The Daily [W]Rite November 2o15 WKo2

Tuesday, November 1o, 2o15
Walgreens has tried to murder me. Exaggerated a bit? Well, they jacked up the price on my cholesterol prescription  from $5.00 a month to  $71.00 a month and my inhaler was $30.00 a month and now is $66.00. So, yeah. They're trying to murder me. I had to go back to the doctor's and tell the nurse there what was going on. "I'll call you back," she said.

The dentist today. Got fitted for the for the wire frames that'll support the partial plate. Be nice to have enough teeth to maybe chew a piece of steak . . . although I can't have red meat because of how high my cholesterol is, or as my Las Vegas, NM doctor put it, "You don't HAVE high cholesterol as much as you ARE cholesterol." Hmm, I got the hint.

"Okay," the nurse said when she called me back, "We got your prescription cost down to not more than $20.00 per month. However, we really are going to have to monitor it because a single dose is NOT enough because your cholesterol is SO high!" Alright, damn it, I got it! So, I pick-up the new prescription tomorrow at Walmart because I don't trust Walgreens anymore. Hey, try to murder me once shame on you. Try to murder me a second time . . . shame the fuck on me. 
NOTE: Got the prescription for cholesterol from Walmart, and guess what? The prescription cost not $20.00 a month but $20.00 for THREE MONTHS! Yahoo!

Thursday, 12, 2o15
Yesterday was Veteran's Day and Facebook friends did a wondrous thing by posting pictures of their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, uncles, etc., who had served in the military. LOTS of pics from WWII and Vietnam. But one person had a picture of a relative that served in WWI. Pretty impressive for a group of people that highbrows say are "wasting their time on that damn Facebook!" Made me wish I had pics from Vietnam or my dad who served in WWII and had an aircraft carrier shot out from under him by the Japanese.

9:26pm
I'm a little insane tonight. Well, more like angry tonight about all kinds of things. Politics in particular really locks my mind up. Overload! Trump, explaining to some MSNBC reporter that he is going to kick 11.6 million people out of America for being here illegally. He plans on creating an "army" to round them all up and ship them off (UPS?), AND he will do it ALL . . . humanely.

11:16pm
A little Captain Beefheart on the computer as I try to maintain my sanity and write about
. . . about . . . ? David I went on a bit of an "urban" adventure today. We decided to go and take pics of all the businesses on The Corner, the places we haunted back in "the day" when we were both young, dumb and full of . . . expectations. The problem is all our haunts are pretty much gone, replaced over the years by other businesses. So, the idea was to take pictures of all the new places that replaced our youth, post them online and see how many "old timers" can guess what business was in the pic back in the '70s and '80s. Some of the store fronts, hell, I'm not even sure if the business was really there or not. David has a better memory than me about these kind of things. One we couldn't quite get was where the Buchannan Avenue Post Office was exactly. So, I went in to this boutique which we thought was where the post office was originally. . .  asked the 18 year old girl who worked there if she knew . . . and of course . . . she didn't have a clue. But she did think her dad might know because he was around Norman-town during the 70s, and she called his cell . . . but no answer.

Friday, 13, 2o15 12:45am

 My adventure with David yesterday woke up some dead things that were buried and forgotten a long time ago. Or maybe they were not really gone, dead. Perhaps, they were just waiting patiently for me to walk by someday and pick them up.

Memories are what some folks call them. Others use the term ghosts! Anyway, whatever you call them, as we walked around The Corner trying to figure out which store front housed that bar or this bar we use to hangout in, or that restaurant or that store that's now a boutique, wasn't that Mr. Smith's laundry? Several times we passed the boarding house where my first (and only) true love lived, the back porch where I kissed her (or did she kiss me?) for the first time. Well, nice memories I suppose. But considering how my life has turned out it seems those fond thoughts have turned into nightmares, living nightmares inside my head. And of course instead of them being cherished, all those wonderful experiences, really drove me down into a very thick and muddy mood. So, I'm up and writing about how much my life inhales. How much I despise the fact that I got old and that I'm alone . . . lonely. {a very sad little smile}

3:38am
I figure to get to the sleeping gig in about an hour. Gives me plenty of time to dream something before the morning sun comes along. Art Walk later on this fine Friday the 13th. I love Art Walk. I love taking pictures of all the people walking around looking at the art, listening to the street musicians, grabbing burgers and fries off the many food trucks that stop by. Art Walk makes me feel . . . a bit more connected to these Norman-town humans.

9pm Art Walk
The Terrorist attacks in France got to me a bit. I didn't know how much until we stopped for a garage burger before going home. Before I really knew it David and me were into it:

Woodie (The Hawk): We should take those fuckers out!

David (The Pacifist): Killing all those innocent people?

Woodie: We don't kill the innocent. Just the bad guys.

David: And how exactly do you tell the bad guys from the innocent if they're not wearing uniforms?

Woodie: The bad guys are the guys shooting at you.

David: Sure you're not talking about color of skin or religion? I mean . . . ? (There's a point in a heated conversation when you realize it has gone beyond debate) I mean . . .! (Pause)

Woodie: So, are we working out tomorrow?

David: Yeah, sure!

Saturday, November 14, 2o15
So, it's the end of the 2nd week in November. There's blood, lots of blood on the streets, in the restaurants and theatres of France, and I met a poet girl during Art Walk who wrote me a poem on the fly.

Girl: Give me one word.
Woodie: One word?
Girl: Yes. I'll write a poem based on that one word.
Woodie: (pause) Nothingness.
Girl: Nothingness? (short pause) Okay.

Nothingness For Woody (Woodie)
Here is the darkness, the nothingness
   Shines bright as the twinkle
   in my lover's eye.
It's blinding me, I'm suffering
   I can't imagine why.
If I don't look back,
   if I don't let him in,
   what's left between us could die.
Empty my preference?
No more we. Only I.

I shouldn't have enjoy yesterday's Art Walk while France moans in pain . . . but I did. At least, for as long as it took this girl to finish her poem and hand it to me.

8:18pm
More bodies piling up in France. Glad to see everybody on Facebook flying the French flag in support of the fallen and a poor country who's seen her share of terrorist attacks. Also on Facebook, someone just typed the words "Welcome to WWIII." Sent a bit of a icky chill up my spine because the person who wrote that could be right. I wrote back, "We'll, I ain't ever seen a World War, but the little war I was in felt like it was a World War." I don't know if that was clever or funny or rude . . . but I got a feeling a lot of Vets, particularly Vietnam era Vets, feel the same way. That's all for this week. I hope there's a next week to write about. {impish little smile}