Microdot Management (p.1)

magic rocks

The Night Before
JT Hilltop
Now I don’t advocate the use of hallucinogens (except in my case) but there was this one time when it did come in pretty handy. Not in an enlightened I see the truth sort of way, though that did occur often while under the influence of psychotropic shenanigans, but the time it basically saved my job. I was working as a dishwasher/cook for a Nursing Home back in my hometown in 1971. It was New Years Eve and I had to be in for the breakfast shift at 6AM new Years Day. At seventeen New years eve is a substantially important party and I was certainly not going to miss it just because I have to work early in the morning. I was hanging with my co-worker and good friend Randy-Man. We called him Randy-Man first because his mane is Randy but more importantly because one day he turned his apron around like a cape and I put a huge letter R on it. He was an awesome friend and was a sort of super hero to me and all the cool supernames were taken so it was Randy-Man became his moniker du jour. Anyway we decided we would bring in the new year tripping and then we would both go to work without sleeping. Sort of a pre-hangover/post-hangover arrangement. And so it goes.

So Randy-Man and I bought us a few hits of microdot mescaline. My Mom and Dad were out so we brought them back to my house to check out our stash of mind enhancers for the evening festivities. Purple Microdot. Tiny purple dots that looked kinda like purple poppy seeds or as we would soon find out like tiny balls of purple play-dough. They were tiny in stature but humongous in the alteration of the brain waves. In the dining room we placed our enhancifiers on the table to organize our highs. It consisted of a sizeable chunk of black hash, a dime or so of Panamanian Red weed, and ten microdots of mescaline. For me the difference between mesc and acid is that mesc is less physical hallucination and more color appreciation, and it planted a smile on my face for the duration of the trip which could only be removed using surgical techniques. It stretched my smile and laugh muscles to the optimum capacity and the next morning much like after doing far too many sit-ups made those muscles sore when using them. Not that I didn’t laugh on acid, but mesc just made everything even funnier. One of the things I liked about both was it gave me the illusion of having major insight, like I was an existential philosopher spending an hour enrapt at the various conclusions I came up with on my own. Like once while under the influences of blotter acid I reached the conclusion that it is impossible to stand in an empty room because it would have at least me in it if I was standing there. Whoa, mind blown! I still think about that moment of cosmic clarity. But back to the business at hand. I took part of the hash stash placing it in my chamber pipe and wrapped the rest in foil. Randy-Man being the superior joint person rolled a few doobs so we could stash what we didn’t need . Next the microdots. We planned to take one microdot each to start and wrap the others in a paper triangle for later orf maybe another time. Randy-Man accidentally knocked a few off the table onto a short shag rug. Much to our horror it was the same place my baby sister played with her play-dough earlier and the rug appeared to be full of multi-colored balls of the claylike crap that looked eerily similar to microdots. Time for a magic carpet ride. We consumed the entire array of colorful poppy like play-dough dots, hopefully consuming at least one microdot each. We opted to eat all the bits and pieces regardless of the play dough issue. I sure didn’t want the dust bunnies in my Moms vacuum cleaner to be tripping on my microdot tomorrow.

