The Daily {W}rite September 2019 wk o1

It's 2:09pm and I haven't change out of my . . . PJs! Yes, You might say I'm a lazy lout . . .but in my defense I am going out tonight to watch the game at Louie's with my friend David Slemmons. So, I'll expect your apology for suggesting that I am more three-toed sloth than man. It's okay. You don't have to submit it in writing . . . A public pronouncement on Facebook will do.

The parking police are in position around the Energy Center. People may not leave their cars in the Energy Center's parking lots unless  . . . I don't know exactly who gets to park there on game days. But the parking lot cop turns some away and allows others to park on those hallowed grounds.  There may be some sort of secret handshake or signal that tells the cop that "this car shall pass!"

I always get upset when people tell me what to do, or when they try to define me. Makes me mad. And yet, I'm always telling others what to do and not do. Hypicritical? Perhaps. There's a fine line, isn't there, between standing up against the tyranny of the group and/or individual or trying to make others do what you think is right . . . that line is very thin and I think I cross over it way too many times. I need further discussion with my . . . self about the matter.

I spent a big chunk of my yesterday watching The Thing From Another World. I have two copies of it on DVD, one I bought and one that was sort of willed to me. Well, my friend that died, my ex-roommate didn't leave me the DVD in some formal will. But his brother had inherited everything of his brother's including a BIG collection of DVDs, particularly a BIG pile of Horror/sci-fi movies, and since his brother knew I was Jim's friend and that I loved horror films he let me come in and take my pick of the collection! And I did. That's how I wound-up with two copies of The Thing From Another World.

Becoming one's self. That's our "duty" in this life, isn't it? Become your . . . self, be your . . . self? I guess that what is meant by that is to "choose" your way of seeing things, experiencing things in this physical/spiritual world without all the subconscious baggage that mom, dad, and the entire world has laid on you from the day you were born. And also nature. Yes, I said it. Some things you were born with, instincts if you will, are now obsolete in this world you find yourself a pilgrim in.

Monday, September o2, 2o19

Let me tell ya, this has been one hell of a weird-ass couple of days, this past Sunday and Monday! I mean serious mind trauma to my brain housing group. Let's start with Game Day! Yeah, that's right a Sunday OU Game Day, the first game of the season. And I'm well aware that Game Days are always a necessary chaos if any business on The Corner is going be in business the rest of the year. But this opening Game Day? Crazy wild . . . and all of it in a good way . . . at least that is the way I dealt with all of it.

Like I was saying it was crazy crowded out there on Asp! People flocking to the stadium to see the first game of the season. I was trying to take a pic of a OU helmet display they had and this girl steps into frame just as I was shooting. Her look in the first pic seems very stern, which I often get when people realize I'm shooting their pics. But look how she changes (photo right).

And then there was this dude, big muscular dude maybe in his forties, wearing a red shirt that said, "You're in Lincoln Country" and I asked what that meant . . . He may have told me but we were in Louie's waiting to watch the game and it was noisy  . . . and then he said, "Let me buy you guys (David was sitting with me) a shot!" I said, "No thanks. We both don't drink." That seemed to offend him for some reason. Waitress came over and told us that the guy was sorry if he offended us (like we were offended by a guy wanting to buy us drinks), "But," she said, "he thought you guys were cute." Cute?! We are cute?! Of course I didn't say that out loud. But it did kind of throw me. I mean, I don't think I ever heard a guy call me cute. Come to think of it . . . I don't remember anyone ever calling me cute! the only time someone might have called me cute  . . . it would have to be when I did or said something real stupid, and a friend might have said, "That's cute, Woodie, real cute."

Tuesday, September o3, 2o19

So, I'm going to leave off The Once Upon a Time . . . In Hollywood Ice Tea Massacre  story for another day because I got a call from my doctor's office . . . a rather frantic call . . . "Doctor What's-His-Name needs you to come in for another blood sample because you are extremely anemic . . . you're like one stop away from needing a transfusion." Well, what the fuck? That sounds pretty damn serious . . . plus they want to have a colonoscopy . . . holly fuck! So, anyway I got an appointment for tomorrow to have the blood test . . . and I'm freaking out a bit because the receptionist sound pretty freaked out herself.

