17-03-2013, 11:28 PM
On the road after the ivied halls, the asphalt seas and the sun-drenched mesas took a toll.
The removals and repairs, the snipping and stitching and scraping took a good deal of custom home building in the Land of Enchantment, and later a barter system with a dentist whose charitable attempts vis-a-vis educational institutions made him a target for IRS audit.
Then came a double shot, a double decade of cancer and its costs, the ones in coin running the gauge back to its starting pin.
The so-wonderful medicare which chummed for the feeding frenzy of competing specialists running up bills, potentiating toward the final, fatal stroke of my mother made me less then ecstatic over some Beltway Bernie Nadoff in a lab coat.
There was La Clinica Del Gente where it was free back in the day. Free. Davey Jones was a Peace Corp veteran with a photo on the wall of his South Pacific office, a thatched roof on a beach over a chair.
He didn't have a panoply x-ray and wasn't an oral surgeon. He had Channelocks and his foot on your chest.
Paul Krassner, the world needs real writers now--needs you. Not some pampered lavender-cloud "blogger"
http://paulkrassner.com/
http://www.lafamiliasf.org/about_us/13/OurHistory/
The removals and repairs, the snipping and stitching and scraping took a good deal of custom home building in the Land of Enchantment, and later a barter system with a dentist whose charitable attempts vis-a-vis educational institutions made him a target for IRS audit.
Then came a double shot, a double decade of cancer and its costs, the ones in coin running the gauge back to its starting pin.
The so-wonderful medicare which chummed for the feeding frenzy of competing specialists running up bills, potentiating toward the final, fatal stroke of my mother made me less then ecstatic over some Beltway Bernie Nadoff in a lab coat.
There was La Clinica Del Gente where it was free back in the day. Free. Davey Jones was a Peace Corp veteran with a photo on the wall of his South Pacific office, a thatched roof on a beach over a chair.
He didn't have a panoply x-ray and wasn't an oral surgeon. He had Channelocks and his foot on your chest.
Paul Krassner, the world needs real writers now--needs you. Not some pampered lavender-cloud "blogger"
http://paulkrassner.com/
http://www.lafamiliasf.org/about_us/13/OurHistory/