A Chance At A New Life
Tomorrow morning is my appointment for my initial meeting with vocational rehab. It’s been hard on me, not working. Obviously. You kinda need funds to get through this world and life. But there’s an emotional attachment to doing your part that’s severed when you no longer are and you’re left at the mercy of those who’ll take you in or, at worst, the elements. I could no longer do what I was doing...
Nakedness, Truth, And Self-Control
The diet. In case you were wondering, I did cave to my craving for that hot dog filled with cheese. 110 calories. I had it with a piece of bread (no buns on hand) – a regular ol’ wheat slice that was, if I recall, 163 calories. I am counting calories and decided, if things went as planned, I’d probably sleep through morning, being up so late – in a kind of dull agony from the gut and from the meds...
I wanted to kiss this girl, but she’s- Gone. I mean, she’s- Unavailable to me. Her life occurs someplace else. Meanwhile, I pop anticonvulsants and shake and live somewhere between half-coherent and sleepless and I’ve decided – yes – on dieting. To diet. Which, over the past couple of days has been, as I’ve told others, a mixed bag. Overall, I’m somewhat proud of myself. I’ve either come in below...
Ghosts In The Machine
The older you get, the more ghosts you see. You see them everywhere. In crowds. Alone while meandering through a park or while pushing a shopping cart. On television, when watching the news. On the Internet, somewhere. Anywhere. A face appears and you wonder, “Is that…?” And it gets at you because it could be. The world is small-enough. Or – more-convincingly – it belongs. It should be there. For...
The Rolling Stones, “Child Of The Moon” The wind blows rain into my face The sun glows at the end of the highway Child of the moon, rub your rainy eyes Oh, child of the moon Give me a wide-awake crescent-shaped smile She shivers, by the light she is hidden She flickers like a lamp lady vision Child of the moon, rub your rainy eyes Oh, child of the moon Give me a wide-awake...
Out Of Time
The imagery made perfect sense – albeit cruel. There are people in the world to whom I was once important, loved. I was loved by them. They were in love with me. Within some moment in time. If only for a brief moment of time. For that moment, some given moment, each of these people were in love with me or, at least, I’d meant something to them. I’d meant a great deal to them, to each of these...
If you don’t get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don’t want, you...– Dan Millman, Way Of The Peaceful Warrior: A Book That Changes Lives
There’s a helluva welt near the top center of my forehead – just off-center, to the left, a quarter of an inch or so below the hairline – that refuses to pop open. Welt, zit… It’s huge. Painful. At least when I’m fucking with it. There’s a lot of pressure to it; I can tell. I can’t see why applying more won’t blast the gad-damned thing all over the bathroom mirror in a spray of pus and blood. And...
Stay In Line
Personal experience shows me that I can’t very well exist in a state of being that’s all about self-medication. A medicated state of being that may be prescribed, may be legal. It’s not really “self-medication”, that. The self-medicated take it upon themselves to prescribe medicinal treatment though legal or illegal means. Or both. I put the pills into my headhole myself, thus it’s...
A Question Of Weed
The subject of marijuana is- It’s one of those things that’s- Damn. I don’t like to get into it. Because I’m of a certain mind that straddles the two main, battling philosophies on it and I’ve got a leg on either side of the line just far-enough to get me in a lot of trouble with the opposition and- I get it. On the one hand. On the other, I don’t see why it should. I grew up at a time and in an...
Our Coffee Time
Mothers’ Day isn’t- I drop my head. I never had a good relationship with my mom. I’d spent my early years until my maternal grandmother died with that grandmother and my grandfather. They were my parents until I was seven. Then I went to live with an aunt. How I came to live with my mom after that is a whirlwind of different explanations, the truth of it locked within my own mind. I’d gone through...
“It’s the best 45th birthday I’ve ever had!” That’s Thursday’s catchphrase. Already overdone by dinnertime. But, as middle-aged birthdays go, it wasn’t bad. Had bloodwork done, then went to Golden Corral to dine with 500 other large people with mullets and T-shirts without sleeves on them. People fighting over the last chicken quesadilla, then the last egg roll. Even as someone from...
Fog And Obituaries
Ray Harryhausen died, this week. The great special effects man. And I, though feeling badly about it, first wondered if- Well… I’d- Wasn’t he already dead? First, I often start sentences with conjunctions and I don’t give a fuck. I try to write in a natural voice rather than in the manner of a fucking grammar robot. Anyway, my brain is fading away. I say that as if falling backward into a divan,...
Racism, Bicycles, And Billie
So, the other night, I’d planned to get more tightly into the subject of racism, which winds tightly about my life by default of time and place. “Time” being when my life occurred on the timeline of history, and “place” being where it did so. In the U.S. in the mid-‘70s, it had been hushed. Racism. It wasn’t in vogue. But it sure as fuck wasn’t dead. And for those who found it out of...
I don’t know why, when I turn to my blog, things get dark. I guess it’s my outlet for such things when there’s no other ear. It’s a captive audience. It’s readily-available therapy. It’s the nearest, most-convenient toilet for the contents of my head. It should be filled with humor but instead there’s- Yeah. Let’s get away from that for awhile. I...
I shut out the lights at just after 5 a.m., this morning, after struggling to recapture the writing bug that I set aside months ago, at which time I thought, “I can pick this up in a few days. I just need a break.” And maybe I had needed a break. Because I was putting a lot of myself into it. Not just time and effort but me. Personality. Wounds. Hope. Anything I can think of that can be labeled...
When I was a kid and living in Tonopah, Nevada, I’d climb this hill or small mountain we had in the middle of town we called “Green Mountain” (I think it had a proper name, but I’m not sure what it is and I’m not gonna hunt after it just now because it’s not relevant to the story). We called it that because it was covered with lichen of green, red, and gold, but mostly green and it gave it kind of...