At any rate we now had an hour to wait for the concoction of mescaline and play-dough bb’s to get digested. I made a mental note not to freak out if my fecal deposits had a rainbow effect tomorrow. In the meantime might as well get started on the hash. After a lung bursting head exploding bowl Randy-Man and I were abuzz ready to take on whatever this New years Eve held in store for us. We always believed plans were a deterrent when tripping and short of a rock concert or a movie its best just to let the trip unfold how it wants. So off we traipsed into town to check out the local scene.
First stop was a pub called The Watering Can. Great jukebox, great bartender, great crowd. We grabbed a drink each and just grooved on the scene. One of the true benefits of tripping and smoking your high as opposed to only drinking your high is it lends itself well to the lifestyle of a pacifist which both Randy-Man and I were. Some of the others at the bar however found drinking lends itself more aptly to their more aggressive lifestyle and enjoyed the game of drunk bullying. We pacifist opted to take out our meager aggressions in the more mundane exercises such as playing foosball. A pair of drinking bullies saw that as an opportunity to berate a pair of longhair stoners and perhaps lure us into a lopsided confrontation. They sauntered over and placed the quarter on the table as a challenge. The mescaline was raging so we both laughed and told them to come on ahead and try cause we are on fire tonight! Now I was a decent Foosball player, not fantastic merely average, as was my Bud. However, on this particular evening the mescaline had super enhanced our powers of concentration and dexterity. It also loosed up our inhibitions removing all the stress of competition allowing us to play like champions. We showed the bully’s up by kicking their asses at Foosball with ease. I was making stops as if I already had the balls planned trajectory blueprint and Randy-Man was scoring goal with loud table slamming authority. I even scored one or two from my defensemen. We blew them away while laughing wildly a trait usually not etiquette approved in sports. As I said many of the senses become enhanced while under the mesc spell but as a result other senses often become minimized or dulled. One such dulled sense we acquired was our sense of danger or lack thereof. Usually while tripping that sense can only be awakened by a cop or a horror movie while tripping. Sometimes walking in a cemetery can have a similar effect but we just flat out didn’t realize the danger of showing up drunk ass jocks at their own game. Another dulled enhancement from the mescaline was our inability to control our laugh response. So it was we kicked their asses while laughing about it which apparently bully’s find in very bad taste.
The two alpha males feeling their territory had been pissed on disdainfully and had their manhood’s threatened by two weirdo hippie shits invited us to go outside with them. Not to smoke a joint like we would have done but to have our faces rearranged. We politely declined their offer which confused them for the moment but they were watching us like hawks. Feeling a might bit paranoid we decided to leave The Watering Can for another pub. The Cro-Magnon frustrated jock duo followed us outside stopping us when we went to get in my car. By this point the microdots took on a life of their own possessing even our bodies.
I learned a valuable lesson from this incident. It is extremely difficult even for a bully to punch someone who is constantly laughing and shows no sign of willingness to fight back. We laughed about rope-a-dope and the difference between kung fu and kung flu. They attempted to engage us in some basic violent male warfare by shoving us and getting in our faces. I asked my predator not to get to close because I had just gotten over Kung Flu which sent both Randy-Man and myself into a laughing frenzy. The bully’s looked at each other puzzled because they were more confused than when they were asked to chose #2 pencils for the SAT’s. The alphamost of the pair of confounded pit bulls with great distain in his voice said, “lets just get the fuck outta here, these hippie shits ain’t even worth it” to which the other bully apparently agreed with through a head shake. At least I think that was what made the rattling sound. I guess alpha male jocks find profound contemplation difficult so they just follow behind the apex male and sniff his butt. We stood there making our best attempt at composing ourselves as we watched the injured Dingoes fading into night. We had finally gained control of our laugh response when Randy-Man said, “I bet we coulda taken them.” At that moment we once again lost control of our laughter. It was the funniest thing in the entire world we had ever heard so we bestowed on it a most fitting accolade of non stop laughter we could manage until we could barely breath any longer.
The evening continued along those lines, dodging danger, laughing, drinking, smoking, and hallucinating. Like any other typical party night in town we were bar hopping staying as long as we could before it became ridiculously obvious that we were on something. We opted to go low key so we went to a fall back Irish pub, Finnegan’s Rainbow where life was all about drinking, playing pool, shuffle bowling, or pinball. All we need do was mind our own business and stay out of trouble. Good plan with good intentions until we noticed two young ladies looking our way. We had seen them around town but never got up the courage to introduce ourselves. But now here they are wanting to play shuffle bowl with us. There was a distinct aura in the air and all four of us recognized something mutual on a higher plane. When I looked into one of the girls eyes it hit me. They were tripping too! Not sure how, its not like we had a special mescaline users membership handshake or some sonic trip detector but I looked at the tripping young beauty simply inquiring, “microdot?” After three minutes of the four of us laughing she responded, “Are you asking me if I’m on microdot or if I want microdot?” After the perfect amount of pause I answered, “Both” then turned to Randy-Man and said, “Don’t worry I think we could take them.” The four of us began the longest laugh competition for which there would be no clear winner. It wasn’t funny and the ladies had no idea that Randy-Man had used the similar line earlier but that didn’t matter. Once one person laughs everyone laughs at least until they realize they don’t know why they‘re laughing to begin with. Then you’ll think about it an hour later and start laughing again. Like I said, mescaline makes everything funny. Long story short, the four of us became tripping companions, ingested more microdots, and had the time of our lives playing shuffleboard bowling like pro‘s. That is if laughing hyena’s could be considered professional.
Perhaps we were a tad over enthusiastic or as the bartender called it, unruly, but the time had come when we were no longer fit to be out in public. So the four of us jumped in my car, picked up some beers and got a room at The Muller Ridge Inn to party in peace. It was a double room with huge beds each underneath a large mirror. We had intuitively paired up and each couple chosen a bed to sit on where we planned to laugh in the New Year watching Dick Clark but circumstances had us dropping our own balls instead of watching the big drop at Times Square. Between the amphetamine rush giving extra stamina and the hallucinogenic properties making feelings extra intense the New Year was rung in a few times either without noticing ofr without caring that the other bed could hear and see everything. Then again, maybe we were all just to busy to think about it. We had such a great evening but before we even noticed it was 5AM. A quick shower (two at a time) we drove the girls back to their car in the village, got their numbers, grabbed a jumbo coffee, and headed off to the nursing home to prepare breakfast for the seniors. (No names were used for the fun and lovely lady friends we made because a few of the readers are from my hometown may try to figure out their identity the way they picked up on the real names of the bars we went to and the motel we stayed at)

Smithtown Sunrise (A little ditty bout love on The Island)

sun

(In trochaic rhythm)

Midnight managers stumbling in the night
Some searching love others looking for a fight
Riding rainbow’s across the Smithtown bluffs
Full on drunken promises and magic dragon puffs

Did our shots of courage with a side of rum and coke
To add a nice perspective went out and had a smoke
Come with me darling to cliffs where from above
We’ll watch the sun come up together while we are making love

Let’s watch the sunrise
together
The Smithtown sunrise
forever
Naked by the shore who could ever ask for more
At our sunrise

Out on the Bluffs the morning waves are breaking near
Promises of love being whispered in your ear
Moonbeams dancing in our kaleidoscopic eyes
Digested window panes now we’re riding butterflies

Watching the sunrise
so high

The magic sunrise
way up high

This sweet sweet Harmony will be our eternity
Loving the sunrise

(Diminuendo tempo)
Secrets are revealed at the break of dawn
Where lines of truth in sand are being drawn
Telling sweet lies and moaning soft cries
Look in my eyes let me claim you as my prize
Between your thighs I hear your sighs
Falling in love beneath a magic rainbow surprise
Neon yellow shards of sun writes I love you on the sky
The Smithtown sunrise

It’s the sunrise
The Smithtown sunrise
Falling in love at The Bluff in the sunshine in the buff
Watching the sunrise

At Kings Park bluff where love rules the day
Sensual loving couple find a place to play
Hoping love will find a way to make this feeling stay
Everyday

Sun tickling our eyes our Smithtown sunrise
Love is The Bluff
Love is enough

Think it through
Tell me true
Whisper in my ear those three words I want to hear
I love you

At the sunrise
The Smithtown sunrise
Aquatic cries soar where a seagull flies
Waves cresting soft as the darkness dies
You look into my eyes
Lust lives forever never dies
Today our love will stay
Tomorrows just a day away
Smithtown sunrise

(Trochaic return)
Like rays of silver almonds sunlight stretches to a yawn
Strutting down the red carpet is the wakening of the dawn
Memories tucked in her arms as night kisses day good bye
Another Smithtown sunrise where true love will never die
Watching the sunrise

From Cosmo and His Garden Earth/ Brave New World

Late Devonian landscape. Artwork of wetland plants, and fumaroles during the ate Devonian Period (385 to 360 million years ago). The plants shown here include club mosses such as Aglaophyton. Bacterial mats (orange) surround the  hot pools. A large millipede is at lower right.
Late Devonian landscape. Artwork of wetland plants, and fumaroles during the ate Devonian Period (385 to 360 million years ago). The plants shown here include club mosses such as Aglaophyton. Bacterial mats (orange) surround the
hot pools. A large millipede is at lower right.

