https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NT3zp2vYMvo
Well, my birthday was yesterday and . . . it was a kicked back but truly lovely celebration. Went with friend David and his family to a Japanese restaurant, which I chose cause it was . . . . MY BIRTHDAY! AND I broke my rule and let David pay for my meal because it was . . . MY BIRTHDAY! AND I was feeling adventurous and had for the first time ever . . . fried eel. Yuck! Yes, it sounded like it would be yucky and . . . it wasn't. Very delicious! Mmm. Better than chicken. Okay NOT better than chicken. As GOOD as chicken. {
smiles} Oh! the birthday song above is on YouTube. My friend Timothy Croom tagged it on my Facebook timeline MY BIRTDAY . . . day.
Saturday, May 25, 2o19
I am often enough lost somewhere between here and now and the gray lands where memory wanders. I wander there too looking for a sense of reality, and understanding that this way or that way are only arbitrary directions with no specific direction to follow. I do look for the memories that will set all of this . . . of this now . . . whatever this is . . . set it all straight, a logical straight line that leads to an answer that will make the moments yet to come worth the wait. And every time I get close to the ghostly memories that make up my life . . . they melt away . . . like snow under a sunlit sky in May. There for an instant and then . . . not there at all.
11:01pm
I feel abandoned by friends . . . sometimes. Left on the barren shores of my personal island. Sometimes . . . I hear whispers aimed at me, trying with that light, noncommittal whisper . . . ("
It would be best if you didn't say this about that or that about this . . . You understand.") to make it seem as if my "friend" didn't really say it. I don't know what to do about it. I think maybe I need to dump them all and just start over. See if I can locate friends that aren't as "embarrassed" by my existence.
Then again, is there anyone who will accept me as I am? Probably not. I could just keep my mouth shut. Say nothing . . . ever . . . as quiet as an open grave. Even the tombstones would sound like blabber mouths compared to the stoic state of my lips and vocal box. {
smiles . . . sort of.}
Sunday, May 26, 2o19
It is Sunday and I'm already mourning the end of Game of Thrones. There is a goodbye, last show on tonight with mostly interviews with actors, writers and behind the scene looks at how it all came about. BUT it doesn't help much in easing the loss . . . or will it? This may well be the eulogy for a show, the final bow before they put it in the ground . . . and then . . . resurrection? Maybe. I don't think they can let it go quite so easily. Pretty sure it will go the way of Deadwood with a movie or two for HBO.
11:55am
My mind is too busy trying to convince me that I should just give up and spend the rest of my life on that personal, private island I've created on this blog and through my poetry. Be nothing more than words on a page. Let no one see behind the curtain, behind the Venetian blinds of the window that faces Trout Avenue. A little melodramatic? Maybe. But life is nothing more than . . . words on a page . . . nothing more.
Monday, May 27, 2o19
Today was . . . . well the animation on the left says it all. I do sometimes get redundant. Facebook is an interesting place to be on Memorial Day because folks post pics of their relatives who were in the military and are no longer with us. Grandfathers, grandmothers, uncles, aunts . . . father, mothers and brothers and sisters . . . everyone that died during "The War" or who served in "The War" and died in civilian life.
10:31pm
My life . . . I'm still struggling with that . . . my existence. What do I do with myself? Anytime I did something stupid (like tracking mud onto the front room carpet), Mom would just look at me, shake her had and say something like, "Robert Ray Woods. What are we going to do with you?" Since Mom is no longer around to tell me, I guess I'm on my own figuring that out. What am I gonna do with . . . me?
Tuesday, May 28, 2o19
Well, 8:24 in the morning . . . and I'm already up. Not sure if I got more than 2 hours worth of sleep. The heat is starting to keep me awake at night. I've got to get the air-conditioner fix before it gets way too hot. Need to get on the landlord about it even though he just replaced the air-conditioner in my apartment last summer.
4:49pm
So far, so good. Haven't passed out yet. David and I went to have coffee earlier. He started complaining about the landlord not returning his kitchen drawer he was supposed to fix about a month ago. "And what about your air-conditioner?" I told him I hadn't called him yet. So, we get coffee and sit down . . . I open my book to read and David is on the phone . . . and then, "Hey, what's wrong with your air-conditioner?" Not looking up from my book, "it's not cooling the apartment." "He says it's not cooling off the apartment." Oh, crap! He's talking to the landlord! David finally hangs up, "Yeah, Kirk will go to your apartment now and see if he can fix it." {
Gasp}
Wednesday, May 29, 2o19
My landlord is out getting me a new air-conditioner. Hope he doesn't take too long. The window is open where the air-conditioner goes . . . no screen on it. In fact, none of the 9 windows in my apartment have screens . . . so, just one open isn't bad but . . . anything . . . wasps, mosquitos, cats (they climb, you know) and hawks could get in through that open window. Could I shut it, the window? Yeah, but then it would be unbreathable in here because of the heat.
