They…whoever “They “ are, asked me to write down everything while I was going through this.
This is drugs.
This is drugs that are trying to improve my memory, curtail my dementia, lessen the impact of my strokes, reduce my diabetes, lower my blood pressure and give me more energy.
When I am done, I will live longer, have more sex, experience magnificent poopage, jog relentlessly, have more sex and write successfully until my final days on this Planet.
Today, I feel like shit. I need to take more drugs to overcome the crappy way I feel from these drugs.
Funny thing about the drugs. They are all legal and prescripted. In a way, I would like to smoke marijuana, but I can’t. I have not been able to for decades. I have been accused of smoking, but it just never happened. I tell you everything. But this never did.
Bunny asked me last night if I felt like rather than feeling this way, did I just want it all to end. Check out. Find out what was on the other side. Go to the next level. Take a dirt nap.
I told her no. I never felt like that. Suicide was never an option. Maybe I don’t deserve the relief it provides, but it was never an option.
Quitting the drugs and going sooner rather than later is an option.
One more funny thing about drugs. It was uttered by some know-nothing attorney that my spouse, my Bunny, my Evil F. Bunny made “cookies” and “brownies” that we took to the “Joshua Tree Music Festival”
We have been to dozens of Festivals and it is well known that if you want a incredible brownie or a couple of amazing chocolate chip cookies, to just stop by our old Bus. What you will find are cookies and brownies and maybe sticky buns and if you are lucky some snicker doodles made with love and flour and butter and chicolate and cinnamon andmore love…but nothing else. Never anything but love. Maybe gluten. But nothing you would not give to any passer-by or even to your Grandmother.
What was sad is that some people will say anything. Lies told about us in a courtroom are a big no no. Your Mom should have told you to always pay your bills, never borrow from PayDay Loan Shysters, don’t skip out on your rent, never use your rent money to get tatoos instead of paying for rent of for for your children, never put anything in your baked goodies and never never never lie to get your way!
Today or more specifically this morning
Today I wrote about wandering through a concentration camp January 1977 in the snow. Brought back wonderful memories. Timely memories and memories of people I still do not like.
Today I explained why I am not a humbug. I reminded someone of a humbug and that must be my fault for giving that impression. Or they do not read me close enough. They should not have too. AT this point, I am just another of the 3 billion posters on Social Media.
More of they said to just write it down:
With eyes closed,
my cartoon dreams jump,
like broken film
outlined yellow against black.
When they stop
tiny babies lean forward and
comb each other’s hair.
Returning from an interlude
Whew, I am glad to get that out. It pains me to write something and not put it out for people to read. Like they are waiting.
Like a surgeon, who operates on his own guts and lays them out for all to view. Are we waiting for this? Are we ready for this?
Someone unknown asked to be my friend on Social Media at 3 AM. I want to accept, but I want to warn them. I do not want them to be offended or if they are going to be offended, at least know that I did warn them. I want to say “I will not be hateful. I will not be a bigot or racist or knowingly support either. There is a good chance I will say something, write a paragraph or share a picture that you will disagree with. You may disagree with this posting on Social Media fervently and chose to “de-friend” me. That will fill me with confusion and self doubt. I am too delicate to suffer through more self doubt. I am a writer. I think of myself as an artist with thin positions but not one easily swayed. I will just fade away and then later re-emerge and do it all over again.
Around mid-morning, I spoke of concentration camps.
“I have two stories to share on a Concentration Camp.
It was winter; snowy lonesome German cold winter and I took a train to the town of Dachau. I was amazed at how close the village was to the Camp and I knew they knew. They must have known. Even 35 years later after the camps were closed in horror and the war was over, sets of old watery eyes somewhat glared at me as I followed to signs to the camp.
I was alone and wandered the buildings and museums for quite a while on my own. It was good that it was cold because I knew they were cold.
Finally a family, an Australian family showed up and we walked together. The children played and frolicked in the snow and it was cold. Shadows were getting longer and the snow was turning blue.
Finally the father said “The boys want to know if there will be a demonstration of the ovens…” I was disgusted. I left and I still hear his words today.
The camps are not German, not Nazi, they are human and they remind us of what we can do to each other and how we can be turned to hate. The camps represent our collective sin.
They are good to see, to know about but not to blame. Be filled with sorrow yes, but remember those words “Never Again” and vow to fight it no matter where it evil blooms.”
Yesterday I decided to work more on my unpolished screenplay called Dark Harvest. I also want to work on Searching for Sunset . This story starts at sunrise and after a journey into the black netherworld of a cave, the characters begin to look back at when they met, examine who they are as individuals and who they are together.
I hope that when I am done with this regimen that enough of me will be left to finish this work. In the mean time, I can only hope that more people take a look at the 1% Solution and share with their friends!