JT Hilltop
Kirk and Cosmo had been friends since Elementary God Training School when life was just about splitting atoms with friends, playing star toss, and studying to be a future cosmic gardener god of a galaxy. Through all the millenniums since they have remained close so it came as no surprise top anyone that Kirk would be with Cosmo in the creation of his second garden attempt. Kirk was well recognized and praised for his work in his Tiberius galaxy so he had quite an array of awards. Cosmo never gave jealousy a second thought. He was overjoyed to have Kirk offer his opinions in the new seeding of his garden. “Zoinks Cosmo this is like the old days. Man your fucking garden is so colorful and full of vegetation. Nicely done my friend it’s coming along really nice. So which species are you gonna hit up with brainpower?” The two friends surveyed the globe. “Doc gave me two types of seed. The AB seed which is just basic intelligence, and some CD seeds which is a slightly higher grade. With AB seeds the new smart species will be able forage, hunt and gather and build simple tool and structures. The lucky recipient of the CD seeds will be able to build more complex structures, and have the brain power to make not only tools, but weapons for more effective hunting. See those hairy things down there?” Kirk looked into the jungle Cosmo had pointed and saw a colony of Apes. “Is that gonna be your intelligent species?” Cosmo shook his head excitedly. “Yea. Well not exactly. Look closer over there. I have modified the apes to look like that.” He pointed to another small colony of apelike creature with less hair and a straighter back. They were almost godlike in appearance. Cosmo glowed with pride. “I gave them less hair so they could move faster. They will need to figure out how to make clothing to keep warm, but that’s why they are getting brains. I also strengthened their spines, arms and legs. Gave them strong muscles.” Kirk was amazed. “Deity shit Cosmo they look just like you man!” Cosmo laughed heartily at this because he came up with the design after staring at his own body in the reflecting material for over an hour. “That’s fucking funny as burning brimstone Kirk. I’ll call them you mans because that’s the first thing you said when you saw them. Meet my newest creation about to become knowledgeable. The You Mans.” Kirk loved when Cosmo was inspired right before his very eyes. “Good one buddy, you mans sounds great. Why not make it like one word though?” Cosmo rubbed his head. “Okay, yumans. The male one will call man, and the female ones will be what?” Kirk laughed. Man, that’s perfect. Whoa that’s funny.” Comos turn to laugh. “You are fucking brilliant Kirk. Whoa man. that’s the female, wo-man.” So Cosmo had man and woman and now it was time to drop the seeds of knowledge.
“First I am going to put some AB seeds around.” Cosmo took some sees and sprinkled them on some of his creations in the land down under. “This is where I will put the first AB seeds. I will call these people my ABoriginals since they are the first.” He then put the power of reason in both North and South Columbia and the islands around them. He was getting low on AB seeds so he put a mixture of AB and CD seeds in his continent of Afrika and Eurasia, and the rest of the CD seeds everywhere else. “Well that’s that Kirk, now just watch them grow and evolve. Hey listen Kirk, when I was at the District Doc warned me about watching out for jealous gods. Is he being overly worried?” Kirks face hardened. “I’m afraid he may have understated it my friend. Some guys like Simon and Lucy may play little jokes Like the time Simon gave some of my species pointed ears. Oddly I ended up digging the look an adopted it myself. Oh and the time Lucy snuck these furry little creatures in she called Tribbles. Fucking things were adorable at first but before I knew what was going on they had multiplied in the millions. Lucille still laughs about them. Dang the trouble with Tribbles was epic! But there is a dark side to the mischief as well. I can’t prove anything for sure but I think Micrighton or Botchie fucked up my garden and slipped in these evil shits named Romulans. At the very least some god planted a vegetation that spat out deadly spores on my creations. And either the same bastard or another saboteur place a number of dilithium crystals in a transporter and it cloned evil twins of any who used it. I didn’t even find them for two weeks. Let me tell you that was a mess and really screwed up the dichotomy of my garden. That was no accident. You need to keep your eyes open all the time. I don’t trust many gods, especially those two. But have no fear Coz, you have many friends and we will watch you back.” Cosmo felt a little better but that other person in the room feeling was still gnawing at him. Could Botchigaloop have been there with he and Mary Anne? Or Michreighton? He was certain there was a third entity in the room after their night of sexual rapture but wasn’t positive it was a god. He considered mentioning it to Kirk but opted to wait. Kirk had read Cosmo’s notes on his new cycle of life theme .He looked at his good friend admiringly, “Please Cosmo, tell me more about you cycle of life. I find the concept….fascinating.”
Cosmo was extraordinarily proud of The cycle of life and was more than happy to talk about it to his friend. “Here’s the real deal Holyfield. I have programmed all the creatures with the laws of life, or more appropriately ’cycle of life’. Every creature is programmed for a life span which is exclusive to their own species. For some its only days and for others it can be a hundred years but each has its own cycle. They are born, they live, and they die. The law is that once they die they must avail themselves back to the garden. I call it decay. Other creatures, or bacteria, or insects eat the flesh, organs, and muscles and convert it into organic material for vegetation. The vegetation gives off oxygen which allows the creatures to breath. So they have a life cycle and when they die they become part of a larger cycle. Each creature is responsible to formulate a strategy of survival. They must do whatever they can to make the chances of their species continue. Thus the cycle of life.”