September o4,2o19

So, David picked me up close to 1pm and drove me to the doctor's office. He talked about a bunch of stuff . . . I really don't remember what. To be honest I was still anxious about the whole "one step away from needing a transfusion" stuff that the receptionist laid on me over the phone last night. "Oh, she was probably just hyperbolizing a bit." David say that at some time . . . but it didn't make any difference. I was still . . . distraught. Anyway, we got there. David went to get coffee at a gas station and I signed in at the front desk. A few minutes later the male nurse came in, took me to the "blood" station, sat me down and . . . drew the blood. After that, David and I went to the stores for food! We've gotten to the point where we shop at three different grocery stores: Walmart, Smart Saver, and Sprout's. And I don't know if I was being overly sensitive to the idea I was anemic, but I was gasping for air a lot more than I have been. Even after I got home. Going from the Livingroom to the kitchen just wore me out. {no smiles}

Thursday, September o5, 2o19

My dreams, the few that I remember, my dreams
have wandered away from my consciousness,
the last of the memory leaves to float away
into that everlasting autumn . . . fall . . . that
endless winter that makes darkness seem bright.
Aware now, at this moment . . . my fingers are
the only survivors  . . . scratching at the keys.
A cat clawing at the moment as if it had food
in its bowl that it cannot see. Bat . . . cat blind.
You . . . a refection in the muddy pond. You.
We were lovers once, asleep I'd reach for you.
And you were always there until you weren't.

8:47pm
David and his kids went out for dinner. I wasn't up for it. Okay, I'm still not feeling well . . . but it wasn't just that. I just had my mind set on fixing myself a meal. I don't know why it was so important to cook. But I had these pork short ribs . . . potatoes . . . vegies . . . and A-1 Steak Sauce. Took about 50 minutes to cook it all and . . . Man! It was really good!

Friday, September o6, 2o19

Slow day. Snail day. The ol' sun crawling across the sky, on cloudy knees, lightning feet . . . a wonder if he makes it until sunset. I dreamt of you again. I don't know why. But that's not unusual. When I do dream of you, which is almost every night, I wake-up surprised that you would show up in one of my extremely uninteresting fantasies. A lot of standing around in my dreams, standing around in the dark, waiting for you to show up . . . and like a cramp in my typing finger you always do show up wearing that noncommittal smile that you had tattooed to your lips long before tattoos were fashionable. Yes, you were the original trend setter . . . always moving on to another look, point of view when everybody started looking, thinking like you . . . moving on even if what you had said was the truth. you always wanted to be new, fresh . . . You'd settle for a lie as long it was a lie that only you spoke about.

Saturday, September o7, 2o19

Just finished watching THEM! (1954) on TCM. Dude, I'm 71 years old . . . er. And please, Don't say, "You're only as old as you feel." Because if that's true, I'd be 2,000 years old . . . er. Anyway, THEM! is one of my all time favorite sci-fi/horror movies. I say sci-fi/horror because my movie geek friends (actually, geek is the right terminology because a "geek" is a fan of a subject and a "nerd" is a practitioner of the subject.) get upset when I call THEM!  a horror movie because they say it's a sci-fi film because it has "some" sci-fi in it. Actually, it has a lot of pseudo science in it . . . so, technically it may well be a sci-fi flick BUT . . . it has giant, man-eating ants in it, AND the primary action of the movie is for the humans to find the giant, man-eating ants and . . . kill THEM!, which makes it a horror film NOT a sci-fi movie. Besides, I was 6 years old . . . er when I first saw THEM! in a movie theatre by myself! AND it scared the kid right out of me . . . not solely because it had giant, man-eating ants! No, It also creeped me out because I was watching it in a little movie theater in Victorville, CA and Victorville, CA is smack dab in the middle of California's high desert . . . where most of THEM! was filmed! I wrote a poem about THEM! and me watching it only I changed a few of the facts . . . to protect the innocent . . . me. {smiles}

P.S. Hey! Last day of the first week in September and I've written quite a bit! Maybe too much? Hope not. I mean, I'm aware that I did write a lot . . . but I'm hoping it's not boring.
P.S.S. Oh! IF you can't "see" the poem, THEM!, click on the poem and it will get a little bigger. I hope. See you next week!