A Poem In the Key of Depression

crows in rain LG

I can beat anything. Conquer anything
From intellectual pursuits to stupid bar jokes
From Music to Skiing
It’s a proven fact and my humility is obvious as you can see

Sitting on the bed
Looking at the damned walker
Thinking of the fall last week that
I told no one about. No more hospitals

Knocked me out cold and caused a concussion
Followed by the first migraine ever
Followed the next day by
Electrical shocks all through my body and numbness

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

The truth is kicking my ass
Trying to wrap my broken brain around something
Walking again might not happen at a 30% chance
No dancing no man to love my life a nauseating carnival ride

During the third week in the hospital
Psychosis and hallucinations had stopped
Idiot physicians had jacked me full of steroids and was allergic
Read the records last week they note Explosive Personality

Well when I was drinking and in a black-out it was true
As I read through the charts I laughed
Laughter tinged with grim thoughts
There were no notes on a previous steroid reaction

One night I wandered out to the nurse’s station
And asked for a Cabernet and a Cigarette
Don’t Drink Don’t Smoke What do You Do?
Thought I was on a spaceship. With a bar. It’s so me.

My boyfriend of three years came to visit the third week
After the cognitive functions returned
He admitted after diligent questioning and lies
He had been with another for months. My heart, will and soul crushed then.

So I looked at those paralyzed legs that day
Sitting on the hospital bed going on three weeks
Looking at that damned wheelchair
Knowing he had been cheating on me, why he had not visited but twice and quickly

The number one cause of death from TM
Is Suicide.
Not failure of the liver or respiratory system or falls
Those are the silver, bronze and runner ups

Mom calls every day
She drives from California every two weeks
She does the laundry, prepares food for the freezer
Cleans the house and brings me Fresca which is nice

No longer can I cook, clean or hold anything for long
Taking a shower is a bitch. On a chair. Like a geriatric
Please wash my hair I’m so lonely and it hurts
Feel a burden and pathetic whiner to express these words to anyone

These are my thoughts after almost three months
Working hard each day with PT exercises
Trying to take a few steps no concussion please
Never able to get on my tippy toes again

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

Mom called last night and asked how I was
Told her about the anger the shocks, numbness the embarrassment of the steroid reaction
The worthless neurologist with no prognosis and no advice
Exhaustion of the body soul and nerve function and tear ducts

So Mom said Be Glad you were diagnosed so quickly
So what if that steroid caused the staff to treat you as a scary diagnosed psychotic
Your boyfriend was an abusive piece of shit. There is progress. There is no longer a wheelchair
You almost lost your life

And I answered
What Life?

Transverse Myelitis

Have been in hospital for almost two weeks. Lost all feeling in legs and hands now too, and pain in back and hands has increased to 11.
Am in hospital until I can walk and take care of myself. Neurological disease called Transverse Myelitis. One in a million people get it. Docs know nothing really. Am unable to think straight, although mental acuity is returning bit by bit. Suddenly lost all ability to move my lower limbs, three hours after the onset and trip to the ER  lost movement in hands. Cannot go home until I can walk some with my walker. Am up to painful shuffling: a foot at a time using the walker. Can’t fall, cracking my skull. This had already happened in the several weeks preceding. Not sure it would matter.

THIS is the year of the unexpected disease! Watch your back kids.
p.s. didn’t remember how to log in and post. Now that is fucked up.
I may walk in 2 or three weeks. Or never. Oh physical rehab how I do love thee

My friends are passing through Reno to Burning Man. I am missing my 9th year. I hurt. This is fucking depressing as hell. The steroids made me psychotic. Literally

Hospital food is hideous. No one visits because this place is out in the boonies. I need ice cream, cobbler, sweets, a decent cup of coffee.

Okay Done Ranting and Rambling. Burn On kids!

~Miss R

Why You No Call? The Children Miss You. I wanna slap you upside the head.

Said no one to me ever. I DO wanna slap you upside the head. You being the Royal You. Similar to the Royal We but spelled Oui. Now it time for a kick ass make-up of days offline. Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Note to Le Clown: This is New Orleans (Cajun) French so don’t be going and gagging at it. I beg your magnificent forgiveness for great times and awful grammar. Speaking only English, Russian and German (which is handy) just recognizing French is fab for moi. Another story for another day.

Changed my wireless/router name to ‘Stephen Hawking Is Locked In My Basement.’ I have no life.
Neither does Stephen….
I DO know how to party. Even without the booze I scare small children. My own is damaged for life. But she looks Mahhhhhvalous.
Please, won’t you help a starving disturbed family? Please send all of your cash to…. me. Information located at page bottom.