“Fascinating! Cosmo you are a fucking genius. That is beyond brilliant. Everything relies on everything else. They know all this? What other life laws do they follow? Give some examples please.” Kirk was enthralled and wanted to hear more. “How specifically does this survival shit work? Fascinating! And remarkably logical.” One of the things Cosmo loved most about Kirk was how intriguingly organized and analytical his mind is. “Kirk, you are gonna love this.
Let me start with sea turtles. Every turtle knows it must run for the water upon birth in order to live. No one tells it to run for the water it knows instinctively. The very moment they enter the garden it’s a mad dash for the water because many birds like gulls view them as tiny shelled hors d’ouerves. So a female turtle lays like a hundred eggs and buries them because she knows many will not survive. Some become nourishment for birds while others reach the water where they will live. But even then not all will survive. They must now worry about becoming dinner for some smaller fish. The ones that live will reproduce and start their cycle over again. Since they were the strong and smart ones that survived they will have offspring with strength and smarts too. Like a natural selection. While alive they feed on poisonous jellyfish which they are immune to, hence giving something towards the betterment of the sea. On land my mammels know right away to look for the life giving teat of a mother. The mother nourishes them until they can fend for themselves. Lets take a goat as an example. We have a black goat and a white goat over on that mountain. Different species. Lets say the black goat’s mom dies and can’t feed the baby black goat so it goes over to the white goat. The mom refuses to feed it because that would be a threat to the survival of her own baby. See those huge majestic eagles over there?” Cosmo pointed to a tree with a large nest and four eggs. The mother has four eggs but only enough ability to feed two babies. Upon birth the ones born first will many times kill the newer ones as they are trying to leave the shell . That’s their strategy for survival of their species. Butterflies have to struggle out of the chrysalis to signal blood to flow to the wings to allow flight. Everything knows just what it must do to survive and if it fails to follow the law or gets lost or eaten it will drown in its own gene pool. Everyone for themselves within in the clan of a species for the better of the species.” Kirk stood mouth agape at the amazing creation. “Devine mother of Cronotitan! I bow to you my liege. This I nothing short of absolute.” Kirk bent down on his knees and offered his arms over his head. “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy.” Cosmo let out a long laugh. “If you liked that my dear friend, just light up a smile stick of cannabis while I tell you of my ants and graminoids. Two brilliant blueprints I left for the youmans.”
Everything in the garden has the power of some form of communication. This is the key to existence. Everything has the ability to communicate in one way or another, taste, sight, smell, touch, or sound I gave the youmans vocal chords similar to ours and various other forms. My snakes have forked tongues to push the air into a sensor on the tongue that acts as a nose and they communicate by smell. Some species are developing an ability to hide from predators using colorful deceptions to help insure the continuation of their own. Oh here, check this out. I have bacteria living on the water. By touching each other they gather information. Once they have enough bacteria together, they communicate by touch and all begin to glow like one big school of happy shiny fishies. Bioluminescence. Fantastic. The larger fish see them and eat them, and thats where they live, inside the fish stomach sharing the fishes food. When they die they become part of the big fish waste and give back to the garden. They all want to be part of the garden. It is truly an amazing thing to watch. However those little tiny things way down there are my ants. I have designed them as a kind of blueprint for the youmans. If the youmans are as smart as I hope they will be they’ll study these tiny works of creation art. They are the closest thing to a perfect species I have ever made. Ask me, these are the most intelligent thing in the garden except that they can’t reason. The very second they enter the garden the know their purpose and how to achieve it. Some are specifically born for mating, the ones with the ability to have the highest amount of offspring. Others are foragers that go out in search of food. Once they find it they communicate to the workers where the food is and the workers all get together and carry it home back to the colony. Everything is for the benefit of the colony.” Cosmo stopped to puff on the joint. “Brilliant Cosmo, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one so the colony may live long and prosper.” Cosmo let out a plume of sweet smoke. “Exactly my dear friend. All the youmans need do is observe how well they work together to build and feed the colony and they will be building cities in no time.” The two friends finished the herbal delight and surveyed the world. “It all looks great Coz, what about this graminoids you mentioned. What’s their significance?” They went down for a closer look and Coz showed him patches of green all over like area rugs or a green carpet on earth. “I call it grass for short. This grass serves a great deal of purposes. It serves as a food for many species, it retains water to keep the garden cool and moist, it can be used for so many things but it has one huge significant purpose. If it they study how it works it will teach the youmans how to grow all kinds of vegetation at their will. That knowledge could cause a revolution.” The two friends finished the weed and hung out trading stories for the next few hours but it was time for Kirk to head back to his own enterprise. “G’luck Cozzie my friend. I will wait with baited breath to see how your youmans turn out. Until then, beware of things unseen. Live long and prosper dear friend.” At those prophetic sounding words a cloud of confusion settled over Cosmo. He wasn’t especially good at being suspicious but he promised to take Kirks advice very serious. “And you as well my dear friend. I hope to see you at our next reunion.” Cosmo heard a “Beam me up Scotty”, and in an instant Cosmo was all alone again. Well not alone really, he had his suspicions with him as well. TBC

