Monday,
Well, no ice storm. People are pissed. The local weathermen on all the local channels promised an apocalyptic strength storm with plenty of icy roads and downed powerlines, and people were afraid. They ran to the grocery stores and bought up all the food and candles, and other things necessary to survive what was suppose to be the "Storm of the Century!" We should be glad that all we got was rain. Again, pissed. The overzealous meteorologists decided it was good day for a panic.
9:30 p.m.
Energy. Life is draining me of my natural born energy. There was no expiration date, Nature didn't send me an evection notice, no "You Have Twenty-Five Days To Pay Up" post on Facebook. One day I just woke up and felt like not doing so. Aging sucks. I know, I should look on the "bright side." I can't. Being tired all the time, getting sick way too many times a year, losing the ability, the desire to create art . . . there's no upside to any of that.
Tuesday, January 17, 2o17
My mind will not cooperate with my fingers' desire to type something, anything onto this blog. Focus. Finding it hard to focus. Ah! The TV news is shouting at me. That must be the problem. I'll get up and turn it off! That's better. I can hear myself trying to think. But the brain just keeps shooing away, scaring away any reasonable thoughts that try to get themselves to my fingertips and on to the blog's page. The other thing that stops me writing on this blog is an avalanche of cold, brutal memories. Today, I accidently ran into an ex's Facebook page. Okay, it wasn't an accident. One of my other Facebook friends had found her Facebook page, and me being the total idiot I have always been decided to look it up and . . . there it was. A bad picture of her with a guy . . . of course, there is always a guy . . . with their faces stuck together to fit on the profile pic. And yes, when I let one of those very life changing moments in my life show itself, the rest of those "life changing" experiences want equal time. Every memory that I can remember comes crashing into my consciousness. I can't do anything be relive them all. Bad memories are pushy bitches.
Wednesday, January 18, 2o17
A constant battle, a war between insanity and sanity. The Crow versus the Sparrow. The Crow has the wing span and a fierce, black beak which is capable of splitting a small skull in half with one mighty blow. But the Sparrow has the numbers. Two thousand wings batting away their adversary, a thousand beaks hammering away at whatever stands before them.
And the war is always bloody, unnerving, severing the spirit from the flesh in a bloody rain of feathers and sweat. The screams, the cries, the scattered chatter filling the sky with dreadful sounds.
And the war never ends. A constant in this life. The sane against the insane, emotions against reason, fact and fiction, religion and philosophy . . . it never stops and no one, not Sparrow or Crow ever wins. But something inside is crippled. Something dies. Something goes missing in action, never to be found again.
10:41 P.M.
At Bison Witches Bar & Deli
I'm just sitting down at a booth when the very tall waitress drops by to take our order. If I stood up, she would still be tall. David's not eating. I'm beyond hungry. Wound-up sleeping until noon. Didn't get to bed 'til eight in the morning. Damn. I call this inability to sleep Slemmonila because it's all David's fault.
Earlier, Andrews Park.
David strolls through the winter grass. I'm busy getting pics of the lone skateboarder running the obstacle course. He keeps trying to "ride the rail" from one platform to another. He falls a lot enough to finally quit and just ride the ramps back and forth, back and forth . . .
The Tai Chi people working out on the amphitheatre stage capture my attention. I keep trying to get a pic of them but they keep disappearing behind a hedge. They too keep doing the same thing over and over again. Watching other people exercise is boring as hell.
Thursday, January 19, 2o17
My world, my America where have you gone? I saw you in the living room right before I passed out. I woke up expecting to see your smiling face staring down at me, but you weren't there. No goodbye? You could have given me a nudge or a poke in the consciousness. You could have slammed the door real loud on your way out. That would've gotten my attention. But no. You just left living a big hole in the middle of my patriotic heart. How am I to live without you? I asked God for advice, I prayed until my closed eyes began to cry, and my fingers dug bloody trenches into the back of my hands. He did not answer. No word from God. My America? How am I to live without you, without God?
Friday, January 2o, 2o17
It's Inauguration Day and the Trumpsters are celebrating while the rest of America grieves with angery posts and comments on Facebook. The Bernie people are the most vocal. They still blame Hilary for everything. If Hillary hadn't cheated, they think, it would be Bernie in the White House. I'm not buying it. I don't think anyone could have beaten Trump not even Obama. Yeah, I'm upset too, to be honest. I gripe a bit. But I'm a little more subtle with my defiance. This is my profile pic on Facebook. It's going to remain there for . . . well, a very long time. For as long as Trump is POTUS, I'm thinking. But I don't know. It may be
too subtle. People may not understand how upset I am about Trump being my president. So I went ahead and wrote a bit of a poem that I hope will make it clear how unhappy I am for my America today.
Inauguration Day
Howling trains make the ghosts fear,
the next four years will make
the living quake. Finally dead, we rejoice.
There was no choice anymore.
People continued to speak darkness
until all the light was gone
then all those buttoned
down devils
crawled out of their safes.
The earless, eyeless creatures that we were
didn't heed the warnings, we didn't do
a goddamn thing to save ourselves.
So beautiful this fallen Eden would become,
when the dove was drowned,
when Moses wandered back into the desert
lost forever in the Sinai. That's his just dessert.
And the leftovers, we with stooped backs
and broken hearts slowly shriveled up
until there was nothing left of us but dust,
dust enough to keep the rust and cobwebs company.
Woodie
o1-2o-17
Saturday, January 21, 2o17
It was a glorious day, my friends. Hundreds of thousands of people marching in the streets of America, for America! 500,000 in Washington D.C., 200 in Tulsa (I need to check the numbers on that) and an estimated 600,000 in OKC! And the people were happy, they were singing and dancing and standing up to the Commander and Thief who just took over the Oval Office last night. And it was peaceful, no riots, no violence, hell, even FOX NEWS couldn't say anything bad except they thought some folks had painted "bad words" on their posters. There was some controversy. Some people complained that it wasn't inclusive enough because Pro-Choice people weren't allowed to attend, but I'm not sure that happened. And of course Facebook had a few Trumpsters that just wanted us Liberals to stop whining because "YOU LOST THE ELECTION!" That's just par for the course. CONservatives are all about civil rights as long as it's their civil rights. Anyway, today was a good day, and this is the last entry for this week!
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