Grandma moved up to the attic recently...all the way up from the basement...she said it might be darker then it was downstairs but I could take better care of my photographs here. I was the one who moved her... since I was the only one who had his shoes on...and because I truly love her photographs...even though the boxes are so d*** heavy...and my shoes so d*** small...that might be the cause of it all.
We hoped that a pet would keep her company...but apparently that cat hung itself...its swinging from the light bulb chain. At least the attic bulb never needs changing...its just dim enough so you cannot see yourself...although everything else looks remarkable. Well maybe the bulb is too dull...that might be the cause of it all.
Grandma never eats any-thing...just chews on one piece of bread daily...in memory of her savior...but never does she swallow it...she makes twenty three little b**** out of it...and scatters them around the room. Some times I hear her talk to them...other times I think I hear them answer her...or maybe it's a telephone call...that might be the cause of it all.
I do not visit Grandma often...because her face looks so terrible...when she's handing me that old telephone and she says "Jesus is on the main-line won't you tell him what you want?" And I tell her "What I want aint never got me nowhere...but I still pray out loud sometimes on my solar-powered megaphone...with Grandma's photos taped to the side of it...and I no longer care who is listening...I'm not trying to lead a demonstration...or start up some new wild kind of dance-craze...I'm only walking and talking...and just like you my feet hurt...well maybe my shoes are too small...that really might be the cause of it all.
We hoped that a pet would keep her company...but apparently that cat hung itself...its swinging from the light bulb chain. At least the attic bulb never needs changing...its just dim enough so you cannot see yourself...although everything else looks remarkable. Well maybe the bulb is too dull...that might be the cause of it all.
Grandma never eats any-thing...just chews on one piece of bread daily...in memory of her savior...but never does she swallow it...she makes twenty three little b**** out of it...and scatters them around the room. Some times I hear her talk to them...other times I think I hear them answer her...or maybe it's a telephone call...that might be the cause of it all.
I do not visit Grandma often...because her face looks so terrible...when she's handing me that old telephone and she says "Jesus is on the main-line won't you tell him what you want?" And I tell her "What I want aint never got me nowhere...but I still pray out loud sometimes on my solar-powered megaphone...with Grandma's photos taped to the side of it...and I no longer care who is listening...I'm not trying to lead a demonstration...or start up some new wild kind of dance-craze...I'm only walking and talking...and just like you my feet hurt...well maybe my shoes are too small...that really might be the cause of it all.