Double Entendre, A Three Act Play On Words

double

Some may find the language offensive but it’s only words and words can never hurt me. Sticks and stones on the other hand…
If you happen to be one easily offended by words or sexual content scroll the fuck on. If however you have a mind as childish, silly, and uncensored as mine, please continue.

Act I ……………….. A Cheating Bitch with a Heated Itch

Our sex sucks because of your success when you sucked sex for your success
Now my heartache is such a hard ache because our hard break was such a heartbreak

You let a heating hard on turn your cheating heart on and I’m the one getting burned
You strayed away straight away out getting laid the moment my back was turned
Now you’re a success because you can suck sex your way into success with the boss
You elected to erect him let him pry into your rectum leaving me with an erection loss

During all your sexual journeys you got down to suck on your knees so we both need attorneys to sue
You let him cum in your tummy while you were cumming yummy I won’t comment cause it’s my balls that are blue
Cause you didn’t use your noggin while you were out knocking in bed and out on the town
Cums as no surprise you took your eye off of the prize so my price went up high while you were going down

Act II…………………… Fucking Your Way To The Top

Fill up my money pot
For using your honey pot
Your gonna get a lawyer shot
And I don’t really give a snot
Money I want to get a lot
You just want to squat a lot
Because you’re fucking your way to the top

You’re blinded by your vision
Your empty blind ambition
When with sexual precision
You opened your incision
Then you had your collision
It was your bad decision
Which is causing our division
While you keep fucking your way to the top

My eyes are red and dried
Cause every night I’ve cried
Choking on my pride
Cause he gets deep inside
With you laying right beside
Waiting to get supplied
Inside your great divide
You’re like Bonnie he’s like Clyde
He is taking you for a ride
Still you keep fucking your way to the top

Polishing his knob
Slurping like a slob
Making him throb
From a cut rate hand job
But hey babe no prob
Now I can quit my job
My lawyers are gonna rob
That cheating corporate snob
Because you just don’t fucking know when to stop

Act III ……………………….. At Least The Sex Was Good

You give out head to get ahead while getting ahead and getting head
Both you louses have got spouses now our lawyer louses want your houses
Like a traitor he betrayed her while you traded like a traitor you betrayed our love
Took off your girdle for his turtle but a hurdle is you’re fertile so I hope he wore a glove
He sounded insightful so you let him get inside you to light you so delightful when you came
First you blow him then you’re below him taking so much juice it bloats you what a shame

Jesus it never ceases your afraid that if he sees us hell have a seizure but I don’t really care
The bullshit it increases all in bits and pieces until your cheating ceases I’ll be in despair
I still remember doing you when the dew in you was spewing through you came bout every time
I climbed your back you climaxed back we maxed our sex with sweet success that chimed
Once our sheets were stained by heat we did the feat between the sheet and never did it suck
No more heartache no more hard ache my heart is hard baked I’m stronger I no longer give a fuck

It wasn’t fair you had an affair and if I had enough air maybe I’d fare well
But I didn’t fare well so I’m saying farewell and paying your fare all the way into Hell

Tears On My Keyboard

tears

Why did I write this? I actually find the mundane moments of life to be among the most interesting to write about but some moments are so profoundly etched into our beings it begins to define us. This is about one of those moments and as hard it is to write and most assuredly will be hard to read the moment also defined an act of giving that effects many lives. Organ transplantation. A word about the title. As I write this story I am at my most naked and vulnerable self, opening and sharing the most profound moment of my life as I sit at my sanctuary, my refuge, my keyboard. This is the story of the last moments of my baby girl Megan’s life and it is guaranteed to have me crying into my keyboard as I relive it in words. So get a box of tissues and be prepared because you about to hear about me and my beautiful daughter, Megan Laurine Jaret.

There should be some cosmic universal law stating that we should never have to be reminded of the absolute worst moments of our lives but unfortunately there isn’t. There are constant triggers that create avalanches of harsh memories with corresponding emotional outpourings thrust upon us. A case in point was the memories stirred up in anyone who has had the disturbing experience of losing a loved one during an episode of Greys Anatomy a few weeks back. The end scenes focused on Derek being at the point of no return from an accident and his wife having to be there and witness his last breath but to also have to be the one to make the decision. A decision born of the purest form of love there is, an act of both total unselfishness and masochistic self-flagellation. The decision to allow someone you love who is in intolerable pain with no hope of any semblance of real life go. On it’s face it was a good television emotional moment but having had to go through a similar experience with my nineteen month old daughter the moment was converted to an entire tissue box outpouring of tears.
I’m not sure if this will be therapeutic for me or send me into a fugue but I do know that by the time I’m through I’ll be typing the story in a keyboard full of tears. So in an attempt to bring organ donation to the forefront I am sharing the story of those last moments. Load up on Kleenex. This is in honor of Megan, my Little Little, my Mighty Meg. A baby girl who gave so much more than she received.

It had been a long road. Megan became sick at only three weeks old. After three doctors visit and one night of Meg in constant pain we made our first trip to the ER where she was seen by a cardiologist, Dr. Milton Prystowski. He notice an irregular heartbeat and before we knew it Meg was having a spinal tap. She was diagnosed with an enlarged heart. She was put on a medicine regimen and sent home. Six months later on an otherwise serene Sunday morning she went into cardiac arrest in her crib. We immediately gave her mouth to mouth, called the ambulance and within minutes she was on her way back to the ER. We jumped in our car and flew up to meet her but she wasn’t there yet. We would find out later that they had to stop and use the defribulation panels on her. After a grueling fourteen hours she was in resting in NICU. The sight of seeing your baby girl in a tiny hospital crib with an IV in the tiny head was devastating, but not as devastating as the news. Her only chance of survival was a heart transplant.
Megan was transferred to a trauma center and eventually to a children’s hospital while we got schooled on organ transplantation. The process of procuring organs for transplant is cold by design to assure the right organ gets the best chance at life in the right body. Blood match and size match where first, geography was considered as organs don’t have a shelf life, and finally the most needy, or who is the closest to death. This prevents people of higher income to snatch away organs and makes it fair and ethical. Now we had to contend with the struggle of conscience knowing someone else’s child must die for Megan to live.

