Sunday,
I can hear nothing tonight except for the hissing of the wall heater and the sound of Neil Young's
Harvest album. I've been swallowing pain killers (over the counter, nothing strong, and I'm following the usage recommendation on the package), trying to "kill this knotted spasm in my lower back muscles. Not doing a lot of good, really. But Neil's squeaky, nasal, country voice seems to be more powerful than the drugs I'm taking. My back must like Neil Young.
There's something else I'm hearing. The echo of Meryl Streep's acceptance speech for her life time achievement award that she received at the Golden Globe Awards show just ended about two hours ago. I'm not going to print it here because it's easy enough to find because the internet will be a buzz with it by the time morning comes around. And, I'm pretty, sure the news shows morning, noon and night will be talking about it for at least two days. I know I'm not going to forget it. I also know that I sometimes just can't find the words to express myself on a lot of subjects. But America? I've always found something to say about her, about my love for her. Totally honest? I'm a patriot at heart. I love this country more than I am able or willing to say. Meryl's not. She said it better, what we need to be doing in order to actually call ourselves "true" Americans. And I'm planning to live by her words, and by words that just found after hearing her speak.
Monday, January o9, 2o17
The Actor Factory: Sign in on the laptop. Took me about five tries just to get my name into the computer. I hate other people's computers. None of them work right. Stand at the blue line and wait for someone to come get you. I can hear David saying something about a script? He comes out and the little A.D. calls me in. Shows me a script. I glance at it. Only two lines. I'm sure I can remember them. Chris Freihofer (Freihofer Casting) sits at a long table staring into a laptop screen. He looks up and smiles at me. The A.D. walks me over to the camera. "
I'll be reading with you," she says. "
Let me know when you're ready." I nod. "
Are you ready?" I nod again. "
Yeah, well you have the first line." "
Oh," I say. "
Bless you." That's really the only line I remembered, damn. I make up the other one. "
Really mean that you are thankful to her, " Chris says. I do it over, the A.D. responds with her line and I paraphrase what I think my line is and . . . "
Yeah," Chris says, "
I can use that. Thank you." The A.D. shows me to the door, and I go back to the front desk to sign-in on two hard copy sign in sheets. A lot of signing in. I think I left my stainless steel coffee cup in the audition room. Damn.
Tuesday, January 1o, 2o17 2:30 a.m.
The darkness won't let me go. Jealous, I think. She doesn't like watching me dream, alive in other places, with other creatures. The light. Yes, I'm sure it is the light that drives her to keep me awake until the dawn arrives and drives her into the corners of my small apartment, into the closet to hide until the sun passes by and she can live again. She fears her death as much as we fleshy things fear our own deaths.
Hell, we fear everything, we fleshy beasts, we two legged, mouth breathers. The day, the night, the dreams that we may dream, the coming dawn, the sparrows that bring the light into the world in their tiny birdie mouths. Our fear, our panic. We are more like the night than even the night knows.
Day will come, I know it will, it will arrive, I know it will, and I will rise, drink coffee until noon, maybe eat a sandwich, maybe write more about the black hole I feel growing inside me. There's a darkness for you to think about. The one inside yourself.
3:22 P.M.
Warmer today, 50°. Not long ago it was 7°. Oklahoma is its own kind of hell. But we are a rugged race of adventures, we Oklahomans. You appreciate 50° when its been 7°. I rolled open the passenger window in David's car. My arm extended out, reaching out to feel the cool wind. I smiled at its pleasant touch. I think my arm smiled too.
Doctor appointments on Thursday, me to the heart guy and David to get his prescription sunglasses. My appointment is at 1:15 and David's at 2:22. With luck, we'll neither one have to wait on the other. But I'm taking a book just in case I have to sit around for a long time. Look at us! The dilemmas that face us old things. Friday is Art Walk and the weathergirl is threatening an ice storm for all of Oklahoma. Do we dare go out in it? We might fall down! I long for the old days when my body and mind were young enough to say, "Fuck the weather. If I fall down, I'll get back up all by myself!"
