Baking Banana Bread From Scratch
By Mikel K

Hey David, I have been hospitalized and in PT Rehab for the past three weeks and three days...How are you? I just put you down on this Prayer List piece of paper that I am now keeping. When it comes time to pray, I always forget who I want to pray about, so, now, I have this cheat sheet!

Love You
K







"Mikel K gets along as well as he does...no matter where he is…because he, basically, loves people, trusts God, and the process of life, and allows himself to continually look at things with new eyes…the gift of the poet. He's very inspiring to me, and, I think, to lots of other folks he's not even aware of."

--Cyndi Craven



Michelle Wiley: I think you live freer than anyone I have ever met.



Hi Mikel,

I like it how you promote the realities of life and associate this with your art, so that your love for writing stands out.

Susan Abraham



"I could read you all day long..."--Holly


"Stevia and Coffee Beans are not cheap for a man with an ailing hip," she says, and I want to say to her, "yes, Stevia is NOT cheap, but it is better for me than sugar, which I am using, again, because I can't afford The Stevia." And Coffee Beans aren't cheap, either, but I get high on caffeine with a little bit of help from my friends Zero Basement, Cyndi Craven, and Art Linton. And now this letter comes from Holly with a money order for Stevia and Beans. I am in luck to have such people in my life; people who are thanking me for the words that I put in their life via my writing. They are thanking ME!! What a beautiful existence to be appreciated for doing what you love to do; to being appreciated for what you feel you were put on this planet to do. I thank all of you; I really do.

Mikel,

Lucky for us, you don't take the easy way, and get a straight job that leaves no room for writing.

--Holly




Mikel,

You are true blue (as the Aussies would say) a unique soul born to write. Thank you for the expression you provide; so many of us wish we could do the same... it's way more than just having a story to tell: it's a compulsion, a must do that won't abate. I am inspired by you.
--Gen Cole



"Ask not what your nap can do for you, ask what you can do for your nap."
--Mikel K





After lunch, I hear the sound of trash cans rumbling on the street, and I am thankful for garbage men, like I am thankful for the food that I have just eaten, though I forgot to pray over it. I really want to pray over my food, before I eat it; I think that it is a good idea to give thanks before eating, whether you believe in anything, or not.


Colossians 4:5-6
"Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone."





From The K Page: I like, and respect, this: "At Carcinogenic Poetry, we are not concerned with your publishing history or acquired degrees, we just want the stuff you believe in.

"Who cares if you went to Yale, or Iowa, or NYU, or Georgia State? Does your poetry have heart, and soul; and even more important, does your poetry interest me...does it grab me by the balls, and MAKE ME read it, or am I yawning through it because I'm reading it because of what school you went to, or because you are dead and "they" say that I am supposed to read you?"





"A Republican was somebody who couldn't enjoy eating unless he knew somebody else was hungry."--P. 21 "The Liars' Club," by Mary Karr





I was going to drink a coffee, now, and stay up until two but I don't think that that will do.

"I'm as real as God, and you can dance to me..."--The Cocktail Gurlz

A tramp like me, baby I was born to run.



The Characters

G2 : The primary ex, mother of my kids. We used to fight a lot, now we always say, "I love you," when we are done talking to each other. I think that saying, "I love you," helps us not fight.



I am baking the sixth banana bread, from scratch, that I have ever baked in my life, right now. A lady on the internet gave me a simple recipe, and I have been making banana bread for myself, and for my friends, and family, with great results for the past several weeks. Everybody thinks that I am a great baker of banana bread. This makes me feel good. I like it when people like me.

This banana bread that I am cooking right now, is a little different than the last five that I baked; I am experimenting a little bit. I am using Xylitol instead of sugar. I am a diabetic, so if this experiment succeeds, I will be eating banana breads that are better for me.

My sugar counts have been good, recently. Yesterday, I pricked my finger, dropped my blood on the strip, and got a reading of 95. Today, I did the same thing and my reading was 84. I am always happy when my sugar counts are low. It means that I might live longer.

I like living.


This day is good, full of potential for positive thinking, and positive things, but I can screw it up easily, cast darkness where there is light. I have done it before, for years, decades, actually.

You can look at a jar of crunchy peanut butter and say, "This is not the type of peanut butter that I like," without trying it. Or you can try the peanut butter, and then say, "Why this peanut butter is not so bad, in fact it is good. I don't know why I remember it from my childhood as being bad."

The key is in trying. If you don't try, nothing can happen: good, or bad; and if you try, often. good things do happen.

Call me Mr. Positive.



I had to laugh, this morning, as I headed back into the kitchen, after feeding the dogs in the living room. My oldest cat, Kobain, was standing at attention, near the spot where his bowl goes, the bowl that I put a tablespoon of wet cat food in for him, each morning. His cue to stand at attention must be when I feed the dogs. How precious. I went and got his bowl out of the dish washer, and filled it for him.

I'm feeding Kobain the cheap cat food, now. Times are tough. I don't have a job. I live on food stamps, and a disability check. I haven't turned out, yet, to be the great writer that everybody keeps telling me that I am.

Many people tell me that I am going to be famous. I would just like to pay my bills with the words that I create. I have had people come up to me in the grocery store, before, and say, "Aren't you…?"

And I was, and the feeling of being approached by a stranger was an uncomfortable feeling. When I go to the grocery store, I just wanted to buy my eggs, and onions, and a few other things, and get out of there.

No one has asked for my autograph, yet, which is a relief. Can you see me buying bananas, and someone comes up wanting my autograph…I have just found the right bunch, the oldest, ripest bunch of bananas in the banana display, perfect, almost immediately, for to be mashed with a fork, and then added to a couple of eggs and some canola oil and beat about. I don't want to give up my bananas; I'm sure that some other banana bread baker will come along and snatch them up right in front of me, while I sign my name on this woman's oatmeal cereal container, so I ask the young lady to hold the banana bunch for me while I sign here cereal box. I see her grimace. I mean these bananas are ripe, fit to be used for baking within the hour.

My other cat, my black cat, Jaggar, doesn't much care for the cheap cat food. He will look at it. He will sniff it, and then he will, mostly, walk away from it, leaving it either for Kobain to eat, or one of my dogs. It is usually Bundy who sneaks up on the leftover cat food. He knows not to, but he can't help himself. The food urge overcomes the urge to be good, to listen to his master, to follow the rules as they
have been established (by me) around here.

Bundy is half Labrador and half Rottweiler. I think that it is the Rottweiler half that gives Bundy the problems that he gives me.

****

I'm tired but I don't want to take a nap, so I drink a cup of coffee. Sometimes, a cup of coffee will wake me up, and sometimes I can sleep on it, and it wakes me up later.

I baked sugar cookies, last night for the first time in my life. They certainly are not the best sugar cookies to ever be pulled out of someone's oven. The recipe said to bake them at 350 for ten minutes. I think that the cooking time should have been longer. The cookies were soft, dough-like. They weren't bad to the taste for me, but I don't have a gourmet palet. I will eat most anything, except for lima beans. I have even gotten to where I eat, and mostly enjoy broccoli, which I used to find positively nasty.

I guess that is maturity, is it not: liking a vegetable that you used to hate. How mature will I be then when I start loving me some lima beans. It ain't gonna happen.

When I was a kid my momma used to feed me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and her jelly of choice was mostly grape jelly. I used to munch out happily on pb and grape jelly, until one day I got a headache while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was never able to grape jelly again. I was about seven years old when that happened. I am now 52, and I haven't touched grape jelly since that day. It is important that you know some things.

Scout got busted awhile back for text messaging in her math. class. It makes sense that it happened in her math. class because Scout hates math. This was the second time, during school hours, that she had gotten busted for using her cell phone. The penalty, this time was a two day suspension from school, and her mother had to pay a twenty five dollar fine.

Anyway, now Scout comes by my house in the morning, and drops her phones off, here. This sets Bundy off, for some reason, for even though Scout comes over here almost every Bundy still freaks out and barks at her as though she was breaking into the house. Scout just came home from school and interrupted my train of thought. It seems stupid, also, to be writing about Scout when Scout is here, and I could be interacting with her, instead of interacting with this computer.

****

The dogs are itching themselves furiously, and I m scratching my head, wondering what I am going to do. I'm out of work, waiting to get a new hip put in, living on a prayer. The vet won't take prayers: I know her; she's a friend of mine, but prayers, and "friends" who don't pay her, don't help her keep her lights on, and Lord knows that she needs to keep her lighs on; that woman has given more homeless dogs, and cats, a place to stay than my dogs have fleas.

Of course, I don't know that my dogs have fleas. It could be just itchy skin. I started feeding them the cheap dog food, again, about a month ago, and, maybe, this is the result of doing such. I couldn't afford the good food anymore; I really couldn't. I was eating rice, and macaroni myself for lunch and dinner, and I wasn't putting much else into either dish: no corn, no rice, no salmon in the rice, just rice, and no sauce, or shrimp in the pasta, just pasta in mayonnaise.

I'm not complaining. I chose this life style. I chose to be a writer. I chose to starve for my art, but the thing that is not fair is that the dogs did not choose to be writers, yet they feel the ramifications of my behavior.

*******
The possum was frozen in a tree next to our house, seemingly unsure of why it was in that tree. He appeared to feel vulnerable and stared at us, trying to gauge how much of a threat we were.

I was as scared of him as he was of me. I had never been that close to a possum, and was not sure if I liked being that close to him. Before this, I had always seen possums scurrying off into the distance. It was weird to be up close to one that seemed to be going nowhere.

My neighbors found him entertaining, as my heart skipped several beats. I said, "Oh isn't that something," big smile on my face, and then I headed inside, my pace a bit faster than it usually was when I was entering the abode.

I was thankful, when I came out later, and the possum was gone. I didn't know where he went, and I didn't care. There was something alien about being that close to a possum, and I now know that I am scared of aliens.

"Shoo alien; go away!"

*******
I worry about things, still, but not like I used to worry about them. My father used to worry about things. Worry killed him. I am on pills that help me with worry. Without the pills, I, too, would worry myself to death.

*******

I have gotten used to putting peanut butter in my oatmeal, and I ran out of peanut butter, several days ago, so I have not been having any oatmeal. I may have to have some oatmeal without peanut butter, today, as I won't have the where with all to buy peanut butter until Monday, and today is Friday.

When I am a successful writer, one day, i.e. one who can buy peanut butter on Friday, and not wait until Monday, I will look back on this period of my life and smile.

*******
Often I am hungry in the morning(as many of you are!)but I try not to eat, because eating zaps my urge to write. I think that I read somewhere that there is blood in your brain that help you write, and that blood rushes to your stomach when you put food in there. My morning meal makes me sleepy, and, often, leads me back into the bed for my morning nap, which I don't feel guilty about taking, because I am often up at five am, or so, to feed the animals, and write for a few hours.

*******
"Don't quit before the miracle," was a slogan that I often heard while I was getting sober. I understood the sentiment, but didn't relate to what I felt was The Grateful Dead aspect to it, as far as getting sober went. I mean, The Grateful Dead certainly didn't seem like the poster boys of sobriety who I should have hanging on my wall.

"Looking for a miracle," Deadheads would say to all gathered outside a concert venue where their band, The Grateful Dead, were about to play. What they were looking for was a way in to the show, a ticket. They had one finger in the air, and the miracle was that another dead head would often give the miracle seeker a free ticket.

There are no free tickets to sobriety. The key is to opening your ears, and shutting your mouth.

******

My email was selected from a lottery. Can you imagine that. I didn't even open it. How possibly could there be anything good inside it for me? The people who open that email must be desperate. They must think that there is a pot of gold waiting for them at the end of the rainbow, and that the sky has just opened up and sent the rainbow to them.

My state, the great state of Georgia, USA, not the one formerly attached to Russia, has a lottery. Ticket sales are brisk at liquor stores; just spend a buck with us, and your life might change. You might wind up with room service, by your own pool, instead of waking up in a trash dumpster, smelling like Mad Dog, or Listerine.

I get food stamps. I'm embarrassed to tell you this, but I do. Twenty percent of the American people are getting food stamps, at the time that I write this. I don't like being a bum. I don't like bumming money off of the government, but what can a poor boy do, at times.

More on this later, perhaps. I'm turning red, right now, with embarrassment, and I can't carry on.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
*******

I'll probably always see and hear rats, in whatever living space that I'm living in, after living in the last house that I lived in. Anytime that there is any sort of noise coming from the oven, these days, I think that there is a big, fat rat waiting back there for me to go to sleep, so that he can come out into my kitchen and prowl about while I am snoozing.

Several times, while living in that house, I came into the kitchen in the middle of the night seeking water, and the rat would be standing there, near the sink, staring at me, daring me to share the space with him. After I stared back at him, heart pounding, hoping that he wouldn't skyrocket through the air and land his teeth on some part of my face, he would run off.

I would hear him running in there, between the walls of that house, during the day, and it sounded as if he wasn't alone. I bought traps, and put peanut butter in them, and proved to myself that he was not alone. I never caught him. He must have been the King Rat, invincible.

Once you have lived with rats, or at least once I have lived with rats, you always feel vulnerable. When you come into your kitchen, at night, you are waiting for a big, fat rat to greet you. It causes you to drink less water in the middle of the night.

*******
I'm not sure that The Bee Gees are the group to put in the cd player when you are feeling slightly disconsolate. "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart," wasn't written to make the listener feel good, now was it? And yet, sitting here feeling a little blue, I find some relief from the slight depression that I am feeling as I listen to The Bee Gees sing that song. Sometimes a sad song makes me feel happy.

We have all had broken hearts. I refuse to talk to talk about any of mine, tonight. I prefer to focus on the women who have never really left my life, even though they left my bedroom, or they left mine. And I don't feel like talking about them, either, tonight.

Sometimes, I get depressed when I have no email, or when no one has said hello to me on Facebook, or OpenSalon.com. This probably means that I need help. I need to go to Cyberspace Social Interaction 12 Step Meetings. I really do.

When my cat, Kobain, vomits up hairballs, he always does it on my bed, on the part of the bed that sleep on. I know that I don't wash my sheets enough, but I really do not need the cat's assistance in picking the time to take the sheets down the hall to the washer Why can't he puke on the nasty carpet that we have on this floor, the carpet that looks mostly covered in puke; the carpet covered in dog and cat hair, the carpet that even I wouldn't sit or lay down on.

My other cat, Jaggar, is in a playful mood: he just knocked my pill container off of my desk onto the floor, underneath the aquarium, that houses my turtles, almost knocking over the lamp that lights the aquarium, and keeps the turtles warm.

Damn cats.

And the dogs, tonight, are scratching furiously.

*******

Sometimes, when I am alone, I don't care how much I eat, I don't care how fat I get, I don't care how high my sugar reading is in the morning, when I prick my finger, and lay my blood down on the little white strip that I have inserted into the small blue device that gives me the reading. I think that this is, perhaps the equivalent of drinking myself into a stupor, back in the old days, when self-destruction was more cut and clear. Nobody thinks that you are trying to kill yourself if you eat too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You can even fool yourself.

*******

I'm trying to not have any more caffeine, tonight. I don't want to stay up halfway through the night, so I fix myself a ginger tea, instead of a coffee, or my usual hot tea with milk. The ginger tea is refreshing, but needs a kick added to it, so I put in a teaspoon of Stevia. I try not to use sugar in my drinks, these days, because I am diabetic. In the old days, I used to load the sugar up. There was not enough of it around the way that I used it. I was always running out of it. Now, I am always running out of Stevia, and the stuff ain't cheap. It is supposed to be good for you, while sugar certainly isn't. I had a two liter plus cola beverage a day habit also. Is it any wonder that I turned out to be a diabetic. All that sugar made me fat, too. I like to eat more than I like to exercise. That is going to have to change.

A banana somehow seems in order. I bite off the ends and throw them one at a time to the dogs. Morisson catches his in his mouth, but I overthrow Bundy his, just to make him work for it. Morisson comes right back, giving me droopy eyes, indicating that he wants more banana. When I am freezing bananas he gets more banana, but, tonight, I only eating one banana and not freezing five or six of them, so he is out of luck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*******

In a coffee shop

You looked stunning tonight
like a beauty queen who had lost
but everybody knew that the judges
were bought, and that, if life was fair,
you would be the one wearing the crown
you would be the one talking to children
about how important milk is to their diet
and how their parents should gamble at
a Donald Trump hotel, and nowhere else.
You looked like a model, but one who
didn't have to walk down anybody's walkway,
where Jack Nicholson would be waiting
at the end to leer at you.

My animals are weird. When the dogs and I are outside the dog who is done doing his business will ignore my calls, my pleas, my demands that he, "go home," until the other dog has taken care of his business. I don't think that the dog is looking out for the other dog; I think that he realizes that there is more time available to him to stay outside. Morisson sometimes takes forever to finish up his business. Buny is much quicker, but is usually the one to take advantage of Morisson's slow pace.

I keep a baseball bat by the front door. I believe in guns, I just don't believe in me having a gun. It would be too easy to kill someone, who came inside the door, strung out on crack, and it would be too easy to kill myself in one of those blue periods that don't come around as much anymore. A bullet to the head is so final. I might have a bad ten minute period, where everything seems completely blue, and bam I blow my brains out. If I don't have the gun in the house I make it through the ten bad minutes to go onto the rest of my life.

If I shake the bat at Kobain, he immediately runs off. If I shake the bat at Jaggar, he looks at it, and starts to fight it with his paw.

*******

Kobain normally climbs up on my chest, the minute that I lay down on my bed to either read, or go to sleep at night. The cat digs his head into my hand, demanding that I scratch his head. I started this practice many years ago, and, now, Kobain has taken it over. This morning he climbed on my chest and woke me up, which is something that he never does; greedy little bastard isn't he?

*******
The sound of t.v. floating up from her apartment, downstairs, makes me nervous. There is a weirdness to the sound of a television traveling from one apartment to another. I turn music on. I feel safer, more comfortable with music than I do with t.v. Television robs you, you become completely immersed in it. You can create to music; it enhances the artistic experience. T.V. makes me paranoid.

"With the help of God and true friends I come to realize I still had two strong legs,"--Greg Allman

The more that people give me their reasons, their arguments that there is no God,
the more my faith increases, and I do not need the help of the men and women on t.v. who pass the basket, after telling me about their God. My God is personal to me. I have a one on one relationship with my God. I pray to my God in the morning when I wake up. I pray to my God at night before I go to sleep, and I talk to my God during the day. I do not need to be part of an organized religion to have faith. I am spiritual, not organized.

*******
My beard itches. My eyes itch. The dogs and cats are scratching themselves. What are we infested with: the itchies? Now I am sneezing.

*******
I just got an email that said that my, "Sam's Card was waiting." It was my opinion that those cards were hard to get, that your employer had to hook you into one, or that you had to have a friend refer you.

I have one somewhere, but I never use it. I feel weird shopping at Sam's, just like I feel guily shopping at Walmart. Everybody at Sam's club has this look of greed in their eye, like they are going to get the BIG DEAL, and you better get out of their way. You can get killed in a Sam's club trying to get a bargain on orange juice, you really can.

And Walmart, well we've all heard the stories about how they underpay their employees, and how they come into little towns across the USA, and ruin things for all the little mom and pop stores. Same Walton didn't care nothing about nothing but making a buck, and his XXXXXXX has trickled down, and pervades his upper management, and stores.

I guess I won't be selling any books at Walmart.

______________________

Two of my kids don't eat eggs because of how lousy the people are to the chickens as they take their eggs from them.


I like to tune into You Tube every so often and watch videos, or just let them play in the background while I write. I was flipping through the stream on Facebook and this young lady had a Nirvana video up for our viewing/listening pleasure. It was a song that I did not recognize off of the Insecticide album, which I believe was Nirvana's first album.

I listened to the song, but after it I did not want to listen to any more Nirvana. I could hear the depression in Kurt's voice. I could feel the pain that he was in, and I did not want to be a sponge and soak all that up tonight.

What is that old saying: "Garbage in Garbage out."

*******

I kept the dogs in way longer, today, than I usually do, because it was raining. They were happy to get out; but almost as eager to get back in. My dogs aren't stupid; they like heat in the cold of winter, and they like air conditioning when it is hot out in the summer.

*******

Don't brush your teeth, in the morning, before you drink your coffee. My mouth felt like there was something foul living in it, when I woke up, so I headed to the bathroom and remedied the situation with toothpaste, and a toothbrush. Then I fed the animals, and made some coffee.

I could not understand why my coffee tasted like doo doo poo poo, but then I realized that it was because of my clean teeth. To have fresh tasting coffee, in the morning, you just might have to put up with a little stinky breath.

*******

My CPAP hose broke, and duct tape is not working, so I am constantly tired, the kind of tired that you are when you lose a fist fight: worn out, beat up. The good thing is that a new hose is on the way; Sleep Apnea sucks, when the equipment that fixes it is broken.

I just fixed a 1:12pm cup of coffee: it is not a perfect cup of coffee; I let the water cool too long, and I didn't put enough 1/2 n 1/2 in it, but if I had put enough half n half in it, it would have been a cold cup of coffee.

Morisson is doing one of his regular kitchen floor inspections, seeing if he can find any food on the floor. He has become a semi-mooch, not as bad as Javi used to be, but pretty terrible in his own way.

Bundy's CPAP hose must be broken, too; he is mostly moping about the floor today. It is overcast outside; I bet that Bundy feels the weather, and it affects his energy. It's a slow day around here, but a good day.

*******

The links to news stories from The New York Times pile up in my email box. Perhaps I should care that Mobile bought some energy for billions of dollars, and that Citibank is paying the government back billions of dollars, but I don't. I want to know who Tiger has been sleeping with.

My downstairs neighbor has his own business, a newsletter of some sort, that brings him income. When he checks his mailbox, the top makes a distinct sound
falling back onto the box. I hear that sound rather frequently. People check their mail more often when they think that there might be a check in it. I get mostly bills, and junk mail; sometimes I don't check my mail for a week.

*******

The garbage truck is pulling up outside our house. I wouldn't want to be a garbage man, but then I wouldn't want to be a doctor or a lawyer, either. I wouldn't want to be anything other than what I am: a writer.

It is not easy, at times being a writer, but then I am sure that, at times, it is not easy being a garbage man, or a doctor or a lawyer. Being a garbage man probably can be a stinky job, at times, and I bet the doctors have some stinky patients. And lawyers just stink!

******

I awoke from a nap to find a fresh brewed cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter. The first thing I did was to inspect it to make sure that a cockroach had not crawled up into it and died. Have you ever taken a big swallow of your drink,,
be it a coffee, or a cola, or a glass of water, and immediately spit the beverage out
because there was a cockroach in your drink? Those little bastards find more ways to mess with the pleasure zones in hour head than just about any other living creature.

The coffee was cold(I don't even remember making it)so I put it in the microwave for two and a half minutes, and then added sweetener and half and half. Normally, I don't like coffee that is warmed by a microwave oven, but, this cup,
today, was rather tasty. Even though I have found no cockroach in it, I still drank the cup tenuously, concerned that maybe one of the bugs had fallen to the bottom
of the cup.

I don't have a huge cockroach problem, in this space, but recently some small roaches have been showing up at night to run about the kitchen counter. If they persist, and grow in number, I will have to get an exterminator out here, even though I can't afford one.

Hell, I can't afford anything; isn't that what a starving artist is all about?!

******

I'm not working at The Coffee Shop, anymore, so I can't get my coffee at a discount, and I can't afford to go to a coffee shop and buy their coffee, just yet, so, today, I perused the coffee on the grocery store shelves, and brought home two bags. I can't run out of coffee, I really can't. I would rather skip a meal or two than run out of coffee, sweetener(I use Stevia)and half n half.

I'm not addicted to it, or anything, but not only do I find the taste of it enjoyable, I like the whole routine of preparing, Mellita style, it. I read somewhere that many junkies enjoy fixing, they enjoy the whole process of cooking the heroin up, and injecting it in their arm. Coffee is my fix. I don't have to have it, but I want it. Do you understand? I want it!

*******

This talk of roaches climbing into your drink, and dieing, made me think about something else that is nasty. Have you ever been drinking form a beer bottle and
something nearly chokes you in the mouth, foul tasting: a cigarette? This may be
worse than sucking a cockroach down. Gosh, there are some unpleasant things that can happen to you while you are engaging in the pleasurable occupation of
sucking on your drink.

*******


Have you ever been a man who kissed a man thinking it was a woman? I haven't, but I have seen it happen: drag queens trying to lure young men into loving them, made up they are, looking pretty, the man drunk; the drag queen gets punched in the face when the man figures it out.

******

The computer voice thanks me, and then apologizes for the delay...some lame music is played, then the voice says, "Please continue to hold, we are assisting other callers." When a human voice finally says hello, I grab for my phone, and try to change from speaker phone to regular phone smoothly, without dropping the phone in her ear.

*******

I'm baking a banana cake with peanut butter, and a tad of cinnamon added, which is a variation from my normal just banana cake; I guess that makes me a variant.

I got an extension on my utility bill until Friday, now I have to find someone to pay the bill. The utility company says that if you have a problem, call them and they will give you the number to some people who can help.XXXXXXXX

The utility company is so helpful: they won't pay the bill for you, but they supply you with numbers of of The Dept. of Family Services, The Salvation Army, and The Sullivan Ctr., whoever that is. Please pay my biiiiiiiiiiiiiiilll!! XXXXXX

I'm going to The Unemployment Office tomorrow. I don't know if I have a case; my employer marked that I left for personal reason, and that I was rehirable.

*******
When I put my fists in the air and pretend to play fight with Morisson, he gives me this goofy look. When I do the same thing to Bundy, he backs off and acts like he know what is up.

One dog has been raised on love, and the other had some street smarts put in him before he arrived here to be with me and Morisson. I wonder how long, if ever, it will take for Bundy to, also, give me goofy looks when I raise my fists to him?

*******

Why don't you marry a musician, a funky musician who wears leather, and chains, a funky musician who wears lipstick, and high heels, why don't you marry a musician, and tell him to cut his hair, take off his leather, throw away his high heels, and get a job?

*******

I have learned nothing today; I slept most of the day away. I have sleep apnea, and the hose to my CPAP machine was not working as it should. Sleep Apnea is an awful thing to have: you can die from it, in your sleep, and you are tired all the time from it, if you don't die from it. I got a new hose in the mail, today; hopefully, now, all my dreams will come true.

*******

I must be storming outside. I can't hear it, but Morisson is all over me, tonight, sticking his nose under my arm, trying to pull it off of the keyboard.

*******
The only thing that overtakes the smell of dog, in this apartment, is the smell of banana bread, when I bake it. Some people might think that I should bake it all the time, but they are mostly not dog lovers. There is no guarantee that they are banana bread lovers, either. They might not love anything, and, if so, I don't know what they are doing in this apartment, for, although it might not smell well to some, this apartment is full of love.

I got a new CPAP machine mask yesterday, and the mask refused to work well. Instead of the hose swiveling like it was supposed to, the hose was stuck like it wasn't supposed to. There was this one piece that connects to the mask that was refusing to swivel, and I could not pull it out of the mask.

I called the CPAP people and the lady who first talked to me put me on the phone with an expert. The expert seemed angry, and confused, and I was getting angry, and confused, listening to him. I honestly could hot understand a word that he was saying, so I told him that I full understood what was going on the mask now, thanked him profusely, and got the hell of the phone as soon as was possible. Sometimes, it is better to just cut your losses, and run. I could have gottten into an argument with this guy, told him that I didn't understand a word that he was saying, and then there we would be arguing on the telephone. At that point, I figure that I would just call back tomorrow and hope to get someone who was not him.

*******

My KC and The Sunshine Band greatest hits cd NEVER fails to put me in a good mood. I think that something great in my life was always happening in my life, back when KC was THE man!!

Old school Lionel Ritchie lights my fire, also.

*******

Amy, It will all work out as it is supposed to; you do the footwork, and the rest will be taken care of for you.

Amy Meckley you are my new best FB friend! big hugs for that one!!!! I agree with your statement with my entire soul!!!

Mikel K Poet My milk is curdling in my hot tea, but I am still very happy to hear you say that. "'Turn it over," is what I was taught!!

******

I ask Morisson what day it is. He's not sure. Bundy comes up and pushes Morisson out of the way. He doesn't know what day it is, either. I don't like it
when Bundy does that; when he comes up and pushes Morisson out of the way
when I am talking to him, or petting him. Bundy is a very jealous dog. He needs
to work on that.

I feel groggy this morning. I need to make an appointment to see The Sleep Doctor. I think that there is something wrong with my CPAP machine. Did I tell you that I have Sleep Apnea, and I wear a mask over my nose, at night, that shoots air down through my nostrils and into my throat to keep my air passage open? Without this mask, I snore a lot, and my breath gets cut off several hundred times in a night, which is dangerous. I could snore myself to death.

There is a dog barking somewhere off in the neighborhood. I have no room to complain about barking dogs: Bundy is a barker, and there is no telling how much he barks when I am not here. I am amazed that no one has knocked on my door and said, "Hey, you're dog is a pain in the ass; can you please shut him up?"

My downstairs neighbor came to my door very distraught, yesterday. It turns out that he had brought Monkey inside his house, the other day, when it got very cold, and, yesterday, Monkey ran into the room where all the heating ducts are,
and hadn't run back out, yet.