From there things got more difficult. Meg had a seizure in the children’s hospital in Philadelphia. Because the neuro-doctor determined she would not live a productive life due to slowed brain activity they removed her name from the transplant list. Undaunted Maureen got her a physical therapist and the two of them worked hard and got Megan performing tasks and tracking, or following things with her eyes. She was put back on the list after being seen by the transplant team at Columbian Presbyterian in New York. After a few months we got the call, a heart for Megan had become available and the scene was set. Her transplant was successful but it still required a long rehabilitation in the hospital. After over a month of living in the hospital with her we were finally able to take Megan home and she laughed and walked and despite being behind in dexterity for her age she was progressing. This is where the happy part of the story ends and becomes the worst moment of my life.
After eight glorious days watching Megan get stronger by the moment we were hammered with another set-back. Something was wrong and Megan’s health was suddenly deteriorating. We rushed her back to Columbian Presbyterian where she was re-admitted and taken into surgery. While in a waiting room we heard an announcement on the PA system calling for STAT, which we had previously learned was Latin for statim, a call for immediate emergency. Maureen and I looked at each other with deep concern because without knowing for sure what the call was we both knew in our most primal gut feelings it was a desperation call meant for Megan. Our baby girl was about to end up back in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit, a place we had become far to familiar with.
The first night there one of the babies next to us passed away and I witness a father comforting his teen age daughter who had fallen apart at the news that her child had lost his struggle. I remembered seeing the intense pain in his face, having to contend with losing his grandson while having to remain strong to comfort his daughter. The pain and love in his conflicted emotions were etched deeply into a troubled face, that wasn’t permitted to show it pain despite the profound depth of torture he was experiencing internally. It was very disconcerting and a tad prophetic as I wondered if I was going to assume a similar role if everything goes to shit. I pushed it out of my mind because we had agreed at the very start with Megan that no matter how slim the thread of hope was we would each grasp it firmly with both hands and hold it tightly to our hearts. Our closest friends and nearest family gathered to be by our sides to offer support. It wouldn’t be long before we would find ourselves desperate for that support.
Megan’s health had become a see saw of emotion, one moment weighing hopeful the next weighing cautious and slim. The moment came that I can only imagine that everyone in the healthcare field must dread. The time for honest and frank discussion about where a patients health had gone and the real and practical possible outcomes. We had become far too familiar with previously foreign terms like catastrophic illness, immunosuppressant, and Cardiomyopathy as the physicians often spoke to us in ‘Doctorese.’ But none of those were what the doctor had in store for us this time. There is not a thing in the universe that could prepare you for this sort of news. We were told directly and honestly that Megan’s outlook did not look promising, that her chance of survival was getting slimmer by the hour and we should begin preparing to make a decision. Once again we had our emotions splattered on the wall. The possibility of losing Megan had become earth shatteringly real.
They monitored her health but there was a heavy sense of the worst that could happen about to be happening. Megan’s cardiologist was choking back tears as she gave us the grim prospective and let us know that there was no longer anything they could do and as hard as it is the best thing for Megan was for us to let her go. We assured her we understood and went in to see Megan. When I approached Megan she was once again attached to an assortment of tubes and cables. We could the whirring of machines and the beeping of her heart monitor. As I walked over to Megan she looked up at me and communicated with her sad and profoundly tired eyes. With those eyes she said, “Daddy, I’m so sorry. It’s just so hard to go on fighting. I’ve been trying so hard to fight for you and Mommy but it’s too hard, I’ve been through so much and I’m not sure I can fight anymore. I’m so sorry Daddy, I love you.” It wasn’t words, but I fully understood anyway. I bent low to her face, kissed and said, “it’s okay to let go baby girl, it’s okay. We love you so much.” It was the hardest thing I ever had to say or do.
I’m not sure if it was to further torture myself for allowing Megan to die or to take my mind off what was really happening but I looked up from Megan and watched as the doctor responsible turned of all the beeping machines allowing a grotesque silence fill the room. I felt sorry for him, I could see in his twisted face that doing this was the worst possible job in the world. Then it occurred to me that I was wrong about that, the worst possible job in the world is being a parent and having to say goodbye to your child for the final time.
As promised, my keyboard is overflowing with tears re-living that moment. I will return in a day or so to complete my final note and then a few more days to garner enough confidence to post it. Peace……..

Epilogue

Today 21 people will die waiting for a transplant.
On average 10 people a day are added to the waiting list
Donating your organs can save or make better 10 lives

Having become part of the transplant community I have come to know some successful transplantation families that became filled love and deep gratitude to the donor. I met incredible donors and donor families, and was fortunate to watch as Maureen became an altruistic donor on a friends behalf which ended up in an eight kidney donation chain effecting multiple families. Organ donation is a cause we both believed in long before it became a reality for us and the time we spent with Megan after her transplant only serves to motivate us further. Please consider becoming an organ donor if you’re not already, and if you are thank you. There are a number of organizations you can look up for more information. UNOS, Donate Life, Gift Of Hope , among others. You can also go to http.orgndonor.gov

Final thought
People often say it must be so hard losing a child. I think painful is a better way to describe it, and like most pains it never fully goes away. You always retain an echo from such profound pain. I think the hard part was having to hear from so many well meaning but misguided attempts at putting it in perspective for me. No one really knows what to say or how to react to you. They awkwardly attempt to help me make sense of it but when your in that much pain making sense is just an unreal concept. It’s my pain and if I refuse to find deeper reasoning or understanding then let me. Don’t assign your concepts of coping to me. When a child dies telling the parent that it was gods will, or that she’s with the angels now does nothing to apply any sensibility to the loss. It isn’t something I will get through, it’s a huge sack of pain I carry everyday. Some days the sack is far heavier than others, but I carry it none the less. Its pain and like any other pain it needs to be treated. It will never be cured but it can be managed to a degree. To my thinking life is a long series of pain and relief, joy and sorrow, happy and sad. Opposites help us to appreciate the depth of each emotion and I just hope that my relief, joy, and happy moments far outweigh my pain, sorrow, and sad ones…….One World, One Peace….Save a life, donate your organs