Have been so busy with work parties and the Demon Seed’s visit that there are 705 Unopened emails in my inbox. I see a mass delete coming.

Burning Man tickets came in the mail for both myself and my daughter.

an average playa dust storm

Many of you know what happened to my lovely girl demon seed last year. She is coming on back anyway. My sweetie told me ‘Mom, I am NOT going to let some deranged freak ruin what is one of the best weeks I’ve ever had.’ That’s my doll. Saw her last week.
Was supposed to visit her in San Francisco this week. Damned money, or rather lack of, is ass.

We’ve all (Spanky’s Wine Bar and Village) started the yearly mass work-parties up in the Nevada desert to do maintenance, rebuild and build new big kid toys for the camp. Think carnival rides for pervs AND kids. No really, THINK about it.
We have the Teeter Totter of Death, centrifuge (the merry-go-round you push and pull to get spinning) Chairway to Heaven, and two new rides this year.
Having the Orgasmatron for the 15th year on the playa is just icing. We’re not called Spanky’s based on the Little Rascals films.

Here’s a video of our Spank-O-Matic

Okay, just wanted to check in. Miss all of you, all of your writing, all of your smiles. I need ’em. Giving them out for free too.

Rock On Kids. Off to 4th of Juplaya in another week. Hidden Hot Springs on the playa, 1500 people instead of the 60,000 at Burning Man. Firearms, Frogbat… I’ll take a few pics. Spanky’s is making an official presence this year.
No one is in charge of this thing so no one is ever arrested. How cool is that?

Fuck I love summer.

Springtime in Reno!

Been busy freaking out (Chic! Le Freak!) so here’s a post that I liked and didn’t seem to garner a lot of readers when I first wrote it. Now re-presented in all it’s glory,

Springtime for Hobos in Germany! Reno!

ittle Nugget Reno

the famous (and infamous)Little Nugget in Reno. NOTE: guy in picture NOT a hobo

Not sure if you’ve noticed but the increase in hobos? At least here in Reno . It’s Spring-time!

Sadly not trampoline-spring-like but season-Spring-like.

The sewer grates are no longer frozen closed and the parking garages have already had cars broken into. Not to steal a stereo. To piss in. Maybe take a nap as well. Hopefully the latter first. At least when I lived in Brooklyn they just stole your stereo and broke your window. Which is why only a cretin has a car in New York City.

Please pay attention to the examples of Springtime for Hobos and Germany as  there will not be a test later. These are the finest in Reno Hobo quotes of the last few days.

1.” Can I mow your lawn? If it gets any longer it’s very bad for the yard ” Lawn? Are you fucking kidding me? Big-ass Weed patch is a kind description. Then noted that the hobo has no lawn mower or shears. Pretty sure this guy was the ACTUAL Green River killer. Told him that the herd of hobo-eating goats would be here within 24 hours.

2. “You do realize that your house number has to painted on your curb to confirm to law? I’m willing to splash water color numbers using paint from my filthy, inbred, homeless F student’s paint set using this stolen stencil from the Dollar Store . For $5.00.”. Almost fell for this one.
Too bad for this guy; was going to trade him a can of Sterno and a piece of white bread but I’d already used those items to trade for a car wash by another hobo. You should have seen him. Hauling buckets of water from the back yard.Told him the hose was broken and the only water was around back of the house,then through the mud, and out on to the street. Heh. There are actually three spigots along the front of the house. They’re hidden by the weeds that I refused to pay Hobo Number One to cut down.

3.” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!” There’s a sign on the door (placed Prominently) that says Please Ring Bell. If you are that illiterate yet are still able to find Thunderbird and a shopping cart  to perambulate along the boulevard you are a hobo. And I’m not getting off of my beautiful little ass to answer the door for stupid people. This includes family. Hell, hope it wasn’t Zombie Ed McMahon with that 10 Million dollar check. Hmmmm.

4.  The well-known alkies in front of the ‘Little Nugget’ downtown. Home of the  famous Awful Awful burger and BEST burger in town. Normally there are a group of hobos collected here, only because the Little Nugget (yes there is a big Nugget but that’s another blog) can’t afford the outside security available at Harrah’s, The El Dorado, Circus Circus  or any other of the more upscale casinos in town. Actually the Little Nugget Hobos are off about 10 feet from the front door of the Casino.
I give these hobos my left-over burger and fries. Trust me, these are the  high-end Hobos. Well-fed. Usually have a little booze, a kind word (as opposed to the usual grunt or attempted wolf-whistle; difficult with 7 teeth). Speaking of which I’ve noticed a higher ratio of teeth-to-Hobo on these guys.
Have a  good friend that gave them $5.00 one time; to split between them for some booze. Have no idea how many were kneed that night in the melee.
No not really. There was no fight. Above mentioned friend TK asked which among the group was their leader. After some head lice scratching, beard fumbling, apparent concentration one of the men stood tall and announced ‘I’m the leader.’  TK handed the Hobo the fiver and told him to get a bottle to split amongst he and his friends. A cheer went up and we made a lot of Hobos very happy that night.
That man, leader of the Little Nugget pack, truly is…..King of the Hobos.