Wednesday, January 11, 2o17
76° on what is traditionally the coldest day in Oklahoma? Walking into Walmart with a very pleasant southern breeze at our backs. But no smile on my face, and not a hint of a grin from David either because we hear that by Friday Norman-town will be one giant-ass icicle! Even the words "Ice Storm" is . . . chilling. My bones are already aching with antici . . . SAY IT! . . . pation. Well, I'm hoping that if it really turns into a frozen hell, nature will at least be artistic about it because even though it's friggin' cold as hell, an ice storm can be the most beautiful hell you'll ever see.
Didn't see Sis at the Walmart where she works. I wonder what she's up to? Anyway, got me a heating pad for the back at the Walmart and got it home, plugged it in strapped it on and . . . Oh, man, does that feel good. I know, I'm older than lint. Where a cute lookin' babe smiling at me would make me smile back, back in the day . . . now it's a warm breeze in the middle of winter and a heating pad strapped to my backside that does the trick.
Back in 2oo9, I wrote a poem about Walmart. Somebody online was complaining about standing in the checkout lane in Walmart with some crazy woman bumping into her over and over again. made me think of this poem and so I looked for it and . . . I FOUND IT! How do you like that? I can't remember where I put my keys but I can find a poem I wrote eight years ago on one try.
Waiting On Heaven
And here, here I am! Too impatient,
my callused feet screaming in
defeat,
dreaming dry, white socks and
sandals.
Here I stand, checkout lane 15,
Walmart
where the older couple sorts the
pocket lent
from sweat-stained change.
Quite hopeful are they that there
will be
at least twenty dollars left over after—
My! My! All those groceries yet to
be checked!
Behind me, mother of three—
improperly dressed
in a medium, AC/DC t-shirt and
jeans— she yells
at her obnoxious brat that’s putting
something foreign in her tiny,
little mouth.
“You don’t know where that’s been!
Spit it out, SPIT . . . it . . . OUT!”
Me? Yes, me, that other old man, the
one
in the wooly Spider-Man cap,
brand new, dull-blue Chucks, yes,
that one,
squinting at the magazine rack,
reading the dirt on sweet Angie and
Brad.
“Look at their new baby! Sooo
cuuuuuute!”
Yes, I stand here waiting, sadly
wondering,
will it take this long to get to
heaven?
Woodie o4-o99-o9 (rewrites o1-11-17)
Thursday, January 12, 2o17
Icy roads, power lines down, possibility of power grid wipe out . . . Damn, this weekend may be a new kind of artic hell! But I took the initiative and forced David to take me to the Walmart for a nicotine gum and food run. Okay, IF I can't get out tomorrow, I'm set up for a cozy cave day. Just hope the power doesn't go out in Norman-town.
Heart doctor today. First off, weigh in. 203.3 pounds! DAMN! But heart is working, BAD cholesterol down into the lower 90s, GOOD cholesterol a bit under what would be acceptable. But no worries. Need to just get in the exercise and look up what foods have the good cholesterol and incorporate them into my diet. Life is good!
I dreamed last night! Okay, I know, we always dream but we don't always remember the dream. But I did last night. I dreamt I was in this line to get the newest iPhone and I was in front of everybody else and got the first one which was shaped like one of my inhalers AND I got it for free because I was first in line! Everybody applauded AND . . . I woke up. Yes, yes, not much of a dream, U grant you, BUT I DID remember it!
Saturday, January 14, 2o17
What the bleeding hell just happened? I just spent the last hour writing the last entry for this week's blog and the son-of-a-gun site wiped it all out before I could save it! Maybe it's my hacker that's doing this. Oh, I'm sure I have one, some faceless hacker who loves nothing more than messing up my time on the internet with typos, deletes and just all kinds of nasty, evil doings! Well, IF I do have a hacker, I hope that he is a she and looks like Lisbeth Salander and NOT Plague. Okay, I shouldn't say that about Plague. Plague is cool, just lose a bit of that weight, okay? Yeah, I know! I need to drop about fifty pounds of Hitchcock myself.
Anyway, I congratulate myself for writing more this week than last week. But I think 'I'll stop now. I got a few things on my mind that I want to talk about, but I'll save them for the next
set of blog entries. So, enjoy this, I hope, and I'll be back next week! AND sorry for the personal slam, Plague.
