Thought of getting a bit of a jump on this third week of February's blogs. I'm sort of waiting to see if the mailman will stop by my apartment to day. Focusing on the blog while the right eye's peripheral area keeps a look out for the postman's truck. Well, that's not totally true, is it? My hearing is helping out because they will "hear" the truck's approach before my eyes can see it. I love it when my body parts work together to accomplish goals. And every part has its job.
Sunday, February 16, 2o2o
I just finished watching an HBO show, Ali and Cavett: The Tale of the Tape. Really good and very powerful story of Ali. Yes, there have been a lot of bio. docs. on Ali and I have seen them all. This one, today and where I am in life right now . . . really moved me. It seems that these days I'm finally cementing my beliefs about America and myself. Wrote the poem below last night.
True Patriot
I've given up the myth of race.
Bound it up in heavy duty twine,
and chucked it all in the vast
emptiness where meaningless
thoughts and beliefs go to die.
A friend of mine said he was
tired of being racist. He wanted
to know how to stop it. I just
shrugged, "If you don't want
to be racist, just stop being
racist."
My friend, of course, shook his
head, wandered away like he had
just been hit by a car . . . delirious.
But it's that simple, isn't it? You
weren't
born racist, you learned to be
racist.
You were taught the lie of race, and
you believed it because it came
from people you trusted . . . dad,
mom,
movies, TV, the news, politicians.
But there came a time, right? A
time
when you realized that racism was
just
pure bullshit, nothing but lies and
hate.
I try to live by the Bill of
Rights. Yes,
most Americans are for the Bill of
Rights
for themselves and people who think
just like them. And that's the
problem.
Personally, I can't perceive
patriotism
in a person unless that same person
defends not only his or her rights
but
the rights of every American
citizen.
People say that if you were born in
this country, you are automatically
an American. I say no. You are only
a true American if you
wholeheartedly
defend the rights of every American
citizen
with the same tenacity that you
defend your
own rights. Anything less is
un-American.
Woodie o2 16-2o
Yeah, took me almost an entire life to figure out my political stance. I mean, I'm sitting here and understanding what I should've understood from the moment I was politically aware: we are all created equel. And that the Bill of Rights from the American Constitution of the United States is the key to living that ideal: all of us are equal.
5:16 pm
Need to think about eating . . . it's become a bit of a chore . . . eating. I forget about it. The chemo, I guess, plays havoc with my desires to eat. So, I gotta force myself to cook and eat what I've just cooked!
Monday, February 17, 2o2o
1. Well, blood count up to 8.3 . . . I really don't know what that means exactly but it is high enough that I don't need chemo for another week which is very much appreciated by my fat tummy. It is still recuperating from the last round of shots. The right side is extremely bruised and may well be infected . . . or as the head RN says, " It looks very angry." And what I don't need is a pissed off infection of some kind. The RN told me to put heat on it and if it doesn't get better give them a call.
2. Do you remember my New Year resolution. One poem for each day in January. Well, I reached my goal, but I'm still writing one poem a day! Guess I got used to it. So, I'm reinventing my resolution. I will just write a poem a day for the whole year of 2o2o! That should keep me busy.
3. I've decided to stop trying to educate other people . . . particularly, I mean to never try to educate others about my political beliefs. Why? Because they won't get it, and that they definitely don't want to get it. So, no more talking to folks about that. I'll write my poetry, write some opinions on life which includes politics . . . but I won't discuss it. A waste of time.
4. A friend of mine who just finished her cancer treatment gave me some decretive surgical masks to wear. It could be fun.
Tuesday, February 18, 2o2o
1. Finally got all the info for the Norman Regional Financial Assistance Application. And I'll put it all together by tomorrow.
2. I had a dream last night and actually remembered it. But the remembering a dream after I wake up has been going on for about 3 weeks now. BUT I found out that whatever I am watching on TV right before I go to sleep is what I dream about! I know! It's like cheating. I just hope the DP (Dream Police) want arrest me for plagiarism.
3. I've become more of a thought shadow these days. Always clinging to the memory walls inside my delicate mind. Do mot be alarmed that if you are taking a whiz in barroom john and you look up and there's my shadow on the wall right beside the old joke: Why are you looking up here? The JOKE is in your hand.
4. I was going to wear my Land of the Dead T-shirt to chemo last Monday but decided it would really be in bad taste.
Wednesday, February 19, 2o2o
1. Finely finished the financial assistance form. Send it of tomorrow.
2. The politicians, the Democrats on TV are serial killers. With their condescending words, their vicious syllables, Gatling gun metaphors tearing bloodless holes of the others talking points. It was a massacre. No one survived.