So one day, if you’re in Reno looking for a dive to play slots at, the best burger for a 100 miles and good strong cheap drinks remember me. No really. At this rate I’ll be there (outside) with my melodica, flute and a hat to collect tips.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Just save some fries and half of your burger; easy to do. An Awful-Awful can feed two easily.
Really, anything for a half of an Awful-Awful.
Especially after 2: 00 a.m.

And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll be Queen of  The Hobos!

~Miss R

A Serious Post from your usually Not Serious Bi Polar Writer

I was generously offered the opportunity to write a guest post for one of my favorite sites, Black Box Warnings. Some of you may have already  read the piece, but it is under my name, not YoYo-Dyne.

I hesitate to post it here, as it is very personal and not YoYo-Dyne material. It deals with mental illness and Bi-Polar Disorder, and not in my usual passing manner.

If you are interested you can find it here. http://blackboxwarnings.wordpress.com/2013/06/03/heavy-mental-2/

Thank you to my readers… this post will probably cost me a few heh. Damn, I just hit 1000 readers/follows this weekend too. Yay me!

Take Care,

~Miss R

ACK! Hairballs and Beautiful Big Babes

Bill the Cat ACK!

My terrific tuchas was seated, preparing to start in on this blog. Today’s diatribe had been pondered and expanded in the dark, humorous and still functioning portion of my neo-cortex.  Suddenly from behind came the dreaded, soul stealing, inspiration killing sound of… HORK.
It was Lizzie Borden, known deranged Queen of Inbred Persian Catdom, spewing forth hairball goodness. On the bedspread. The new beige bedspread.

This morning I’d decided to write a piece on body image. Specifically the obsession with impossibly thin women and men. Such a post it was to be! Complete with Fabulous Fotos of Fine-Ass Fatties, the beauty of individuality, sexy attire for all bodies and finally words of encouragement, help and empowerment.

Apparently it wasn’t meant happen. After hauling the bedspread down to the basement I couldn’t stop laughing.
The basement furnace (circa 1928) is where I incinerate the junk mail,  Jehovah’s Witnesses religious pamphlets and occasional census taker forms. After staring at the furnace the bedspread was dumped into the washing machine.

We’ll give the beauty and pain post another go tomorrow.
Remember: When life gives you cat vomit make cat vomit milk shakes!*

~Miss R

*Note: This flavor no longer endorsed to bring the boys to your yard

Currently listening:
House: Original Television Soundtrack

Fuckin’ A Fridays: Zombie Edition

It’s Fuckin’ A Fridays!
Resurrected for your enjoyment. Now With More Brrraaaaains

Eternal pursuit of happiness

This week’s Interweb assemblage has been garnered via hours of intensive research. avoidance of the human race, procrastination (designing a new header for the blog), physically taxing duties (returning texts) and resisting the incursion and retreat of De Gaulle. And his bladder.

All the while sparing no expense, and at the risk of great bodily harm. Yes!
Dangerously and precariously balanced on the table next to Laptop Command Central totters the aging, dusty and cat hair entombed Stack of Death. A horrifying site of deforestation comprised of collection notices, medical bills, pleas for donations (sucks to be you), credit card offers from banks unaware of Miss R’s credit score, SSD paperwork, Medicare paperwork, and the abomination of them all: a six by 9 inch stack of papers, scraps of papers, and plasticized pieces of paper we like to call To Be Filed.

Never venturing far from YoYo-Dyne’s Secret Underground Bunker located somewhere in Reno, underground, here are the funniest and most amusingly WTF items uncovered this week.

einstein funnySource

Have finally managed to save time when visitors come by and want to ‘play’ my piano

How to play Jaws

Read one of those ubiquitous online directives ‘Pick up the book closest to you. Turn to Page 45. The first complete sentence describes your sex life for 2013.’  What I found was “Don’t hold your breath trying to get through.” How do it know?!

pulp fiction memeSource

That’s it for today. Tune in next week for the continuing saga ‘Getting Off Your Adorable Ass and Accomplishing Something Creative.’ Followed by our new segment ‘Defenestration, Power Bills, and You!’

~Miss R