From Cosmo and His Garden Earth/ The Mass Extinction

Asteroid impact.  Illustration of a large asteroid colliding with Earth on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. This impact is believed to have led to the death of the dinosaurs some 65 million years ago. The impact formed the Chicxulub crater, which is around 200 kilometres wide. The impact would have thrown trillions of tons of dust into the atmosphere, cooling the Earth's climate significantly, which may have been responsible for the mass extinction. A layer of iridium- rich rock, known as the K/T boundary, is thought to be the remnants of the impact debris.
Asteroid impact. Illustration of a large asteroid colliding with Earth on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. This impact is believed to have led to the death of the dinosaurs some 65 million years ago. The impact formed the Chicxulub crater, which is around 200 kilometers wide. The impact would have thrown trillions of tons of dust into the atmosphere, cooling the Earth’s climate significantly, which may have been responsible for the mass extinction. A layer of iridium- rich rock, known as the K/T boundary, is thought to be the remnants of the impact debris.

JT Hilltop
One morning while sipping some of his favorite caffeinated breakfast beverage, Thors Thunderbolt, Cosmo noticed some strange things happening in his garden Earth. His jumbo creatures appeared to be having unusually sloppy sex far more consistently than before. Pangaea was becoming over crowded with baby creatures not to mention lakes of dino-sperm. Some of the creatures took on different characteristics. They were larger, wider, and exceedingly clumsy. Cosmo sensed some major adaptations taking hold. The sex also seemed to make the creatures very hungry and they were eating twice the normal amount of his marvelous treetops. Many seemed to favor this one particular bush, or rather one particular weed, which seemed to give them voracious appetites as well. And not just for food, but for more sex. Cosmo won’t swear to it but he believed munching the weed made his creatures laugh. At the very least they smiled more than normal. He wondered if it was co-incidence, or if this cannabis bush weed had unusual qualities to it so he took a few homegrown plants to try himself. He decided he would let them dry out and smoke some with a bottle of Pinot Neutron after dinner. As he continued to survey Pangaea another curious practice he observed. The creatures seemed to be fighting each other over sex, which was not really a colossal deal but it appeared that the winners where actually eating the losers as some sort of carnivorous prize. Believing it to be from the cannabis he referred to the practice as canibisalism. He opted not to try smoking the enticing weed just yet afraid of what it may make him want to do. The eating of the other creatures as a diet instead of just vegetation also made the meat eaters even bigger and stronger. He would need to keep an eye on these developments.
As time passed more and more creatures were killing each other and eating the remains. And damn were they multiplying. They engaged in sex virtually everyday and babies were everywhere. It was like some kind of Dino-nursery. Every day there seemed to be more and more, and nearly all the vegetation had been eaten. Not only that but they began biting kicking and scratching each other for no apparent reason. Many fights seemed to be over who had more dangling under their tail or who was going to screw the better looking female dinosaurs. Many times these fights caused some to fall down never to get back up. Cosmo was not happy with these developments at all. His garden of creatures was turning into a giant fighting fiasco. His giant behemoth experiments were simply much to big and clumsy. He decided he needed to start over and this time start with much more compact set of creatures. First though he needed a plan to extinguish and cover up the debacle of the dinosaur.
His first thought was to go subterranean. He began to churn up the ground at different points of the land mass Pangaea. The shifting of dirt created numerous effects. The mass of land split in various places and Pangaea began to break up into smaller lands. A few dinosaurs fell off the edges, but for the most part they rode the land mass that they happened to reside on and just sort of relocated. Two chunks of dirt headed out quickly, one due north and one due south. Each went as far as it could go until it turned into a giant massive iceball. Every dinosaur on these arctic edges froze along with it. The other land masses fared much better. Cosmo needed names now for the different masses. On the east he named his land masses North Columbia and South Columbia. Way across the newly formed ocean there was a dark mass he called Afrika, and a huge piece he called Eurasia. A smaller mass slipped down under while a very green land went slightly north. He would name them later. As for the dinosaurs they had begun to change and were ironically defined by their land masses. The creatures in North Columbia grew more aggressive body parts, like large razor sharp teeth, pointed spiny tails, and large muscular arms. Military adaptations. Cosmo believed they actually thought themselves superior and tried to make all the others live the way they did. Pretentiousauruses! The dinosaurs in Africa were very wild and it took on a predatory nature of survival of the mightiest. In Eurasisa half fancied themselves the more sophisticated and chic while the other half absolutely excelled in math. They had all begun to mutate body parts that were used as weapons or as protective amour. Spiny heads and necks, horns, shells, claws, Talons, scales and many other features that assisted warfare or survival. They continued cross breeding and a host of new genus’s were born. Now he had some walking on two legs, some on four, some eating only vegetation, some only other dinosaurs, and many eating both. The flying dinosaurs alone mutated into over 500 species. The fights became rampant and more frequent and quite frankly it was pissing Cosmo off a bit. The shifting of the land also had an effect on the once enormous Pangaean sea which was all the water surrounding Pangaea. The other lands had created borders which split the Pangaean sea into vast oceans. New weather patterns and water currents came into play, and many of the places he churned up dirt had formed piles, ranging from tiny molehills to humongous mountains that reached up towards the sky. At first Cosmo tried to make all the dirt piles as majestic as the giant ones but he quickly learned he couldn’t make a mountain out of a molehill.
