Arms

I refuse to register my arms. They’ve become fatter and I don’t want that tracked… Not to mention, moderate carpal tunnel in one wrist. Next thing you know, I’d be getting spam wanting me to buy arm products. It’s already started with the Nair and Deodorant commercials. Moreover, I’m not registering the two (Grizzly) arms in my freezer; They’re stamped with FDA already, isn’t’ that enough? Even if they weren’t, it’s not like I have Mountain Lion arms in my freezer. I understand what the founders meant when they said Bear arms.

Job Hunt

Making copies of your life into a paper fill
Green little monsters rapidly moving in
Typing and fretting, it’s exhausting to find
Pressured by well-wishers and wallet alike

Damn this, I’m going home, I’m going to roam
Sitting and surfing, praying and calling home
Lying in the sun for fun, I run
Hands across the counter beat the drum

I’m on the hunt, but not really, I’m waiting
I’m flaking and shaking, but not really, I’m skating
I’m on the hunt but for what, a snot, a rope?
I’m hunting without a gun, maybe a stick, nope!

Maybe some relief is on the way, I get a call
Mr. Regal, Mrs. Callus, when should I fall
Today is the day; I get the notice, the rice
I knock on the door dressed in my ice

Elite

In a world where pleasure is criminalized
In a world where pain is glorified
I died, I cried but I didn’t lie on the side
Take me for a ride on your kite

The elite fleet stares at your feet
The cheat meets you on the beat
The eel reels on his heels before his meal
It steals as it feels orange peels

Today it pays to lay and to lay you must pay
Our fate with Kate is too late
Brace the ace in the face of lace, set a pace
Take a break before you ache from steak

Oil boils your curls in foil
Curse the verse of the nurse
Hurt Bert and be curt when you flirt
Stop the cop and flop on his top

Pressure and leisure feathers the weather
Neither the ether nor breather keeps Heather
Come for fun with your bun in the sun
readily and steadily knead your beads

When We Wed

I don’t want to see you listening
I don’t want to hear you seeing
I don’t want to taste you feeling
I don’t want to feel you tasting
and I don’t want to smell you at all

Your skin sees my ears
Your eyes taste my nose
Your ears feel my fingers
Your nose hears my eyes
and your tongue smells nothing

But how can we live, go on pretending
delicious excitement
unsightly moaning
loud drinking
coarse odors

with all we dull our senses, we haven’t a thing to bring or sing to the king
shoulders taste ok
tongues see ok
ears smell ok
noses hear bread but is it dead in the red bed when we wed?

Sorry Small Man

I’m sorry you’re small, not tall, not thick
I’m sorry you’re obsessed with lack of d_ck (your own)
Peeny small man, your jealousy is despicable
You’re not smart and you’re not slick

I’m sorry small man, your mind is injured
I’m sorry dolt, you prey on unaware minds
Spend your time aching to destroy others
While you frown in the mirror at your ugly face

Small man, you were not given tools, you’re not fortunate
Your hatred of yourself will never benefit anyone until you’re awake
Your hatred of others will never benefit you until you’re under
Hey small man, your control of others will never be

You’ll live in pain in misery all of your days
You’ll always look to cut others to the bone
Because you see, little man, you have no bone
spine or you know the other kind

Little man, I don’t wish you well
I wish you nothing but continued humiliation
You know the kind you get when you look in your mirror
Oh I forgot, little man, I’m not sorry

Looney

Chunks of life disappeared before my very eyes

On my way home, contemplative, looked to the skies

Brightness covered my memories but something dark too

Shadows of lost time, shadows rang loud and true

The mystery of this headache puzzles my cells

The wind at my back, pushing me forward tells

Schedules have changed, faces have aged

Is that you, it’s me don’t you know, are you caged?

I have run, I have walked

I have crawled through these halls

I have stayed, I have prayed

I have scratched up these walls

Another world, another life, another death, another story

I’m too far gone, but I want to start again towards glory

A silence hovers like fog, like a rug, like a blanket

Sentiment rushes, it kisses, on a page, just a sank bet

I have run, I have walked

I have crawled through these halls

I have stayed, I have prayed

I have scratched up these walls

The precious past seems looney now, how could I.

Years of this unknown laboratory, thought I would buy

Starting again, the mess, the greatness, the magic smile

Earth stops then, now, and again, but it’ll be a while.