I am not really worried about Monkey. That cat has been running in and out of
this house, and the house next door, and no telling what other houses around here for nine years. It is warm where Monkey is now at, and she will probably stay there until she gets hungry, at which time I will have a nice bowl of cat food
waiting for her.

I go to the unemployment office, today. I have never been to the unemployment office, and I don't really entertain high hopes of getting a check. It just seems inconceivable to me that someone is going to pay me to work, but, I guess, if I qualify for it, I qualify for it, and if I don't, I don't.

A friend of mine, who I've never met, lives near the unemployment office. She is leaving baking pans in her carport for me. I am so stoked. I really need baking pans, and I don't have the money to buy new ones, and I don't have the transportation to get to the thrift stores to buy used ones. Yeah, for social networking on the internet.

It is hot in here, but it is cold outside. I am never exactly sure what setting to have my heat on. I am trying to find the setting that will heat the place, and not cost me too much at the end of the month. There is an art to it.

My beard itches. I hate it when my beard itches. I scratch it, but it still itches. Do you know that there are people out there with far worse problems than mine, that an itchy beard is a hugely small thing in relation to the problems that a lot of other people face?

Bundy has FINALLY learned what, "Move," means, which is a super God-send, because this dog has the knack for camping out in the worst places in the world, places where I can't get by him, especially with this doo doo poo poo hip, and places where I can get hurt if he doesn't have the move instinct in him, like when I get out of bed in the middle of the night.

All Praise Bundy!!

******

I read somewhere, recently, that someone thought that the worst household task that you could do was changing the kitty litter box. I just changed mine, and I have to agree that doing such is a very nasty proposition. The cats stare at me as if I am stealing something from then, not realizing that when I am done stealing from them, their lives will be much better off.

When the cats were indoor outdoor cats, I didn't have to mess with this mess., but I am concerned that there would be another mess to clean up, what with the traffic in this neighborhood, should I leave the front door open for them.

*******

I woke up at 8:30 am, with itchy ears, fed the animals, scratched my ears, made some coffee and sat down at my laptop to create great works of art, scratched my ears, again; something occurred to me, and then I forgot it, and then something new occurred, and I forgot that also, so here I am staring at a near blank page, scratching my ears.

It is raining out, pounding down pretty hard. It is one of those days that I am glad that I don't have to go anywhere; one of those days where you get soaked even if you have an umbrella.

I'm fixing to either fix a fried egg burrito for breakfast, or some oatmeal with peanut butter, banana, and a touch of salt in it. Even unemployed, even with a bad hip, I have great choices to pick from. I certainly can't complain that living is tough.

When you call The Salvation Army looking for help with your utility bill, they give you the phone number of The United Way, and when The United Way answers the phone(a miracle that someone answers the phone anymore; non-profit, or corporation) the lady gives you the number for the Salvation Army, as well as a couple of other numbers. Do you need help with food?" she asked me. Well, hell yes I heed help with food: no job, hundred bucks in food stamps already spent.

Some asshole just sent me an email with a subject line that said, "Last Notice." This prick should be taken out and strung up to a cross. During the times that I am living, where cutoff notices are a real event, I don't need some spam/con artist trying to get me to open his email with such a hook.

I spend my last hundred dollars paying the utility bill off. It seems that everyone who wants to "help," wants me to make an appointment that would have to be after my scheduled shut off date. Scout comes in the front door, about a half hour later, "Here," she says, and she hands me a hundred and fifty dollars.

"What is that?" I ask her.

"I don't know," she says..

I email her mother, and she emails back saying that that is some money from the car accident that Scout was in, when she wasn't supposed to be in a car, riding around with a boy, several years older than her.

I smile.
God is weird, and so is my kid's mother. Neither one of them is going to let me fall flat on my face.

Last week G2 (The kid's mom.) handed me a hundred bucks. She said that a friend of hers wanted me to have it. That is what I paid the utility bill with. Getting money from non-profit institutions may be like pulling teeth, but it seems like regular old folk are going to help you out, when you need it.

I'm living on a prayer, baby; living on a prayer.

When I write prose, it steals from my poetry, and when I write poetry, I pretty much, can't and/or don't write much prose. I think that the reason for this is that the same stories are told in either form of writing. If I write poems about my day, about what is happening to me, the kids, the dogs, the cats, and the turtles, there is not much left to say about all that in prose. There is nothing wrong with this. The poetry probably will never lead to feeding the animals, and I, but the prose might. Maybe I will write a book that you will like.

******

I'm about to make biscuits from scratch; I found a recipe on the internet, it looks pretty simple, and I have all the ingredients. What more could you want?


*******

Sometimes, Morisson and I just stare at each other.

*******

Thinking is a weird thing, when you think about it. As I was making my morning cup of coffee this morning, I found myself thnking about someone who I hadn't thought about in a long time, someone who I had no real reason to be thinking about. Why am I thinking about this person, I thought to myself.

The coffee beans that I bought from the grocery store are burnt, bitter, like something you would get from a greasy diner, or jail. It is still pleasant to have a morning cup of coffee, but it is way less pleasant than it was when you were drinking beans, at a discount, from a coffee shop that you used to work at. You wonder who would smile at your discomfort; you find it weird to think that someone would, but they seemed to gain some sort of pleasure in trying to inflict pain on you, when you worked there.

I am probably getting too deep with this, but it does piss me off that my morning cup of coffee sucks.

Each new day that I wake to see is brilliant, but the most brilliant one is always the one that I am in for it offers a multitude of possibilities for existence.

*******

Back when I was drunk, I took risks. I risked hurting others, and or myself, driving drunk, among other things. My son bought a motorcycle, several months ago, a small motorcycle that will get him to work, get him to the grocery store, not have him paying out all the cash that you have to pay out to have a car.

His mother doesn't really want him riding a motorcycle. If I could put him in an armored tank, I would, but what can you do. My son is a skateboarder, and he does things on that board that would land the normal human being in traction. I used to go watch my son play baseball. I can't much watch him skate. It is too blood curdling for me. I can't stand there and watch my son do things that look like they are going to send his head hurtling into the pavement to smash into a million bloody pieces; call me a wimp.

Anyway, what I was getting to is that for the several months that my son has had this motorcycle, he has not had a license to ride it. I'm not sure what the hold up is. Recently, he told me that he was just being slack.

Having an alcohol problem, and landing in jail is one thing. Having a slack problem and landing in jail is another thing. When your kids reach a certain age, you can only do so much about their behaviors. It is hard for me to just let this one go, because it seems so easily remediable. Do fathers ever get off the hook?
Will there ever be a time when I don't worry about my kids? Will there ever be a time when I won't want what is best for them?

Doubt it.

*******

I'm waiting on my oven to preheat to 350 degrees. I say mine, but I don't own it; I rent it. I don't own anything, except for intellectual properties; maybe they will pay the rent some day. I hope so, but there are no guarantees.

Maybe, one day, I will get checks in the mail from book publishing companies, saying they love me, keep it up, when will your next book be ready, but right now all I get are cut off notices from the utility company, and collection letters that say I better pay up if I want to go on living. I have been getting calls from this one collection agency looking for someone who is not me for about three years now.

If you don't want the collection agencies to have your phone number, do not give your phone number to your doctor or dentist. These were the only two people who I had given my number to, and, almost instantly, I started getting calls from the mean and nasty people who now own the debt that used to be owed to whoever it was owed to.

What I do is, when they call, I attach the name, "Patience," and a number to their number, so that what I see now when they call is, "Patience 1," all the way up through, "Patience 19." When the buzzards call, and I look down and see Patience, I get calm, instead of uptight, like I might if I hadn't programmed this calming word into my phone.

It's a waiting game, and I plan to win. I tried to work out an arrangement with the companies who I originally owed the debt to, trying to explain to them my new down and out position, but they didn't want to listen; they didn't care about what was happening to me, so why should I care what is happening to them?

I hope that the criminals go bankrupt and wind up with toothpicks between their finger and toe nails somewhere behind very uncomfortable prison bars, which is where they belong. Play fair, get treated fair, and, as the song goes, mess with me, and "Now you're messing with a son of a bitch!"

I don't know what to think of myself: I haven't been showering much, lately. I shower if I have to go out into the world, and interact with humans, but that is not happening too much, recently, and it is a painful experience to have to take a shower, one leg doesn't much work because of this bum hip that is dragging me down. I guess I could try taking a bath, instead, but all that getting up and down would be hard to endure, also.

Life is a game, and I enjoy playing it. I hope that you enjoy play it, too!

-------------------------

I had to give up my job because of my hip, and one of the casualties of less income in the household was my animals' food. The dogs went from a bag that cost fifty bucks that they would eat in two weeks, to a bag that costs twenty five bucks, and lasts all month. Now, I know that this cheaper dog food is not as good for them, in fact I just figured out that the scratching that I thought might be from fleas is probably from the cheaper dog food, but what can a poor boy do but buy what he can afford at the time. Hopefully, I won't be in the hole for life, and then the dogs can eat better, but, right now, I got to eat, too.

Someone told me, the other night, that since I am feeding the cats the cheap store brand cat food, that they would make more frequent trips to the kitty litter box.
What a drag.

*******

I wake up and sit down at my desk. It's cold I note, and then a few minutes later I realize that I left the fan running, the fan that blows air over my desk, before I lay down for a nap. There could be a fire in the apartment, and I might not notice it, when I first wake from a night's sleep or a nap. I am groggy, to say the least, upon rising.

My dogs have grown accustomed to having the tips of my bananas shared with them. The minute that I pull a banana off of the bunch, the dogs come to the edge of the kitchen and sit at attention, knowing what is in store for them. I have banana tips stored for them, on occasion, those occasions being when I have extra bananas. My new banana bread baking habit has been good for my dogs banana addiction: there are a lot more bananas in the house.

*******

Donald Miller has this theory, that I will paraphrase here, that most of us expect our mates, our lovers, our husband, or wife to be like Christ, that is, in Miller's opinion, perfect. I am going to reserve comment on Christ, here, but I full understand what Miller is talking about, and I fully know that I have been guilty of feeling the same way in a relationship: if she is not "perfect" bam, she is gone.

*******

This morning I said the prayers that I always try to start my day off with:

Lord, Thank you for letting me see the new day, breath the air of a new day.
Guide me in thought, word, and action Lord; thy will be done not mine.
Please keep me off of drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes, Lord. Amen.

Then, I try to think of the people who have asked me to pray for them, and I pray for them. Then I try to think of all the people who I can think of who might need some praying done for them, and I pray for them. And, then, I start to pray for all the people I love, and, this morning, I just couldn't stop praying because there are so many people who I love.

I'm not a religious zealot. In fact, for myself, I am anti-organized religion, but I
like to pray. It gives me faith, and I like to have faith. I like to have faith that there is something greater than myself out there, that I am not the one running the show, for if I am the one running the show, were are all in trouble!

There was a lone baby cockroach wandering across the top of my sink, when I
woke, this morning. I did not pray for him. I swatted him onto the floor, and
I stepped on him. My policy of not killing animals to eat them, does not extend
to cockroaches. Die cockroach; die.


*******
It is Sunday, and people in the neighborhood are not at work, they are on their porches blaring their radios loudly. Probably they just came home from church, where the Priest, or Preacher just preached that they should have love and respect for their neighbor.
How blaring your radio from your porch shows love, and respect for your neighbor is beyond me. In order to not be engulfed in the love, and respect that emanates from their radio, I have to turn on some music in my abode. I won't blare it. My dares of blaring my music ended somewhere around the time that I stopped imbibing fifths of Jack Daniels; coincidence that.
*******
Walt Whitman has yet to impress me; I'm stuck in, "Song of Myself," years later, like ninety nine percent of the English majors were who were force fed the poem, while trying to get an English degree. They make you read some god awful boring stuff to get that English degree. Some old man, with a beard to his toes, decided two hundred years ago, who the "best" poets were, and, now, we are all stuck reading them year after year, even though way better poets have come along since then. It's like everybody in academia is scared to make a change, scared to make a decision that violates the norm. Screw Walt Whitman.
*******
I love to feed my cats snacks. I buy these little jelly-bean-like snacks(that I hope don't cause cancer)and when the cats are in a mood for a snack, either collectively, or one of them at a time, they come to the kitchen and signal to me their desires.

Kobain stands at attention by his bowl, to let me know he is ready for a snack, or two, and Jaggar brushes up against my leg, or gets below the drawer where the snacks are kept, and starts meowing.

Jaggar likes to chase his snacks down, so I throw his jelly-bean-like things across the kitchen floor. Kobain likes to almost be hand fed. I normally drop his snacks in his bowl for him.

If cats, in general, and my cats, in specific, were able, and willing, to express written gratitude, I know that my cats would write some beautiful poetry in this situation. They don't tell me so, via written word, but I know that Kobain and Jaggar loves them some snacks!

Bundy, and Morisson, my dogs, each got a half of a frozen banana, this afternoon. Usually, they only get the tip of a banana, but I was feeling generous today, since it was the one day of the week reserved for The Lord, and all.

Morisson, and Bundy, are mooches. Almost every time that I walk into the kitchen, they follow me.

I love them so, though, and, really, I appreciate the company.
*******
Lionel Ritchie still makes me feel good.

*******

Bundy, and Morisson just ran off, the first time ever for Bundy, and the first time from this home for Morisson. With my hip, I have to let them out off leash, and use voice commands, which has worked up to this point. I can hear barking off in the distance, which means that the two of them are either making friends, or pissing other dogs off. If I had a vehicle, I would jump in it and go find them. This might not work for Morisson though; if he is not in the mood to come home, he will just look at the vehicle. laugh, and run off from it.

I've got some guys in my existence who I will call The Big Rock Gods, The Guys Who Think That They Are Big Rock Gods. I won't name anybody; they know who they are. I would imagine that they are exceeded in ego, and rudeness, only by The Guys Who Really Are Big Rock Stars.

I might not normally be bothered by this, I mean fuck them really, who needs the to have some trickle down lousy attitude given to you by musicians who word nine to five jobs, and don't pay the rent with their songs, but the two fucking dogs
just ran off, and I am in a pissy mood about that, so my pissy mood is transferable to another situation. I think that there is an official psychological term that is used by psychologists and shrinks to describe this.

For my part, I wish that the dogs would come home, and I really need to pick the people who I think are my friends better.

Bundy's back.

Morrison will wander longer. Morrison loves to roam. Morrison came to me as a roamer, as a runaway, and he has run away from me many times. I always worry
that he will get hurt, but he always comes back home tail wagging, knowing that I will be happy to see him.

Bundy is being quiet. He knows that he has done wrong. He might know where Morisson is, but is keeping his mouth shut. He loves me, but is loyal to Morisson, his brother.

It is going to be cold outside tonight. I hope that some do gooder doesn’t call the pound. Sometimes, I hate do gooders; those people that, on paper, look as if they want to help you out, but, really, they wind up screwing you over.

Let my dog wander home, do gooder; let my dog wander home.


I have the front porch door open, and the exterior door to the apartment open, so I can hear him, just like I did Bundy, who hasn't come out from underneath my desk long enough, since he got back, to be beaten! Bundy knows he done wrong! How's Elliot?
31 minutes ago • Delete

Morisson is home.

Mary and Chuck brought him to me. He was dodging cars on the busiest road around here; he didn't head back into the neighborhood, like I had been hoping.

Mary and Chuck are/were Godsends. They said that Morisson came to them, when they called him, "Here Boy, Here Boy."

Morisson is like that; he is friendly. I'm glad that he is home. I will have to institute leashed visits to the real world. One time is all it takes. I love my dogs.

As Mary and Chuck got back in their car, I thanked them profusely, again, as I had been the whole time since they showed up with Morisson. The last thing that I said to them was, "Thank God there are people like you, and not just all the nasty people that they portray on the news."

Mary and Chuck smiled.

******

I learned on the internet, tonight, that the daughter of a friend of mine is fighting for her life. My friend's brother was asking people to pray for his niece.

At this minute, I feel like an inadequate prayer, like there is no prayer that I can pray that will help this little girl, and, at the same time, I want the, "Please, please, please Lord," prayers that I am praying answered immediately.

Nobody needs to pray for you, is a thought that came to mind, also. I don't need to light a candle at the church, or request to be on nobody's prayer list; I can just start praying like Hell wherever I am.

Lord, please, please, please help this little girl. Please.

*******

When I am aggravated with my dogs, I often say the same things to them that my father used to say to me, when he was pissed off: "I'm sick of the sight of you," and "You'll never amount to much," are the two that come to mind now, as I bake banana bread in the kitchen. I still gave Morisson, and Bundy their banana tip treat, but I had to give them a hard time with it; I just had to.

I am baking my tenth banana bread from scratch, tonight. I count my creations just like Deadheads used to count what Grateful Dead show they were at. I think I screwed this banana bread up, and the reason that I screwed it up is because I didn't follow instructions, I didn't do what the recipe said, I wandered out there on my own, and thought that I knew better, that I had a better way to bake banana bread.

Well, I didn't.

The recipe says to mix the dry ingredients separate from the wet ingredients, which you are also to mix together, and then mix the mixed dry and the mixed wet together.

But tonight, I added the oil and the eggs to the sugar, flour, and baking powder thinking that it would be easy to mix them in. But, I had forgotten about the bananas. (Imagine forgetting about the bananas while making a banana cake)

So, I mashed the bananas and then added them to the rest of the ingredients,
and something gives me the feeling that this, my tenth banana bread, will not turn out to be as delicious as the first nine. I am going to check the bread in an hour, so let's see.

I have these "everything" bagels that I bought from the grocery store. I bought them because I buy these other "everything" bagels from another store. The ones that I have now cost a buck, where the other everything bagels, from the other store cost two fifty. I will probably give the last two everything bagels that I have now to the dogs, shortly before they go moldy. They are awful. They look much like the other everything bagels, but everything is not the same. I guess, sometimes, you get what you pay for, at least in the case of "everything" bagels.

Banana bread number ten looks and smells good. It is a little done around the edges, but I have learned that I really like well done short of being burned banana bread.

********

As bedtime nears, Morisson puts his nose on my arm. I look down at him and start to speak to him without thinking, "You dumass…running around in traffic. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Morisson looks up at me and says that he is sorry, and I believe that he is, so I cut the lecture short, cut out the lights and head to bed. Another beautiful day is over, and thank God Morisson is here to see it end with me.

******

Richard Turner and Brit Turner are the rhythm section in a wonderful band called, "Blackberry Smoke." The Turner bothers have been playing music in the city of Atlanta for as long as I have lived here: over 25 years now. I have always found them to be personable and polite as people, and talented as heck as musicians. I am used to getting notices from them via their band: Blackberry Smoke will be playing here, Blackberry Smoke will be playing there, Blackberry Smoke is touring Europe. Well, while the band was in Europe, Eric Snoddy, a friend to The Turners, and to myself, posted this on his Facebook page:



There is too much to pray for/emit positive vibes to; it's overwhelming when you think about it. Think about all the children who have cancer, who will leave this existence having only experienced it for years. Think of all the soldiers living in fear, both sides in any conflict, certainly ready to go home after a certain point.

There is a great feeling of satisfaction when you get your dog trained, I can now holler, "Back," at Bundy, when I am petting Morisson, and Bundy will retreat under my desk, even better than he does when I say, "Go home, Bundy, go home," which, mostly, also causes him to run underneath my desk.

*******
The toe nails on my left foot have gotten so long that I can't pull a sock over them. They have not been cut in about six months. You really have to have someone love you, to get them to cut your toe nails, and there just isn't anyone like that in my life right now.

Since I couldn't get my sock on, I realized that I was crazy trying to leave the house and walk with my cane the rather long distance to the bus stop, that I had been planning to walk to get to the bus stop where the bus arrives that would take me to an eye doctor appointment that I had scheduled several weeks, ago.

At first, I felt very sorry for myself. Why screw him, and screw her, why aren't they here for me, when I need them? Funny thing is that I hadn't asked anyone to help me.

The lady, on the phone, who helped me cancel the appointment was nice, and that made me feel better, made me feel not so helpless; at least I was able to cancel the appointment successfully, and wasn't such a failure.

Some old tapes are trying to run here, some old behavior wants to kick in, in that I want to blame everybody else for my problems, I want everybody else to be at my beck and call when I need them, but stay away from me the rest of the time,
because I'm such a rigid individual.

My left sock is off. I'll find someone to help me cut my toe nails. The appointment is canceled, and don't make appointments that you can't get to without help, without asking for help in advance. Simple enough.

I am used to being able to get up and go. I am not used to being confined to my desk with little short trips to my bed, the bathroom, and right outside with the dogs. This hip replacement surgery has put me in a whole new world, one that is often, not easy.(I almost fell getting up from the toiltet, earlier today.)

*******

I had DSL service with one company that offers such for several days. Their allegedly high speed dsl was the slowest thing that I had ever seen in all my years of while cruising the net. The lady at the 345th deparment that I was transferred to told me that the DSL service that I was paying for was not offered in my neighborhood. The obvious question is why did they sell me a service that didn't come to my house. Another question that I soon had is why are you making it so hard for me to disconnect this service. One lady even asked me if I would like a slower service that they offered. Now get this, I am telling this lady that I am quitting on her because her company's service is too slow, and she tries to sell me an even slower one. Who is the marketing/public relations genius behind that sales technique. Hey, Ed. let's alienate folks forever, send them permanently to the competition; that's a great way to stay in business, Ed.

The cable company just ran a credit check on me, and they told me that no deposit would be required. I gasped silently, a little sigh of relief it was, and did a quick, "Oh thank you, Lord," prayer as the girl went on to tell me when the modem for my new high speed internet service would arrive. I have blown off two credit cards because I could not pay them, and continue to eat at the same time, and both of these companies have ruthlessly tracked me, and sent me nasty letters, and had people make obscene like phone calls to me trying to collect two grand and four hundred bucks, respectively. Mostly, I don't open their letters, I can't pay, so why feel like shit everyday at the time that the mailperson arrives?
I opened one the other day, and they have gotten the four hundred dollars up to sixteen hundred dollars. Mick Jaggar once sang, "Cheating like I don't know how." It seems very applicable to this credit card situation. I am surprised that the credit card companies have not put a wrench into my ability to get cable high speed internet services. For all you doubters, maybe there is a God, huh?!


The heat in this home and I play a game. First, I try to save money, and I set the heat at 70 or 68 degrees. Then I realizing that I am freezing, and I move the dial up to 78. At 78, I get hot, and I turn my fan on. Then I realize that I am paying for both the fan, and the heat, so I turn the fan off, and got set the heat back to 70.
Someday, I will own a house where the heat adjusts to my body and turns itself up and down as I go from room to room. And someday I will own China, and share it with you.

*******

I lost the internet, today. I have to be honest and say that since I don't have a job, while I am waiting to get a new hip, that I have been "borrowing" bandwidth from someone near enough to me to give off a strong enough signal for us to "share." I guess they moved, or got tired of sharing, so I am without the net.

This is crippling thing for me. There is a tube coming from the internet directly into my arm that gives me life.

*******

It seems to me that around a third of the time, my kids don't answer their phone, when I call them. This accusation is specifically waged against the youngest boy.
I'm hedging a bit here, playing it save, doing the old passive aggressive thing.

When I was twenty, I was not talking to my parents at all. I had shot that relationship out with a young love of alcohol, so, really, I am lucky that my son picks up the phone two thirds of the time.

That's it, that's my bitch I am moving on to the next thing. I am finding something to do with my life now that this boy is almost all grown up. I love you Graem. I love you, too, Scout; you answer your phone most of the time, and William, now 28, you answer it all the time, and I thank you for that.

I don't know what I am going to do in two years, when Scout graduates from high school. That will be the first time in almost a quarter of a century that I do not have a kid in school. What am I going to do with myself?

*******
I got the internet back for a minute. It seems that my computer will put me on somebody else's bandwidth, if their signal is strong enough, and unsecured. I can't go on like this. I can't go on stealing bandwidth like this, depending on the kindness of people who don't know that they are being kind.

I am like a junkie, right now, without a fix. I have gotten a lot more writing done than usual, but I haven't had as much fun as when I am on the internet.

I called the cable company. They have a special. I will have cable in three to five days.

Three to five days: argh!

*******

My dogs are scratching themselves furiously. I feel helpless because I don't have the means to get to the vet, and buy a packet of advantage for each dog. I don't have a car, and I can't ride my bike anymore due to the sad state of my left hip.
I am going to have to ask someone to give me a ride to the vet's office so that I can buy what the dog's need.

I hate to do this because the person who I have in mind so often takes me to the grocery store. I mean, you don't want to make a pain in the ass of yourself to someone with a good nature who has been helping you out a lot. Let's see, when did this person last take me to the grocery store?

Perhaps enough days have passed by to ask him for a ride. Let's hope so.

*******

I finally made it to the vet, today, to get flea treatment for the dogs. When she told me the price, I gulped. The little vials containing the liquid that is an essential for dogs had risen from twelve dollars a vial to thirty five dollars for two.

"That's why I don't have animals," said Kevin, and I gulped again.

"Yes," I said that thirty dollars could have gone to food," but you know what I love my dogs, and if I have skip a meal here and there to get them what they need, then so be it. Some day I will be rich because you buy the books that I write, and I won't have these problems. I will a whole new set of problems.

*******

Today was a very blasé ordinary day, that was lots of fun. I called Kevin and, meekly, asked him if he would give me a ride to the vet so that I could get flea treatment for the dogs. He said sure, and when he got here I asked him if we could also go to the pharmacy, so that I could pick up my lithium, and some AA batteries for my camera. I told him that I needed batteries so that I could take pictures on Christmas, which was two days away. He said sure. And then after we got done at the pharmacy, and the vet, I asked him if we could go to the grocery store, and the pet supply store.

The turtles' light was not working, and it was only a month old. I was glad that I had saved the receipt, because Kevin said that he would give me a ride to the pet supply store. I had saved my receipt for the bulb, and, thankfully, the folks who worked there didn't mind exchanging it. The people at this store are usually in good moods. Management there must be doing something that a lot of other places aren't.

Last stop was the grocery store to get some bananas, four, and baking soda.

Thanks Kevin.

*******

I have two turtles, Prynce, and Rue Paul. They entertainment me endlessly. I was just watching Prynce, who is the boy, move about underwater, and then I watched him climb onto his tanning rock. When he got onto his rock, I decided that Prynce was better looking out of water than he was in. I think that this is because the water is murky, and you can not distinctly see his features as well in the water as you can out.

*******

Bundy has this very bad habit of peeing when I put a leash on him. It doesn't matter where he is, inside on the carpet, outside on the wooden porch, on a cement sidewalk, he lets go. Needless to say, I don't really like to clean up after him, and needless to say that when he pees inside it adds to the overall unpleasant aroma, of this mostly pleasant abode, and that is not a pleasing thing.

I will have to Google this problem, and see if I can find a solution for it. Google pretty much has an answer for just about everything.

*******

I have sat in this chair for so long, today, that my back is starting to feel as if someone is slipping a knife into it. I know that the solution is to get up off the bed, and go lay down on the bed for awhile, but I am a junkie, I am a computer junkie, an internet junkie, a social network junkie. Even if I wasn't nursing a very bad hip, I would still be stuck in this chair.

Bundy just went ballistic, and I expected a knock on the door, but it didn't come. Bundy then came over beside me, and started to whimper.

I was like, "Bundy what's up," and he let out a loud roar.

This is a very loving dog, but he needs downers, baby, downers.

******
This whole book writing thing is just one long expedition in, "me, me, me…look at me." Look at what I wrote, don't you like what I wrote, don't you like, "me, me, me;" for what; so that I can feel better about myself? So that I can prove to my long dead father that he was wrong.

I'm eating rice, and macaroni, macaroni, and rice until my food stamps show up on the 14th of next month. And then I am going to go out and get all the macaroni, and rice that those food stamps will allow me to get.

Remember where Jim Morrison said in one of his poems, "I'm getting tired of these stinky boots?" Well, I'm getting tired of rice, and macaroni.

******
My day starts off, early, with Bundy barking at me, because I tell him, "Back," so that Morisson, can get some attention from my just waking hand, as I sit on the edge of the bed that I am in the process of removing myself from, after a good night's sleep. It is hot in here, my forehead sweats, and it leads to my reading glasses getting fogged.

It is an ongoing battle to figure out what degree to set the heater at. I set it hot, and it gets hot outside, I set it cool, and the weather cools down. It is a cruel joke that God plays on me, that results in only good for the utility company.

*******

I have certain gripes, at this time of my life, that keep repeating themselves. I'm sure that if you have read me much, you are aware of what they are: the utility company is a convenient gripe. The cost to cool, and heat, this old apartment that I live in is ridiculous. Maybe it is not the fault of the utility company, maybe it is the fault of this old apartment. I could start blaming the landlord, for once you are a finger pointer, it gets easier and easier to point the finger at a wider array of targets.

A finger pointer hardly ever points the finger at himself, or herself. Hell no!

*******

I'm out of coffee. I may have enough cash to limp down to the store and get some more, or I may be just short of the cash that I need. Today is the 27 th; I have to wait until the 14th for my food stamps to arrive. I may have to pull a ten or a twenty out of the money that I have set aside to keep the lights, and heat on, and then try to find that money late. It is a lot of work surviving without a job.