3. Yes, your touch now a ghost. I feel it on my flesh no more. Do not turn away, fade away into the dark . . . My eyes refuse your leaving as an end to us.
Thursday, February 19, 2o2o
Well, big surprise when I got home today. Got the usual bunch (5-6 ) bills from the hospital for my chemo treatment. And the first five? three were $100.00 each, and two were around $50.00 each and then I opened up the last one . . . $15,001.46 . . . fuck! I don't have over $15,000.00 to pay out. I started this treatment with over $9,000.00 and I made a lot of payments with it. I think may be at around $5,000.00 now . . . nowhere near $15,000.00! So, gotta call in the morning and see if there's anything I can do about that huge amount. Maybe I can pay it off a little at a time.
Friday, February 21, 2o2o
Last entry for the las day in the 3rd week of Feb. A little tense. A little unwarranted fear all day because of the fifteen thousand dollar chemo bill hanging over my head. I guess the Medicare is finished with me and the bulk of what is left (around twenty thou.) is up to me. But I got a call finally from the billing department at Norman Regional and . . . the lady waiting on me was very nice and is helping me a lot. I hope the financial aid packet I sent them yesterday will go through. Anyway, one big chore left: Change out the old cable box for a brand new one. There's that tension in my neck again. I do get freaked out easily. But no worries for the rest of this night unless my fretful thought machine finds something else to worry about. See you next week, readers. Oh! Maybe one improv poem?
My shirt sleeves frayed around the cuffs.
Old, worn. Reminds me of the mirror
I find myself trapped in . . . sometimes.
Spotted white from toothpaste slime
slung there by my heavy breath. I
never bother to wipe it off. The spots
remind me of a ghostly snow leopard
that once hunted inside one of my
drunken dreams. Beautiful it was.
5:16 pm
Need to think about eating . . . it's become a bit of a chore . . . eating. I forget about it. The chemo, I guess, plays havoc with my desires to eat. So, I gotta force myself to cook and eat what I've just cooked!
Monday, February 17, 2o2o
3. I've decided to stop trying to educate other people . . . particularly, I mean to never try to educate others about my political beliefs. Why? Because they won't get it, and that they definitely don't want to get it. So, no more talking to folks about that. I'll write my poetry, write some opinions on life which includes politics . . . but I won't discuss it. A waste of time.
4. A friend of mine who just finished her cancer treatment gave me some decretive surgical masks to wear. It could be fun.
Tuesday, February 18, 2o2o
1. Finally got all the info for the Norman Regional Financial Assistance Application. And I'll put it all together by tomorrow.
2. I had a dream last night and actually remembered it. But the remembering a dream after I wake up has been going on for about 3 weeks now. BUT I found out that whatever I am watching on TV right before I go to sleep is what I dream about! I know! It's like cheating. I just hope the DP (Dream Police) want arrest me for plagiarism.
4. I was going to wear my Land of the Dead T-shirt to chemo last Monday but decided it would really be in bad taste.
Wednesday, February 19, 2o2o
1. Finely finished the financial assistance form. Send it of tomorrow.
2. The politicians, the Democrats on TV are serial killers. With their condescending words, their vicious syllables, Gatling gun metaphors tearing bloodless holes of the others talking points. It was a massacre. No one survived.
3. Yes, your touch now a ghost. I feel it on my flesh no more. Do not turn away, fade away into the dark . . . My eyes refuse your leaving as an end to us.
Thursday, February 19, 2o2o
Friday, February 21, 2o2o
Last entry for the las day in the 3rd week of Feb. A little tense. A little unwarranted fear all day because of the fifteen thousand dollar chemo bill hanging over my head. I guess the Medicare is finished with me and the bulk of what is left (around twenty thou.) is up to me. But I got a call finally from the billing department at Norman Regional and . . . the lady waiting on me was very nice and is helping me a lot. I hope the financial aid packet I sent them yesterday will go through. Anyway, one big chore left: Change out the old cable box for a brand new one. There's that tension in my neck again. I do get freaked out easily. But no worries for the rest of this night unless my fretful thought machine finds something else to worry about. See you next week, readers. Oh! Maybe one improv poem?
Old, worn. Reminds me of the mirror
I find myself trapped in . . . sometimes.
Spotted white from toothpaste slime
slung there by my heavy breath. I
never bother to wipe it off. The spots
remind me of a ghostly snow leopard
that once hunted inside one of my
drunken dreams. Beautiful it was.
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