Swifty phiphty niner

The following story is historical fiction at its best.   My older sister told me this happened but I was too young and traumatized to remember.   My family at the time was all gathered which included my two half-sisters, Do Ra Me and Fo So La, who came out each summer for several weeks.   They were my mom’s daughters whom she had lost custody of in her divorce with their father. I was running from Mom, not unusual, but today she had that red eye look and I knew disaster was on my butt this time.   I can’t tell you what heinous thing I did today.   Pasted S&H stamps all over the refrigerator door, stopped up the toilet again washing diapers, spilling cereal all over the floor, you name it, I’ve done it and paid a pearly price for each endeavor.   Today’s undertaking was of an elevated crime reserved for crazy lady time.   And she was screaming and snorting and I ran for my little fair life to escape.   I ran in and out of rooms thinking I ...

I’m waiting for my friend to pick me up today for dinner and then meditation.   What a date, eh?   A dinner and a sit.   But that’s how we role when we roll into our 60’s.   Not bad really.   He’s my friend, Duke that I mentioned in an earlier post.   My friend that was there when I fell down the rabbit hole of bipolar illness.   He’s my Zen master and I’m his computer wizard so all in all we get along pretty well.   Sitting home Sunday listening to Pink Floyd and Robin Trower.   Now those are names that bark back to the day.   In the not so distant past the free time would be killing me.   I need somebody to be with!   It’s part of that kineticness that I have, always moving, always spassing out like a ball in a pinball machine.   I’m not saying that pretty angels in a bad way, just the way it’s always been.   I’m a man of movement.   Whether in my head, my feet or my eyes.   Just can’t stay still.  ...

I got hit by a car today riding my bike to work.   Luckily the only damage seems to be my front wheel is bent completely out of shape.   I just put a brand new head light on the handle bars last night so I can light up the dark portions of my ride too!   I had 2 lights on in front, 2 blinking red lights on the back and just in case, wearing an orange reflective vest.   No matter.   If you’re not going to stop at a stop sign you’re going to hit people walking or riding.   He didn’t even make an attempt to stop.   It was slow enough that I tried to pull my bike out of harm’s way but he just didn’t stop fast enough and my wheel slid under his wheel.   Fuck. It was 5:30 in the morning and I was yelling at him that he has to stop at stop signs.   “I did a roly poly stop, I guess I have to know that there are bike riders out early in the morning.” Really?   He said that?   He was a nice enough guy and was apologetic and let me tak...

Bob is dying.   He’s having too many brain bleeds to survive the liver transplant.   He needs the liver to stop the bleeding but because of the bleeding they are refusing to offer him a lifesaving transplant.   I’m sorry Bob.   I’m really sorry for Kathy, his wife who has been his super hero through all of his medical tragedies.   She’s been by his side for every visit in the hospital whether they were together or not.   She has cried herself to sleep many nights over the prospect of losing the man she loves.   This is my example of unconditional love that I’ve been talking about. Bob and Kathy took me in to their home one day when I had nowhere to go.   I had just left my marriage and didn’t know what to do at that exact moment.   I decided to go over to Dennis’ as he was my best friend and he might offer a suggestion.   He wasn’t home and I sat on the bench on his front porch with my thoughts and not much else.   Bob showed...

It’s been a week since I’ve written.   I feel I’ve hit a blank wall.   Also I’m fighting something as I slept for 20 hours straight Sunday through Monday.   Then another 12 hours Monday night.   I’d say that’s a good nap time. That’s it.   That’s all I have.   I missed my therapy yesterday due to sleeping.   Rats.   That’s one on my highlights during the week.   I could write my Dear Mom dead letter.   That would drop jaws.   I’ve thought about dropping that in here as a public service that you too can write dead letters.   It’s a good way to move mountains out of your head and set the off down the road. Mom- This is a letter from you son, your son, a real human being that you birthed and threw out into the world.   I say threw out because you were sick, emotionally unstable, narcissistic, angry, cruel and flat out mean.   Your cruelty matched your intelligence which was unlimited. As an adult you had th...

My friend told me the other day that I live an examined life.   I’ve heard the phrase before, or some form of it but I do live the life examined.   It’s not for the faint of heart.   I’ve heard that phrase before too.   What does it mean to me?   It started 30 years ago when I decided I had enough of the boozin’ life and decided to give AA a try.   But that was just the start.   There is a potential in AA to really examine your life and turn it around.   But I got hung up on the aspect of alcohol being the driving force behind all your exhortation.   Before the booze I was a sick person.   Sick with depression.   Sick with the thought that life can’t be this bad.   At that tender age though, you have no options.   You’re stuck with the family you got.   Or the family you picked if you believe in the cosmic “everything happens for a reason.”   You pick your parents because you have lessons you need to learn in...

I haven’t written an entry for a week so let’ see where I’m at.   I just got off the phone with my “neurologist”.   I didn’t like my first choice that I was given and this new doctor was my 2 nd choice.   Actually I didn’t get either of my choices because they’re not in my medical group.   My new doctor, Dr Sheikh, is completely insane.   When I went in the first time I had to wait 45 minutes past my apt. time even though there were no patients in the office!   She was scolding her staff for not running the office the way they should be running an office.   It reminded me of a family business which isn’t bad but don’t beat the laundry in front of the customers.   As it was, I didn’t get to see her, I saw her nurse practitioner.   Nuts.   I want my 7 month old headache taken care of by a doctor.   I apologize to nurses everywhere as I mean no disrespect.   I feel at this stage I need a neurologist that is trained specifical...