*******

Today is Sunday. I only know this because my son told me that yesterday was Saturday, when I asked him if he had worked. Sometimes, I lose track of days.
Do you think that I am growing old?

*******

I got a new CPAP mask, and either it is not working, or I have not figured out how to fully adjust it, which is probably the case. The cats mostly sleep with me, and they always get a good nights sleep, and they never have to wear a CPAP mask, which leads me to the question, "Do you think that cats ever get sleep apnea? I mean they must, but I have never heard a cat snoring very loudly, have you?

*******
I just fully figured out why I have been so groggy for the past couple of days. I think that I have told you that I have sleep apnea, and wear
a CPAP mask to rememdy the situation. The mask fits over my nose, and
shoots air through my nostrils, and down my throat keeping my breathing passage open.

*******

I've rifled my change jar for everything except the pennies(there isn't enough to make a fifty cent roll.) I've begged online for a ride to the store to buy beans.

*******

The clothes washer is making unusual noises, tonight. The landlord was emphatic, when I was handing him fifteen hundred dollars, half for the first months rent on this place, and half a deposit equaling a first month's rent, the he, "Was not responsible if the clothes washer or drier broke down."

The guy next to me, told me, one evening while we were chatting on the front porch that the landlord used to be responsible for the clothes washer, and drier.

The jist of all of this is that I REALLY hope that the unusual noises are just that unusual noises and not precursors to a breakdown. The drier already sucks, and needs fixing that I can't fix. It takes like ten turns in the drier to get a load to dry. Do you know how much that
runs up the electricity bill.

Seems that all I have are gripes, tonight.

*******
It is very cold out there, tonight; my computer says that it is 33 degree weather that I just walked my dogs in. I pray for the bums, and the panhandlers tonight, not a good night to be an alcoholic on the street, or a crack head begging hits from cars stuck in traffic. I developed a new trick, a new coping mechanism so that Bundy doesn't bark incessantly while Morisson and I are out on Morisson's part of the walk.

Screaming, "Bundy Shut Up," at the front door where Bundy is perched angry,
and jealous that Morisson is off with me alone, does not work. Bundy continues barking like a mad dog , until Morisson and I return, and by the time I have turned the knob, Bundy has disappeared into time out under my desk. He is not a stupid dog; he knows that barking at the top of his lungs is not the right thing to do, but he cannot help it.

Bundy is still a very manic dog. He is half Rotweiller. He is not as manic as he used to be, and I am hoping that he will be even less manic in the future, for all his faults, I have come to love Bundy.

There was a time when I had many more faults than I do now, and people were there for me, so I have to be there for Bundy, who is laying on my foot right now,
waiting for me to signal that it is time for the day to end.

I was whining to the dogs that all I really had to eat tonight was rice, but then I found some onions, and some brocoli that I had leftover. I put some oil in the pan(roll em up roll em up and put em in the pan," we used to say to Grandson Elliot, added the onions, diced, and the broccoli, minus the stalks. I let them saute for a bit, and then I added the rice, and started moving things around; then I sprayed the concoction with garlic and black peppers, and kept stirring. The last touch to this emerging feast was a heavy dose of HOT chili sauce...Yum, yum, and the dogs don't see me weeping no more: they are begging for a bit off of my plate!!

*******
I have two re-appointments in the morning, my pre-op appointment with the hip people, and my rescheduled yearly eye exam. I wanted to bake a couple of banana breads, tomorrow, but I may be worn out from all that boring ass sitting around in doctors' offices. Why they got to stack us up like sardines to maximize their dollar? PS Sweet dreams!

*******



Aurora3459 : im a voracious reader what would you like me to read?



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The cat (Jaggar) gets away with things that the dogs can't and Bundy knows it. He is staring at Jaggar, right now, watching him make noise in a box, watching him make a mess in that box.

Jaggar and I combined to let a cockroach get away, we lead him to new territory, under the refrigerator.

*******

I was out of coffee beans yesterday, and reflecting back upon the situation, I was like somebody looking for pot. First, I thought out all the sources of beans, like someone would who was seeking marijuana. Then I made the phone calls, "Hey, can you hook me up with beans?" Thank God, my search was successful; I think that my Coffee Jones was way worse than someone's Pot Jones might be, but I bet that a pot smoker would disagree!

*******
My vacuum cleaner broke while Scout was using it, while I was away. I can't really blame her, I mean the poor girl was vacuuming my carpet for me, and the dang vacuum cleaner is fairly old. I don't think that it is broke, but I don't know how to fix it, and I don't know who to have fix it, outside of some guy who might charge as much as the cost of a new one to make this one work again.

*******

I have two re-appointments in the morning, my pre-op appointment with the hip people, and my rescheduled yearly eye exam. I wanted to bake a couple of banana breads, tomorrow, but I may be worn out from all that boring ass sitting around in doctors' offices. Why they got to stack us up like sardines to maximize their dollar? PS Sweet dreams!

*******
Have you ever run naked, alone, through the woods chasing a deer?

*******

Well, I've got my coffee; now I'm ready for Love.

*******

Whoever said, "All you need is Love," was wrong; you need coffee, too!!"

*******

What side of the bed did you wake up on, this morning?

*******

Do you sleep with one pillow or two. Do you sleep on your side or on your back. I try to use one, but I like two. I start on my back, but I wind up on my side. Do you let your dog(s) sleep with you; I don't. Do you snore...??

*******
People with their own business stay out of yours

If you introduce a man as your "partner,"
does it mean that both of you are gay,
and that he is your lover, and if you are,
or if you are not, does any of it matter,
what you are, or what people think that you are?

*******
My neighbors treat me as if I was a leper, or a child molester, or some man who just got out of prison after strangling a woman and being put behind bars for twenty years. In other words, they are very hands off when it comes to me, and I don't really understand it. Both of them started of being friendly to me, when I first moved in, but, now, they act as if I need to take a bath, badly.

It's kind of a bummer, because I want everyone to love me and buy my books.
I'm not sure what to do, other than accept things as they are, and keep moving on with my life.

I know that I am not a leper, a child molester, or a man recently paroled from a prison on a murder charge; and I bath regularly: showers, thank you, so the problem must be theirs.

Maybe they are lepers, child molesters, or just got out of prison for strangling someone.

And, perhaps they don't bath.

*******

The Doctors said that I was going to live, and that I was fit to be put under on Jan. 11. They took blood, and it is almost a done deal. I got Hydrocodone for pain; is anyone familiar with this, and no you can t have one?!! I m hoping that the maintenance guy will clean my clothes drier duct, as Cyndi Craven said might need to be done. That would be such fun, to be able to dry my clothes in less than ten go rounds.

*******

Pills, pain pills anyway, steal the sharpness of life away from you. I am glad to no longer feel the intense pain that I was feeling, relating to this bad hip that I have, but I miss the edge that normal life gives me, already, and I just started taking them yestereday.

When I was "using," as they say, a term they attribute to a practicing alcholic, I never gravitated towards downers, though those close to me wish that I had! For me it was alwasy alcohol, and, sometimes, upper type things that got me going even more than I was already going, and I was always a fairy manic fellow.

Bundy is being an asshole in the mornings. If I do not pet him, the first thing upon waking up, as he wants, he growls at me. Back off Beoch.

I am out of raisin bread biscuits, ho hum. but I have some egg-free banana bread, most of which is reserved for someone else. Both of these I bake myself, for those of you uninitiated.

I need eggs, oil, sugar, and flour in order to be able to bake anything else. Also, I should buy some groceries. It's times like these that owning a car would be nice; screw my carbon imprint. Al Gore talks about our carbon imprint, and, yet, he rides around in limousines, and flies about in private jets.

Sure, I am not Al Gore, but can you say, "Hypocrite?"

*******
I used to stare at my t.v. looking for the answers to what is going on in the world, and all I saw were bad things: wars, kidnappings, bombings, divorces,
deaths.

My tv is positioned to the left of my desk, and since I have turned my cable off, I now stare to the right of my desk, and watch my turtles mill about their aquarium, and it is they who I presently look to for the answer as to what is going on in
the world.

Sometimes my turtles kiss, sometimes they swim about the glass square that is their home, sometimes they climb up onto the rock that is positioned below a heat lamp for them to soak heat from under, sometimes they kiss, and sometimes they fight: so they are pretty much replicating what I used to see on t.v., but it is not presented with such an intense bias, they are not trying to sell me anything, they are just living life. Watching the turtles does not make me paranoid, scared about what might happen next in this world in which we live.

Perhaps I have crawled under a rock, but it feel good here. I just need to figure out a way to get someone to throw me breakfast, lunch, and dinner!

*******

Thank God, neither dog messed around about taking care of bidness...a nice number one, and a nifty number two for each of them. I'm considering drinking another cup of coffee; I don't have to be in bed at any particular time, for any particular reason. There is no lusty, busty beautiful woman enticing me to join her underneath our warm sheets; there are just two cats, who act like they now own my bed.

*******
I'm starting to get emails from coffee companies. They must be stalking me on here, and see that I lust for the bean. I delete them. I don't need them. They are suckers.


*******
My day doesn't close when Jim Morrison sings, "The End."

*******

I like to feed snacks to my dogs in a fairly civilized way: first, I holler out, "Who's been good?" This makes the dogs come to me(I am usually in the kitchen when I am giving out snacks.) Then I say, "Sit, sit," until they are both sitting, and I throw the snack in the general vicinity of their mouths, deriving great pleasure from watching the dogs catch the snacks in their mouth. I don't think that I could ever grow tired of watching these dogs wrap their mouth around something that I threw at them, in this manner.

I realized, just a moment ago, though, that although the dogs play this game with me, their sole purpose is to get the snack in their mouth. They could care less about coming on command, sitting on command, and catching a snack from me like a seal does a fish from his trainer. My dogs just want the food.
******

It used to be ordained that I be in Church right now. I had an envelope with a number on it, because The Lord wanted our money. Now, I sleep late, scribble some poems, slug down a couple of coffees: I think that the Lord is happier with me now than he was when I was blindly following what The Pope and his Priests had to say.

The cats are noisy this morning, one growling, the other making loud noises as he licks water from the water bowl with his tongue. Despite the large coffee that I have drank, I am sleepy; I thing that I am going to eat some oatmeal, and go back to bed.

******

Looking back upon it, we are not given enough years to live. I am fifty two, which means that I have probably lived over half of my life, already. This does not seem fair, but then who said fairness had anything to do about it? I'm not sure who is in control of how long we live. Is it me, in the case of my life? Is it you, in the case of your life? Is it God in the case of all of our lives?

*******


At this point in my, "Kareer," if I don't try to sell me, if I don't try to sell what I have written, my books, and, specifically my memoir, "The Delivery Guy," then there is going to be nobody out there trying to sell it all for me. Today, I sent ads of sorts to FB pages that are concerned with books; along the way, if I saw a friendly face, possibly yours, I put the ad on your page, too.

When Ru Paul was starting out, he used to say, "If you love me, baby, give it to me!!" This always made sense to me, when he was saying it, and it makes sense to me, now, as I am saying it!

*******
A "coffee" house was pushing their dollar beers online, so I replied.

Java Disco: dolla dolla dolla beers.

Mikel K Poet: jail jail jail drunk tank handcuffs blood puke

*******
I once got busted for an outstanding ticket, right in front of my son's day care in Cabbage Town. He was three, and was headed for jail, himself, if a friend, who lived across the street, had not been allowed, by the fine arm of the law, to take him back to day care. That friend was shot to death about 17 years later, trying to score crack in some hood in Jackson, Miss.

"Lately, it occurrs to me,"...and..."we will survive!""

*******
The D.D. Douche Story

I was in the kitchen, the other night, having an imaginary conversation with my youngest son, and I flipped a very sharp knife, from its blade being in my fingers, to its handle landing in my hands. I'm not expert at weaponry, but my younger brother developed a keen interest in it, when we were kids, after he saw me get my ass kicked by this kid right in front of my father, and then watched my father kicked me in the ass, with his foot the whole walk home, and, worse, to a me, akid who still loved his father, emotionally abuse me, telling me what a "coward and a pussy," that I was. I knew that that kid could kick my ass; the only reason that I had crossed the street to face him, and his taunts, was that I was sure that my father would protect me. I geuss that my idea of "protection" and my father's were very different.

*******

These Hydrocodone Pills suck/are ineffective/are useless; they killed the pain for the first day or two, but after that the pain was there again, taunting me, pulling me into its evil tentacles...two pills put me to sleep," I told me son, so he says, "Break one in half, then..." What do YOU know about pills?" I ask him. he gives me some nervous laughter, and we change the subject, quick.

*******

There was no before me, and there will be no after me.


Were all the "great" thinkers happy...the ones we quote as having it down, as knowing how life should be truly lived?

Most of us don't live life this way, happy, we quietly or not so quietly despair, man, and woman, and that is why some of us seek out the great thinkers, not because we wish to become great thinkers, also, but because we are looking for morsels of happiness in this hell that we are so often handed, and we will trust just about anyone who claims to have a better way: Buddha, Jesus, Allah, Krishna, Willie Mays.


Who cares if the greatest thinkers were happy; we got a mortgage to pay, a party to get to, children to raise. You know, K, what you be talkin' 'bout? Make some relevance bro?


Kobain, and Bundy are scared of my cane. I can thump it on the ground near either one of them, and they will run off, Kobain disappearing into the woodwork as only a cat can do, and Bundy heading behind the chair that the cats have taken over from me.

I can do the same thing, thump the cane, and even wave it at them, and Jaggar, and Morisson will look at me as if I have just asked them what the weather is like outside. I mean, they don't give a fuck, where the other two are scared shitless; it's really weird: it is the same cane, and it is the same man holding it in all four

*******

The way this skin of mine is, having been blessed with this thing called psoriasis, is that I will be trucking along all happy, just typing words into my laptop at a fierce rate, no worries, and, then, all of a sudden I will realize that I m scratching a certain area of my body, tonight it being my left elbow. At first the scratching is mellow, but it gets harsher, and harsher, and soon, I draw blood. My skin then looks like shit, and it feels like shit. It is bloody and itchy. What a bitch.

*******

I had a dream, last night, in which I was leaving "the revolution," which, basically, meant that I would no longer be living in rooming houses. I had to give thought to whether making money disqualified me from "the revolution," and then I had to give thought to exactly what "the revolution" is or was.

Does being part of "the revolution" mean that I can't sell my writing to obtain better things for myself, my kids, my dog, cats, and turtles?

Perhaps "the revolution" was a mechanism that I designed to keep myself from "succeeding," because I really wasn't sure what succeeding was, or if I was good enough to succeed.

A fellow, who I once knew, who had "succeeded," appeared at the end of this dream. I hadn't thought about him in years. I guess that I was facing myself, as I faced him in this dream.

Did I want what I thought that he might have? Of course, not knowing what he has, I can't answer this question.

I think that this dream was triggered because I started doing the business end of this writing thing, yesterday; I tried, actively, to sell copies of my book, "The Delivery Guy."

I think that subconsciously I think that I am somehow selling out by trying to sell copies of this memoir.

Do you think that I am?

FB Headline that morning: New day, early start; thanks Lord for letting me see the new day, breath the air of a new day. Guide me in thought, word, and action, Lord; thy will be done, not mine. Please keep me off alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes, today Lord. I'm selling copies of my book, "The Delivery Guy," today. Have you bought one yet?

USE THIS AS ENDING OF BOOK?


I had a dream, last night, in which I was leaving "the revolution," which, basically, meant that I would no longer be living in rooming houses. I had to give thought to whether making money disqualified me from "the revolution," and then I had to give thought to exactly what "the revolution" is or was.

Does being part of "the revolution" mean that I can't sell my writing to obtain better things for myself, my kids, my dog, cats, and turtles?

Perhaps "the revolution" was a mechanism that I designed to keep myself from "succeeding," because I really wasn't sure what succeeding was, or if I was good enough to succeed.

A fellow, who I once knew, who had "succeeded," appeared at the end of this dream. I hadn't thought about him in years. I guess that I was facing myself, as I faced him in this dream.

Did I want what I thought that he might have? Of course, not knowing what he has, I can't answer this question.

I think that this dream was triggered because I started doing the business end of this writing thing, yesterday; I tried, actively, to sell copies of my book, "The Delivery Guy."

I think that subconsciously I think that I am somehow selling out by trying to sell copies of this memoir.

Do you think that I am?

*******

This working at home stuff is really something else. I ve been at it 14 minutes less than an hour, and I ve already taken a couple of breaks!!


One of the nice things about working at home is that you don't have to bring your lunch with you, it is right there where you are. And your dogs don't have to get all happy to see you, when you get home, because you are right there with them all along.

I'm looking around for the boss to ask him or her if it would be ok if I got a quick bite to eat, then I remember...hey, you are working at home: YOU ARE THE BOSS. It's a big responsibility: being in charge of me. Many have tried, most have failed. I'm a rebel with no cause. Not really...my cause is Freedom And Justice...

You probably won't meet anyone new, though, which could be a drag, if you are single. I just thawed a nice piece of my home made banana bread for desert. Man, do I got it made.

Break over...you all go back to work.


WAIT...I got to brush my teeth before I punch in!!

*********

making coffee, and I started to think about you and your family, what great people you are, and how you said you were trying to feed them and couldn't feed me, and I laughed. And then I realized, as i embark, on this sales push of my book, that I could easily become the same asshole that I've always rallied against in the corporate world trying to get that green, green, green. Well, maybe not, but then I thought that you should have an e copy of, "The Delivery Guy," if you want one because you have been a friend for so long. All I need is your email address. Best, K

*******
I came out of the kitchen, happy, with with a fresh cup of some nice coffee in my hand. A young lady had ordered it, paid for it, and had it sent to me when she knew that I was drinking a lousy grind. I was very touched that there was someone out there who cared about the level of coffee bean that I was ingesting. It warmed my heart, gave me faith in at least some of humanity, and made me want to turn around and do nice things for someone else; the pass it on theory that you may have sometimes heard of.

The dogs were looking at me, expectantly, as they mostly were when I was leaving the kitchen, because they mostly expect that I will have something in my hand, or hands for them.

I pointed at my coffee with the hand that did not hold it, and I pointed at Morisson; he started wagging his tail happily.

"This is coffee, Morisson," I said to the dog, "It is not for you." Morisson kept on shaking his tale, as if he had received a treat.

I did the same thing to Bundy, and he did the same thing that Morisson did, wagged his tail as if I had given him a piece of frozen bread, or some rice.

You have got to love these dogs; you really do.

*******

I am amazed that even some of my closest friends and acquaintances do not know that I have written a book, and that it is for sale.

*******

Bundy barks at the sound of someone bringing the trash cans in. It's Monday; I haven't been able to help with the trash cans in a couple of months. It is funny the simple things that you find yourself wishing that you could do.

I took two pills about ten minutes ago; that took away the pain, but I know that it will also bring sleep on, which, tonight, is ok. I have to be up early to go to the unemployment office. I don't know if I qualify, but I hope that I do because then I wouldn't have to borrow money from my son, and his mother, for me to live on.

I just pulled four banana breads out of the oven. I have learned how to bake more than one of them at a time. I thank God for the little things in life that make it so pleasurable; I really do.

Life is good. I am blessed. Good night.

******

You know how much I love my dogs, Morisson, and Bundy; well tonight I posted this in a headline on my Face Book page:

Mikel K Poet: I think that I better take my dogs down to the pound.
I can't take them outside without risk to my hip.

Andrea Kelly Low: NO!!!!! =-[


Mikel K Poet: The pound will be nice to them; it will feed them like soup lines feed the homeless, with love and respect. And I won't be risking a terrible fall getting pulled along the sidewalk, by a dog, with this bad hip.


Mikel K Poet: Andrea, I think that I was just feeling sorry for myself that I have no help walking my dogs...I have walked them, and they are asleep and all is well here. I love my dogs, and there is not a chance in Hell that I would take them to the pound, or anywhere else!!! Thank you for your concern.

I have been taking Hydrocodone , for pain, relating to my bum hip, a hip that comes out of my body next Monday, and someone said that they caused depression in her. I think that they are creating a mild level depression in me, at least did today, a day where my normal routine was knocked off, because I had to go to The Unemployment office, and see if those folks might have some cash for me.

Anyway, Morisson, and Bundy are safe, as am I at the end of another beautiful day of life. I hope that you are safe, also, and happy.


Today, was a weird day, but I won't get into it; I think I have covered most of it in The Daily K threads of today. How blessed I am to be able to lay down on a warm bed, and get some wonderful sleep. How blessed I am to have Bundy, and Morrison in the room with me to act as an alarm clock, should the boogy man be out to get me. And the cats...the cats are waiting for me in the bed: Kobain will have to be moved cuz he loved my spot, when I am not in it, and Jaggar will be at the foot of the bed, waiting to scratch my feet should they get too close to him. Ah, paradise.

*******

There is a lot of talk of snow, supposedly people are hoarding up on thing from the grocery store; I grew up in Snow, so what we call snow down here, doesn't much excite me, though it excited my kids, when they were smaller.

We used to make forts, as kids, igloos, big proud tall standing snow men, topped with hats, with rocks for eyes, and a carrot for a nose. We had snowball fights, got a couple of days off because of it, and then walked to school in it, sometimes throwing it at buses, and cars. Matthew, you remind me of all the entertainment that snow provided us kids. We actually almost got arrested, once, because of the snow, but the cops couldn't catch us running away...in the snow. These poor Southern kids are missing out, I realize, now, as I reminisce.

*******
One of these cats, probably Jaggar, peed underneath my desk; before that I smelled like Bundy under there, because that is his primary hangout. Now he doesn't spend that much time under there since Jagger took his pee. I wonder what Jaggar's motivation was: was he mad at me, was he mad at, or jealous of Jaggar. I mean what could he be thinking to pee in an area of the abode that so clearly belongs to Bundy and I?


*******
The plumbers have shown up to fix the pipe that broke last night, due to the freezing weather. I am thankful that they are here, but one of them talks to much.
I mean, he talks and talks and talks: I don't see how he is getting any work done,
but that is not my responsibility to worry about. I just don't want to hear him talk, so I turn on my radio: The Allman Brothers; I figure that I can slip off into their melodies, and into Greg's words while the men outside finish what they have to do to give us water.

*******

My dogs are so funny: they won't eat pop corm; that makes it pop corn and spinach that both dogs don't like, and Bundy won't eat olives, but Morisson will. And I'm glad to report that neither one of them will eat razor blades; it's a big relief.

I don't think that my dogs care about snow either way; they are ambivalent towards it, peeing on it as if it were green grass, laying brown mounds upon it the same as they do upon multi-colored leaves in the fall.

Dogs are like that you know; they don't get as emotional about things as we do, and they are probably better off because of it.


*******

One of these cats, probably Jaggar, peed underneath my desk; before that I smelled like Bundy under there, because that is his primary hangout. Now he doesn't spend that much time under there since Jaggar took his pee. I wonder what Jaggar's motivation was: was he mad at me, was he mad at, or jealous of Jaggar. I mean what could he be thinking to pee in an area of the abode that so clearly belongs to Bundy and I?

*******

Congrats! You are a fascinating personality and a divine conversationalist. I can't wait to delve deeper into the facets of your unique psyche and twisted tale of redemption. Give em literary H3LL!"--Bombshedevil Dia Starr

*******

Kobain seemed to have forgotten, at 9 a.m., this morning, that I fed him his morning snack around 6 a.m., this morning; at 9 he was standing by his bowl very attentive, waiting to be fed. I ignored him, at first, I don't want to get into the habit of feeding him his wet snack more than once a day, but since I will be away for about a week starting Monday with my hip surgery, I figured that I would give him some extra. He seemed very appreciative.


The newest kudos to Mikel K's stunning memorir, "The Delivery Guy."

-Congrats! You are a fascinating personality and a divine conversationalist. I can't wait to delve deeper into the facets of your unique psyche and twisted tale of redemption. Give em literary H3LL!"--Bombshedevil Dia Starr


-Okay, I got off my cheap ass and ordered a copy. Ilookm forward to reading it.- Thomas Krettler

**********

I got an email from my buddy Nigel, this morning, it said, "He's here. He's here." I figured that Nigel meant that he was working today, down at the Coffee Shop,
that I used to call home myself..

In the late afternoon, I gave Nigel a call. He said, "Hang on, "I'll call you right back," and he did.

We chit chatted back and forth until I realized that what Nigel was talking about was that he had just had a baby! Well, his wife had just had a baby; a boy!

My mind has been a little foggy because of these pain pills that I have been taking. I am really stoked for my man Nigel, though, he is going to be a great Dad.

*******


Kobain seemed to have forgotten, at 9 a.m., this morning, that I fed him his morning snack around 6 a.m., this morning; at 9 he was standing by his bowl very attentive, waiting to be fed.


I just woke up for the second or third time, really woke up; I'm alert and ready to go, not groggy, and groggy. I did some more marketing on my book, "The Delivery Guy," when I was last awake, as I am about to do now. Sales are starting to happen, and I am happy for for this. I thank all of you who have bought my memoir. I just called Graem, my youngest boy, and he is going to come over tomorrow, and help me clean out the turtles' tank. I need to do this before I head out of the house for a week or so, due to the hip replacement surgery that I am going to have on Monday. Tomorrow will be a big day of getting ready, packing my bags, and all. Today is going to be a mellow day, of having coffee with my buddy Art Linton. He's a great singer song writer. You can listen to him for free at his my space space, before you buy one of his great cds. http://www.myspace.com/artlinton




She is standing in the snow on the cover of The New York Times Book Review Section, smiling, looking very confident, and I think that I would like to be standing in that snow myself, smiling, self-confident. I am at the other end of the spectrum. I am not selling millions of books; I am selling about one every other day.




Vanessa Weatherman: i have no $$$$...i will one day...i'd like to read it...i have a book to not out yet...called arrivals and departures.



Thomas Krettler: Okay, I got off my cheap ass and ordered a copy. Ilookm forward to reading it.



Albert Geiser What I can offer you is a lot of word of mouth, which I believe should sell some of your books, seriously. I'll spread the word.



Whether you buy the book, talk about the book, or just wish you could buy the book I thank you. The success of, "The Delivery Guy," is getting it into the hearts and minds of people who, right now, don't even know that it exists, and you all are helping me do that, and I thank you!





I like, and respect, this: "At Carcinogenic Poetry, we are not concerned with your publishing history or acquired degrees, we just want the stuff you believe in."

"Who cares if you went to Yale, or Iowa, or NYU, or Georgia State?

Does your poetry have heart, and soul; and even more important, does your poetry interest me...does it grab me by the balls, and MAKE ME read it, or am I yawning through it because I'm reading it because of what school you went to, or because you are dead and "they" say that I am supposed to read you?"





Monday is THE day: the left hip comes out, and I start the rehab process. I'll be in the hospital for four days, and then over at G2 and Andy's place for four more, or so. Bundy will stay with Kevin; Morisson will be over at G2 and Andy's, also: he is already there




Bundy acts a lot better with Morisson gone. In fact it is amazing to see how much better he acts with Morisson not here. What's up with that? Is his gross insecurity assuaged? Is his competitive mojo knocked out?



The cats and the turtles are acting the same. Rue Paul has mounted Prynce. They are on their rock. It seems that the are either f***ing or fighting. Have you ever been in a love or hate relationship? Have you ever had to flee a lover. Have your dogs or cats ever had fleas. Have you ever had toast with marmalade, and either peanut butter, or regular butter on it. I am counting down, now; tick tock.

There is is my last post ever with this hip. When I talk to you next, I will have had hip replacement surgery. I thank you for reading, and I thank those of you who have bought a copy of my memoir, "The Delivery Guy," for having done so.




THE VERDICT IS IN: YOU SHOULD BY A COPY OF. "THE DELIVERY GUY," Mikel K's popular underground memoir about that period of his life where he went from an LSD soaked, alcohol laden music writer poet rock star wanna be to a sober father sitting in the Little League bleachers watching his son grow up as he ran the bases. This book will make you laugh. It will make you cry, and then it will make you laugh, again.

YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK:http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet

"I found the book, "The Delivery Guy," by Mikel K to be a refreshing and sometimes uncomfortably honest look into the life of a modern writer struggling to come to terms with a pre-fabricated and often superficial, turn of the century, American society. The battle is dynamic and comes to an uplifting spiritually evolved conclusion. I found it a fascinating read!!!--James Lewis"

The "Delivery Guy," does what few books do; it appeals to different readers for different reasons; everyone should read this book."--Kerouac Simpson

Have a great day y' all
--Mikel K

********
Instead of reading The New York Times book review, I could be writing, creating my own work instead of seeing what is going on with others, but you can't write all the time(though many have accused me of doing just that.) My primary area of interests is books, first writing them, and then figuring out a way to sell them. I do not want my books to just exist on my hard drive, I want them in your hearts.

*******

My cats do the darnedest thing; their dry food bowl is located at the end of the hallway that leads to the bathroom, on top of the clothes washer. Whenever I head down that hallway, whether it to be to put clothes in the washer, or take them out and put them in the drier, or if I am heading to the bathroom, one of the cats will run down the hallway in front of me, and start eating.

Are they being protective of their food; do they really think that I am going to, after all these years of not doing such while with them, start to munch on their menu.

Honey please!