I have run, I have walked

I have crawled through these halls

I have stayed, I have prayed

I have scratched up these walls

-Jason L. Scarabin, 15:35 PT, Sat. 03 March 2012

Sajon’s Diet

Sajon’s diet: 259 lbs on April 18, 2004 to 212 lbs by June 2004 and kept it off for a few months until breaking from the diet.  This is NOT comprehensive or absolute.
Food is pain (when you abuse it).  Repeat this phrase in your mind because YOU have abused it and it has made you unhappy.

  1. Do something that makes yourself hideously unattractive; i.e., I grew my hair long (since cut it) and dipped tobacco (not recommended).
  2. Small portions on everything.  Do not stuff yourself EVER.
  3. Weigh yourself every day.  If you did not drop from the previous day, you did something wrong and must reduce portions.
  4. Fast for 48 hours. This means ZERO consumption of anything including water (NOT a drop) or anything else.  Break this fast with a Granny Smith apple… wait an hour then bake the Salmon described later.
  5. Liquids Under NO circumstance including holidays and celebrations will you drink outside these specified drinks or your choice of an equivalent in calories and carbohydrates.  If you refuse to give up beer, drink Aspen or Miller Lite. Drink lightly.
  • Water
  • Green Tea (Celestial Seasonings Antioxidant) with Lemon
  • Coffee (Black with Equal if you like)
  • Cranberry Juice (Low-Carb usually designated on jugs or labeled as Diet)
  • Grey Goose Vodka (Kettle One is the ONLY acceptable substitute)
  1. Meats Fish, Chicken & most seafood prepared anyway you like including fried but always use Olive Oil or butter.  Red meat is fine about twice a month prepared anyway you like.  Salmon must be a staple because of the Omega-3 Fatty Acids.
  2. Vegetables Onions, Mushrooms, Garlic and Lettuce.  Cook these with Olive Oil or butter except the lettuce.  Eat lettuce with croutons (if you like), cheese and Ranch dressing (NOT lite) every day.  Tomatoes are fine, but I do not eat them regularly.
  3. Fruit Granny Smith Apples & Lemons.  Avoid oranges and pineapples.

Habits Pick a habit that consumes at least 2 hours a day that is productive, consumes your mind and feels good.  Ask me in private what I did and do.

Salmon recipe (L.B. taught me 99% of this recipe): Bake on 350 for 30 minutes on top of aluminum foil after seasoning it and plugging it with garlic cloves.  Remove salmon, turn it over, remove the skin, place it on a NEW sheet of foil, and season the new side.  Broil for 10 minutes, slice a lemon and spray the salmon with it.

Snacks Feel free to add good quality chocolate to your coffee or have Hershey’s Kisses with Almonds, no-salt peanuts and low-sodium Ritz crackers with cheese or Cream Cheese.

Salt NEVER add salt to your meals.  Shop for low-salt products.  Swiss cheese seems to have the lowest amount of salt.

Vitamins I take one Centrum Carb Assist vitamin daily with food.

Shopping Grocery shop often.  Stop eating out PERIOD.  D.M. taught me to stay on the outer edges when grocery shopping.

Broken

Broken, torn, hurt and troubled
minutes come like thorns
gravity a nuisance, time torturous
relief comes only in dreams and fluid 

Pushing and pulling waiting for a break
fast feet and quick sniffs ride it out
urges and luminous outbursts displayed
soft tears peek through under pain 

a tiny light sheds in the upcoming watch
wait… a sparkle lights up your veins
fire burning deep but safely relaxing
quenching the hatred of father time 

pure bliss now it’s magical enough
bringing peace within what existed
nice to know and careful to follow
this gentle breeze is all you needed

Fires

succored by the cradle-rocker

the child waits until the dawning

caressed by his mother’s love

he simply composes her life

constraints demanding fallacies

rejected by the truth lying in wait

peaceful is the mill of philosophy

endangered by jealousy and hatred

a liaison for all the liars

Old Gooseberry starts the fires

burning nameless and countless crowds

in the name of the last resort

Cassettes, October 20, 1977

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Clarence Henry Adolph, Sr., his wife Helen, his brother Emmett and his wife Yvonne all talk on this cassette. This was sent to Clarence and Helen’s daughter Marilyn, husband Louis “D.D.”, Jr. and kids Deron, Jason, Josh and Kessie.

1899 Cyprien Buras

Cyprien Buras with wife Melasie and unknown child.

SATURDAY, MAR. 18, 1899

THE RESULTS OF THE FREEZE

BITS OF FORMER HISTORY

A correspondent of the Protector went from the upper line of the parish as far down as Venice lately on the west bank of the river and noted the effects of the freeze carefully.

