The Daily {W}rite February 15, 2019 wk o3

Well, I did get out on the bicycle yesterday and rode it down to the Speeding Bullitt Comics store, a 1.6 mi trip  . . . one way! Yes, a did a total of slightly over 2 mi. AND I felt pretty good afterwards. The small trip was tough on my lungs though, but it wasn't as bad as it was the day before when I went just 2 blocks away from my apartment before I my lungs started hurting.

So, seventy degrees outside yesterday when I did my "ride"  and setting at thirty degrees right now at 3:31pm this afternoon! Which means I am stuck in the house for at least today. Damn it. The longer I wait to get an exercise routine set up, the longer I'll be  . . . sick? At least that's what I'm hoping.  So maybe today I'll write a few more lines on this entry. Would you like that?

Saturday, February 16, 2o19
Had a rough night last night. My body just wouldn't relax enough for me to go to sleep. Aches and pains, RLS (Restless Limb Syndrome), itchy skin . . . and memories. Yeah, lots of those memories floating about in my head late at night when I'm trying to sleep. Too much of that.

But finally got some sleep. At least just enough for the alarm clock on my phone (yeah, my phone has a clock in it, which is no big deal these days, all the cellphones have clocks and lots, lots more!) to wake me up at 11am. And I felt pretty good even though I had only gotten 2-3 hours sleep. Called David at noon, and then got dressed, brushed my toothess (yeah, I know it's actually teeth), get the nebulizer out and breathed for 10 minutes, and just as I finished getting my shoes on the phone rang:
Woodie: What?
David: I'm ready to go . . .
Woodie: That was fast!
David: Yeah, I showered last night . . .
Woodie: Well, I'm ready to go . . .

Even though we were both layered up, (T-shirt, sweat shirt, the black down jacket and my new Batman stocking cap for me.) it was still cold as hell. The wind just sliced through everything! But we got into the Stella Nova and the coffee was warm . . . hot, actually. I had them put some ice in my "Americano" so I could drank it without burning my lips off! And then . . . off to the store to get supplies, food and such because David is leaving for L.A. on Wednesday and wanted to make sure I had enough food. Sometimes, David seems to be a better friend to me than I am to him {smiles}

Monday, February 18, 2o19

Hey, where in the hell have you BEEN! No Sunday blog entry? What the hell, man! Sorry, but I was sick yesterday. "Yeah sure!" No, seriously I was deadly ill. A cold of some kind. It just laid me out! I did nothing but sleep, wake up and watch TV a bit. Horrible. But I'm back . . . I hope. Still congested, but much better today.

Tuesday, Feb. 26, 2o19

The Daily {W}rite February 2019 wko2

I try to like people. I try to accept them as they are with all their faults and all their goodwill or bad will or what you will think of . . .  that makes them the individual that each and everyone of them are allowed to be, should be, honey bees or by your leave. But at times, many times when dealing with "people" individually or as a group . . . it becomes difficult to maintain a positive stance when face to face with them. I try to be "tolerable" but I fail almost every day to not just shun a whole shit load of people. My primary problem with "people" is their dislike and disrespect for me. I mean, no matter what I say there's always someone there to tell me I'm wrong, to belittle me, laugh at me, prove to me that they are my superior . . . and I hate them for it. I refuse to talk to them, ever. No "hi how are ya" not if a nod of my head to confirm that they exist.

Saturday, February o9, 2o19
So, we got home from the movie, Cold Pursuit, around 5pm. The movie was really great. Wonderful script about an ordinary guy who seeks to revenge the death of his son by drug dealing mobsters. Yeah, I know, so what the hell is new about that storyline? Well, they keep saying that all the stories have been told long before any of us were born . . . so, the difference is not in the storyline but in how you tell the story, and man, Cold Pursuit tells a poignant, hilarious black comedy, crime thriller . . . it's really fun to watch.

When I got home finally, out of the nasty cold weather that just beats me into the ground these days, I had lunch that I bought from Wendy's (I know, I know! I gotta cut out the fat creating foods!), eat it and just collapsed. Really, tired, you know? This winter-blunder-land is bullshit! Two things that kill old . . .er people off the fastest . . . really cold weather AND really hot weather! Not a fan of either one, thank you very much. And it's sad, really. When I was younger I loved the Oklahoma heat. Nothing better than getting out on the bike, riding four or more miles and sweating like a pork loin in a BBQ oven! But winter cold, I mean COLD! No, no, no, sir! Not interested in that at all.