As time went on things just got worse and worse. The changes in the garden plots were great, but the dinosaurs were out of control. In each land mass they were carrying on and destroying the vegetation, trampling everything in their paths, kicking the everlasting dinosaur shit out of each other. If that wasn’t bad enough the fornicating was maddening. No matter where you looked in the garden you could find many dinosaurs letting it all hang out ready for reproduction. Giant penispods galore. Humping and swamp hopping there was sex going on everywhere. Puddles of sperm gathered that drowned the lower vegetation and while they were knocking horns and creating future fossils it tore up the ground and caused many a fight to the death. Genus were being wiped out, it was a constant state of confusion. The trees they had eaten clear down to the roots. They simply had no respect at all for Cosmo, his garden, or each other and that was the final sipping stick! It was time for a raptor rapture!
The angry Cosmo had had it. He reached up into space and grabbed the biggest asteroid he could hold and hurled it towards earth with all his might. Had it not been an act of destruction one might have thought it a beautiful magnificent sight. Upon impact a huge explosion of colors, bright reds and yellows danced tangos across the planet. A blinding flash of white so brilliant it could be seen as far away as the Tolkien Galaxy. Flames that reached so high they tickled the moon and made it giggle and squirm. Sheer magnifigance. Why it was a fireworks display fit for the gods. But mere minutess after the glowing kaleidoscope of destruction lit up the skies as if to remind everyone that its beauty was marred by violence it was quickly replaced with an ear pounding roar. Bursts of concussion inducing reverberation accompanied the evening festivities with a mushroom plume of billowing smoke dressed in charcoal black from head to toe. A snap. A crackle. A pop. Within seconds garden earth became Earth Krispies. The explosion kicked up an awful cloud of dust with it that pulled the rug of sparkle pomp and circumstance right from under its cosmic ass. For the longest time Cosmo could see nothing but an enormous floating burntout dust bunny. Virtually everything was obscured and he had no clue as to the fate of his living garden below. One thing for sure, if any of the suns rays got through at all it was undetectable. How could anything live without food, without light, without sunshine? Cosmo was absolutely certain he had lost everything. He underestimated the ultra tiny earth dwelling insect known as the cockroach. Will anything kill those bastards?
As time went by the dust began to settle it was becoming apparent not much if anything would survive. Even with only a portion of the dust gone he could see there was not much sign of life. The vegetation tried valiantly to reach back up towards the sun but with limited success. The garden seemed still and void. Even Cosmo couldn’t detect the tiny crawling cockroach foraging at the base of the stringy vines of vegetation. But trust me when I tell you, those cucaracha’s marched on. The once magnificent dinosaurs however were not able to crawl between any cracks let alone march anywhere. A massive open graveyard was all the gardening god could see. Humongous piles of giant carcasses littered the ground and whatever ground that could be seen was scorched to a grayish black. Nary a leaf or a pine cone to be found. Not even a blade of grass on this once animated garden of green and blue. Stacks of bodies and body parts could be seen everywhere with billows of smoke reaching out to the Milky Way cluster. There was a stench quite unfamiliar to Cosmo, charred flesh smelled nothing at all similar to a god BBQ. To call the aroma unpleasant would be an understatement. The forces of fetid decay banded together with burning flesh and gunpowder. The acrid odors began an all out assault that would serve as a rank reminder of the magnitude of failure here. Battalions of rotted mounds of foul fecal sewage mixed with dino debris formed an aerial assault. The army of stench marched up Cosmo’s nose and set up a camp of odiferous angry troops behind his eyes. Some salted droplets of sorrow snuck down Cosmo’s cheek which he blamed on the carousel of stink spinning in his sinuses. Make no mistake though that was no dew drop, that was a teardrop
Denial is not yet just a river in Egypt. A deep sadness overtook the creator of the dinosaur. Still smoldering and becoming increasingly covered in dust Cosmo reflected on his once thriving lizard kingdom. Had they not been so enormous he mused, perhaps things would have been different. He wanted to have a way to remember the jumbo Jurassic relics . After some time many of the hearty vegetation had once again begun to sprout, rising up from the ashes. It seemed as though everything reminded him of his creatures. “I shall name this period of existence the cretaceous period in honor of my creatures. In order that no one, especially me, ever forget their magnifigance I shall create a living memorial. With that Cosmo placed very colorful vegetation he called flowers everywhere. At first the flowers were impractical, the only benefit being the ambiance and je ne sais quoi of their beauty and fresh interesting aroma’s. The wonderful aroma’s to cover the stench of scorched earth were amusing. He had no idea what an impact they would have later on. Flowers would become symbolic of love and beauty and figure into a strange talk between fathers and sons some day. People would fashion perfumes and air fresheners form their enticing smells and men would find them a beneficial tool in making up for mistakes. Flowers would proudly display their floral genitalia and bees would find them irresistible. Flowers would come to represent anticipation of sex for both honey bee and honey dear alike. Forever linked with love because that was why Cosmo created them, to remind him of his love for the once utopian behemoths. Beautiful flowers of white pink peach, purple, red, yellow, blue, violet, green and orange. Fantastically designed shapes of bells, funnels, trumpets, tubes, saucers, bowls and labia. Brilliantly displayed all over the land masses along with new and tastier vegetation. It was a sight to behold. An arboretum of the grandest scale any had ever seen. This colorful garden alone would have stopped a charging raptor in its path to gawk at the beauty and inhale deeply the scent of passion on this marvel of an orb. An ambush makeover on the grandest of scales.
Now a new task was at hand. “I will take my new plan to the BOCGG and see if the Gods will approve and allow me to once again have mobile life in the garden. It was time to face the rhythms melodies and harmonies expressed through instruments. Cosmo knew it was no use trying to pull the woolly mammoth over the boards eyes. Best thing to do was simply fess up and submit his urban renewal plan complete with manageable animals of different species to match the flourishing flora of Garden Earth. However, when Cosmo got to District Seven to request new life seeds, the Board of Co-operative God and Goddesses were waiting for him. They had apparently heard about the mass extinction back in Cosmo’s galaxy. They did not seem pleased.
TBC