The plant cane as a rule is very good and the late beautiful weather has enabled a splendid lot of field work to be done. The first year stubble cane has stood the cold well and already here and there sprigs of cane are show- ing, especially where the stubble has been well shaved. The second year stubble, where it was badly hilted up last year, has been hurt, but by stringing out the seed cane and fertilizing well a fair crop of cane will be made.

The large forces of the Myrtle Grove Planting Company and Magnolia Planting Company have put the fields on the many places worked by these companies in beautiful order.

Further down, on both sides of the river, preparations have been made to put in large rice crops, and the late supply of water that ne plus ultra of a river rice crop has never seemed better assured. The truck crops have been thrown very much backward. Onion crops have recovered rapidly, not so cabbage, potatoes and cucumbers and the early vegetables of which this parish ships about 50,000 barrels a year. But the orange groves are a spectral ruin. Where mile after mile the glossy green leaves and lovely blossoms gladdened the eyes, while the perfume of their odors filled the whole air, they stand sear dead ghosts of their former luxuriance and beauty.

Your correspondent did not see in the whole orange belt a single living sweet orange tree, which had been exposed above the ground during the freeze. Think of it, ten thousand times twenty thousand dead trees, drying up, with all the soft air of spring and beauty of early verdure around and about them. It gives one the heart ache to see it.

But how sweet the uses of adversity. Though unprecedented for over two generations, this cold spell has taught the orange growers a salutary lesson. Probably five to ten thousand trees were saved by throwing up earth several feet high around the trunk some distance above where the sweet orange bud had been budded on the sour stock or mother. This saved both the trunk and sweet bud up to the surface of the ground, and the top being cut off at the ground, the upper sweet trunk will rapidly produce a good bearing tree, otherwise the sour orange stump or stock will shoot up again and have to be re-budded. Thousands of trees have been ordered and ere two years have past the lower parish will have probably one hundred thousand orange trees again.

Your correspondent noted one place below Fort Jackson belonging to Mr. Tony Commander of New Orleans, where two thousand new trees are being put out.

Your correspondent had quite a talk with Mr. Cyprien Buras over 83 years of age and who has lived near the Jump, or Venice, all his life. Mr. Buras who is a direct descendant of the Buras after whom the large Buras settle- ment above was named, took the results of the freezing of his orange grove philosophically, and will soon have other trees, if he can get them, in their places.

“This is not the first time,” he said, “It has happened. My father Hubert Buras who died 50 years ago at 80 years of age, told me many times that in 1789, now one hundred and ten years ago, that he was living at Pointe-a-la- Hache and that the weather was so cold and so much ice floated down the river that he could leap from piece to piece of ice all the way across. He particularly mentioned a large tree that had become wedged in between the large blocks of ice and floated down the river with its top partly in the air. My father moved down to the Jump later and lived a little below where I live now.

“A few years before I was born, he and his family nearly lost their lives in the storm of 1812. He and my un- cles often told me, when I was a little boy, of how they saved themselves. In August 1812, it began to blow from the northeast at night and the wind raged with such terrible force that the sea on the other side of the river swept across the land into the river and began to flood our side. My father got lines out and tied his house to the stumps of four large trees. By the next night the wind was howling like ten thousand devils and his large lugger was anchored by him near his house, in which his people all got safely. The lugger was anchored with a chain to which the anchor was tied with a rope. Finding the lugger was sinking, by the bow going down, my father pulled himself hand over hand under the water with a knife or hatchet in his teeth and cut the rope. The lugger was swept back behind the large cypress trees, which were bent over with the fury of the wind. He succeeded in tying the boat to the branches, but was beaten black and blue by the branches, the clothing he had on becoming perfectly green with the sap and gum from the branches. The trees were blown over but were held by the roots and in their shelter his family were saved, but his house and all he had were swept away.

“A very large number of people were drowned in that storm. My father’s sister Mrs. Fontenelle and all her chil- dren were lost. At Philibert Dennis’, just above where Fort St. Philip stands, thirty people had taken refuge in his house, which was considered very strong, the lower part being of brick. This house was knocked down and all were drowned. One woman further down, who could swim, was washed from the other side of the river to this shore and was found in the fork of a tree more dead than alive.”

Mr. Buras is a very truthful man and these incidents may interest those who think that the climate is changing.1

1           Plaquemines Protector, March 18, 1899
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