*******

I just did everything in this home, that I need to do, to leave it for eight, or so days: I washed the last load of dirty clothes, I folded the second to last load of clothes, I loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned the kitchen,


I counted out 16 cups of dog food for Bundy to have over at Kevin's house, I cleaned out Kobain, and Jaggar's litter box, filled their big dry food dish that always sits on top of the clothes washer hidden behind a bottle of detergent, to keep Bundy from sticking his greedy little nose into it, and I filled an extra bowl full of dry food for them, so that they will have plenty of food for the next eight weeks; I left out the cans of wet cat food for Scout to used to treat the cats, in the afternoon, and I put a little note on Prynce, and Rue Paul's aquarium with instructions for Scout in feeding them(like she would forget!!)

I'm sitting here writing poems. I, also, just got the dishwasher unloaded; I now have to load it with the dirty dishes that are in the sink. I have to pack, for tomorrow(I will be gone from this abode for at least 8 days.)


My youngest boy, Graem, is coming over to help me clean out Prynce, and Rue Paul's tank.

I need to put all the Christmas decorations in their box. (I have gotten them down off the walls, but need to complete the chore.)

I'm thinking aloud, now, about all the things that I need to do, so that when I walk out of this abode at 7:15 a.m. tomorrow to get my hip cut out, that I am leaving our home in good shape for the cats, and turtles.

Bundy is still here with me, now, but he will leave this evening to be babysat by Kevin.

When you have pets, you can't just walk out of your house and leave it; you have to make provisions for your animals. Duh.


This time, tomorrow, I will be signing in to have my hip replacement surgery. I am not nervous, like some people have been asking me, I am ready to go; ready to go into this next phase of my hip story, which I see as having four parts.


The first part has been this pre-surgery part, where I have learned to live with pain, immobility, and a cane.

The second part is the surgery, and all that goes with that including the anesthesiology, and the four day hospital stay related to the surgery.

The third is the rehab period, where I will have folks working with me to teach me how to walk with a metal hip inside my body, and the fourth is the rest of my life, where I and my new hip are one, taking Yoga together, walking the dogs together, sounding the alarm at airport security check points together, living a full, active pain free life, together.

No, I am not nervous about the surgery that I am going to have tomorrow; I embrace it and look forward to it as part of this path that I am on.


Another beautiful day comes to a conclusion. I'd like to thank my friends Greg Willard, and Art Linton for being a part of it, plus all of you who have been here with me today. You give me strength, and I thank you for that. Good night; God gless.--Mikel zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
----------------------------------



I was in "the music business" for awhile. I think, for awhile, with one of the papers, I got paid thirty bucks a week. I wasn't in it for the money: I loved music, and I loved the Atlanta Music scene. The musicians of Atlanta opened their arms to me, for the three or four, off and on, years, that I was a music writer, and invited me out to gigs, into studios, and into their hearts and minds.

Unfortunately, there was a place in the music scene where I liked to get "paid," and that was at the bar. I cultivated bartenders love, and attention, as assiduously, as I did the care of the musicians.

I hated to pay for drinks, and I started to write about the bartenders, also, to keep the drinks flowing. I also wrote about the doormen, to assure that I got into the clubs free for my free drinks on the nights when I wasn't on a bands guest list. Mind you, Atlanta had some mighty, might fine bartenders in the day: great people, who could mix a fine fine drink. Ruth Anne at the Masquerade, at the time, comes to mind: God rest her soul.

(More to come...)

--------------------------------------

Turtles get uses to you, like dogs, and cats, and other household pets do. I noticed, one day, that when a friend approached my turtle tank that my turtles moved to the other end of the tank. They do not do this when I approach the tank. I guess they know who holds the hand that feeds them.

It is kind of nice just having cats(and turtles) around here: cats are much less demanding than work. I am not saying that they are not demanding, just less demanding. Of course, when I spill food on the floor, when eating at my desk, they do not pick it up, and if I spill a pill on the floor, I don not have to worry that they will lick the lithium! I was wide awake at 5:14 am. I love this new schedule that I am on: I am trying to be in bed, tired, by nine or ten, and then up at five. It is Sunday, do you know where your priest is? Hey, have you got something going on?

There are moments when I feel that there is nothing happening in my life, but I know that this is not true. Sometimes, I still want to be bigger, go faster, achieve dreams that belong to someone else, but I know that this is not the way to go.

If I was a multi-millionaire with my face plastered on the cover of magazines, would I be any happier than I am now, broke, behind on the bills, no money to do anything but eat at home?

I need a lover. I need a million dollar lover who has already been on the cover. Ha! That would solve everything wouldn't it: let someone else pave my way.

No way.

I need to feed the turtles, now.
I know what is important.

--Mikel K
Feb. 7 2010

--------------------------------------

Should you talk about being a writer, or write, if you are a writer? I find that sweeping the kitchen floor, and mopping it, get in the way of my writing, so I just sweep it, on occasion; consequently it is a mess, but I get a lot of writing done.

----------------------------------------

"America is ready for another revolution!" Sarah Palin told the gathering. (She was paid a hundred thousand dollars to say this, or for her appearance, rather.)


Serge Zehmyan: "Another instance of someone being technically correct for all the wrong reasons!"


Mikel K Poet: Good analysis, Serge. One man, or woman's revolution, is another man, or woman's, loss of job, and home.

-----------------------------------------
Like you and me

They charge you hundreds of dollars to make your pet well
They make you feel guilty that your Dad is dead,
and you buy him a casket that comes with a clothes washer.
They run for President and Vice President so that
they can steal the country blind,
and you're going out of your mind trying to figure out
how to pay credit card bills from bankers who are fucking you,
while yet another house on your street gets foreclosed.
I'm praying like hell, but "we" just invaded another country,
the world needs to be free like you and me having our homes
taken away from us and trying to pay credit card bills that are criminal.


_______________________________________________




I liken football to throwing Gladiators to the Lions in the olden days: a way to distract the masses. "Hey Ed, did you see that a hundred more 17 year old kids died in Afghanistan? No, Mary, I was watching The Super Bow." But, since Tanya and Clark are from there, and for all New Orleans went through with Katrina and Bush, I would like to see The Saints win. Somebody let me know...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got up to over 5,000 friends on my space account, a few years ago, with a mikel k poet account, many of them folks in Europe, who I was trying to get my poetry out to, and my space deleted me over one poem that I wrote that one person complained about. There is no recourse system, no way to protest...just bam...gone...after all the time, and effort it took to befriend all those people; it is fascist, like Fox, I bet.

--------------------------------------------------

I know this guy who lost his job when he told his employer that he needed 6 to 8 weeks to recover from hip replacement surgery, and unemployment turned him down because he left the job "voluntarily," limping, in pain. He eats off food stamps, and feels guilty that he is not a true American cuz he's taking a "hand out." The utility company is shutting off his heat and lights in two weeks.

The Salvation Army voice mail tells him to call The Unite Way, and vice versa. A friend of the guy made him a tip jar, cuz he's an artist, and she thinks maybe people would like to put some money in it because they like his writing. He asks them to put money in it to help pay his bills, feeling guilty, like a bum, like a mooch. That guy is me. If you can help me out, I promise that I will pass it on when I get better. Right now, I'm sitting in a wheelchair, and using a cane, and a walker to get about the house. Those of you that know me know that I am not lazy. Help me out will you? You might need help one day, and they say what goes around comes around.

http://www.mikelk.com/


Thich Nhat Hahn taught me how to listen, that it is important to listen, that others need to be listened to; that we should not always be talking, and talking about ourselves all the time.

What did you say?



I just made an appointment with the foot doctor to have a diabetic foot exam, tomorrow. My feet are in bad shape, covered in blisters; I don't want to lose them. I haven't been able to take good care of them for months, because I haven't been able to reach them.

Would anyone like to wash my feet?

------------------------------------------

My get up at five a.m. plan is not working out. I got up at 8:30 this morning, but it felt like 5 a.m. if that is any consolation!

I spilled coffee on my tummy, almost the minute that I took my shirt off, this morning, to enjoy the fan that I had just turned on. The coffee that landed on my belly was hot, and helped to further wake me up.

Each day, I try not to take a pain pill(oxycodone,) but I am in pain, and I realize that that is why I have the pills. I am not a junkie, or mid-level drug abuser, scoring the pills from a drive through, somewhere in the hood. I am a patient, recovering from hip replacement surgery, and the new hip causing me a great deal of pain, if I do not take the pills.

Part of this battle of my mind, over taking the pills, comes because I am an alcoholic in recovery from the disease of alcoholism, and I don't want to change my drug of choice, and wind up right back where I was again, and wind up having to pick up a white chip in one of those rooms.

Those rooms save lives, they really do; I have heard about miracles taking place in those rooms, but, in order for me to need to pick up a white chip, I might have to go through hell, first. On that count, I have been through hell, already, for almost 2o years, and I am really enjoying my 18 years of no hell.

------------------------------------------------------

Right now, I am living on food stamps. I have been turned down for unemployment, and I am appealing. My job said that I couldn't come back, because I need six to eight weeks to recover from hip replacement surgery. I have apps in for online writing work. I've got a cutoff notice on a heating bill. I thank the folks who have put money in my tip jar, but I am still asking for you to do the same to help keep the heat, and lights, on here. Thank you, in advance.

------------------------------------------------

I have never soaked my feet before, but I am soaking one of them right now, and I will soak the other one when I am done soaking this one. This is what my Foot Doctor told me to do for the next two weeks: soak each foot twice a day, and then apply the lotion that he gave me samples of, and a prescription for, to my feet after soaking them.

I don't think that I take very good care of my feet; I just walk in them, and expect them to hold out for me. They hold out pretty well, but, recently, both feet have developed blisters. I am diabetic so I am supposed to take extra good care of my feet. I just thought that you ought to have this foot report.
--------------------------------------------------------------

A d.u.i. can be a very lonely experience, though you are surrounded by people who tell you that they are your friends: the arresting officer, the guy, or gal, who drives the van that takes you to your cell, the jailers: they are all there for you.

--------------------------------------------------------------

I need some chocolate. I want some chocolate. I would really like to have some chocolate. Should I break into the bag of chocolate chips that I have in the cabinet for baking chocolate chip cookies?
------------------------------------------------------

I have no one to rub the sample lotion into my left foot, tonight; it is a lonely evening indeed. I can not reach my left foot due to my new hip. Would anyone like to come over and rub lotion onto my foot? Ha, ha!!

Gen Cole commented on your status.

"Hahahaha...ah goodness, reading this made me laugh. you're so funny, Mikel.
I can just see you sitting at one of those retro style kitchen tables with the silver edge, trying to reach your foot and eye-ing the chocolate chips at the same time. Oh goodness!! I hope it gets better for you!!

----------------------------------------------------------

There is just not enough coffee in the cup, tonight.

--------------------------------------------------------------


Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is. Love is.


--------------------------------------------

It snowed, yesterday, and the main thing that happened
was that my internet was knocked out: no snow men were
built, no snow igloos were carved from the snow, I engaged
in no snowball fights.

-----------------------------------------------

I was disappointed to cut the tag off of my pretty fake flowers
and find out that they were made in China. China doesn't play
fair, it seems to me, and it seems that the U.S. plays it stupid
when it comes to China. My flowers are still pretty; I just wish
that they had been made in the U.S.A.

-------------------------------------------

The voice subscriber who I have just called is, "not available."
Why not? I want her to be available.

---------------------------------------------

Mikel,

We wish to inform you that resolved to credit your account with accrued interest of $4.7Million being interest accrued from initial deposit made sometime ago and withdrawn by The Bank Of Ghana. You advised to send your names, address, tel numbers, bank account for transfer within 48hrs.

Regards,
Dr.David
Gregory

---------------------------------------------

I just did my walk daily walk to become one with my new hip. I walked down to the bus stop to prove that I am strong enough to reach it, and then, next, be able to catch a bus to the doctor's office, or, maybe to your place.

I am going to walk to the grocery store on Saturday(Trader Joe's.) I believe that I will be off cane by then, as my Physical Therapist says that Friday is our last day together, and I was supposed to be off can when he and I were done meeting.

I will bring Morisson home this weekend. He will be so excited to be home. I will be so excited to have him home. I have some leg exercises to do, also. I'm going to rest a bit, first, and have a two hardboiled egg, 1 banana snack before I do my exercises.

I passed a black Mercedes on my walk; fairly new, fully nice. It made me wonder if I was a failure, because I am not driving a car like that, that I would like to drive. Should I give up doing what I do, and focus all my energies on a black Mercedes?

I know that, ultimately,a black Mercedes would not make me happy; these memoirs, and poems that I kick out do, and if they bring me a black Mercedes, well then so be it.

I would not be rich selling vacuum cleaners door to door. That is from an old poem of mine. Do you recognize it?

I can't wait until Mo is home!

--Mikel K




She comes in circles

SHE COMES IN CIRCLES.
HE COMES IN SQUARES.

They will never be in love again.

In love again?
In love again?

Will I ever be in love again
or will I always quietly despair?

She lends people money.
I will always be in debt.

I felt like an alien in her world an interloper,
like the tv was always on
and I couldn't change the channel.

I would never be happy rich,
at vacuum cleaner sales door to door

--Mikel K

-------------------------------------

I am an artist standing on the street,
reading my poems. I have a tip jar in front
of me, that people throw dollars in to
show their approval. If you approve of
my poems, please throw throw a tip in the jar.

http://www.mikelk.com/



Some of us don't want to be tied into the machine, and we never did. The machine is harsh; it is evil. it cares only about profits. It must have profits to sustain itself.


People are minor in the machine's play; they are there to be used to make profits.
The machine creates mean people within the machine, who were not mean, until they were accepted into the machine.

What about those of us who care not about profits, who just want to exist?
Do we have to go to some sort of a hippy farm, in the woods, and dance with strangers

----------------------------------------------
Capitalism has afforded me a comfortable hole, where I can hide until it is time to come out with a book. I love my country; there is much good in it. You reading this are good. Those governing us, and most profiting from us may not be so good. I should be thinking about tits, or getting laid. or baseball spring training. What's wrong with me; I must have been dropped, or thrown, on my head when I was a child. Perhaps it was those bloody fights in the Catholic School Parking Lot, where the only thing that happened if you won was that a bigger kid, with greater knowledge of fighting showed up to test you. I got my ass beat, there in the parking lot, and then I got my ass beat when I got home, and told my old man that I had lost a fight. I wonder, now, what kind of a fighter my father was, when he was a kid. Did he win all his fights, or did he just have unrealistic expectations for me?

B's weren't good enough. If I brought home a B, they looked down on my like I was dog shit. What the fuck? You let your young kid get beat up in the parking lot of The Catholic School, and then, when he gets to high school, you treat him like a leper if he doesn't bring home straight A's. No wonder I'm sitting in the chair at a $150 bucks an hour trying to figure it all out.

----------------------------------------------------

When they gave me these pills for pain, they did not say anything about becoming spaced out on them, they didn't say anything about wanting to scratch yourself all the time, they didn't say anything about constipation, about not being able to take a shit for days at a time. They, also, did not say that when you stop taking them, you will feel depressed, alienated, withdrawn, and a bit angry. They didn't say any of this, they just handed me a prescription, when I asked for something for pain, and smiled at me like they were doing me a huge favor.

What the fuck?

----------------------------------------------------

I want to tell everyone to f off, but there is no one here to tell to f off. I am unhappy when there is nothing to be unhappy about. The good thing about this is that there is an end in site. I am not a strung out junkie kicking in a jail cell, or an alley, somewhere: I am right here in this place that I am so comfortable in, this place that I call home. I have been depressed for several days, but I can feel the depression lifting. Maybe I can sell what I have left of the pills, and pay off the heating bill that I am behind on. Scratch that, I can see it now: getting busted for being a dealer; no thanks.

I am really trying to feel sorry for myself, and I am, mostly, succeeding. Me. Me. Me. I have it so hard. My personal problems seem to be exceeding my capability to handle them, though I can't seem to think of what my personal problems are. I have no friends, I say to myself. I am going through this alone, as I go through most all things alone. I am not thinking correctly, and I know it. Best just to shut my mouth, and not piss anybody off.

My physical therapist will get here in a few hours. I'll have to bite my tongue. I got no call from a social worker, like he said I would. They were going to bring me meals on wheels. Now, I will have to fix the meals for myself. What a suck in the butt. And what about this cut off notice that I have for the utility/heat bill. Wasn't there a hope of help there; if she showed?

I was thinking today, on my walk, how social workers are usually women. I guess men are trained that they are supposed to make all the money that they can, and, somehow, the woman becomes the care give; the one who helps you with meal on wheels and the heat bill, if you can hook up with her.

I talked to an old friend today. He has a scar on his forehead from where I hit him with a full beer can years ago. I wasn't mad at him. I was drunk and trying to prove a point. They say chicks like scars. Maybe I have helped him get laid over the years. Anyway, I haven't seen him in 25 years, haven't hit anyone in 20 years. We're supposed to get together, and have coffee this Friday. I would like that. Some people you stay friends with whether even if you haven't seen them in decades. Some people forgive you, when you hit them in the head. I don't even remember doing it, I really don't. I'm fucking glad that I gave up drinking.

______________________

When it comes to feeding my animals, I have had this theory that the more that I feed them the more I love them, and the more that they will love me. With Javi, who is no longer with us, I learned that this theory leads to a fat dog. My cats are quite as pleased with one treat, from the plastic treat container, as they are with two or three. In fact, often, they only eat one treat, and leave the others there for the dogs to get into, an event that I try to prohibit from happening.

Jaggar has really taken to rubbing up against my leg when I go into the kitchen. Usually this is his way of showing me that he wants something, such as aforementioned snack. I would like to be able to rub up against someone, and get something. Ha ha.

--Mikel K

Please put money in my tip jar so I can buy a bottle of Jack Daniels,
and relapse after 18 years. Also, I'll put some towards my heat bill,
that I am behind on. Who needs heat, when you've got Jack Daniels?
http://www.mikelk.com/

-------------------------------------------------------------
Elliot is coming over to visit. Elliot is my grandson, who I don't get to see all that much. Kids grow up and have kids and move away, and there you are by yourself in front of a laptop every day hoping that one day the words will pay off, that one day you will make a buck, and have a car, and be able.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I just walked around the block with my Physical Therapist, sans cane. This is the first time that I have walked anywhere, unassisted, no wheelchair, no walker, no cane in three or four months. I expected a big brass band to be playing when I finished the circle, but there wasn't one there.
Come to think of it, Big Brass bands don't play that often in your, or my, life, do they, and never on our front step? Oh well, I took one giant step for mankind today, me mankind, my step: I'm walking again.
Morisson is coming home on Friday to partake of the Physical Therapy experience; my PT wants to see how I interact with Mo, if I am, now, strong enough to have him around. That dog is going to be so happy to see me, and you know what else..

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't like surgery. I don't like the post pain, I don't like the drugs involved. That said, I am blessed that surgery is what it is. I have a new hip because of surgery, I am not in the intense pain that I was in before surgery. Yeah surgery!

------------------------------------------------------------

I'm not listening to, "The End," tonight. I listen to The Doors, a lot, and the set I pick ends with that song. I don't like the idea of the end, tonight. I have had a couple of rough days due to narcotic withdrawal, from pills that were prescribed to my for my hip replacement surgery. and I am looking forward to a bright new beginning. I have just begun. There is no end to me.

____________________________________

I'm touching my hip more and more, which means that I am not scared of it anymore.

------------------------------------------------
I resisted that late afternoon coffee, and I resisted that late evening coffee, and you know what: I slept the whole night through!! I had a vivid dream about a dear old friend whose main love was crack cocaine; we reveled in being clean and sober. I might be onto something here...not drinking my drug of choice late in the day. I think that I have escaped the evil grip of the pills too. Whuu Hoo!!--------------

----------------------------

My kitty, Jaggar, is a bookworm, of some sort; I have papers, and a book, Cormac McCarthy's, "The Road," if you must know, back from being out on loan to Kevin,
and Jaggar just must lie in them all, all my papers that is.

Weird cat; I might come home and find him reading a book sometime.

Last night, I did not feel like folding the load of clothes that I had thrown on my bed, earlier in the day, so I threw them over all the books that occupy the side of
the bed that I do not occupy, and covered them with a part of my comforter too keep the cats off of them. In the middle of the night I rolled over, and onto the clothes, and something moved: Jaggar. He likes to lay in my papers, and he likes to lay on my clean clothes.

------------------------------------------------

I had a strong urge, this morning, to listen to the guitar intro to The Beatles' song, "Revolution." I think that it would be a great sound for an alarm clock, if I had a shit job somewhere that I had to go to. And I have stayed with The Beatles, since
I listened to that intro. They are not usually one of my top picks to listen to, but
this morning I can fully hear the genius in what they do. Long live John, and George.

---------------------------------------------------

I am off cane, except for in crowded places. I'm moving about the house pretty good, trying to figure out how to make a move or two outside the house. Have you got any time to move with me?

I know that she will say, 'No."

I just know that she will say, "No."

They mostly say, "No," don't they? Can't they see that I am not trying to fuck them, I'm not trying to marry them; I won't beat them up, and break their heart?

I'm just trying to have a cup of coffee with them, enjoy some chat, shake hands, and go on our merry way. She's busy. I'm busy. She's burnt out on, "dating." I have no luck with women, in the romantic sense, so why try and get romantic with them? Just be their friend, enjoy the coffee, have fun looking at her lips while she talks and imagine what she would look like naked on top of you.

Oops!

-----------------------------------------------------------

I've got to walk now; work in this new hip, make it one with me. I called a place, today, that does outpatient physical therapy, which is my next move in this physical therapy game. The man who was coming to see me at the house is through with me. He has had his way with me and I am walking, well, off cane and can climb steps. Please don't tell him that I have the K-Kar waiting in the K-Kave all ready to go, out into the night to fight crime.

-----------------------------------------------------------

My walk today, my second unassisted walk in months, felt uneven, and I did not feel that I had the strength to go around the block, as I had done last night with my PT. I walked to the bus stop, and came home. I put on these shoes for diabetes that the government sent me.

They seemed tight on my feet, the day that they arrived, but today they feel comfortable. They probably need to stretch out, which is what I might should do, but I don't feel like it.

I feel like drinking another cup of Java Dawg, and attacking the laptop keys. I kind of enjoyed the anger that manifest itself over the last few days while I got off of the painpills that I had been taking while my new hip situated itself inside my body. I feel like it gave an energy to my writing that has been lacking since I went mellow. I mean there is only so much peace and love that I can take.

--------------------------------------------------------------

There are one hundred thousand people in front of the stage that I stand on, tonight,
but there is only one person that matters, and she is not here yet. From backstage,
I make a call.

"What's the hold up, love?"

"I'm almost there, dear, traffic is the darndest."

She gets there, gives me a hug, and I step out to do my thing.
I waited when that gal was the only one in the room
there to watch my thing, and I'm still waiting.

The show can't go on without her

version 2

"What's the hold up, love?"

"I'm almost there, dear, traffic is the darndest."

She gets there, gives me a hug, and I step out to do my thing.

I waited when that gal was the only one in the room to show to watch me do my thing, and I'm still waiting for her to show before I begin the show now.

I don't go on without her.
.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I used to be of the streets. I walked the streets from one side of this city to the other. I would beat the train. Before that I ran distance in High School. I'd get out front and stay there. Now, I have trouble walking, and though things are looking good today, there is this little voice in my head that says, "What if this pain doesn't go away? What if I always walk crooked?

Walking is good. You can just walk, or you can walk, and think. I always was a thinker, when I walked. I think that I think less now, than I did when I was unprescribed manic. I haven't felt pain for awhile; life is mostly easy now. I'm blessed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

My Physical Therapist put his fingers on my shoulder, and his eye on his watch
for I don't know how long, and announced that I needed to breath deeper, that
my breath were short. I've never been a heavy breather looking in the windows of the lovelies. On our last visit, my PT said, that my score was 12 and that 12 to 20 was good. My God, I am almost an eleven, I need to breath deeper, harder, longer; somebody help me!

------------------------------------

I'm having dinner, right now. You have a picture of it. You can look at it, if you want, while you have your dinner and be with me. Do you want to be with me?

------------------------------------

Ok, do my daughter was talking about this ice cream shop that hired one of her friends, and she was the first white person that they had hired at the store. She got fired for giving ice cream away, and now they aren't going to hire anymore white people.

I said, "Black people wouldn't do that to white people. The minority when it becomes the majority treats the minority fair, just like they were treated.

What do you think?


------------------------------------

I have eaten enough onions, tonight, to scare off every woman on the planet.

------------------------------------

I'm drinking herbal tea, tonight: Country Peach Passion, instead of having a coffee. I'm testing a new theory; that drinking coffee late at night interferes with my sleeping. I am such a genius.

-------------------------------------
Dear Mikel K,

Thank you for submitting work to The Cortland Review. We regret that we are unable to find, within this submission, poems that work with issues we have immediately forthcoming. Rather than hold your submission longer, we'd rather give you the opportunity to resubmit.

Please keep in mind that we publish writing we believe most appropriate to TCR's style, interests, and editorial tastes for each issue. Therefore, rejection does not imply lack of merit.

In order to keep the submission process fair to everyone (and to help us keep up), we ask that you please wait six months before submitting again.

The Poetry Editors
The Cortland Review
http://www.cortlandreview.com/

----------------------------------------

I chatted, once, with this young lady for a long time, online, and finally we decided to meet. I had trouble finding her, and when I did, she was talking to another guy, so I went home. She said, "Hey," on the internet, and I said, "I
showed but you were busy." She giggled, and said she was sorry. She had invited two guys from the internet.

------------------------------------------

I'm not going to hate. I'm not going to hate the scumbag corporation that I used to work for who is opposing me on worker's comp. They sucked to work for, and
they suck now.

-------------------------------------------

What if Jesus existed, but he didn’t die on the cross, or come back from the dead. How would that suck in the butt for devout Christians. There is no way they are going to allow for that possibility. Me? I'm going to have another herbal tea and see what's happening on FaceBook.


----------------------------
She has an eye condition, and I can't see love for what it is to me: a drug. I'm in love with the idea of being in love, but when it comes to the hard parts I'm gone.
That's one theory, and there are so many different theories when it comes to love,
to my love. I think I am cable of full on love; love that cares, love that is there when you fall, love that is there when you call crying because the boss was a jerk.
I know I have what it takes to make. Baby, I got love, and I can't fake it. Give it to
me. Give it to me. Give it to me!


--------------------------------

She is going to a bar, tonight, to see a band. I left that world. I left that world so far behind that it would make my head spin. I didn't do well in that world: lots of fight and ejections from the club. Did I win the fights? Hell, I don't know; I woke the next morning not even knowing what club I was in the night before. I was such a whore; a prostitute to the bottle. Screw the band, let's get fucked up. And I was a music writer, at the time. I was there to see the band. I was probably on their guest list, and they probably bought the first few cocktails. What a life. I loved it for a long time. I lived rock and roll baby. I gave the scene all that I had.
I pushed it in ink; pushed it with pictures. But I had to quit drinking, and that changed the game. Most music is in bars. I go sometimes, but I don't make a habit of it. Change places "they" told me in the beginning, and I did. I changed from beer and bourbon to coffee. I am coffee drinking mother fucker now.

--------------------------------------------------

My old job is trying to stop me from getting unemployment.

They make millions, and they are trying to begrudge me eighty three dollars a week. I left to have hip replacement surgery, and my former "boss" is trying to make out as if I left to take a cruise in the Caribbean.

I limped out of that bookstore, having stayed to the last possible minute, giving that place every ounce of emotion, and every smile I had.

I was early to work, every day, except one, where I spaced about the schedule. I did what I was supposed to do, and I even did the ridiculous things that that lady, and her corporation, added onto our jobs.

I put up with the pressure, the insults, and kept smiling at our customers as I made their coffee drinks for them. And she, and they, don't want to let me have eighty three dollars a week until I can find another job.

Truly amazing. Truly amazing.



My dog Morisson is home, and I am so glad that he is. A Marshall just knocked on my door, and you know what, in the old days, he would have been looking for me, but, today, he wasn't; I helped him find what he was looking for(my neighbor ouch!) and he went away smiling, not dragging me off in handcuffs! I started looking at MFA in Poetry Programs, today. Do you think that I should try to get a Masters in The Word?


Publication and workshop experience are given consideration but not weighted heavily.

-----------------------------

I'm going to bakc; because I'm a Master Baker. Grandson Elliot will be dropping by on the arm of his father Zero Basement, for a sec, to drop off a guitar for my other son, Graem. Zero, and his lovely, and intelligent, and talented wife, Tomi, don't eat eggs, so I am going to bake an eggless banana bread. I'm not walking real well, today, so this is something good to do. Ya know?

-----------------------------------------------------

What's up? What's up I say to the dog nudging his nose into my hand that is dropped to the side of my chair while I sit at my desk. Morisson is home. Morisson is home. Morisson has been away for over a month now, while I have been in the process of having a new hip placed in my body, and rehabbing such a hip; coming back from being curled in the fetal position in intense pain after the operation to being able to walk without support, finally, just a couple of days ago.

Morisson is glad to be home. I fed him some nice cooked broccoli to celebrate his
return, A Marshal knocked on our front door and Morisson went to the door, and started growling at him. Morisson is the man of the house, since Bundy has not yet come home. Morisson is the Alpah dog in the abode at this moment.