Sunday, February 1o, 2o19 

Not that big on blogging about politics. I always like to keep this as my personal journal that I share to all those who want to take the time to read it. But today . . . boy, I was awaken by the TV that I had left on all night. It was tuned to the news and I just listened, half in a dream, half out of a dream . . . the news became a part of sleep . . . and it just pissed me off. I mean, I don't want to go into it too much . . . but the garbage everybody is spewing about this country, both the right and the left, just saddens me to such a despair. Yeah, I get angry about it, too angry about it at times . . . but mostly I just weep for the state my America is in.

Wednesday, February 13, 2o19

Well, I didn't write on this blog yesterday because I was too busy finally finishing up my top ten movie list for 2o18. It was really a chore. I put off writing it for the longest time primarily because I had to write from scratch nine reviews, and a lot of the movies I reviewed happened so long  ago I couldn't remember the details of the movies, why I liked them. That's crazy, right? I mean, if I really loved a film and wanted on my top ten list . . . then I should remember it in detail, right? Yeah, right. But whether I should have remembered details of a movie I watched six or seven months ago or not, I still needed to research some of them for plot, storyline and character names.

11:o7pm
I went out on the bike a bit.  Wasn't quite as warm as I would've liked it, but a long sleeve shirt, jeans, T-shoes and a down hunting vest was enough to keep me freezing . . . but still a bit cold. I couldn't ride far. I  stopped for lunch at the Greek House. They have great Gyro sandwiches. After that, I decided to try a bit of a ride . . .no dice. About a block and I start huffing and puffing. Did have enough lung power to get myself back home, 3 blocks away from where I tired out. Then it was pushing the bike up the stairs to my apartment. Damn. That was hard. Guess I need to go to the doctor and see what's up. Hope I got more lung power  in me so I can at least ride my bike around town.

Valentine's Day

Thursday, 14, 2o19
Okay, I don't celebrate VD day but I can't say I don't enjoy it a bit . . . from a distance. Yes, I print up some original meme's for it, some funny and some not. I did make a "funny" one, based on the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre. But I woke up this morning, turned on the news and realized February 14th is also Parkland's Day of Remembrance for the 17 lives lost during the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High school shooting back in 2o18. So, I deleted the "funny" Valentine's Day meme and replaced it with this meme.

I chastised myself for forgetting. I hope no one saw the other meme, the one that when I think about it is not funny at all.

The Daily {W}rite February 2019 wk o1

The first day in February kicks off Black History Month. I always like to post poetry, biographies, art work, and writings of African-American artists on my Facebook page. It's a way for me to connect (and possibly help others connect) with artists that they may not have heard of. I also like to concentrate on historical artists mostly but I like to included local artists and artists who are living now but may not be high profile artists. I do include a few Nationally known artists like Maya Angelou who I featured on my Facebook page on this first day of BHM. For the blog, I've decided to introduce you to a local musician, Jahruba Lambeth. Jahruba has been kicking around Norman-town since way back when. Well known in the area as a percussionist and singer. He plays a lot on Main St. during our monthly Art Walks. He also teams up with a local guitarist, Chris Christo. If you live close to Norman or in Norman but never got out to Art Walk, come on down next Friday (February 8) and checkout all the local artists. Jahruba may be there.

Saturday, February o2, 2o19

I believe God has stolen the beautiful hair that once nested on the top of my head for purposes that are truly beneath His rather glorious position in my life. Yes, He's taken my hair and from it has fashioned a voodoo doll of my likeness, and He has since I turned 70 years older stabbed at that likeness of myself with a long, thin holy sewing needle. He doesn't just hit, poke at one spot, but multiple  spots on the inside and outside of my body. God can, at times, be not only cruel but extremely vindictive.   Yesterday, as I sipped a Smoothie and ate a sandwich at one of our more expensive restaurants in Norman-town, I had a sudden headache, a piecing headache right in the middle of my frontal lobe. It burned and just kept aching for at least five minutes  . . . and then it was gone as if it had never been there in my brain at all.  However, the memory of that stabbing pain remains inside my memory closet. And that brutal memory scratches at the door. It wants out so it may torture me some more.

