Thursday, February 19, 2009

Losing things

Different glass marbles from a glass-millImage via Wikipedia

I’ve grown pretty good at losing things. My mind seems always distracted. Right now I can’t find my checkbook. I misplaced my flash drive and have had to give in to purchasing another one. My keys often lie buried somewhere for days at a time, while I try to hold on to my spare set. So many things I’ve lost over the years. Some more important than others. So with that as my major preoccupation today, I leave you with a short poem. A memory from the end of my marriage. Sounds like a limerick of sorts, but its not, and it isn’t supposed to be funny. It was a show of concern for someone I was losing back then.


Obsessing over her words,

seemed I was losing my marbles,

for she was holding her love back,

from me, but not him.

Yet I was holding her hair back,

as she was losing her dinner,

vomiting over our toilet bowl.

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susan said...



Ana said...


Gianna said...

no funny it's not...but ironic, yes...

as you were losing her you still did something so intimate as to help her as she vomited...

that's actually incredibly touching and painful.

Ana said...

I have something for you:

Hope you like it.



Pyrs said...

@Ana -
Gostei uma surpresa! Muito obrigado meu amigo!
((((um forte abraço))))

Mark Krusen said...

You might want to think about a "Man basket" to put your things in. It's worked for me.Stan will pick on you though so don't tell any body.

That poem is something else. Divorce sux.

Anonymous said...

Peter, and the Organizer Lady have help me immensely. I have links on my site to them

Anonymous said...

Peter, and the Organizer Lady have help me immensely. I have links on my site to them

susan said...


Make the cats work for their kibble.

Turn em into secretaries.

Pyrs said...

@Gianna - thanks Gianna for your comment.

@Mark K - Do you have a picture of your man basket? Or is that what started Stan on his crusade against them in the first place? What do you use for a man basket? Sounds like a good idea.

@Naturalgal - I've bookmarked 'em and shall take a look. I really appreaciate it when folks share with me, what has helped them. Thanks!

@Susan - Yes. Good idea. They could follow me around like personal assistants, duley noting where I put things down, and referring to their lists when I need something I've hidden.
... BTW - regarding the possibilities that the cats may have ate me when I was offline for so long, if I lay in bed too long without feeding them Shen will sometimes start to nibble on my shirt. I guess its sort of a warning, but I have never let it go any further than that.

Anonymous Drifter said...

I loved the poem.

Pyrs said...

@Anonymous Drifter
Thanks so much for letting me know. It makes me want to write more and better things.

Mark Krusen said...

I'll sneak the picture of the man basket on my post tonight.

Pyrs said...

@Mark K - Ok. I'll keep a low profile and I'll have a quick look-see tonight. Thanks!

Poor Stan, I think he's just a very very disturbed man. Kind of feel sorry for 'em in a way. I'm glad there are so many bloggers who pretend to be his friend. (laughing)

preciousrock said...

Hi Peter,
This is my first visit to your blog and I am seeing that you are buddies with many of my buddies so I feel that I absolutely must clear one thing up. Mark is not an original with the man basket. His first attempt at organization was a man "bowl" that was messy, disorganized and flowing over. I am the one who suggested the basket concept to him and was the first to put up pictures of a "woman basket". After that, Mark stole his wife's bread basket and turned it into a man basket, lol. Just want to make sure credit goes where credit is due. It's just like a man to think the idea was originally his. Sorry to out you Mr. Justa, lol.

On another note, I really liked your poem, and I understand the pain of divorce. Been there and done that.

preciousrock said...

P.S. Now you have me wondering where my flash drive is??

Mark Krusen said...


I didn't steal your Idea. I "borrowed" it. Lol. AND... you justa met Pete and your already talking about flashing him? Really....

Stephany said...

what's all this man basket talk? omg precious rock! where've you been!?

pete, great poem.

Stan said...


Dear Mark, Pete, and other depends wearing, hair challenged, sequin purse toting, man basket loving, the right side picture of David likeness on Ana's Blog Looking, Bloviates of Liberal pantywaist pseudo righteous delusional majesty; and with strong and powerful inclinations toward such abhorrent behavioral leaning:

Man Basket’s were originally made and created especially for Sissy Boys to hold their Barbie and Ken doll collections; while dreaming someday about dressing up like Nancy Pepsi-Lib and whining their ways through the Halls or Hells of Congress. Now they have manifested themselves to cover other deviant men of like constitution and sick twisted requirements.

Yes Mark and Pete, your secrets are out of your man baskets for all to see. That Blow up Nancy Pepsi-Lib likeness you and Pete refer to with such drooling verbosity and debaucheries’ feminine desires; I happen to use as a warm up for my kick boxing drills. There is something quite healthy in knocking the crap out off those socialist elite San Francisco types that can bring peace and content to almost any day.

I hope your new found group therapy at

will help both you and Pete carry on nicely in your twisted little whining worlds of delusional indoctrination.