Yeah Morisson. Welcome home. I love you.


-------------------------------------------------------

David Bradley said that Hunter Thompson shot himself in the head because Thompson did not want to get old. I don't want to get old, but I'm going to try to hold off on shooting myself in the head.

Someone, the other day, said that something that I wrote was very Richard Brautiganish. Brautigan shot himself in the head, too.

What is it with writers shooting themselves in the head?

-----------------------------------------------------

I can never touch my toes, again…not that I spent a lot of time touching them before my hip replacement surgery, but, now, I run the risk of dislodging my
new hip if I try to touch my toes. I actually went, in Iyengar Yoga, from not being able to see my toes, to being able to touch them, over a two year period. This also means that I should stay away from shoe laces: such a brave new world that I have entered into with this new hip. I got my card that I show at the airports, that says that I will make the metal detector ring. "Hey Pal, I'm not a terrorist, I got a metal hip…"

----------------------------

4 a.m. wide awake; I just took the dogs out for the first time with the new hip; all went well. I will have to watch Bundy when he gets excited, that he doesn't come running into my left leg. I'm sure that a nap, or naps will be in order today, but for write now it is the word, baby, the word!

---------------------------------------

I've been singing to the dogs: Tom Petty, "I won't back down...Runnin' down a dream." The dogs are the only ones who can listen to my singing, without either turning a radio on, or louder, or just plain running off. I appreciate this, so I throw them both an ice cube. You got to love dogs, Bundy, and Morisson, who love ice cubes for a treat: cheap date!!

I went to The Evil Empire Fast Food Place tonight, and had a fish sandwich, and an ice cream sundae. The girl said, "Which topping do you want, chocolate, or strawberry," and I said both. I hate to support that place, and I mostly don't but sometimes it is fun to eat what is bad for you; my wild Saturday night out, with my friend of over 20 years, Barri Bob.

--------------------------------------


It's too bad that FB doesn't have a interactive video room, where we could all gather and chat. My leg did well, tonight, out on it's own without a cane. I went to Trader Joe's, and picked up a few things, not using the electric cart this time.


It is sooo weird to think where I have been, and come from with this hip. It is so weird to think that I have metal inside me that will set of the alarm at the airport security place. Man, I love living.

-----------------------------------

This 5 a.m. coffee is really amazing. It is like a nectar of The Gods. Of course, I only believe in one God at a time. I think that my youngest boy is coming over for awhile, today. I have a guitar here that he wants. I could have had the guitar go directly to him from his brother, but I saw a chance to squeeze an extra visit out of him. You have to do this type of thing to get your 20 yr. old to hang out with you, sometimes!

Morisson is laying at my feet, as I sit at my desk, grabbing scraps that fall from my face, as I eat oatmeal with pb and banana, and a fruit medley, the kind you buy frozen, and microwave for a minute and eleven seconds to thaw. Bundy, and Jaggar, are laying in the sunshine that pours in our front door. I leave it open in the daytime, so the animals can look out into the world, and see what is happening.




I'm always happy when I eat all my salad. I mean i will eat all the egg, the onions, the cucumber, the celery, and the carrots, and I will eat all the lettuce with salad dressing on it, but when it gets down to the end of the salad, where there is just leafy stuff: salad, or spinach, I often leave it, and that is not good for some kid starving in China.

-------------------

I live near The Park, and people have been parking their cars in front of my abode all day, and heading with their coolers, their love, and many of them with their pets, who they also love, to The Park. There were so many of them, today, that I thought that Paul McCartney was back.


I asked a guy what was up.

He said The Park was packed.

It was because of the weather, Vern, the weather. The mass of man and woman were gathering in The Park to enjoy the sun.

I can not walk well enough to enjoy the park, yet. I limped it to the end of my street, and touched the bus stop.

This is some slow shit, this integrating this new hip with this old body.
------------------

I'm not sure if I should take a nap, or drink a cup of coffee. It is five minutes past my new, "Don't drink any coffee past five," rule; but, if I take a nap, I probably won't go to bed early like I am wanting to, so that I can wake up early, like I want to. You see, it is all about what I want.

----------------------------
There is a bad thunder and lightening storm going on. I woke up with Morisson in the bed with me. The only time that he is allowed in the bed with me is when he is scared. I think that Bundy is affected by the storm, also: poor dogs. Jaggar, one of my cats, looks so scraggy this morning. I guess that it is so early, 4:30 a.m., that he hasn't had to get in front of the mirror with a brush.
---------------------------------

It is a mellow day here at The K Mansion. The dogs and cats have slept most of the day away; the turtles have been very lovely dovey lieing on each other, while on top of their heated rock, for most of the morning. I have been productive. I have been getting things done, supplying guitarist Les Scarborough with lyrics for his next project. I think that Les and I will be a good songwriting team. Go Les!!



Kobain is just such an incredible cat. He greets visitors with a smile, and the next thing that they know they are petting him. I was just doing some exercises for my hips, on my bed, and Kobain came and watched me. Since I got home from the hospital, and rehab, Kobain has been sleeping up against my left leg, right up against the new hip. Is he guarding it for me?

----------------------------------------------
I am thankful to no longer be scratching myself as a result of being on oxycodone. Painkillers, and I, do not agree: I like to keep my thinking pure. Coming off of them was hell, but I made it. "That which does not kill us only makes us grow stronger." I don't know who originally said this, but I believe it. It is five 30 a.m. I am wide awake, and thankful to be alive. The cats have had their morning snack, and the dogs have gone back to sleep.

--------------------------------------------


When I left Rehab, my physical therapist told me that, when I went grocery shopping, I should use one of those electric gizmos that you see parked at the front of the store, that you sometimes see shoppers with canes riding around in. Well, for the past several weeks, I have been one of those shoppers with canes, going up and down the isles in the golf cart like vehicle picking up my groceries.

Saturday, I walked with a regular shopping cart. Becoming one with my new hip, is often a series of baby steps. Getting to where I walk without a can took awhile. Getting to where I can be a regular old shopper at the grocery store took awhile. Losing the pain in my hip, and legs is taking awhile.

I am blessed to be where I am. I sometimes touch my new hip, and thank it for being there. I want to be one with it.
-------------------------------------------------------

A multi-million dollar corporation is trying to deny me eighty three dollars a week in unemployment payments. I left the job with a hip that was headed for surgery a week later, and they are trying to say that I left, "voluntarily."

I am amazed by the greed, and meanness of some people.
----------------------------------

I was about to stand up from my desk and go make oatmeal; I looked down and there was Morisson standing next to me. I looked around for Bundy: he was asleep on the floor, so I was able to get some good one on one time with Mo, without Bundy pushing in. I gave Morisson a good scratching; I mean a good scratching. I scratched him from head to toe; and for awhile. Then I stopped and put my hand on my wheelchair, to get up. Mo wasn't haven't it. He wasn't done getting scratched! He stuck his nose in my hand, making it impossible to get up, making it impossible to do anything but scratch him again! Got to love that Morisson!
---------------------------------------

My legs feel much better, today. Yesterday, I was sure that I would have to have Hyalgan, or some other similar drug shot into my knees twice a year; I have been praying not to have such occur. I just had the greatest cup of coffee: Java Dawg, of course. It looks a bit overcast out there, today; is it supposed to rain?

------------------------------

I'm supposed to do my hip exercises three times a day, and because of the pain, I have only been able to do them once a day. This morning, I am virtually pain free, so I am going to start on my exercises early, in the hope that later in the day, I can do them, again. I had to skip my walk, yesterday, because of the pain. The pain is not in my new hip, it is in my knees. I don't want to have to get new knees. What if they could give you a new heart and soul, ones with more empathy for your fellow man, and animals, ones that filled you with love, instead of greed, a need to help people, instead of make money off of them. Would you do the transplant?
--------------------------------------

It is time to change the turtles' water. This whole place needs a spring cleaning. I'm a bit of a slob, but like Rev Rebel, Billy Fields, said yesterday, "When it comes to making art, or cleaning; the cleaning ain't gonna get done!" I'm listening to AM 1690 that kool Avondale Estates radio station, and sippin' on The Java Dawg! Are you on the time clock?

----------------
My dogs like cucumber; Morisson likes it more than Bundy, but Bundy will eat that first hunk of it that you toss him. Morisson will eat three hunks, one of them being the second one thrown to Bundy that he didn't eat. The turtles have clean water; they love it. They are smiling at me from their tank, right now. I should soon have hot water, her again, in the abode: the landlady is on the property!

-------------------


My phone rang, "Unkown," and thinking that it might be someone who I was waiting, and wanting to talk to, I picked it up.

A woman with a very pleasant voice, said, "Mikel," and I said, "Yes."
We have sent you some material in the mail, she continued, and I am thinking
that, yes, this is the woman who I have been wanting to talk to.

Then she goes, "Your Capital One Credit Card is in our legal dept.," and I
realize who I am talking to.

So I say, "Did you say Mikel, Mikel K?"

"Yes," she says.

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is Mikel A., Mikel K moved out."

"Do you know where to find him?" she asks.

"No, he lost his job, and has fallen on some hard times.

"What about his phone number?"says the lady.

"He can't afford a phone."

These guys sent me a letter saying they were jacking my rate,
so I went and finished my tattoo on the card, had a nice Indian lunch,
and bought some soda, and candy for myself to max it out. Then I
cut it up, and threw it out, and I will never pay them a penny.
Play fair I play: fuck the credit card companies.


I walked Morisson, for the first time, with my new hip. We didn't go far, maybe 15 car lengths, but it's a start. Morisson seemed happy about it; Bundy wasn't: he pressed his nose to our front door and yowled the whole time that me, and Mo, were walking. What a spoil sport!!
-----------------------------------------------

There are so many unwanted animals, just like there are so many unwanted people on the planet. Life is sad for so many beings. China has disconnected the internet in a part of China where race riots are going on. People are killing each other on the streets, and one of the solutions that The Chinese Government has is to take away the internet.

Images are important. People are dieing but we don't want anybody to know, especially during The Olympics when we are trying to look good.

I hope that we can find a home for Marley. Marley, the 2 year old lab/golden house trained puppy, who loves to do tricks is being kicked out of his house on Friday. Do you know anyone who can provide a home for Marley. Please let me know.

--------------------

There is an old saying that "opinions are like assholes, everyone's got one, and they all stink." I really don't know what is going on in China beyond the fact that this kid that my kid knows just got back from there with that report from his hood in China. Cuba, I know nothing about. All I know about is Morisson, Bundy, Kobain, Jaggar, and The Turtles. Remember that show, "Hogans' Heroes," well I am Sgt. Schultz, "I know nothing. I see nothing. I say nothing!!"

---------------------

Good morning. I feel great this a.m. I am not sore, or in any pain. I am learning that exercise is the key to a pain free arthritic existence. My daughter dropped by, & got ready for skool, here, which was nice. Even if it is only minutes, I love my time with her. We are still looking for a home for Marley, the 2 year old lab/golden that becomes homeless on Friday. I am keeping my fingers crossed: we do have a lead!
My dog, Bundy, is funny. He will act all submissive to me, but the minute I turn my back, he goes ahead and does what he wants to do. I want my dogs to be free, and I want my dogs to be happy.

Bundy is a good dog; his behavior improves every day: he was a bit bi-polar when I first inherited him. The areas where he still has trouble are 1) going ballistic when someone is at the front door, and 2) being overly friendly to the person that he has just gone ballistic on, once I have calmed him down, and let the person inside our home.

I often wonder if Bundy would go off on someone who broke into our home; if he would bit them, take care of business, scare them off, or if he would just bark at them violently, while they are outside, and then look for love from them, once they are inside our home, and on their way to put their hands on my laptop.

I hope that I never have to find out. Bundy sounds so mean, when someone comes to the door, that I would think that you would have to be stupid to kick our door in, but some b and e folk are not scared of dogs. I know, because we once lost 2 lap tops, with four dogs in the house, one of them being Bundy, who was then a puppy.

My dogs will often not approach their food until I have made it fully clear which bowl is for them, even though, each and every day, they eat out of the same bowl, that sits in the same place on our floor.

Morisson holds back, sheepish in behavior, until I put my toe on his bowl, rattle it, and say, "Morisson," several times. Bundy backs off his bowl, until I leave the
area of the bowl.

I love my dogs. It is fascinating to watch their behaviors, and a pleasure to share this space with them. They are good to my cats, good to my turtles, and good to me.

What more could a man want out of life?

------------------------------------------

I was going to change the kitty litter box, but, then, Kobain went in, and used it, so I am, uh, going to wait. I am enjoying a nice cup of 4:15 p.m. Java Dawg Jamaica Mountain coffee, while writing a new song for Les Scarborough. It's nice out; I'm fixing to take my new hip walk. Life is grand.

--------------------------------------------

I just did a 16 minute walk, around the block, near the abode. Considering that a little over a week ago, I was still on cane, I have to be happy with this. It is a slow process, becoming one with a new hip, but it is working out. I feel bad that I have to leave the dogs at home, while I go for a walk on my own, but that is just how it has to be for right now; Morisson takes it better, than Bundy. Bundy wants his walks, while Morisson understands, and is patient.

------------------------------------------------------

I'm going to violate my 5 p.m. curfew on coffee, today, because I am going to go to bed later than my new 9pm to 10 pm cutoff time. I feel like partying with this book that I am reading, called, "Free The Animals."

In the book, The ALf, Animal Liferation Front, has just saved 33 cats from being experimented on at Howard University.

Right on. Right on: save The Animals.

--------------------

Morisson just took the most lengthy pee of his life; he was at it for almost a half hour, or so it seemed. Mo, and I, walked again, tonight, this time further, and I felt stronger. Morisson seems to know that he can't pull me on the leash, and that he has to chill a bit. I would not have such luck with Bundy; that is why he is not getting walks right now. Does anybody want to walk Bundy?

-----------------

"Dolphins commit suicide in captivity,"--Jacques Cousteau

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Lala.com has a Randy Newman section that has 377 songs by Mr. Newman that you can listen to in a row. I just had a toasted raisin English muffin with peanut butter on it, and I think that's about it for today. It was a great day to be alive, you know?

-------------

Kobain has gotten to the point where the cat thinks that, every time I go into the kitchen, he is going to get something to eat. He stands over his bowl, giving me a sad, sad look. Do you know how fat that cat would be if I fed him every time that I walked into my kitchen? Half the time that I am in the kitchen I am not even preparing food. Get a grip Kobain!

---------------------

Scout tore her pants, and needed a new pair from here at the house; I was glad to serve. There are great things about living five or six houses away from you kid's high school, and this was one of them. I wound up walking a bunch of stairs at the school, my first stair workout with the new hip. It went well. Now I'm going to soak my feet.

--------------------------------

Milton sucks

I had one class left, for the second time in my life, to graduate from college. The first time it was a Real Estate Finance class, that I needed to pass, to get my business degree from FSU. I flunked the class, and wandered away from campus, hungover, but nor far from my next drunk, and very, very depressed. I had started college out as an honor's student, and had wound up flunking out. Happy hours, two for one drink nights, and Fraternity keg parties had beaten me. I was 21 and very miserable.

It was thirteen more years before I put the bottle down. At five years sober, I decided to go back and get the degree that had eluded me when I was drinking, but this time I was going to get the degree that I wanted, a writing degree, and not the one that people were telling me that I could get a job with: business.

I went to school part time for a couple of years, and I had one class to go to get the degree, again, this time a class about the British poet, John Milton, this time to get an English degree with a journalism minor, and I flunked the class.

The teacher said that, "I did not know Milton."

Twice now, I had failed to receive my college degree by one class. What should I do? Blow it off; say that it wasn't my destiny to wear the cap and gown, and hang a degree on my wall for all the world to see?

Fuck no.

I wanted that degree. I had put too much time, and money into not getting it.
(To be cont.)


It's the literary agent part of the writing game that has me on hold now. I have two memoirs fully written, "The Delivery Guy," and, "Did You Write The Book Of Love?" I sent query letters to 62 agents for, "The Delivery Guy," and get 62 rejection letters; cold calling was what I was doing, working names from lists that I found on the internet. I started to do the same thing, today, for The Book of Love, but it seemed stupid to start again on something that had resulted in failure before. I think that I may just keep writing, and wait for that door of opportunity that I know is waiting for me, as a writer, to slip, first, my foot in..

-----------------------------------------

I just took a nap. I might take another nap; and then another nap, and then another nap.

------------------------------------------
Bundy is guarding the front door; Morisson is asleep, and so is Kobain. As is mostly the case, I don't know where Jaggar is; he often likes to hide. The turtles are going at it in their aquarium, kissing each other, biting each other, chasing each other about their box. I just had dinner, and am now listening to a "Rare" Doors cd that came out on Rhino awhile back, and that you can get one free listen to on Lala.com. I'm going to break my no coffee after 5 p.m. coffee rule, in just a minute here. Kennedy supposedly said, "If a law sucks, break it."

-----------------------------------------------------


Take a minute, to take a minute, to take a minute and breath.

-------------------------------------------------------

The bad thing about coffee is that the cup drains too quickly. I don't know how often I have reached for my cup to get another swallow, and there was no swallow within the cup. There are worse problems than this out there, like hunger, and war, but I am blessed to be faced, in this abode, with no more a crisis than a coffee cup that empties too soon. And, of course, there is a solution: fill it...far out, man!!

--------------------------------------------------------

I have had no hot water for five days, now, and I just woke to find that the internet is, again, out. In the old days, I might have flipped out, but, fortunately, today, I can take it in stride: both the hot water, and the internet will return.

There is a reason for everything, and I do not always know that reason, but can have faith that it exists.

But, the real question is: it's four a.m. What the heck am I doing awake?

I just made a call to the cable company. There is an outage in my area, and technicians are working to have it fixed, said the man at the cable company. I'll call my landlady, again, later, today, and find out about the hot water.

Neither problem is insurmountable, or so terrible that my life is ruined by it. You just have to have patience sometimes; patience, my man, patience.
----------------------------------



Awake at four a.m. to find the internet out. It came back on, though, wheewwwwwww!! I am lost without the internet; I really am. I am a junkie; and the internet gives me my fix

-----------------------------------

My hip has been fixed; and now I am going to have to work on my knees. I will probably have to have a series of shots put into them. I was really trying to avoid this, but the pain in, especially my right knew is such that I may not be able to avoid it. There is a twenty dollar co-pay on each shot, though, and there are like six shots. Not have money can be quite a dilemma; you know?!

----------------------------------

I love orange juice, but it is not often that I give myself the pleasure of it, because it is laced with sugar, and I am a diabetic.

-----------------------------------

Growing old might just be painful. At age 52, I have suffered pain so bad in my left hip that I had to get a new hip, and I am experiencing pain in my knees. Some days it feels as if my whole body is racked with pain. This really is a pain. Can I trade my mind, my heart and my soul in for a new body?

-------------------------------------
Bundy is at the door, alternately growling, and barking at my neighbor, as the gets the last of his things out of his apt.(moving out time.) Morisson is at my feet, as usaul. I have no ideas where the cats are, and the turtles are right next to me in their box. It is a strongly sunny day out there, still cold, I'm betting. I just had a coffee(Java Dawg):

--------------------------------------

It is beautiful outside; I took Mo out, and the next thing I knew we had walked the big block around my house, the second time that I had done that route, since my surgery, and the first time for Mo, and I. My legs felt strong; very little pain. A lady on the walk told us that it was, "going to be 50, later in the day." Yeah!

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I've been listening to Nick Cave all morning, now I'm going to back my empty bags, and walk to the grocery store. This is a first with the new knee, and is the first grocery shopping that I have done without Kevin driving me. Woot. Woot.

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I think that I am owed a nap for a day full of two full walks: one, with Morisson around the block, early this morning, and two, to the grocery store, and back, with groceries. Both walks are firsts; first long walk with a dog with the new hip, and first time grocery shopping unassisted with the new hip. Yes, I am owed a nap, but I think that I will have a cup of Java Dawg first. Do you ever drink coffee before your nap?

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Sugar Kayne is in The K Playa: "Vertical Enhancement," is the cd, and The Sugar Kayne song that I can't get enough of is, "U4REA." U$REA U4REA U4REA...CAN YOU FEEL IT?!! I am partying hardy tonight, guzzling Java Dawg Coffee, and working my hip exercises. I need to play the them to Rocky when Sugar is done!!

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I am up and at em at 8:33 a.m. I made a perfect cup of coffee, this morning,; I really did. I'm going to a big party, tonight, with Art Linton. Keep your fingers crossed: Holly, the woman, meets Marley the dog,, this afternoon to decide if she is going to bring him home with her. It looks like a nice day out there: yeah, for us!!

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I'm writing some songs for Les Scarborough. I just had my breakfast. I let the dogs out. I'm contemplating the universe. I'm about to eat some chocolate: yeah!!

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Hot tea with milk in it, and chocolate on the side...Yummmmmmmmmm!!

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After five or six days, the hot water is back on, and I am about to take a luscious shower. I'm partying tonight, with Art Linton; a guy named Kyle is celebrating his birthday, by having this killer band play in his house, and a big bonfire outside his house. I'm going to dress warm, and I am getting read for all the great food that is supposed to be had. Oliver Wood, and Charlie Wooten, two of out town's top players are in the band that is going to play. This is the first party that I have taken my new hip to; my hip is really looking forward to it.

-------------------------------------

I haven't been baking a lot since I got my new hip in. I have just baked one batch of chocolate chip cookies, and two banana breads, one with no eggs, for my oldest boy, and his wife, and one regular banana bread, that I cut into slices and froze.

I need to buy some more flour. My holiday cooking wiped me out, and since I did not want to stand on my legs for a long time in the kitchen, due to my new hip, I have not been concentrating on my baking. My youngest son's birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. I should try to bake him a cake for that event.

Graem will be 21, old enough to have his first drink: ha, ha!

----------------------------------------

Bundy and I did about a quarter of the block walk, this morning, which is a record for he, and I with my new hip in place . Bundy did a good job of listening to me when I said, "Back," which is my command for him to quit straining on our leash. I did not have to pull on the leash back on him very much, on this walk, which was rewarding. Not only were I, and my new hip happy, Bundy was happy. My dog, Bundy, loves to walk, and we have done virtually no walking for months,
because of the past condition of my hip.

Then, after I dropped Bundy back at the abode, and put a leash on Morisson, Morisson and I walked the whole block that surrounds our home. Morisson is easier than Bundy to walk; he rarely pulls me on the leash.

With the combination of these two dog walks, I set a new record for length walked with the new hip, when you add Bundy's quarter of a block walk to Morisson's full block walk.

It's been a good morning, and since I got all this walking in so early in the day, I should be able to do more walking, later this afternoon.

My new hip loves it when I walk!

------------------------------------------

It is a new day, and I am thankful to be here.

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I just took my second walk to the grocery store with my new hip. The arthritis in my right knee was causing my slight pain, but, overall, it was a good walk. I'm going to take my new hip on its first bus ride, tomorrow, to see Dr. Wadsworth, my primary care physician, & then I am going to take my new hip into Little Five Points for the first time, to go to The Credit Union. My knee hip, and I, are moving right along.

-------------------------------------------

I mostly have small glasses of orange juice, when I have orange juice in the house at all, because of its high sugar content, but just now I had a huge glass of OJ whole eating some veggie chips. I loves me some OJ; I really do.

--------------------------------------------

This nap that I just took was good for my knee

----------------------------------------------

I'm having a nice 4:45 pm cup of coffee, while Bundy growls at the mail person at the front door. Today was a day that was a bit inhibited by right knee pain. I'll probably have to get "The Shots," that my doctor has talked about. It is supposed to rain around noon, tomorrow, which sucks because I have a doctor's appt. at two, and wanted to go to my credit union after that. The weather needs to do what I need it to do!

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My turtles are amazing: they fight, they frolic, they chase each other about the aquarium; they kiss, they eat, they lay on their rock, below their heat lamp. What an existence. Do we, too, live in boxes?

------------------------------------
I'm breaking my own, "No coffee after 5 pm rule, and have a 7:58 cup of Java Dawg in the Peace, Love, Coffee mug. I'm supposed to take a bus to the doctor's office, tomorrow, but I think that snow is going to block me from that. Have you ever kissed a snow man?

-------------------------------------------------


You have to make laws so these assholes don't dump their waste in our water, and even then they still sneak about and dump their shit in the waters. It fucking amazes me, one, that they do such a sick thing, and two, that they get away with doing such a thing. What am I missing here?

--------------------------------------

Abandoned cry out not/be at peace with now

--------------------------------------

head sliced from aggravation/toast and butter it

------------------------------------

My dogs are acting weird tonight; they are sitting at my left elbow, and staring at me. I don't know what they want. Maybe Morisson hears thunder and lighting. He was at my elbow first; Bundy just followed him, as Bundy often does, because Bundy thinks that he is missing out on something. Mo might have to take a number two. He didn't take one this morning, or just awhile ago when we went out. I hope that he is not constipated. Having just come through a bunch of that myself, while I was on the narcotics that they prescribed for the pain that came with my hip replacement surgery, I can tell my dog that it is no fun.

I ate pig the other night, the first full portion of meat that I have eaten in a year and a half; and when I woke up the next morning, I was very tense. I had the tension of that pig in me, the tension that it felt as it was force fed and pumped full of hormones, the tension that it felt from living in overcrowded cages, where he or she was forced to walk in its own shit. The tension that that pig felt as it was being killed was in me, also.

It was a horrible feeling.

-----------------------------------------

I'm a bit ADD, today; I can't really concentrate on anything. I know that I don't need Ridlin; I just need time for this to pass away. Perhaps there is too much caffeine in my system. Yesterday, I drank coffee, non-stop, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. Most everybody where I was drinking coffee was drinking beer, so I bet that I felt a lot better, this morning, than the lot of them.

-----------------------------------------

Good Morning. Good Morning. It is raining out there, a bit, and it is supposed to snow. I cracked the front door for the cats and dogs to peek out at the world from; they like to be informed. My morning coffee is nearly perfect. The turtles are quiet right now. Thank you, Higher Power, for letting me see this new day.

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The dogs are fighting for my attention, this morning, as usual. Morisson comes and stands next to me, at my desk, waiting for me to pet him, and when I do, Bundy looks up from his perch at the front door, and comes trotting over to push my hand off of Morisson's head onto his own.

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It's snowing. I moved my doctor's appointment to Thursday. I don't want to take a chance of falling in the snow, and back to the surgery room for hip work I would go.

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The snow stopped, and there is hardly any on the ground. I think that you would have to scrounge to get enough snow to make a snow person, maybe steal some snow from your neighbors house, and incorporate it into your snow person. I need to take the dogs out. I can't remember if we went out this morning, but I don't think that we did. I'm about to have a coffee, number 3 for the day. I am having trouble staying awake, despite the coffees. I just took a nap, but I feel like it wasn't enough. I have some work to do. I can't be napping now.

---------------------------------------------------

Scout has ten more minutes to nap; she said to wake her at 5:30 p.m., and she's the boss. The boss made a nice blueberry, banana smoothie, before she dropped off. It didn't even occur to me that we had the fixins in the house for a smoothie: teenagers are just so often smarter than you, or me.

---------------------------------------------------
The banana breads came out of the oven perfect, as usual. Most things that I do, I do perfectly, because I am perfect. The biscuits came out perfect also, perfect like me; you know what I'm saying.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Kitty Jaggar let me know that his bowl of water was empty by drinking out of my cup of water that I keep on my desk with me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A lady from the unemployment office was supposed to call me, almost a half hour ago, and connect me with my old boss. The three of us were then to discuss whether I was to get eighty three dollars a week in unemployment benefits. I don't know what is up, but in a few minutes, I am going to call the unemployment office and see if I can find out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm torn between taking a nap, and having a cup of coffee. Maybe I will have a cup of coffee, and then take a nap. It is a beautiful day out there, full of sunshine, a bit cold, but the dogs loved being out in it, and I live to do what the dogs want.

-----------------------------------------------------
The Doctor just put a shot in my knee. The needle was evil. It loomed as large as The Empire State Building, so I pulled down my sunglasses, and closed my eyes to not see it enter my knee. They used to have to hold me down to draw blood, or give me a shot, but I learned the close my eyes trick.

The doc said we would try a steroid first, and, then, if that didn't work, we would go to the jell shots, which require me showing up at the doctor's office five weeks in a row. My knee feels better already. I should be able to do my exercises, tonight, and get a walk in. My knee was keeping me from doing that: bad knee.

---------------------------------------------------------

She says that I am strong, but she is the one who is strong, dealing with anxiety, and depression, dealing with a broken heart, dealing with getting used, and abused by a man.

The only challenge I have had today is that the unemployment appeals office had one number in my phone number wrong, so they called someone else, for my appointment with them, and my former employer, this morning, and now I have to see if they will reschedule me or just blow me off like a starving dog in the bad part of town. My new hip looks great according to the doctor, and the shot that I just got should allow me to function without pain. I hate pain, Michelle, I simply hate it. Have you ever played tennis? I played it as a kid, as well as golf, baseball, soccer, track...I was quite a skinny little jock, as a kid.


-----------------------------------------------------------------

I have some friends who refuse to allow me to call a raisin biscuit a raisin biscuit.
I think the name that they have for them is, "scones." Honey, I don't bake no scones; I bakes me some biscuits, and when I put raisin in my biscuits they become raisin biscuits: no foolin'.