And then today, I just felt little punches in areas of my body where I never thought I could ever feel pain. Organs  here and there in little hideaway places inside my flesh took turns cramping and twisting themselves into invisible, horrible pain monsters. It appears that God not only likes a sharp stabbing motion to inflect his physical abuse on me . . . I'm sure He has a pair of weighted gloves that He loves to wear as His giant fists punch every part of me that can be punched.

Sunday, February o3, 2o19

A slow day. Me moving in slow motion. The air from the air conditioner- yes, it was warm enough today to turn the AC on- drifted like invisible smoke, like a transparent ghost haunting the living room with its cold breath. The day is drained of whatever colors might find there way through the winter's gray mood. My life? Black and white, a negative stain that no amount of scrubbing can wipe out. I hear Lady Macbeth had some the same kind of problem. But my sadness, my insanity always finds a way to cure itself . . . unlike Lady M., I have a silly sense of hope that somehow it well all turn out just right. Just right. TGS . . . The Goldilocks Syndrome.

Monday, February o4, 2o19

I'm out of the shower. Hair still wet. Body clean . . . hope some of it rubs off onto my inner-self, the constant light that flickers inside keeps the pilot light lit . . . A spark of life. Water at the right temperature and the just right ratio of hot and cold can change a person . . . if not forever, for a while. Peace, rest, a shy smile on my battered face. . . for a while.

Tuesday, o5,2o19

Wake up call for David at 11am. No answer.  Left a taunting message on his answering machine. Hung and called again. He answers the phone . . . but says nothing. "Hello?" I said. "Mageratgredogagadot!" was the answer from the other end of the conversation. I shouldn't have called the second time. I knew from the sound of his voice that we weren't going to go anywhere today. "Call . . . back . . . in  . . . an . . .hour." Yeah, sure. That's what I did. He didn't even bother to answer the phone at when I called at 1pm. Wrote this around 11am today:

Tuesday, February o5, 2o19

I wake up depressed.
I wake up happy.
I wake up. I wonder.
I dream, I know I dream.
I feel. I feel those dreams,
they run through my thoughts
on ghost legs . . . disappearing
behind that thick wall of fog
now standing guard outside
my apartment's west window.
I know I dream. I know not
what I've dreamt. I know I dream.
The news reminds me:
Today is Trayvon's birthday.
He would've been 24 years old.
I wake. I wake up. I . . . wake.

Wednesday, February o6, 2o19

A nice day. Started off with a foggy morning. So thick the energy building (with it's 25 or more stories) couldn't be seen. Really cool! A gentle morning and day. My mind not filled with a lot of the depression junk I consume while watching the news. Particularly depressing was Watching Trump's State of the Union speech. But NO! I'm not getting into that. I don't want to feed the demons thrashing about inside my thought processor.

David did get out and about today. We went for coffee at the Stella Nova where Aquaman is a Barista! No, I'm not joking! Yeah, I am. He's a young bearded hipster kid with long hair . . .  he's always smiling, which is a bit annoying.

So, me and David, we just sort of hung out for a bit and then . . . home we went. It remand foggy all day and slowly it got colder and colder. I was so glad to be in my apartment where it's nice and snuggly warm.

Thur., Feb. o7, 2o19
Cold today. that windy coldness . . . slices through the flesh. Was okay out in it a bit, just a bit, from David's car to the Stella Nova. A nice gourmet cinnamon role . . . very tasty. Ice tea instead of coffee. Why? who knows. Got home about two hours after we left. David wanted me to go see this musician I really like . . . whose name I can never remember. Anyway, I decided not to go because it was so cold and the sun was still out and if the sun was still out and it was cold . . . well, I didn't want to think how cold it would be at night. So, I said I didn't want to go, got in the house and . . . I just got sick, so sick. I don't know what was wrong with me . . . But I was so glad I didn't go out.

So, here's the end of the first week of Feb. and I wrote a lot in this blog. I'm not sure it's worth reading but here it is anyway. {smiles}