Now I’m sure your busy preparing your Man Basket’s for the next major holiday which is Easter. We know as demonstrated quite clearly on Pete’s site that adding a few viable marbles instead of those delightful pastel colored eggs would aid his transition back in to functioning humanity quite well {Plus that Reese’s Monkey farm they have him caged up in right now is about to have a serious rebellion on their hands; those Monkey’s I gather, don’t like hair challenged naked grown men swinging on the toys in their neighborhood). So as you duct tape the pink lace around the edges of your famous Fruity tootsie, fresh and liberal man Baskets, remember there are others like you out there that are just a basket with a few eggs short of a chicken coop waiting to join your fascists group U.G.L.Y..

By the way; how are those new A-typical Anti-psychotic meds working, is that fantasy women Nancy Pepsi-lib and your Hug Buddy and back side slapping Premiere Obubba still running down the Yellow Brick road in front of your couch beckoning you to join them in happy Munchkin Land? Maybe you can pass a few of those enlightenment pills over to Pete while you’re both sitting at the mall checking out guys as they walk by with their fanny packs.

As for my backpack which you confuse with a Fanny Pack (I guess you have deeper seeded issues than we previously realized). I carry this on hikes and walks through the Woods and Forest. It contains manly stuff like a survival knife, first aid equipment, rain jacket, and last but not least, one of the world’s most powerful Hand Guns ( the 44 magnum Desert Eagle with extra clips); Just in case I see one of those man basket toting insidious Liberals on his way to grandma’s house prancing and skipping through the forest. Talk about a shooter's paradise {laughing}.

Now I can only surmise that Mark has spent too much time at his local super mall (which includes a mom and pop feed store, a fancy man basket outlet center, a fashion Depends for the inactive adult Galleria, a food barn for the budget minded peeps with a special Beef pot pie discount section, a Victoria’s Secret Sheep catalog redemption center which continues to feed Mark’s abhorrent maladjustment issues, A Mickey D’s for those healthy 10,000 calorie snacks, and a two screen Movie house which plays reruns of “Mary Poppins” and the “Sound of Music” continually for years on end). I guess even old farts with half a nose and sitting firmly on life’s scale of gargantuan proportion need some social activity once and a while.

In Closing; I will just like to say I hope that all of you get the proper treatment and therapy which suits you well; and I hope beyond the depths of reality, this brings you back to some form of functioning realism from your obvious San Francisco left wing nut job kind of twisted and perverse Bath House mentalities.

With Honesty and truth, you’re Bloggery Pal,

preciousrock said...

Holy crap Stan my original blog buddy,

Did you even stop to take a breath during that rant? And what is all this talk about blowup dolls?

Stan said...

Dear Rock-a-Bully:

From what we can derive during rational observation is these deviants subjects; they are experiencing some kind of sick desire for blow ups dolls which they maybe be using to fill some kind of deep seated hole in their subconscious lives. Of course they could be just barking up the wrong rubber tree, or have a nasty allergy to latex products. {Smirk}

I'm sure with proper medical intervention; when Pete searches endlessly through his abode to find a majority of his missing marbles, and with appropriate levels of electrical brain stimulation activity spurred on through endless ECT treatments set at elephant sized therapeutic dosage levels. They will be back hovering over their man baskets and sequin purses, jumping up and down like silly fools, and be pixie dancing for joy in time for the next fascist socialist left wing nut job convention/retreat held in San Francisco this summer. (Laughing}

You're Blog Buddy,

Mark Krusen said...


When I grow up I want to be just like Stan.

Pyrs said...

@Stan - I am crying, my stomach hurts from too many belly laughs, I have not yet been able to catch my breath after laughing so hard at your rantings. It was only now that I had an epiphany. Your rants are getting longer, more fiercly honest, and designed pointedly to result in my demise from lack of oxygen intake. But I won't let it get me this time. Though I could never aspire to be your debating equal, due to your well researched facts and incredibly tasteless name-calling, I must bow to you the champion of saying nothing at all for a page and a half. So here's to you, the gun-toting, unibomber-survivalist-manifesto-writing, fannypack-with-numerous-firearms-inside wearing, word sleuthing, verbal curmudgeonry-wielding...

O hell, I'm just going to post this.

Thanks Stan for stopping by. I will have to visit Mark's site to see if he is any more of a formidable opponent than myself. Your post simply wore me down and took away all my enery. Though it did help produce a healthy dose of endorphins. I'll antagonize you some more once those wear off...

Ana said...

The party is here today!

Stephany said...

Mark said he saw Stan with a blow up doll and Mark wants one for his personal office assistant as long as it can proof-read.

Stephany said...

PS--I left a cheat sheet quiz for all to answer at Krusen's blog, if we can't answer those questions we have no hope.

susan said...

Pete, is it time to take a road trip to New Hope and get you blow up doll too?

Or do you prefer the S and M leather shop?

Anonymous said...

Wow. Was she just sick when you did that?

Stan said...

Dear Pete:

It's about time you stop playing with and talking to your new blow up Mr. U.G.L.Y. Professor Krusen Doll, and post something profound for us all to make fun of. {Laughing}

You're Bloggery Pal,

Mark Krusen said...

What Stan said.

Merelyme said...

wow...I really like your poem. It is real and raw. Thank you for sharing this part of your life in words.