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My dog, Bundy, guards our front door like credit card companies protect the money that doesn't belong to them that they gained legally.

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My doctor seems angry. He put a shot in my knee, today, with the longest needle that I have ever seen. I had to pull my sunglasses down, and close my eyes to weather that storm. My doctor apologized for being in a hurry, as he scurried out of the the room. He had told me that he was putting a steroid shot in my knee.

I just found out on the internet that this means that he shot my knee up with cortisone.

I didn't really want a cortisone shot. As I understand it, cortisone would be just a temporary fix for the pain in my knees that I have from osteoarthritis. I asked about jell shots, and my doctor said that, "the jell shots would require a shot a week for five weeks."

I guess that we are trying out the cortisone to see if that holds us off of the jell shots. You would think that if I am going to let a man stick a large needle in my knee, that I would know more about what is going on. Blind faith in a doctor is probably not a good policy, though this doctor did a great job of removing my old hip, and putting a new one in.

I used to take chances with my life, in the old days, do things that put my life at risk while I was under the influence of drugs, or alcohol. I guess that I am better off taking a chance with this doctor, and his long needle.

There is no pain in my right knee tonight, which is a great relief. I am even betting that I can start exercising, again, tomorrow.

Say a prayer for me, will you?


-------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't find my dental floss. I know that I have some somewhere around here, but where is the question. I ate this neat fruit medley, tonight, with dinner; very tasty stuff; they come frozen, and you put them in the microwave for about a minute, and woola you have a great fruit side dish to add to your meal.

There are a lot of small seeds in the berries, and I have this one spot in my teeth, in the very back that is a small seed gatherer. and that is why I need the dental floss. My toothbrush proved inadequate; I hope that it doesn't get a complex.

__________________________________________

I'm trying to get hooked again, on the internet, and, as usual, it is a loser situation because she lives a million miles away. There are more reasons why this relationship would not work out: she likes to talk endlessly about the guy who just dumped her. I mean, who wants to hear all that. "It was a sexual relationship," she said, "And he didn't want to commit." So, they banged for almost a year: gee, thanks for sharing.

"He is like my dad," she added. Golly gee, have I been down this road before, and often, recently. There are so many women out there who are hung up on their dads, how their dads treated them as a kid, how their dad treats them now. It's kind of hard for me to hang out with a gal who is always talking about her father: it just seems kind of weird to me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I was a kid, I went to Ireland with my parents, and there are two things that I remember about Ireland; one is the chocolate, how luscious it was, and two my grandmother, and how pissed off she got at me for shooting a rubber tipped arrow into my cousins eye. I guess we were playing cowboy and Indians, or something, and, this time, the cowboy got the worst of it. Well, actually, the Indian, or I, got the worst of it. I don't think that my Grandmother beat me, but
as they say in the old country, "She put the fear of Jesus in me."

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I am taking the dog out, and then I am taking myself to bed. What a beautiful day it was; not everything went my way, but I no longer expect it to, and it is all about expectations, isn't it darling?

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I just spilled coffee all over my shirt, and legs. I wear gym shorts in the house, but the coffee didn't burn me. I'm so glad that I have coffee, this morning; I am glad for every morning that I have coffee.

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A social worker just came to see me. He seemed amazed that I was able to pay my bills. When I think about it, I am amazed that I can pay my bills. At this point in my life, recovering from hip replacement surgery, I have had help paying my bills. My son's mother has been the most helpful. She has given me money of her own, and, also, money that other people have given her to help me out.

People on the internet have helped me out, also. My friend, singer songwriter Cindy Craven, set up an online tip jar for me, where people can click on it, and put money in Pay Pal for me. A lot of people responded to the fact that the utility company was threatening to cut off my heat. I am very thankful for this.

Sometimes, you feel like you are alone in this world, but you really are not.

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I have a doctor's appointment at 2:15 p.m., today. This one is with my Primary Care Physician. When I go to see her, one of my doctor's primary concerns is
my blood sugar, because I am diabetic. This means that I can't eat until after I see her. Usually, I make the appointment for around 10 a.m., which makes it not very hard to fast until the visit.

It is killing me today, to not be able to eat. I am starving, frankly. I must remember to make the appointments earlier in the morning, from now on. I can't even have a cup of coffee because of the Stevia, and cream that I put in it.

I am so put out, poor, poor me; do you feel for me? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

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I'm going to live. (The doctor says so.) Yeaaaaaaaaah. I rode public transportation for the first time, with my new hip, to get to the doctor's office; let's hear it for independence! The checkout girl at Trader Joe's gave me some yellow lillies, in honor of my new hip. She was so sweet. Nice people are out there; sometimes it just takes a minute to run into them. The bus driver was uptight; like her world sucked. She could barely say hello. Who knows what was up with her. Maybe her best friend just killed herself, and she couldn't take the day of to mourn. I gave her my best smiles, my best hellos; what else can you do. Some people say hello to each other on the sidewalk, and in the various places that people run into each other, like the lobbies of doctors' offices. Some people keep their head down, and walk right by you; different strokes for different folks. Just do the best you can with what you got; and keep on keepin' on.

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I don't feel like cooking, tonight, so I am going to see if coffee and banana yogurt with mixed berries will suffice for dinner. I set some fish to thaw in the sink, early this morning, and it is ready to cook. The yogurt might stimulate my appetite, and, thus, increase my desire to cook. The coffee may keep me where I'm at, basically skipping dinner for a night.

I lost 20 pounds since the last time that I weighed myself, several months ago.

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The Jester crawled out of his bedroom window when he was 14, and if he had stayed in that house he would never have become who he became.

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Hide your roaches from the law hide your roaches from your in-laws it wouldn't do for them to see them running across the sink.

-------------------------------------------
What is the perfect moment?

-------------------------------------

I learned today that, Naps should be limited to 45 minutes and avoided after 4:00 p.m.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am sad: my swordfish was too fishy. It tasted like polluted ocean. It tasted like what some corporation felt was their right to dump in our water. Some corporaton f**cked up my dinner.

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I am thankful to be breathing the air of another new day. My new hip, and I, are going about the town, today, doing a few errands: we are almost one! I need a vacuum cleaner; does anyone have an extra one? I have made an almost perfect coffee this morning, and I am off to sip on it. I hope that your day is beautiful!

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I am taking my new hip out into the world; I have several errands to run via bus, and on foot, one of them being going to the downtown library, and finding some good books to read. It is cool out there, but sunny, a near perfect day. I am glad to be alive.

-------------------------------------------------

It'll work out, man. It will all work out. You don't have to run the show, bro; it will work out.
------------------------------------------------

We've discussed the perfect moment, now tell me about the worst moment of your life.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I'm listening to Black Flag, and drinking coffee: how TOUGH is that?!!

------------------------------------------------------------------

They had to mess with milk; put sugar in it. They had to mess with the sky; tint it the color of your eyes: grey. They had to mess with my paycheck; leave me short, no choice for me in the choices they make. We all have to look alike, act alike, think alike: it's a rule.

------------------------------------------------------------------
They had to mess with milk; put sugar in it. They had to mess with the sky; tint it the color of your eyes: grey. They had to mess with my paycheck; leave me short, no choice for me in the choices they make. We all have to look alike, act alike, think alike: it's a rule.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Long walk today. The beginning of ab exercises. Hip exercises for the new hip. I've got to incorporate exercise into my life. I did some Yoga, but I felt very tenuous about it; not sure what I can do, and what I can't. I don't want to snap my new hip out of place. Ouch that would be.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I will never get as good at Yoga, as I wanted to. Wait, that sentence is completely wrong: I am on a path, and my Yoga is part of that path. I have not been able to
go to class for months, due to degenerative hip disease caused by osteoarthritis,
but now that I have had the hip replacement surgery, and have been rehabbing the hip, I see my Yoga light lit at the end of this beautiful tunnel that I am in. There are certain poses that I will not be able to do, but there are other poses that I can spend even more time with, as a result. I will be better at Yoga, than I was before, better than I thought that I was going to be. There is no better in Yoga,
there just is.

------------------------------------------------------------

What color socks are healthier?
Should you pick your nose, and drive,
and talk on the cell phone?

-------------------------------------------------------------

She and I have the same problem: we are too much about ourselves. I can see it clearly in her, but I have trouble seeing it in me. We keep doing things to ourselves to make ourselves feel better. We get a pedicure. (Yes, I get pedicures.) We go to the gym. We get our hair done. But none of that works: we still feel miserable.

They tell me that the solution to this is to help others; that by helping others we get out of our own head. I have been talking about volunteering at Mr. Theresa's AIDS hospice. It is located not too far from where I live. I need to do this. I need to help someone besides myself. I need to get out of my head by helping others.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe that is too extreme. I am scared to be around death. Maybe I can go give blood instead. Maybe I can spend more time with my children (good luck). I think that I am way better about the me, me, me thing than I used to be. I am nearly perfect, really; thank you.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Mozart's dad was a minor composer. He quit composing when he realized how good that his son was at composing: ain't life a bitch?!

I like Mozart; he is, some how, mellow and psychotic at the same time. Just when you think that the violent roller coaster ride that he has just taken you on is over, he grabs you by the testicles and pulls you onto the flying wheel ride.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

If you were on a ship, and it was capsizing, you would know what to do, but if your country was capsizing, you would not be able to act as certainly. In fact you might not even know that your country was capsizing, and neither would I. So there we would be, in a capsized country. What next?

---------------------------------------

My dog Morisson loves me, and he craves attention from me, but if he could he would run away from me; because that is just the kind of dog that Morisson is:
he loves to wander. The last time that he wandered, someone found him dodging fast moving cars on a busy street, so now, my dog Morisson, never gets off leash.
He might not think so, but I am doing him a favor. I really am.

----------------------------------------

There is not a long line of women standing at my door, like there probably were at J.D. Salinger's place when he was alive, but all that will change. It just takes one good book, delivered to the masses to make the opposite sex see how truly beautiful you are, no matter what you look like.

-----------------------------------------

There is this area of my penis that has started to itch, so I rub lotion on it to make the itch going away. I keep rubbing, and rubbing.

------------------------------------------

I'm grooving to Turkish March by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It is a frivolous piano piece that makes me smile. Someone is operating a buzz saw at a nearby
house; that sound makes me frown. It is like dragging your teeth on a chalkboard.

------------------------------------------

Violins are so serious.

-------------------------------------------

I am like a surfer; when there is a wave I want to catch it, and the wave that I speak of is a wave of enthusiasm. I am enthusiastic for most things for only as long as it takes for the wave to break, and then I am off to catch the next wave.
What interested me yesterday, may very well hold no interest for me, today.
I am a Gemini, the cusp: is that the reason?

---------------------------------------------

We are celebrating my son's birthday, today. This is the second year in a row, where I have not a dime to give him. I refuse to buy anyone a card, if I don't have money to put in it. I will give him a handshake and a smile, and when I hit the big time, I will pay him back for all the birthdays that I have missed.

----------------------------------------------

They are always working on the place, but nothing ever seems to get done.

----------------------------------------------

I have no present, but I am present; does that count?

-----------------------------------------------

There are certain neighborhoods where the risk is great of getting shot. What do you do about this if you can't afford to move. You wait to die, while working in your garden because some kids want your wedding ring.

-----------------------------------------------

They shot him in front of his own home. His wife, and three small children were inside. They didn't have to shoot him, but one of the teenagers had a gun, and he had to show everyone how bad he was.

--------------------------------------------------

My new titanium hip went through its first metal detector, yesterday afternoon. I warned the guards, and showed them my card that says that I have a metal hip. Once I made the detector beep, the security guard said spread your feet, and hold out your arms, and he waved a wand all over my body. When I fly, I will be searched as if I am a possible terrorist. Oh well, these guys, and gals, are just doing their job to keep us all safer. Hooray for them.

----------------------------------------------------

The concept of "choices," was alien to me. I just acted, instinctually from one situation to the next. Some said I was passionate. Some said I was drunk. When I was young, I didn't think that we had a lot of choices. Either you worked, or you couldn't get drunk. Nobody was going to buy your Jack Daniels and cigarettes for you; not unless they were as bad alcoholic as you; and in love with you.

Times have changed though. There is a lot greater freedom in existence in my mind. Maybe that is because my choices are better, and they are better because I am not making them drunk much of the time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
In four days, his smile will have been with us for twenty one years. I had many days of sadness before he was born, looking for happiness in a bottle of beer, sunshine in a cigarette. His birth helped me put all that behind me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It was when I knew that I wasn't a primary thing in her life, that I walked away from her. I'm not a piece of furniture, to be dusted off at whim.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Morisson was hard to walk tonight, and Bundy was easy; go figure, it is usually the other way around. It's Beethoven tonight: I'm going to see if I can pick his work out from that of Mozart's. Hell, I know the the difference between Black Flag and Fear, so it shouldn't be too hard.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Where did they go? Where did all my friends go, who used to say hello?
Is it time that matters? Is it something that I said? Have they changed
their bedtime? Where did they go? Where did all my friends go? I'm listening to Beethoven on my own; his first piece is so slow. It makes me wonder; where did my friends go? Why did they leave me all alone?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm soaking my feet. During my first fifty years on this planet, I never soaked my feet. Maybe that is part of why my feet are in such lousy shape now. Maybe you are supposed to soak your feet, and nobody told me. What else didn't they tell me.
I'm getting old. I need to know.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moonlight Sonata kicked ass; slow like a shot of Jaegermeister, but without the lousy after affect. I used to drink Jaeger with Long Island teas. The teas brought me up, and the Jaeger brought me down. After a couple rounds, I didn't know which way I was going. Often, I wound up in jail. That sucked.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morisson and I sometimes have these stare down contests, and I swear, the dog will not give in. I don't know what he wants when he is engaging in this behavior: he has been fed, he has been loved, he has been let out to poop, and he has been walked. I mean what more else is there for a dog? You can't buy them a car.

You would have to know Morisson to answer that question. Morisson is the consummate attention monger. That dog would have you spend all your day just with him, looking in his eyes, petting him, feeding him snacks, taking him on walks, and out to poop.

When I'm rich, I'm going to hire 23 people to spend one hour each with Mo, just doing stuff. The other hour of course will be my quality time with my dog. I've heard that people in Hollywood have dogs that they never show any time to; they just pay other people to walk them, and love on them. Of course, I have only heard this second handedly, so I don't know if it is true. I do know that money changes everything.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think that I like Mozart better, but I write better to Beethoven.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I ate sushi, today. I ate a lot of sushi today, like I do every time that I go to this particular sushi buffet, but I did not eat so much sushi that later I was sick because I ate so much sushi, and I look upon this as improvement. I really do.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's funny how people are. A friend of mine got me an interview to be a writer for one of the departments at CNN. My friend thought that I was a pretty good writer, and that I would be a good fit for the job. I took the little test that the lady gave to me to take, and I really had no idea what that test was talking about. It was as if CNN had just handed me a test written in Greek. The lady graded my test, and then was very condescending to me. She basically said that I sucked as a writer, and that I had no idea what was going on with current events. I could have made up a test that she would have flunked; but I wasn't hiring.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a brief moment where we could have been lovers but she was busy, and I was in a hurry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I slept late. It doesn't look as nice out there, today, as it did yesterday. Days are like that, often: they are not all the same. I'm starting my day with Ludwig Von, and a luscious cup of Java Dawg coffee. My, isn't it a great day to be alive? I'm saying hello, this morning, to my grandson Elliot, and to his parents, Zero, and Tomi. Heyyyyyyyy!!

-----------------------------------------

I am wanting to expand my audience by writing a national column and I have no idea where to start. Do you have an ideas? Do you know of a publication that might be receptive to a column by Mikel K Poet? If you do, please let me know. It is time to get bigger! Also, if you like how I write, & you know a literary agent, please turn me onto them, or them onto me. I have three books ready to go to the top, baby, the top!

------------------------------------------


I am wanting to expand my audience by writing a national column and I have no idea where to start. Do you have an ideas? Do you know of a publication that might be receptive to a column by Mikel K Poet? If you do, please let me know. It is time to get bigger! Also, if you like how I write, & you know a literary agent, please turn me onto them, or them onto me. I have three books ready to go to the top, baby, the top.

Thanks
Mikel

---------------------------------------

Jaggar often sticks his nose in Morisson's bowl, as soon as I have put food in it, and starts eating. Morisson, being the squeamish dog that he can be, backs off
and lets the cat eat his food. Bundy would never do that. Bundy would be right in his food with the cat. Morisson is weird.

--------------------------------------

Overeating blueberry biscuits will cause your blood sugar to rise. I just wrote a song called, "I got more friends in Jesus than I do in Tennessee.

--------------------------------------------------

I am listening to KC and The Sunshine Band's greatest hits at 6:36 a.m. in the morning, and I feel like I am partying!

---------------------------------------

You don t have to be a horse to have fleas.

------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, I keep flowers on my desk too long; they have wilted, but I refuse to believe that they have died...like love, I think that they should last forever.

----------------------------------------
What's the deal with "active" yogurt? My dogs and cats drink a lot of water. I don't know if my turtles drink water; I mean they live in it, but do they drink it; like, well, I've had a swim, now I'm going to have a swallow. Time to walk me, and then time to walk Bundy, and Morisson. What a great day.
--------------------------------------------------

I'm soaking my feet. I didn't like soaking my feet, when I first started soaking them, for the first time in my life, about a month ago. Setting up the water, drying my feet off…it was all a pain in my posterior, but the foot doctor said that I had to soak my feet, and then put this cream on the nasty parts of my feet, that were the reason that I went to see him. He gave me samples; good thing, because when I went to get the prescription filled a tube of the stuff cost fifty bucks. Poor people are just going to have to go around with nasty stuff on their feet, I guess. But anyway, now I am into soaking my feet. It is kind of relaxing, and the nasty things on my feet are starting to go away, which is good, because I am diabetic and I can't have nasty stuff on my feet: it can be life threatening.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I got no reason to not smile: the sun is shining, I'm awake to see another day; the kids, the dogs, the cats, the turtles are all healthy; I've had my coffee, I'm about to have my oatmeal. I'm the King of my Kingdom, and Freedom Reigns Here.

----------------


Bundy and I just did the whole block. He was basically well-behaved. I'm going to rest, and then do my hip exercises, and then see if Mo, and I, can get around the block, also. This would be a world record for the dogs, and I, with this new hip in me. It is soooo pretty out there, that it is a day for setting records in the sunshine. Go for it, baby!!

-------------------

I am following a program that is teaching me how to do one hundred pushups. Today was my first day of doing push ups, and I did ten. The next time that I do pushups, I will do five sets. of pushups with reps of 6, 6, 4, 4, and a last set of as many pushups as I can do, with sixty second rests in between sets. Laid out this way, my goal of 100 pushups seems achievable. Often, you have to take things in small steps to achieve a larger goal. I meant to have the theme to Rocky playing while I did my first set of sit ups, which was a test set, but I forgot. I will play it for the sit up work out that I am about to start.

---------------------------

I'm doing some editing work on my newest memoir, "Did you write the book of love." You can have a copy of this book, by hitting my tip jar with some cash for the heat bill that I have a cut off notice for. Black Flag, once sang, "Some day we'll all be rich." Ha ha. I don't feel like eating a salad, and some fruit. I feel like eating chocolate, and Pecan Crush Pie. I want bread, not spinach. Waaaaaaaaa.


---------------------------

It's been almost a week now since I put Lance Armstrong's shirtless picture on my bulletin board in front of me, and I still don't have a body like his.

---------------------------

I'm out of chocolate. I went to the chocolate drawer, just now, and opened it, expecting there to be several bars still in there...but, there were NONE! I guess you can't have ripped abs, and a chocolate habit, now can you?

------------------------------------

I love to buy frozen mixed fruit, thaw it in the microwave, and then add it to yogurt. I like to add peanut butter, bananas, and a bit of salt to my oatmeal. I like to top my fried eggs with Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce. I like to put refried beans, and scrambled eggs in a burrito, and add onions. I love noodles in mayo. I love toast
with butter, and raspberry jam. I love coffee, I love hot tea with milk, and I especially love that I am alive to experience all of these things.

-----------------------------------

The bananas in my kitchen either need to be made into banana bread, or frozen to be thawed into my oatmeal in the mornings. I'm sipping coffee to start the day, oh how blessed.


-------------------------------------

I'm thinking about having northern beans, brown rice, and a spinach salad for dinner. It sounds healthy, but not very appetizing. I can't much shop for another four days, so I will be eating what is in the cupboards. I think that I'll have a coffee before I open the can of northern beans. I've never had northern beans before; they might be yucky.

----------------------------------------------------
The clarinets do a slow intro. The piano comes in softly. That is all I know to describe a classical concert, so far, but I am working on it. The dogs, and I only went out once today, and I stayed on the porch, praying like hell that Morisson would not run off. Both dogs did their thing(in separate runs)and came right back in the house. Nobody is going to run away with a day like that accompanying them: wet and cold, make a dog run for home be it ever so humble. I did my sit up test today, and I m NOT going to tell you how many sit up I did. I have never been good at situps, and, now, at age 52, I am AWFUL at them. Oh well, Atlanta wasn't built in a day. Since Vivan told me that Lance Armstrong was kind of a prick, I put the butt of a girl doing a situp over his face on my bulletin board. I also put up pictures of Martha Argerich, and Kathryn Bigelow, my new heroes.


------------------------------------------------------

I mixed northern beans with black beans, added them to some jasmine rice, mixed in some onions and some hot chili sauce and that was dinner; with a spinach salad, and some tomato garlic soup. The bean n rice concoction was
bland. I would give it to the dogs except for the hot sauce and the onions. The dogs won't eat onions; I know this because there is onion siting on the floor. They will eat tomato, though; I know this because I threw them some from my salad. I have been down this tomato and onion road with the dogs before. I knew that they would eat the tomato, but I couldn't remember if they like onion or not.
Sometimes you just have to experiment. My dogs love to eat, and I love to feed them things that do not come in a dog food bag. They have fun experimenting with different foods, and so do I, and I figure that they come out of it eating a little bit healthier; loves my dogs.

-------------------------------------------------------

I've got this new interest in Classical Music. I started off listening to Mozart, and then Beethoven, and somehow, by complete accident, I came across this pianist by the name of Martha Argerich. What a dame! I could listen to her for hours; and I have been. Listening to her has lead me to investigate other piano players: Vladimir Horowitz, Evgeny Kissin, Lang Lang, and a guy you may have heard of, Frederic Chopin. Next, I will study conductors. Classical music is a fascinating world, one that I never cared for, or about, for the first fifty two years of my life. Now, I may never listen to rock n roll again!!
---------------------------

I am severely breaking my own, "No coffee after 5 p.m." rule, tonight. It is 8:21 p.m. and I am fixing one of my last cups of Java Dawg. The bag will soon be empty, and I'll have to go back to the cheap stuff. I have not been getting up at 5 a.m. like I was trying to when I made my rule, so it doesn't matter if I stay up later than 9 or 10 p.m., so I am going to get down with a cup of caffeine; yeah baby!

-----------------------

I'm out of half n half for my coffee: what a catastrophe. I'm having to drink regular milk; it just doesn't cut it. It is kind of like using ketchup instead of spaghetti sauce on your noodles: yuck!

-----------------------


I'm listening to Glen Gould, and as I do, I wonder if my interest is shifting from authors to piano players. Authors are boring. Who wants to sit and watch them
type?

-------------------------

My black cat, Jaggar, is weird. I was just in the kitchen, making some ginger tea, and Jaggar was rubbing up against my legs. He does this, I think, solely because he wants a snack. Jaggar is an affectionate-less cat; he will, mostly, not let you pet him. He will try to claw my visitors, and will bite them if they insist on petting him, against his will. I love this cat. He was found, with his chest caved in, in a McDonald's parking lot, next to his mother, who was dead. Somebody in a hurry for a burger, had killed his mom, and maimed him. He was rushed to the vet where I was going at the time, and nursed back to life. On my visits, I would ask how he was doing, and they would bring him out to me. He was the cutest kitty. When he got well enough to leave the vet, he left with me, and here we are in the kitchen together several years later.


-------------------------------

I ate mushrooms once, and while I was high on those mushrooms I ran into some people who had driven all the way up from Florida on mushrooms, and had wound up at the same music club that I was at, having not intended to even leave Florida, and having never been to this music club before. I thought that this was quite some coincidence, but, still, I never did mushrooms, again, not that I wouldn't have, at that time in my life, but they never made themselves available again to me.

------------------------

You can only write about having your morning coffee so often.

------------------------

I hate to admit vulnerability. I hate to admit to having ever had my heart broken. I hate to admit that women can still make me nervous, that I start scratching my toe in the floor, when I talk to them, on occasion. I hate to admit that I still believe in love.

-------------------------



It has been raining for two days. I haven't wanted to go out in the rain, but the dogs need to go out, so I have been walking to the edge of the porch, standing under the doorway, and letting the dogs go out into the rain to have at it. Bundy comes right back when he is done doing what he needs to do. I then let Morisson out. Morisson scares me, because he is the kind of dog who will just suddenly run off on you; however I am pretty sure that he is not the kind of dog who will run off from a warm, dry home when it is cold, and wet outside.

-----------------------------

I need money for bills. I need a literary agent. I need a car. I need a house. I need a love.


-----------------------------

I think that most self-help books are there to help the author. You buy the book, and it helps him or her out.

---------------------------

Morisson is an unsuitable bed mate; at least he was last night.

----------------------


I can tell the difference between vodka and gin. I can tell the difference between Scotch and Bourbon. I can tell the difference between a Newport and a Marlboro.

I'm trying to come up with a clever end for this bit, but I can't. These were the things that I studied when I was younger, though. It seems like I ought to be able to get a country song out of it.

-----------------------------

I just made a batch of chocolate chip yogurt cookies. I want one so bad, but I have to let them cool down, first. Isn't love like that: you have to let it cool down to get real with it. At first, it is all flowers, and chocolate chip yogurt cookies, but then you must settle into the business of getting real. Who is going to wash the dishes? Who is going to bake the cookies? Something like that...

-------------------------------

Sometimes things don't happen fast enough: that's when you've got to slow down. I took Bundy about a quarter of the way around the block, put him up, and then Mo, and I, did the whole block. I'm alternating days on which dog gets to do the whole block with me. I need to clean the turtles' tank; that might happen tonight. Who wants some chocolate chip yogurt cookies? They are sooo soft and yum yum.


-------------------------------

I'm soaking my feet, while drinking a cup of coffee. It is, somehow, important that you know this. The dogs are worn out from their walk, and come to think of it, so am I. I listened to pianist Martha Argerich for most of the day: she rocks! Another day is almost done; I can't believe it. Is it supposed to rain tomorrow, or will we get some sunshine?

--------------------------------

Jaggar is drinking out of my water glass, again. I bet that means that his water dish is empty. There is a logic to everything that this black cat does; there really is.

------------------------------------------

I was wide awake at 4:45 a.m. Kobain stood by his bowl, like he does whatever time I awake, and I fed him, like I do at whatever time I awake. I have written three poems since rising. My bed is calling. I'll talk to you later.

-------------------------------

I'm sore in a lot of place from doing about twenty pushups, yesterday. I am following this plan where, in six weeks they say that I will be able to do one hundred pushups. One hundred pushups is a nice goal: that is what interested me in the program. The program eases you into it; builds you up gradually to your goal. I know that the program is working because of how sore I am. Sometimes, it is nice to have a program to follow.

--------------------------------

I'm 52 with no skills beyond what you see here, and I am going to have to go out and find a job, again, soon. I really don't know what kind of job to apply for; I really don't.

--------------------------------

Many people have advice for how you should live your life, and you will go crazy, or, at least, get mildly depressed trying to follow their advice, so go your own way, bro: go your own way.

-------------------------------
I have two mentally ill animals. They are sitting near each other, right now: one on my chair that I don't really like him to sit on, and one on the floor underneath him. Anyone else might have gotten rid of these animals by now. The cat, Jaggar, who sits in my chair, is very unsocial. He mostly will not let you pet him, and he might scratch you, and bite you, if you bother him. The dog is bi-polar. I'm not kidding. Bundy needs mood stabilizers, antidepressants, and anti-psychotics; he really does, but in lieu of all that, I am giving him lots of love.

I'm a bit off myself, but I'm not going to get into it, right now. I have had lots of love myself. I wonder if love would help the homeless people. I wonder if there is anyone about to give them love. Most of us are too busy living our lives to look around and see where we can give love. We don't want to lose the roof that is over our heads; we do want to be able to continue to put food on the table for our families.

St. Francis is the patron saint of animals. My middle name is Francis. I wonder if that is why I have mentally ill animals given to me by whoever it is that gives us animals. I certainly did not seek them out.

--------------------------------

It is raining cats and dogs outside, this afternoon, and one of my dogs is following me about like a scared puppy. Morisson hates thunder and lightening. When it occurs at night, he jumps into my bed with me, and keeps me awake for hours, digging his nose into whichever hand of mine is closest to him.

In the day time, when it is storming, my dog shadows me. There is a spirit in every animal. There is a personality in every animal. Every animal that I have ever known has come to be a real being to me. I wonder if that cow that you had for lunch had a spirit in them. I wonder, if you had hung around that cow, you would have got to know that cow's personality. Once you were aware of their spirit, and once you came to know their personality, could you kill, and eat that cow?

