30T19:02:26.819-04:00

Been pretty sick the last week or so. Woke up the other morning and the world was spinning faster than it usually does for me. Dizziness and nausea have pretty much become my standard operating procedure. My eyes have been burning and every time I open them I feel like my brain is going to come pouring out through my tear ducts.Good news is that today I started listening to music again. My

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-16443449766590997112011-07-27T21:08:00.003-04:002011-07-27T21:11:06.551-04:00

They bounced high off the trampoline into the air. Laughing screaming smiles stretched wide as mouths could reach. Acorns flipped summersaults in the air along with the two boys having fallen from the oak tree branches hanging above. Metal legs rumbled on the grass with each landing scooting the large circle a tiny bit here or there. It was a beautiful day. Not as hot as the last few surface

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-6050015003020972622011-07-25T09:56:00.003-04:002011-07-25T10:07:12.072-04:00

Remain seated until the ride comes to a full and complete stop. Up and down. Fasten your seatbelt. Up and down. Please allow the safety bar to lock in place. Blurred and focused. Keep arms and hands inside the car at all times. Blurred and focused. A baseball has 108 stitches. Things have been a roller coaster lately. My health has been questionable, which is not really a surprise to

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-42047767021067788162011-07-15T14:21:00.005-04:002011-07-15T14:49:16.083-04:00

My temper sucks. It’s getting worse too. I don’t become violent or anything, but I sure am a grumpy fuck. I snap like a twig at the smallest thing. I see myself doing it and I hate it, but it doesn’t stop.Nothing is getting better. I take all the medicines my doctors tell me too. I do practically everything I’m supposed to, but I’m not getting better. I’m getting worse. My hand responds

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-45055954976487428882011-07-08T13:09:00.003-04:002011-07-08T13:25:05.648-04:00

The Dad played guitar and sang some songs for his son today. Since they were all the same melody and chords he played a medley of “the alphabet song/twinkle twinkle little star/bah bah black sheep” like he used to when the boy was a baby. Whenever he sang over the past year or so the boy didn’t like it. Dad would throw out a few words along with whatever Sesame Street episode was playing or a

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-37304869808951530562011-06-20T14:25:00.003-04:002011-06-20T14:48:31.645-04:00

Well, it’s officially official. I get to wake up at the crack of early tomorrow morning and head into the hospital where they will intentionally surge up to as many as 2,500 volts of electricity into my body in order to get my finicky and ill-behaved heart to beat in a consistent and steady rhythm again. Having been a drummer for over thirty years you’d think this would be a sure thing right?

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-42289900786861976842011-05-20T14:14:00.004-04:002011-05-20T14:26:40.366-04:00

In the dream we're in a museum. High white ceilings accented with soft light illuminating from an unknown source. Colorful and refined paintings hang on the long walls. Important images by important artists held in high esteem by important people with important opinions. Details within the ornate frames hang illusive. Lines blur and colors swim together rendering their brush strokes undefined

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-15197929430422851342011-05-11T13:58:00.002-04:002011-05-11T14:04:00.376-04:00

He watches her fill up the mason jar with water from the sink. Back out west the tap water tasted like dirt but out here the well is always fresh, crystalline and ice cold. He starts pushing his chair back from the table just as she holds up her hand to stop him from getting up. She wipes a few drops from the rim of the jar and lowers from her mouth.“We need to talk about a couple of things.”

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-54149201414712455432011-04-28T13:52:00.002-04:002011-04-28T13:55:05.863-04:00

An Oriole flew in my living room yesterday. I was in the bedroom cleaning up a dog “accident” when I heard a strange thupping sound. At first I thought it was my bed bumping against the wall when I walked across the room. Then it happened again while I was standing still. Thup. Thupthupthup. Thupthupthupthupthupthup. I flushed the paper wrapped “accident” down the toilet and turned on the

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-8501081951063807152011-04-08T14:32:00.003-04:002011-04-08T14:40:30.798-04:00

everything happens to me by twodoggarageI don’t want to be sick anymore. I don’t want to be depressed anymore. My doctor prescribed me some new medication and guess what…yup. It made me even more sick yet again. I mean what the fuck!?!? I am so tired of doctors I could just spit.There. I did. Right here on the floor next to my desk. Yes it’s gross. But lately, so am I.I got some

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-38928706429243084852011-04-05T12:36:00.002-04:002011-04-05T12:48:24.536-04:00

I am lonely.In some ways that’s a good thing. I don’t like to write music when other people are around, so being here by myself helps with that. Writing prose is a very solitary endeavor as well. So there you have it. I should shut up now. End of blog. Bye bye. Good day to all. Nope. Not done yet. I’m still going. The problem isn’t really that I have all this alone time when I am

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-57638782071829968742011-03-23T23:33:00.002-04:002011-03-23T23:41:18.159-04:00

03-23-11I sit in the chair. Relieved a little bit to be off my wobbly knees. Hands are shaking more than usual. Two chairs over another man is stretched all the way back with his feet lifted up. Needle taped down to his wrist, my eyes trace the clear plastic tube curling above him to the bag as it slowly drips. Drips. Drips the hazy liquid medicine into his veins. Realizing I haven’t in

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15449433615672709.post-9199063921994449692011-03-21T15:06:00.002-04:002011-03-21T15:16:09.735-04:00

03-21-11I am in a state of emotional turmoil today. I have been bouncing around like a ping-pong ball between happiness/bewilderment/sadness/relief/anger/fear. You might be asking, “Alex, how is this different from any other Monday afternoon?”I might reply, “Hmmm… Well _____ (insert your name here), though it may seem quite normal in the grand scheme of the ‘Great Alex Kimmell Freak Show’, this

ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14093937287116876302noreply@blogger.com0