Last night, I was falling asleep to this cable music station, Soundscapes. Really cool music for writing my blog to. Plus, it can also be soothing, comforting . . . music to fall to sleep by . . . but not last night. Just as I hit that dream stage of sleep . . . I woke up to this strange music that was coming from the TV. No, I wasn't dreaming. It was this song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gyp7Atr4oNg&list=RDGyp7Atr4oNg&start_radio=1&t=32&fbclid=IwAR2jYK8nZAxJrEPrn-RIs9OjlKzLzU08gPDbROTp7eEoP9LuURQ1EIRavxg
Thursday, May 3o, 2o19
I cannot live in a world of people where I am the accessory, the sideman, that character whose backstory is invisible . . . not a fully fleshed out . . . a shadow of a person, a mist in the shape of a man . . . a human incomplete. I don't desire to be a cartoon . . . black & white . . . in plasmatic colors . . . deathly colors . . . a tombstone on a meat stick.
I can perceive this world as mine. All this surrounding me is here solely to interact with me . . . an impromptu existence . . . all of you . . . all of this . . . orchestrated, put in motion by me . . . because of me . . . I like that better than being the sidekick, a minor player, the last sword-less soldier on the left . . . supporting caricature . . . roll credits . . . the end. Not for me. I choose to live forever. All of you can choose your fate . . . die the way you wish to die . . . I well mourn you, remember you, laugh at you . . . but I won't be joining you in the grave.
10:40pm
A good day today. Got out of the house. Rode the bike a good bit . . . part of it on purpose . . . the other part . . . necessity. So, started off good taking the bike down Brooks St., across campus to the library and then back tracking to the Corner for coffee at Starbucks. After that a bit of chocolate at Apple Tree Chocolate . . . Apple Tree has an awards program. The more chocolate you buy, the more points for . . . well, I don't know what for. I'm guessing you get more chocolate. Anyway, they have your name in a computer and you add the price of what you bought by using your cellphone number . . . which I refuse to memorize, but I do have it on my phone . . . I look it up, and transfer the number to their computer setup. I eat my chocolate (which is the best chocolate I ever ate) and decide to take the long way home: North on Asp., a right on Main St., and then down Classen to . . . I stop at the motorbike shop to see the vintage Harley they have in the window . . . Fuck! I look down and my cellphone is gone! It was not in the little pocket on my bag . . . it was gone! So, I turn around retrace my ride from the Apple Tree to where I was . . . slowly peddling along, checking the sidewalk for my phone WHICH if it did fall during the ride I didn't hear it fall or feel it fall out of my shoulder pack . . . and fortunately, I had left it at the Apple Tree counter when I had finished putting my phone number into computer. So, I rode much farther than I had planned, and I felt very good physically afterwards. And though they say there's no cure for COPD, my lungs seem to be getting stronger.
Friday, May 31, 2o19
A bit sad, or I'm feeling a tiny happy sort of sad because today is the end of May . . . the last day in my birthday month. It was empowering to take the whole month to think about and celebrate this 71st year of existence for this pound of flesh known by many who know him or of him as Woodie. Oh! To the right of you? Is my logo for my first book of poetry . . . IF that ever happens. Shijin Uddi is Japanese for The Poet Woodie . . . or at least, it's the best bastardization of the Japanese language I could come up with.
I'm not going to write more this time around . . . later on in the day, maybe. But I do want to throw this observation of myself out there for you to think about: I'm always asking my friends to forgive me my many faults . . . and yet I'm never forgiving of their perceived trespasses against me . . . ever.
3:57pm
To continue with the topic I set up in the last entry. I get very angry with my friends when they start trying to prove they're smarter than me. In their defense, they are probably a lot smarter than me . . . in their way. They know facts pretty well, they definitely know all about grammar and are right there to correct whatever term you use IF you don't use it right. Yeah, they are smart . . . they're what I call Jeopardy! smart. They know a lot of facts, grammar, pronunciation, history, etc. and they're always around to tell you that you're wrong about something. But a lot of them take it further than just teaching you something that you didn't know . . . they love the extra pleasure of ridiculing you, making sure you realize how much more knowledgeable they are about any and every subject than you. Not only that, they are just so damn vindictive about it. It's like they want to punish you, ridicule you because you're not as "smart as them." And it's painful when people, friends and strangers, do that to you. It's like the only way they can legitimize their personal existence is to reinforce to you the basic rule of the intellectual mindset . . . "
I AM SUPERIOR TO YOU." That's the big thing that really gets me angry. AND not only do they ridicule you for NOT knowing something, they've figured out a way of putting you down when you DO know something that they don't know. Amazing. But what are you gonna do? Not have friends? Anyway, that's all from me this month. And tomorrow IS another day . . . and the start of a NEW month of blogging.
(smiles}
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