--------------------------------

I got as close to being depressed, early this morning, as I ever get to being depressed, these days. I am fifty two years old, and I will have to be searching for a job soon. I have no skills. Waaahhhhhh!!

--------------------------------

You never hear her voice, but she is all over the recording. She is happy. She is sad. She is energetic. She is almost lethargic, in places. She excites me. She makes me pensive. She brings me up. She brings me down. She is the piano player.

--------------------------------


Right after a nap, I can't think of very much clever to say. I awake groggy, and it takes awhile to shake the sleep from my head. Morisson jumped in the bed with me, during the middle of my nap, due to the thunder, and proceeded to dig his nose into my hands. Somehow, I worked my way through all that, and got back to my nap. Poor Mo hates the storms.

-------------------------------------------

Time to clean the turtles' tank.

I often procrastinate when it come to cleaning Rue Paul and Prynce's aquarium.
Like tonight I took about an hour and a half to psyche myself up to do it. When the aquarium is clean, and it is full of fresh water, the view is breathtaking, and watching my turtles swim about is great fun. I love it when the water is full, and fully clear, and the turtles are swimming from one end of the aquarium to the other. They say that the simple pleasures are the best. Watching my turtles move about in their aquarium is certainly one of them. It is worth cleaning the tank!


--------------------------------------------

I wish there were more sunlight by my front door:
I can't grow tomatoes in the little patch of dirt
that sits near my front door; I know I tried, last year.
Oh, the tomatoes, and the lettuce gave a valiant effort,
but in the end they were beaten by the shade, and the
cats who like to lay in the lettuce and roll the tomatoes
about like they were bowling balls.

--------------------

The turtles lies side beside on their rock underneath their heat lamp;
then the mail gets on top of the female: he is perched on her half on half off,
and I am struck by the fact that these two need each other.

---------------------

If I lived by the ocean, I would wait until the sun wasn't so hot,
and then I would take my feet to the sand that sits by the water,
and I would walk in it for miles. I would return with sea shells,
and a smile on my face.

----------------------

Tourists invade a destination
leaving money, so it's ok.
-----------------------
If you could buy the world, would you buy it?
-------------------------

I'm going to take a nap, and when I get back, I want my red light to be on, and for there to be lots of kind, loving messages.

------------------------------------------
You wrote the book. You directed the movie; yet you couldn't tie your shoe. Take my picture. Take my picture; this is me standing right over here. Can you see me? Can you feel me? I have needs, too. Don't obliterate me. Don't ignore me. This one goes out to.

----------------------------------
There was a small hair floating in my coffee. I guess that is one of the prices that I pay to live with two cats, and two dogs. My son's mother was just hare and she said that my place was, "Dirty," that there were dog hairs on the carpet. I told her that I had just vacuumed, which is true, but it has been a few days now. My friend Kelly brought me a Hoover. I have everything that I need.

------------------------------------


Morisson and I just set the world record for distance walked with this new hip, and this old knee that had a shot of steroid put in it, recently. We walked from Monroe St. to Peachtree St., and back. The hardest part of the walk was a large hill that we had to walk down: my knee did not much care for walking down, so I had to take it slow. Morisson stopped, and smelled just about everything on the walk, and he peed on the things that he didn't smell. The reason for the walk was that I had to pick up some pills at the pharmacy on Peachtree St. I am eying my bicycle, now, wondering how long it will be before I can climb on it, and head off into the wild blue yonder.

----------------------------------------------------

I spilled about a dozen frozen strawberries on my white kitchen floor, this morning, right by the bowl that my dogs eat out of. I didn't clean the mess up, because I wanted to see if my dogs would. They didn't and know there is a bloody mess to be cleaned up. It is funny; I never know what foods my dogs will eat, and
which they won't. They will eat olives, which is weird to me, but they won't eat
carrot or kiwi.

-------------------------------------

I'm not "legit," and I may never be legit. I may always be confined to illegitimacy, writing between the lines, far underneath the headlines, off the shelves. This book may never see the light of day; maybe only ten people will read it, and I will die
with it on my hard drive. I will have put a smile on those ten peoples' faces though; that I will have.

--------------------------------------

I put out a plea for a vacuum cleaner, last week. Two people responded, and were kind enough to bring vacuum cleaners to my door. Both vacuum cleaners looked good; heck, one looked brand new, but neither of them are capable of cleaning my carpet. I don't know if it is the vacuum cleaners, or the two dogs, and cats who spend a great deal of time walking, and rolling about on the carpet, but they, and I, and anyone who visits is just going to have to put up with the fact that I don't have a clean carpet. Will that kill any of us?

--------------------------------------

I did day 2 of the 100 push ups plan. I was still sore from day 1. It will be interesting to see how my body feels tomorrow.


-------------------------------------

I just drank my last cup of Java Dawg coffee. It's back to the cheap stuff, store brand, generic offerings, whatever I can muster up while still unemployed. I'd like to thank Art Linton and the fine, fine folks at Java Dawg for hooking me
into their coffee while I was in the worst part of this hip rehab. When I strike it
rich, I'm going to buy me some more Java Dawg. You should try it; you really should. It's the coffee bomb!!

-------------------------------------


Party. (Out of bounds.) Really; I'm not kidding...Morisson, Bundy, Kobain, Jaggar, Prynce, Rue Paul, and I are throwing down.


---------------------------

Haven't made a buck writing all night, and the light bill is still due. Funny how that goes; I'm scraping by, while the utility company has found a way to capture natural energy, and charge me for it. I think I'm going to move out into the woods. I wonder if Thoreau's hut is still available? Wait, didn't his mother feed him peanut butter sandwiches to help him avoid the man? I have no mother: no pb for me. It could get lonely out there, too. Heck, it's lonely here, sometimes. And what if a bear came along? I couldn't dial 911. I've really got to think this out: should I stay where I am, or head to the woods?

------------------------------------

I don't know if the dogs and cats know that we lost an hour overnight. They seem to be acting as they always do, waking when I wake, but then, almost immediately, going back to sleep.

-------------------------------------

Kevin didn't comment, when I asked him how the last batch of banana bread was that I gave him, which I take to mean that he didn't like it. He did tell me that the batch before that batch was dry. I wish he would tell me what he thinks of the last batch, so that I will know how to proceed with the next batch. Of course, if I am following the same recipe, which I am, all the batches should be turning out the same, which they are not, so I don't know what is up. I want everyone to love me, and to love my banana bread.

--------------------------------------

I am sore, this morning, from doing pushups yesterday. It is a good feeling, and the thought that I am improving my body makes me smile. For the longest time, I was unaware of my body, and it just went the way that it wanted to go. You have to have some discipline with your body, feeding it the right things, and exercising it.
--------------------------------------

When I was a kid, I used to deliver newspapers, and the newspaper used to have contests that I would win. One contest that I won sent me to The Bronx Zoo in New York. What a great zoo I recall it to be, though my mind is foggy on it, because it was so many years ago…about 4o years ago, now that I think about it.

Me and the other contest winners were standing in front of a cage that held the lions, or the monkeys, or the giraffes, and this kid next to me looked skyward,
and said. "Look at the p……." As he prounounced his "p," a bird dumped a load of white poop onto his face.

The word that he was trying to say was, "p….igeons!"

---------------------------------------

There was some crusty material on the outer edge of my ear
which I scraped away with my finger. That crusty material
was there because of my father, and probably because of
several fathers before him. Some people inherit hotel chains,
and I inherited crusty material on my ear.

---------------------------------------
The turtles don't seem to know that there has been a time change. I'm pretty sure that to them time is still the same this morning as it was last night.

---------------------------------------

It ended before it really started, which is probably a good thing. I mean why get to far into it to find out that it is not going to work.

---------------------------------------


The lions yawned as the giraffes paraded...no, wait, stop: one of my animals is making wheezing noises. Sometimes, when one of my animals makes a weird noise, I think that they are going to die, and how am I going to handle it. Ok, the wheezing noise has stopped...my animal is not going to die (Kobain) and I can get back to my story about the lions and the giraffes.

----------------------------------------------------------
A cup of coffee can't last forever, and neither has any love that I've ever had, in my life, in the form that it started out, anyway; I've got a few sips left of this cup, and the rest of my life to find a love.

--------------------------------------------------

Notes spewed recklessly from a guitar; it seems as if there is no rhyme or reason to what the player does, but he plays the song over and over, night after night, for decades.

--------------------------------------------------

I am going grocery shopping with my main men Barry Bob, and his son, Zak. The timing on this call from Barry is perfect. Food funds just arrived, and food on the fridge just about ran out. Funny how perfect things can be sometimes.

-------------------------------------------------


I am trying to learn how to convert a motorcycle to electric power, so that I can write an article on it. While I'm doing this I'm listening to Morisson sing about, "The Scream of The Butterfly." The dogs will usually eat an almond, if I toss it to them, but they have stayed away from the nut, so far today. "Stayed away from the the nut"...hey, I could be talking about me!!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Bee Gees are trying to hitch a ride to San Francisco. I am about to start exerting, having just had a nice nap. Scout is at soccer practice. Will is at work, and so is Graem. The dogs are on the floor. The cats are on my chair. The turtles are in their aquarium. And, now, The Bee Gees have found that the world is round.
----------------------------------

I have one hand extended, and two dogs fighting for the attention of that hand.

----------------------------------

I'm finding almonds on the floor, which means that the dogs' tastes have changed. At first, when I fed them almonds, they ate them. Bundy is hesitant about bananas, these days. I can't figure out if he is not eating them, or is just
going about it slowly. I will find out, though.
---------------------------------

I just submitted an article called, "How to make your rat grow faster." Who would have ever thought. Gosh, I'll write anything for a buck; especially with the heat bill due. What else can a poor poet do?

-----------------------------------

Bob Dylan is singing. I'm contemplating writing an article titled, "Are Carpet Cleaners Safe to Use Around Pets?" The night feels slow. I did my hip exercises. I did my sit ups. I walked the dogs. I'm waiting for the brass band to play.

-----------------------------------------------

I was in bed until noon, today; what's up with that? I have been assigned re-writes on my stories, "What food will make a rat grow faster?" and, "How to convert a motorcycle to battery powered." It seems like a lot of work for $15/$7.50, but some writing work that pays, right now, is better than none. If you know of writing work that pays, please let me know. Also, if you know how to convert a motorcycle to battery power, specifs like tools and parts needed, please let me know. And if you know WHY someone would want their rat to grow faster, please let me know!!

-------------------------------------------------

I just hit save on my rat story, and somehow the site lost it. It is now time to walk the dogs, and blow off some steam. Writing like I am doing now is pressure filled, versus fun, like the stuff that I do for myself(well, that I do for, hopefully, millions of people, eventually. Har, har.
---------------------------------------------------------------------

I have spent two days on an article that will pay $7.50 if I can finish it, which I can't yet because I still don't know what to feed rats to make them grow faster. I do, now, know that it is the breeders who feed them to pet stores so you can buy them to feed them to your snakes who have a vested interest in growing rats fast. For the average Joe, and Julianne, who have a pet rat making it grow fast could, and probably would make it have health issues, such as cancer. Maybe I can lean to live without electricity. Have you got any spare change to hook a brother up with. Can you put some money in my tip jar to help me with the heat bill? You know that I have been out of work due to my hip replacement surgery. Do you care? Is there anybody out there?
----------------------------------------
Ahhh, and I just found the semi-sweet chocolate chips that I had hidden for later consumption after I made a recent batch of chocolate chip cookies. Morisson just polished of my leftover spinach salad, and had a couple of bites of fish. My son just threw fifty towards my utility bill, so I am feeling better.
------------------------------------------

I'm listening to The Rolling Stones, and eating popcorn form the microwave. My dog Morisson is worn out from rocking to The Ramones.

-------------------------------------------

Usually, it is Morisson who stands out front when I am in the kitchen, with Bundy in the background, both dogs waiting to see if I will throw them a slice of banana, a piece of bread, some ice, and even, sometimes, a real doggie treat; but this morning, for some reason, Bundy was out in front of Morisson, staring at me with hopeful eyes. The chances of the dogs' getting a treat, this early in the morning are none, because I just fed them from the big yellow bag. Still it is cute to see their enthusiasm.

I have been trying to write for this site called demand studios and it is going to give me a nervous breakdown, it really is. They pay $7.50 for some articles, and $15.00 for others. It would seem stupid to write a $7.50 article, when you could write a $15.00 article, but some of the $7.50 articles are far more interesting than the $15.00 articles. I picked this $7.50 article entitled,"What food will make a rat grow faster?" It seemed like a straight forward enough subject, I thought: a couple of searches on Google, and I should have the answer.

I have learned just about everything about rats. I have learned that in captivity, they will be incestuous. I have learned what they will and won't eat. I have learned how old the female will be when she stops having babies, and I have learned that it is breeders of rats for feeding purposes who would want their rat to grow faster, and that rapid growth in rats can cause cancer and all other sorts of health issues.

But, I haven't learned what makes the breeders' rats go faster, and I have spent three days on this story; three days for $7.50, and I still haven't chalked up the $7.50.

Writing for demand studios makes me feel like I don't know how to write, like I am a pathetic loser. I also submitted this article, a $15.00 one, about how to convert a motorcycle to electric power. The "editor" came back and said that I had not gone into detail enough, that I needed to consult a motorcycle manual. For fifteen bucks you are not going to get a write that would take some Ph. d in mechanical engineering to write.

You take out the gas engine, and the gas tank, and any wiring not needed. You put in the batteries and hook them up, and, bam, there you go: you have your article.

You, or at least I, have to pick your fights in life. I am not cut out to do many things on this planet, and one of them is to write for demand studios. The utility bill is due, but I am better off going living with candles, than going crazy trying to make a buck in arenas that I am not capable of making a buck in. With all that I have learned about rats, though, I might like to have one as a pet, one day, and I don't mean catching one in the kitchen.

-------------------------------------
My mother was from Dublin, and my Dad from County Cork, but he hated St. Patrick's Day. Of course, he hated Christmas, and my birrhday, too, so what is a first generation American to do? I'm a drunk who hasn't had a drink in 18 years, so I won't be downing no green beer, today. I always thought the stuff was nasty, even back in the day, so I won't be missing it, today. Have a safe and fun Wed. I think St. Francis offers a better message, though than St. Patrick. Does a man descended from the Irish have to be a drunk?

-------------------------------------
Man, that lady worked my hip out...so much so that the rest of me left the gym on one of those highs that you get from working out. There was this pretty girl on the bus; she never looked at me. Waaaaaaah. So far a great day, though. Tonight at 7: Snave and The Grass at DBA BBQ in Virginia Highlands. No green beer for me, thanks.

---------------------------------------------------

Jaggar, my black cat, usually is not patient when he wants a drink of water and his water bowl is empty; he will rock the empty bowl against the floor, causing it to make loud noises to let me know that he wants a drink. Today, though, Mr. Jaggar tried a different approach: he rubbed up against my ankles like he does when he wants a snack, and then he walked over to the empty water bowl. I thought his approach a thing of beauty, and I immediately filled his bowl.

The dogs did something weird, this morning: they switched food bowls. Morisson ate out of Bundy's green bowl, and Bundy ate out of Morisson's blue bowl. What's up with that?

The turtles ate right away, this morning. I love to watch them eat. Their heads snap at the food, they chew and little particles of food emerge from their mouths. It is a miraculous process. I feel so blessed that I am being allowed to keep them, and to keep them alive.

It's a new day folks, and I am so glad to be alive.

---------------------------------------

It is an incredibly beautiful day out there. The dogs did not want to come back into the house. I picked some beautiful flowers from the front yard of the house next door that the bank foreclosed on: beauty rising from the doom.

---------------------------------------


I'm immersed in The Story(Snave and The Grass @DBA BBQ on St. Patty's Day) and while I write, some poetry is trickling out. DBA has great food, and great service. I'm a large man, and the portions at most restaurants leave me wanting more, but at DBA, I left food on my plate because I was full. It is an incredibly beautiful day out there. I don't think that I can go for a walk with the dogs, today, because my right knee is hurting. Don't get old folks, and if you get old, don't get fat and old.

--------------------------------------


Someday, I will start the revolution, but, this morning, I had to bring cleats, and a baseball uniform to my son. Someday, I will start the revolution, but for right now, there is cereal to buy, and Nintendo games to rent. Someday, I will start the revolution, but my son's sneakers are worn, and he needs new clothes for the spring. Someday, I will start the revolution, but my daughter needs a new dress, and I've got to come up with the money for her next guitar lesson. Someday, I will start the revolution,but I've got those student loans to pay back, and these credit cards to pay down. Someday, I will start the revolution, but I've got this new apartment, and the cable hasn't even been put in. Someday, I will start the revolution, but right now I am late for work. Someday, I will start the revolution, but I need new tires for my car. Someday, I will start the revolution, but I may want to get a Masters in poetry, first. Someday, I will start the revolution, but this woman just walked by, and man she looks good. Someday, I will start the revolution.

-----------------------------
I'd much rather be a customer in a restaurant than an employee. A customer gets respect at a level that an employee might not. An employee leaves all tired, and sweaty at the end of the night. A customer leaves well fed, at the end of the night, perhaps the smell of coffee on his breath. Still, some of the best jobs that I have ever had in my life have been in the restaurant business. If I hadn't been such a pathetic drunk, maybe I could have made a career out of the restaurant business, and even owned one, one day. I have no regrets about my past. My past put me where I am today, and I am in a pretty good position, though I am unemployed, and still short about 180 on my utility bill. I would like to thank the band Snave and The Grass for putting twenty in my tip jar towards this bill. And I would like to thank you, if you could do the same.

----------------------------------

. I met this guy who sells real estate for a living. He said that there was no secret to it, that he worked hard, that he worked twelve to fourteen hours a day seven days a week. I told him that I was a poet, and that I often worked that many hours at my poetry: writing it, refining it, trying to find places to place it.

"Does that pay? he asked me

"No," I said with a smile.

There are worse thing that you can be than a poet with very close to no money. You could be doing hard time for murder. You could be ripping folks off with the "insurance" that you offer. You could be selling cars that people could die driving in. You could be trying to sell real estate twelve to fourteen hours a day, seven days a week.

---------------------------

I met this guy said he had all the answers
and he was going to share them with me
if I would just work for him for a little while.
And what he was doing was cheating people,
so I left the business and never found out
all the answers.

---------------------------------
I'm staying in the closet

She said that I should talk about it,
but I don't want to talk about it.
I want to hide it away so that no one
will think that I am evil.

---------------------------------

The email says that someone wants to buy my timeshare. I don't have a timeshare. I don't take vacations. I don't have a condo, either; I rent. Maybe, if I had a timeshare, Debbie who loves me so much and I could get together.

----------------------------------

I was going to say that at 5 a.m. the dogs are still asleep, but as I am about to say it, Morisson wanders up to my hand. He doesn't stay near it for long though, almost immediately laying down on the floor.

-----------------------------------

A wave of benevolence swooped over me, and I succumbed to it. The dogs were sitting there in front of me, being so good, looking so wanting. You could tell that they were surprised; they caught the second snack in their mouths, and headed for the other room to consume them, as if by staying near me, I might try to take them back. It is a beautiful day out there, and I know that I should be out there in it, but I just don't feel like it. I feel like sitting here at this desk like I always do. What's up with that?

-----------------------------------

My therapist is going to have to adjust my meds, when I go see her, next Tuesday. Something in the mix is not working. I have been thinking that life would be bettter than death for about a week now, and that is not how I usually feel. I am depressed with there being no reason to be depressed: bills are always due, women are always rejecting me.

------------------------------------


Well, that is not going to happen; I just called and the place that used to give you four and five for you cds is now giving you two cuz, "They are overstocked." The whole world is broke and has sold their cd collections!!
-----------------------------------
I nearly started to cry/when I learned a lesson/that I had already learned before./there you are where you are you're not a superstar/you are just a guy selling his cds to pay the fascist evil utility company their money/they gonna get theirs/like the credit card companies/they will drink blood from a stone/it s pretty out wish I could say turn off the lights/fuck em.

-------------------------------------

Out into this pretty day, then it is...but, which dog to take: Morisson, or Bundy. One gets to go out into a beautiful spring-like day, and the other gets to stay home.

-------------------------------------
Piedmont Park wasn't packed (I guess some folks have to work on Fridays.) Morisson was in a mean mood; he snapped at most of the dogs who came up to him to say hello. He has turned out to be quite a ball dog, though. I threw this tennis ball as far as I could, as many times as i could, and he kept running after it, and, more importantly, kept bringing it back to me!

----------------------------------------------------

One of the dogs farted: what a stinky bastard.

-----------------------------------------------------


The dogs are asleep. I just saw Jaggar, the cat, walking down the hall towards his food. I do not know how that cat stays thin. I just ate four blueberry biscuits. They were ugly looking biscuits, but they tasted really good; one biscuit made me want another biscuit...you know how that goes sometimes?

-----------------------------------------------------



My father told me that, "I would never have a pot to piss in,"
but he is wrong: they gave me a pot to piss in at the hospital,
when I was there getting a new hip. I am a broke bastard, though,
I wonder how the old man figured out that I would spend my hours,
my days, my weeks, my months, and years writing poetry instead of
chasing a buck like he did.

--------------------------------

Eating blueberry biscuits and drinking coffee; trying to figure out how to spend the evening. I got a sharp pain in my heart, after doing one of my sets of push ups; maybe I pushed it too far. I don't want to have a heart attack getting in shape; I would be better off to not be in shape than to have a heart attack getting in shape...don t you think?

-------------------------------------------

The birds are chirping. The first cup of coffee has been drank. Several poems have already been written. The bus will arrive for my ride to The Chicken Raid, today. It is Sunday.

------------------------------------------

How dare anyone question my greatness, or my vision.

------------------------------------------
I got a library card, today, and one of the books that I got was called, "The Lady and the Poet," by Maeve Haran. I walked a lot downtown, today. I wore the wrong coat, so I sweat a lot. My shirt was soaked when I got home. I went by Georgia State University to look at the job board.
The job board is online; I should have thought that.
This association that represents eight churches helped me pay off my past due electric bill; that and the donations that you all made to my tip jar. The church folk gave me a bunch of food, and, of all things, some deodorant, some toothpaste and a tooth brush. (Were they trying to tell me something??!!)
As I was leaving the college employment office, the guy at the desk who I had just spoke to about a job(You need to know what kind of a job you are looking for...Well, I'm just looking for a job.) hollered out at me, "Your toothpaste is falling out of your bag."
Great, I thought, between the beard, the soaking wet t shirt, and the toothpaste, I must look like a homeless guy; I'll never get a job here.
I never put much faith in churches, but, today, eight of them helped me out, and I am very thankful, just like I am thankful to those of you who helped me out by putting your hard earned money in my tip jar.
Last week, I about had a nervous breakdown worrying about how I was going to pay that past due utility bill, and this week it got paid, so I did all that worrying for nothing.
There is a lesson in there, somewhere; I hope that I have learned it.
----------------------------------
I turned the heat down before I went to be last night, and I woke up this morning freezing cold. My right knee, the one that is most arthritic, was throbbing. It doesn't like the cold.
------------------------------
4:10 pm: time for that afternoon cup of coffee. PT was great, today, not only is my hip getting stronger, but I'm interacting with a great group of people. Bundy needs to shut up when I come home. He barks at me like I'm a stranger breaking in; this has got to stop. Maybe I won't take him out on The Love porch with Morisson and I, when we go out there if a few minutes. I think that this book, "Lit," a memoir by Mary Karr, that I got from the library, yesterday, is going to be good. She also wrote the memoirs, "The Liar's Club," and "Cherry." Free to be is the only way to be: I feel very free having got the past due utility bill paid. The little postcard from Ga. Power that says they are cutting me off tomorrow came in today's mail, and I just laughed at it.
------------------------------------

I just hated to hang up on the young lady from Linksys, but the minute that she found out that my modem wasn't under warranty, she immediately launched into a sales pitch trying to sell me various plans that would "help" me. I just want my router to connect to my modem so that I can have wireless at the crib, and be able to go out onto The Love Porch with my laptop, like I did, last year. I wonder if she gets hung up on a lot?
-----------------------------------------------

It was threatening rain, and I was threatening, in my head, to call my therapist and cancel the appointment that I had with her in two hours. I wasn't going to use the rain as my excuse; both my therapist, and I, knew that an umbrella was the cure for that, but I was going to say that the arthritis in my right knee was acting up; that would be a much better excuse for canceling the appointment this late in the game. I would get charged twenty bucks for missing, and as broke as I was that should have mattered, but it didn't; if I was going to cancel, I was going to cancel, and finances be damned.

I called her my therapist, but, really, she is my nurse. She is the one responsible for prescribing my pills. The pills keep me sane. It is not a good idea to cancel these appointments. You really don't want to mess with your sanity, or at least I don't. It took me a long time to get to the point in my life where I continually enjoy living on a day to day basis, have a smile on my face, most of the time, and I don't want to lose those things, so whatever was the reason that I was thinking about canceling the appointment with my nurse, the threat of rain I think, I am glad that I kept the appointment.
I've met my shrink once. He shook my hand and smiled at me on the first day that I should up to his practice. Then he introduced me to my nurse. Since then I have just caught glimpses of him walking down a hallway, or entering and office. Psychiatrists, or at least mine, have got kind of a pyramid
--------------------------
Some trips that I take on public transportation, like the one that I am taking right now, are a pain in the ass. There is a half hour layover, on this one, between when the last bus that I was on dropped me off at this station, and when the next bus, that I will ride on, will show up.
I have a good book with me that I am reading, but that is not good enough to make the half hour wait pass in an instant, like I would like it to. I think that I see the bus coming, now; so I will stop bitching.

I want to write some poems, but I, also, want to take a nap, and I think that the need to take a nap is going to overcome the want to write poems. I'm thinking that I can write some poems when I wake up all fresh, and rested.
-----------------------------------------
Two Great Danes moved in next door, and a tiny little kitten. Bundy was all about it, today, as the Great Danes moved about on "his" porch, barking, and growling at them. I think that he wants to be friends, thought; that is the impression I get, and I know that Kobain wants to be friends with the new kitty!!
------------- ---------------------------------------


The only sure thing about today is that I am going to clean the turtles' tank. Everything else is up in the air. I've had my coffee, I've written my poems.
------------------------------------------
I am changing the turtles' water, while Bundy stands at our front door and growls at people who walk by with their dogs.
----------------------------------------
Are you thinking of me?
----------------------------------------
"I ain't ready for the altar."

...but the FB ad says that there are,
"Singles in my area dieing to meet me." Dieing to
meet me...can you imagine?

-----------------------------------------
As I approach the coffee shop, I note that a homeless looking guy is pulling dog food out of a brand name can with a spoon, and is shoving it into a coffee cup. His dog looks more than ready to eat.

With this scraggy beard that I a sporting, I'm a bit homeless looking myself, but my dogs have a place to stay, which is being heated at around 70 degrees, right now, as I settle in to have my first store bought coffee in quite awhile.

I'm not sure of the point of all of this, other than a writer is supposed to write, and a writer is supposed to write what he knows, and I am a writer, and I mostly write about what I see around me.

The homeless looking guy just pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
Can the truly homeless phone home?
----------------------------------------------------
I hate when my computer doesn't work, and by this I mean when my computer is not getting whatever signal that it is supposed to get to be hooked up to the internet. Without the internet, I feel lonely, and insecure; like I have lost most of my purpose for existence in this life. Have you seen those new mini laptops, that you can get into for around two hundred bucks. That thing is this writer's dream. Today I wrote about ten pages in one of my notebooks, and I am sitting down now to transcribe what I wrote to the computer. If I had one of those mini-computers, I could go directly to the computer where ever I was. I'm going to get me one of those; I really am.
--------------------------------------------------
I discovered, tonight, that since I have done so much baking from scratch, that baking brownies from a box is a no brainer.

They were from a box, but the brownies turned out delicious. It is amazing how easy it is to bake from a box when you have been baking from scratch for awhile. It looks to be another marvelous day out there. I resolve to spend some time in it, though, today is going to be a very busy day. I have resisted having a brownie, this morning. I had to brush my teeth the very first thing, this morning, to get the sugar from last night's late night brownie off of my teeth. The animals have all been fed, I can't got back to bed, this morning; I have an appointment downtown. I hope that you enjoy your day. Life is a precious gift.
------------------------------------------
It's brilliant out there. I am on my way to the eye doctor for my annual exam(Which I haven't had in two years.) I pray that my diabetes has, still, had no affect on my sight.
I'm sucking down a blueberry, strawberry, banana smoothie, and a scintillating cup of coffee before I go. Morisson is begging for a snack. He's not going to get it; I don't want him to get fat.
------------------------------------------
I have been prescribed glasses for the first time in my life. They will contain reading lenses, also, so I won't need to buy reading glasses anymore. The reason that I need glasses is that I have cataracts in my eyes. Doesn't that sound awful, like I am about to go blind. My Doctor didn't seem too worried about it; he said that he would check their progress, next year, and when they got bad enough he would cut them out with a table knife.
I am young to have cataracts. I am young to have had hip replacement surgery. Some guys get huge advances on their books from publishing companies young...
----------------------------------------
I was going to go to a poetry reading, but then I decided to stay home and spend time with the book, "Infinite Jest;" then I decided that Infinite Jest was not worth all the time that I would have to spend to read all 981 pages. Then my computer wouldn't boot back up, and when it finally did, hours later, it wouldn't get on the internet. I look at all this as just some minor challenges, and I handled them all by breathing in and breathing out.
-----------------------------------------
Wide awake at 7:30 a.m. The bell just rang saying that the coffee is ready. The cats have been fed. Jaggar is having himself a drink of water. I've said my prayers, combed my hair; I am ready for another beautiful new day.
-----------------------------------------


Reading a book I am on the love porch with the dogs, and the carpenter bees, watching the people park their cars, and walk to the park. The robins are back, singing, and searching for places to build their nests. I do not miss winter, not one little bit.
-----------------------------------------
Sometimes, you have to catch that wave, when it presents itself to you, because it is just not going to last that long; like I had this thought, about five minutes ago, that I would clean my apartment, but that thought slipped away from me, as I sat here at my desk, and I m now thinking that the place is just fine as it is.

I'm listening to a country radio station for what may be the first time in my life, and I am two years over half a century old. I have been listening to classical music also, so maybe my rock and roll tastes are changing, here and now, as I age. Common themes in country music seem to be God and unrequited love.

I really love Martha Argerich, the classical pianist. She has a lot of heart and soul, where a lot of current country musicicians who are getting FM radio play, are just pounding out similar variations on the same old theme, it seems to me, listening to them, this morning.

My neighbor locked herself out of the house, awhile ago. Her man was at work, and her house keys, and cell phone, were inside her apartment, so she knocked on my door.

There she stood in robe with her two Great Danes, and the Boxer that she was babysitting for the weekend. Morisson, Bundy, Kobain, Jaggar, Prynce, Rue Paul and I said come on in, and use our cell phone to call The Landlord. She and the three dogs wound up staying for coffee, grapefruit, and a couple of Milk Bones until the landlord came by and unlocked her apartment.

It was like a zoo in here, a happy zoo, with all the dogs, the cats, and the turtles getting along. One of her Great Danes took a dump on the kitchen floor, but I didn't have to clean it up, which was the first time in the almost two years that I have lived in this apartment where when there was poop on the floor, I didn't have to clean it up.

Drop by anytime neighbor!








Sleep wants to take me back to the bed, and I just woke up. I think that I need to get my C-Pap machine tested. It has been years since I have had an appointment with the sleep doctor. I have lost much weight, since my last sleep doctor visit, and I'm thinking that they might have to adjust the amount of air that the C-Pap machine kicks out into my nostrils.

It is Easter. I'm thinking that the Easter Bunny might just be a fantasy that some corporation dreamed up to sell candy, because no bunny dropped nothing on my home over the night. I did not wake to a basket with a chocolate bunny, standing on mounds of jelly beans, and surrounded by peanut butter cups. There are no colored eggs hidden about this apartment. I know; my dogs would have found them.

Some people think that Christ rising from the dead is a fantasy, also, but I'm not going to get into that. I am going to allow you religious freedom, just as long as you are not shoving your God, and, or, your Savior up my buttocks.

Easter is a beautiful day, at so many different levels, for so many different people. For greedy little kids, it is a day to acquire candy. For Chrisitians it is a day to believe that their Savior rose from the dead. For Jewish people, it is a day to celebrate Passover.

It is a diverse world that we are living in.
Let freedom ring.

--------------------------

At midnight, last night, I decided to bake a banana bread, so that I would have fresh banana bread to eat in the morning. I followed the recipe exactly, and, this morning, I have been enjoying a brilliant banana cake. I have been putting butter on a plate and melting it a bit in the microwave, and then putting it on the bread. What a delicious treat. And I gave some to my neighbors, next door, and down below, and they loved it. I am spreading the love with my banana bread baked from scratch.

---------------------------

Since the Easter Bunny blew me off, I was thinking that if I had a car, I would go to the store, and buy a discounted chocolate bunny, and a bag, or two, of leftover jelly beans. I don't care about the basket. The Easter basket is like The Christmas Tree; once you are done with it, it becomes waste that the earth doesn't need. It is sad to see the Easter baskets scattered along the street, waiting to go to the dump, after Easter, like it is sad to see Christmas trees lining the sidewalk waiting to be trashed.

And...when Christmas gets here...you should just blow it off until like Jan. 2...then get you a free tree from the side of the street...and go shopping at all of the sales for your presents.

---------------------------------



The dogs and I are on "The Love Porch." I am reading. I found a piece of chocolate in my refrigerator that I thought that I had eaten. I am calling it my substitute Easter Bunny. Now, if I can track down some jelly beans...

-----------------------------------------------

Are you down with "Sola Scriptura," or is today a bad day to ask?

-----------------------------------------------
Nap time: the bunny better not come now, because me, and the dogs will be sleeping. I gave away half of the banana bread that I baked; good thing, too, because it was a real good one, and I would have eaten it all: not good for the tummy. I need some jelly beans, though; I really need some jelly beans.

------------------------------------------------

My neighbor just knocked on my door and handed me the tastiest fish taco. It had mango in it, and onions, and lettuce, and, of course, fish. It is great to have great neighbors. I have never traded food with a neighbor before, in my entire life. The banana bread that I bake is leading me to beautiful things.

---------------------------------------------------

Thirty five years after I first heard this song, I still listen to it; and I still find in it the great beauty that I found in it when I first heard it.

------------------------------------------------------

I have banana bread crumbs in my chest hair. I pick them out, and throw them on the floor for the dogs, and or the roaches to eat. As I do this, I am reading a book that often quotes The Bible. I figure that God is smiling down at me, as I fling banana bread crumbs to the floor, as he, or she, is smiling down at you, as you do what you are doing. What are you doing? How did your Easter go?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
When The Beatles sing, "All you need is love," over, and over, in their song, "All you need is love," I feel all warm and fuzzy.

------------------------------

I slept way too late; until after noon, actually. Morisson had made a deposit in the hallway. It's a beautiful day out there. We have certainly earned it. You don't always get what you've earned, though. I am going to work the hip out, in a few hours, at PT. God Bless America.

-------------------------------

I'm drinking three month old coffee that I bought before my hip operation. People sent me a Noah's Ark load of coffee around the time that I was going into the hospital. It lasted this long, but, now, I am back to drinking the cheap stuff. I'm putting sugar in it, also; which is not the best thing for a diabetic to do. I usually use Stevia, but funding for groceries won't show up until next Wed. I'm not complaining. I, basically, choose the poverty plan. It seems easier than leading the life that the mass of man and women do; something like that.
--------------------------------

My front door won't lock, which means Bundy could get out at The Mail Woman, as seems to be one of his goals. Morisson, and I, just took a walk to the grocery store to buy a few things. I'm surprised that more women don't gawk at me. I am quite a catch, honey! I'm weening myself off of Face Book...I'm going to sit on "The Love Porch," and read, "The Year of Living Biblically." You don't have to read only The Bible to learn about The Bible, if learning about The Bible is something that you want to do. I want some coffee, I think, though it is late.

-----------------------------------

Just because she is blonde, doesn't mean that you should add her.

-----------------------------------
The sting of chili sauce is still fresh on my tongue. I load the delicious Sriracha hot chili sauce onto a hardboiled egg, and eat the chili sauce topped egg as a snack. I put black pepper and garlic powder on it, too. (These are things that you need to know.)

My coffee is not perfect, this morning. Maybe that is because my tongue can't fully taste it, because of the sting of the chili sauce.

It is six a.m. I wonder if today will be as brilliant a day as yesterday was? It was almost a bit hot yesterday, though; 80 degrees. A person who I was talking to, during my physical therapy session for my hip, said that when we have a cold winter, we are in for a hot summer. I hope not. The heat and I do not agree.

Duke beat Butler by only two points to win the N.C.A.A. championship, last night. Mostly, I don't care about sports, but I was interested to hear the outcome of this David versus Goliath match. The little guy, Butler, almost pulled it off. I wish that they had.

Tiger's back. Again, mostly, I don't care about sports, but this is an interesting story. I read, today, that Tiger may have had 15 lovers outside his marriage. I wonder who's counting, and how? One of his paramours is stripping in Atlanta, while Tiger is playing golf this weekend in Augusta, at The Masters. She fucked Tiger, so we should want to see her naked?

I'm hoping to have coffee, this afternoon, with my friends, Joel, and Tracie. I have not seen them in awhile, except for on the internet, and does that really count? I wonder if my children William, Tommi, Scout, and grandchild Elliot, are back from Florida yet? They went down there to see their Mimi, and to enjoy the beautiful spring weather at the beach. I'd like to see Graem, today, also.

The day is full of possibilities.
Let's embrace the day. Ok?
--------------------------------------------
I have a feeling that the fans may not be enough, today. We have slipped from cold into hot, whatever happened to medium weather; weather that you don't have to pay the utility companies to control? I think that it is a plot. The electric company has screwed the environment, so that we will have to turn to them, and pay, to have a decent temperature inside our homes: it's only a theory, just a theory.
--------------------------------------------

Bob Marley is singing as I wait for Kathryn a.k.a. Nadia to call. I've known this girl for over 25 years; she was just a kid when Penny C. and I met her, in the punk rock clubs of Atlanta, Ga. or was it on the stoned steps of Ru Paul Charles' 10th and Juniper Mansion? And now this attractive and intelligent young lady is a mother, a wife, and a political activist among so many other things. I think that Kathryn and I are going to go into Little Five and have coffee, at The Outdoor Place. I was hoping to hook up with Tracie, and Joel, also. Nadia was Kathryn's punk rock moniker in "the day."
"Is this love that I'm feeling," Bob Marley asks in his song, and I think how there are so many good, positive forms of love...love of friends, love of children, love of pets, love of a lover.
----------
The sting of chili sauce is still fresh on my tongue. I load the delicious Sriracha hot chili sauce onto a hardboiled egg, and eat the chili sauce topped egg as a snack. I put black pepper and garlic powder on it, too. (These are things that you need to know.)

My coffee is not perfect, this morning. Maybe that is because my tongue can't fully taste it, because of the sting of the chili sauce.

It is six a.m. I wonder if today will be as brilliant a day as yesterday was? It was almost a bit hot yesterday, though; 80 degrees. A person who I was talking to, during my physical therapy session for my hip, said that when we have a cold winter, we are in for a hot summer. I hope not. The heat and I do not agree.

Duke beat Butler by only two points to win the N.C.A.A. championship, last night. Mostly, I don't care about sports, but I was interested to hear the outcome of this David versus Goliath match. The little guy, Butler, almost pulled it off. I wish that they had.

Tiger's back. Again, mostly,I don't care about sports, but this is an interesting story. I read, today, that Tiger may have had 15 lovers outside his marriage. I wonder who's counting, and how? One of his paramours is stripping in Atlanta, while Tiger is playing golf this weekend in Augusta, at The Masters. She fucked Tiger, so we should want to see her naked?

I'm hoping to have coffee, this afternoon, with my friends, Joel, and Tracie. I have not seen them in awhile, except for on the internet, and does that really count? I wonder if my children William, Tommi, Scout, and grandchild Elliot, are back from Florida yet? They went down there to see their Mimi, and to enjoy the beautiful spring weather at the beach. I'd like to see
--------------------------------------
What a beautiful day. Becky, I don't think that it hit 90. I guzzled coffee and shat the sugar with Kathryn, and Jeff, all afternoon in Little Five. Billy stopped by for a minute. It was good to see him. I love drinking coffee, and chatting, with friends in Little Five Points, especially on beautiful spring days, such as today was. Thank you Lord for The Blessings.
------------------------------------------------

Samantha just emailed me, and told me that she "likes it slow." Hell, I'm getting old; I'm just the man for her. I have slowed way down.

------------------------------------------------

I felt free, this morning; now I feel confined, and I am sitting in the same chair, at the same desk, doing basically the same thing now as I was doing then. Is freedom a state of mind?
--------------------------------

The LandLady's brother, Jeremy, tied a couple of wires together above the fan, and now The Love Porch has a fan with a light that works. Today, the fan is almost making it cold out there!! Jeremy tightened a few screws on my front door, and now my door closes, and locks. It is amazing the things a truly handy man can do, and I thank Jeremy so very much.
-------------------------------------------------

I am sitting on The Love Porch, with Mo, and Bundy, finishing the book, "The Year of Living Biblically." I have put the Great Danes, Anna and Henry in for the night, along with their small roommate Kitty Poo Poo. There is a nice breeze blowing across the porch. I don't even need to turn on the ceiling fan, which now works. What a blessed day.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Henry and Anna spent the night. Henry didn't want to go to bed right away. He wandered our apt. a bit, sniffing here, and there. This morning he was slow to get up. Anna popped right up. Henry and Anna are regal Great Danes. Anna is 9. Henry is 1. Bundy, Morisson, Kobain, and Jaggar shared their home well. We didn't see much of Jaggar. This morning, Kobain was on my bed looking down at the two sleeping Danes with wonder, and curiosity. Just where did these two mini dinosaur-like creatures come from, he seemed to be thinking. It is cold out there, this morning. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
---------------------------------------------
I was wondering how I was going to make it until wed. when the next funding for food comes in; and I got home from Physical Therapy to find a big box of food on my door step. I know which angel sent this, and I thank her so very very very much. Henry and Anna are visiting. Anna is laying on her bed on The Love Porch, and Henry is playing with a stuffed animal that I used to be attached to. I had to lock Bundy in the bathroom, because he just won't shut up when there is another dog on the porch. I gave Mo some lettuce; it's still on the floor. I got like ten books from The Library today. I went and found a number of them that I wanted, including a book of Mark Twain essays, and when I was checking out, they said that I had books on hold. It is going to be a fun, fun reading month.
------------------------------------------
It looks like sushi manana with my youngest boy, Graem, footing the bill, yes... Tonight, I just had to put Henry, the one year old Great Dane inside, and inside his cage, because he was barking at everyone who walked by, and it is a Friday, night, so there are a lot of people out there walking. Henry did some minor damage inside my neighbor's apartment, while I was gone for a couple of hours, this afternoon, tearing up a few things that have no significance, but making an impressive mess for me to clean up in the process. Anna the nine year old Great Dane, took a dump in my neighbor's front room. I told my neighbor, Anna, who is at the beach, about this, and she said, "Oh, yes, Anna always gets like that when I am gone." I let Anna crash at my house, last night, but that just ain't happening tonight. I have carpet, and it is the enemy of dog poop. Sushi, tomorrow, yes!!
----------------------------------------------------------------
Kicked back on the porch reading three books at a time. The dogs love it out here on The Love Porch; Bundy can be a butt barking at other dogs through the screen, but he is not as bad as Henry, who is at home with his man Master right now. It is such a beautiful day; people are heading towards the park en mass, like I hope they will one day head towards the books that I write.
---------------------------------------------
I was hungry, but too tired to cook, and then I remembered that I had boiled some eggs, so as to have them in the fridge to snack on. I downed two of those babies, the really jumbo kind, and I was set. I do wonder what they had to do the chicken to get him, or her, to lay jumbo eggs. I mean these eggs are large. I tried to eat one like it was a regular egg, and I almost choked getting it down. Do you know that there are angry eggs, eggs that were laid by a chicken pissed off at the circumstances surrounding him, or her, when he, or she, were forced to lay those eggs. I really should quit eating eggs. I really should.

There are, sometimes, too many things to think about, like, this morning, I am thinking about eggs. Thich Nat Hahn says that there is such a thing as, "Angry Eggs," eggs that were hatched by chickens who weren't happy with their lot in life, chickens who were mistreated, abused actually, in the name of stealing their eggs from them, so that they could be sold for immense profit.

I started eating eggs young. In fact I probably went directly from Momma's milk to eggs. Eggs were the first thing that I was taught to cook. I love eggs: fried eggs, scrambled eggs, omelette's, poached eggs, hardboiled eggs; colored eggs at Easter. I love them all, so it pains me to think that I may be increasing my anger level by eating angry eggs.

Maybe when I am pissed off, it is not my fault. I now have the eggs to blame.
------------------------------
I'm going to The Butt Doctor, today. My Primary Care Physician, as my main Doctor is called, found blood in my stools, and this, coupled with the fact that I have recently become anemic gives her cause to send me over to The Butt Doctor for another colonoscopy.
I'm not really worried about it; I don't think that I have cancer, I think that I probably have a tear in my butt hole, a hemorrhoid, as such is called. I am grateful to have a Doctor who is keeping an eye out for such things for me, and I am grateful to have insurance that pays her to keep an eye out for me. As many ailments as I have, I would be way beyond lost without insurance.
---------------------------------
I am going to The Hip Doctor, today for a check up on my new hip. I am sure that he is going to say that everything is o.k. I have been going to physical therapy for the hip for awhile, now, and I have been working the muscles that surround the hip.
I am thankful for this whole process. Before I had my hip replacement surgery, I was in a great deal of pain, and, now, I can do most things normally, without experiencing any pain.
Scout just showed up to drop her bag off, on her way to school. She laughed becasuse she said that one of our turtles, "took a dive off the rock, when Bundy started barking at me."
It is funny how one action can cause another reaction that we are not even aware of.
I need to take my dogs outside to let them take care of business. I am then going to go let Henry out of his cage, and have him visit with us for awhile before I go to the doctor. I like it when Henry, the Great Dane, visits. He is good company.

-----------------------------------------------
I just had the most delicious dinner, and I am so very thankful that I am able to have such a delicious dinner. For dessert, I had a cream filled chocolate egg, that was in a basket at the grocery store marked !5 cents. I wish that I had bought a hundred of them.

I've got three dogs, right now, vying for one hand of mine. You would think that one of them would realize that I have another hand, and that that other hand is open, free to pet, free to scratch, free to mingle. These are three smart dogs, but what is up with this?

Sugar buzz kicks in, and I want more. And more. And more. And more. It was wise to only buy one egg, because if I had bought 100, that would be all that I would do for the next several days, would be to eat chocolate eggs. I'm addicted to sugar, the way it grabs me, and pulls me in, and sets up that immediate craving for more, more, more. I'm helpless. Somebody please help me, and give me some more chocolate.

I'm going to drink a cup of coffee, and then take a nap. I took a looooong walk today, and my body is tired. Bundy is jealous because Henry got to go outside cuz his momma is home. "Hush, Bundy, Hush."
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I wish that I was sitting at a table, under the shade of an umbrella, like these people I just saw out the window, instead of riding a bus to the hip doctor's office.

I am certainly not complaining, but it is definitely a much more enjoyable thing to be kicked back and drinking coffee than to be riding a bus on your way to sit in a doctor's office lobby.

Usually, people riding a bus know which stop that they want to get off at. That wasn't the case, today, with this guy riding our bus. The gentleman had the lady driving the bus stop at five or six stops, before he found the right one.

The driver was quite patient, and quite pleasant about the whole thing, but I, weirdly enough, found myself getting agitated.

------------------------------------

I am making quiche for, maybe, the first time. Google is amazing. I looked up quiche and realized that I don't have a crust to make the quiche with, so I Googled "crustless quiche," and found just what I needed. I added onions to the recipe that I found, and we are off to the "Real Men Eat Quiche," races. Henry has come to visit. He and Bundy love to play, and that is exactly what they are doing. Morisson is waiting around to get him some quiche.


The turtle comes cruising through his clear water, while the cat sip on water in the kitchen. The dogs are starting to "play" again, I will have to holler at them in a minute. I need two doves, and a snake to add to my menagerie. Then I need to build an ark.

------------------------------------------
Bundy won't "go home," and stay, so he and Henry keep hooking up, and "playing." It is much too early on this beautiful Sunday for me to listen to that. What a great day to be alive. It is cold out, right now, but the sun is shining, the flowers are in full bloom, and Jaggar is meowing in the kitchen that he wants something...

--------------------------------------------

I am enjoying a yummy Chocolate Bar. Normally, I only eat half of the bar, and save the other half for later, but, today, I am splurging. (The Lord talked to me, and said that he wanted me to enjoy the whole bar, today.) Chocolate is God in my religion.

------------------------------------------------------
When I was a Catholic kid, I never fully understood why I was eating "The Host." It wasn't enough bread to fill you up, and I was never able to make myself feel holy enough for that thing on my tongue to be pathing my stairway to heaven.

------------------------------

Maybe we were all suckers, but it got us through. And that is what church leaders were banking on: that we needed help getting through.

----------------------------------------


I just made and ate some of my home made vegetable fried rice; I'm trying to have a salad, now, and not that second and third bowl of the rice that I am craving. Henry and Anna, the Great Danes from next door are visiting. Anna is sleeping as she mostly does, being 9 years old; and, amazingly, Henry and Bundy are not going at it, not driving me crazy with their puppy games. Inspite of the fact that I got wet coming back from the Yoga Studio, today, today was a lovely day. I look forward to a pleasant evening, and then a good night's sleep. I hope that life is treating you well. I can really enjoy these good times, because, trust me, for a long, long time, when I did not have my doo doo poo poo together, life sucked. You can't truly appreciate the highs, unless you have been through the lows is what somebody taught me; and, you know what, I believe them.

------------------------------------------------

My cordless mouse just broke. It had been acting up, not cooperating, not doing what I wanted it to do, not doing what it was supposed to do, for awhile, and then it just went ahead and quit on me. I'm giving it dirty looks, but its not coming back on. The dogs are asleep, so I guess that I can cuss at it. I try not to cuss around the dogs; I don't want them to pick up bad habits from me. Now, I have to use the touch pad, and buttons that are on the laptop. I find this to be a pain in the pitoooeee. I'm a mouse-trained kind of guy. Oh well, at least I am not stuck in an airport, somewhere, doing my laundry in the bathroom sinks, like a lot of folks are tonight. "They" say that it could be worse, that it could always be worse, and you know what: I believe them!
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I went to bed late; I got up early. I thank The Lord that I don't wake up with hangovers anymore.

--------------


I came into the kitchen and Scout was making a smoothie. There were more blueberries in the blender than there should have been; she had loaded that blender with blueberries. I was going to say something, but bit my tongue; not enough to stop a couple of words from slipping out.

"What," said Scout.

"I was going to say that's a lot of blueberries you got in that blender."

Scout smiled, and went back to trying to get all those blueberries, some orange juice, and some peach yogurt to blend. I went out on The Love Patio with the dogs.

Five minutes later Scout appeared on the patio and put a large coffee cup in front of me. I contained the most beautiful blue drink that I had ever seen. Scout had used too many blueberries planning to fix me a drink, also.

Life has its beautiful, beautiful moments, and this was one of them.

I just rode my bicycle for the first time since having hip replacement surgery. There is such freedom in experiencing such mobility, again. The ride to, and back from, the pharmacy is cut in 2/3's. I can ride my bike for exercise. I can ride my bike for fun, "Just don't fall off," said my Physical Therapist, as she gave me the go ahead to get back on my bike. I was riding my bike, when I was in great pain, before the surgery; on the bike I felt no pain, but getting on it, and getting off it were very difficult things to do. I remember that I used to have to lay the bike on the ground to get off it, to avoid great pain. I am so glad that those days are behind me. Hats off to Dr. Doute for performing the surgery; the man has transformed my life.

Bummer: I can't eat, today, because I am having a colonoscopy, tomorrow. I can't have any half n half in my coffee, this morning; I have to drink it black. Woah is me!!...but it is still a beautiful day out there, and I am going to enjoy it as I would a day that I was starting off with my precious half n half in my coffee. Dear God, thank you for letting me see the new day, breath the air of a new day. Guide me in thought word, and actions, Lord; thy will be done not mine. Please keep me off of drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes. Amen, and thank you, Lord.

The black coffee was not all that bad. I let it cool, and then slugged it. I found the taste of the bean scintillating; normally I mostly taste cream and sweetener. Will you sweeten up my day?

I'm drinking a sparkling saline laxative; oh what fun I'm going to have for the evening, betting reading to have a colonoscope, in the morning. I'm anemic, and my doctor found blood in my stools, so she has sent me to the butt doctor.

What do you officially call a man who does the colonoscope; it escapes me, right now, as I take another swallow, glug, glug of the magnesium citrate.

I'm starving. I'm starving to death. I haven't eaten all day, and I can't eat all day. I can't eat until tomorrow, after the scoping has been completed.

I hope that you weren't eating lunch, when you sat down to read this. I was telling my youngest son about this, yesterday, and he said, "Daaaaaaaaaad, I'm eating a cookie."

Ha ha, tee hee.

Actually my kids don't call me dad, they have never called me dad. Isn't that funny? It really offends some people. "YOU'RE KIDS CALLS YOU MIKEL?"

Yup, and I don't go to church on Sunday, either. "Oh my, God, oh my effin' God...YOU MUST BE SATAN."

John Lennon said, "War is over, if you want it," and I believe that he was talking about one particular war, or maybe not, but, this morning, when that phrase came to mind, I started thinking of it in a different light than I ever have. The greatest wars in my existence were always personal. For most of my life, I fought battles with myself. Things are much easier for you, if you are not at war with yourself. I am glad that war is over, in my existence. I am sure that there will still be minor skirmishes from time to time, but I have surrendered, and life is good because I have.

Ask not what you can do for your country; ask what you can do for Mikel K. (Tee hee.)

I'm waiting for The Big Time to come find me. I'm sure that I will be a huge success, and that everybody is going to love me.


When I find her, or when she finds me
I will be the luckiest man alive.



How can I as a formerly B student
expect my kids to be straight A?



She believes that friendship is love.
I believe that you should wear a glove,
when you pull the pan full of cookies
out of the oven.



I thought that I saw you looking at me,
so I asked you out, and you said no.

So, I'm eating oatmeal with peanut butter in it, and a pinch of salt. There is no banana in my oatmeal, this morning, as there normally is, because we have run out of bananas. We hardly ever run out of bananas; no big deal, I will walk down to the grocery store, after a nap, and get some. I will probably take Morisson with me: he likes to go to the store. I was up late, last night, because I was rocking the house with Mudcat. I slip easily from the mode of being a Rock n Roll Poet, to being a father to my pets. Life has to be a balanced thing; moderation is the key.

I took a nap; now I am going to take the trash out. It is a lazy Sunday. I want to get some writing done, and find some new poems to get off paper with to perform with Mudcat. I'm digging being off paper; it allows me to emote more, to check out the audience, rather than having my nose stuck in a piece of paper.


I just prepared the bed so that my dog, Morisson, can enter it later, tonight. I understand that we are supposed to get bad storms tonight, that will continue into tomorrow, and storms scare my dog Morisson. I had to clear the bed of clothes, books, pillows, and bunch of other crap that accumulates onto the other half of my bed that no one sleep on. Morisson is a pretty lousy bedmate. When he joins me during a storm, he has an incessant need to dig his nose into my hand, to try to get me to pet him. I guess he finds getting petted to be soothing, and help him forget about the storm. I do not like to pet a dog when I am trying to sleep.

I have a chocolate bar in the butter section of the refrigerator, and I don't think that that chocolate bar is going to last too long. Yesterday, it was an almost melted chocolate bar, just sitting on top of my microwave oven minding its own business, and now it is going to be consumed. A little chocolate never hurt anyone, now did it?

The writing is weak, so far, this morning, but my arthritis pain is strong. I know that the weather has something to do with my arthritis; I wonder if it affects my writing, also.

I just took a nap. Now, I am going to clean out the turtles' tank. I need a cup of coffee. I must have a cup of coffee. Coffee is essential at that point of the game. Do they have a 12 Step program for people who are addicted to coffee. My name is Mikel, and I am a Cofffee-holic. Bless me father.

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."-- Hunter S. Thompson



Romans 12:12: "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."


I'm not sure if I should read a book, or go to sleep. I'm not sure if I should have a bedtime snack, or not eat. I'm not sure if I should turn on the air conditioning, or not.
James Truax, and I, are headed to Piedmont Park, tomorrow, he with his video camera, and I with my poems, and he is going to point his video camera at me. I just took the dogs out. Bundy wandered off, a bit, and I had to track him down. Morisson is the one who will bolt, though; that dog came to me as a runaway, and he has run from me many, many times. Please don't go, dogs; please don't go.

The turtles are happily swimming about in their new water. The dogs are happily laying back down after eating; well Bundy is growling, a bit, because a girl and her dog just walked by. I don't know what the cats are doing, but I do know that I am happy to be alive, and drinking this great cup of coffee, this morning.

PT was great. Chris, my therapist, threw in a new exercise at the end of the workout. New exercises are always hard to do when I first start doing them; progress can be seen when I am easily doing an exercise that used to be hard. I am reading a new book, "A History of God," by Karen Armstrong. God is about 14,000 years old, created by man to explain the unexplainable. James Truax, and I, are hitting The Video Trai, this afternoon. James has his camera, and his talent, which is extensive, and I have many, many poems to read for the camera. Life is God. Life is Good. "You R God," as Lou Majors used to like to get everybody to think.



Success is different for each one of us. You may feel successful doing something that I would have no interest in doing, and vice versa. I'm sure that the capitalist pigs who are ruining our air, and our water in the name of a dollar, feel successful driving home in their nice cars to their nice house. I bet that Ted Bundy felt successful with each additional kill that he made. Charles Manson may very well, still, feel successful. Success to me is a combination of things. (Perhaps to be cont.)