The Daily {W}rite August 2019 wk. o4

One of my Facebook friends posted a prayer she wrote asking God to "blow-up the Earth and kill all the people on it because people are just so mean . . ."  something like that. Anyway, it really upset me, made me extremely angry . . . I wrote this on a separate post from her post as retribution:

"AahahahahaHA! You're so negative! Oh, what? You woke up this morning and just now discovered that being a good American citizen was . . . HAAAAAARD?! Just now you got that? Life, being a good citizen of America has always been HAAAAAARD! But you can make it a little easier on yourself and others by fighting back . . . in a positive and constructive way. What? Don't want to try that, huh? Is that too HAAAAAARD?!"

A friend of mine read this and commented that I was probably a little to harsh, and I looked at it a second time and thought . . . yeah, he's right. So, I deleted it from Facebook . . . and felt a bit ashamed for getting angry with someone who I really don't know . . . I mean, I had no concern for their well being at all. I mean, they must have been really upset to want God to kill all humans because we're all so terrible. But then again . . . what the hell was that? Kill everybody because they're killing the Earth?! Ha! I've created a vicious loop for myself. So, I'll break the chain right here and now. There. Gone. I can again deal with Facebook nation in a more "caring" mode. {Smiles}

Friday, August 23, 2o19
The rain ran through Norman-town last night . . . well, more of a gentle jog, I think. Yes, there was thunder . . . but it sounded more like the purr of kitty cat than the roar of a lion. And the rain did no damage in my part of town, at least. I doubt it was even strong enough to effect the Amazon rainforest fire. The world is on fire and America is twiddling its thumbs. We are a horrible country under this administration. We need a change. A big-ass change.

1. Here's the thing about being ill and having no way to get to the doctors . . . it sucks!
2. Heroes need no one to tell them what they are.
3. Don't go through life, be life.

I'm having a poetry dry spell . . . even though it rained pretty steady for a few hours, I couldn't find the "will" to write another rainy night poem. How much rain can you put in the poetic bucket before it flows over onto the carpet. Nothing nastier than a soggy poem.

Saturday, August 24, 2o19

Angry feet. Scratching away at each other . . . like a grey cat spat over who claims dominion over the food bowl. Night swings a mighty axe . . . my eyes slam shut  . . . a waste of a good moment . . . they pop open as soon as the threat finishes its shift . . . morning's coming in carrying a warn suitcase, a slightly frayed bowler hat tittering on the top of its ash-white head . . . greet him, a smile to him, a grin to him, a "so good to see you again." toss his bag on the bed, go to the kitchen . . . the coffee is still dripping into existence . . . almost enough black in the pot to form a half a cup of bitter-dark coffee. Another night executed. Managed to keep the monsters from devouring me . . . this time.

Which reminds me that one of my Halloween junkie friends on Facebook let me know that . . . Halloween is coming!
Sunday, August 25, 2o19

Yes! My favorite holiday . . . ever. I know, I know! "What about Christmas?" Oh, I love Christmas and my sister takes care of that one for sure! She's a big time Christmas Judy! But me and Halloween have a special relationship even sense I discovered horror movies at the age of . . . what? 6, 7, maybe 8? I am one of the original kids who had a TV as a babysitter. Yep, particularly in the summer when sis and brother would go off to Victorville, CA, to stay with the aunt and uncle who owned a ranch with cattle and horses and stuff. I wasn't much for that. Pure city kid here. So, I'd opt to stay home and mom and dad worked nights ( a lot) in beer bars on Atlantic Blvd. (Atlantic was a LONG street going through at least four maybe five towns so there were a LOT of beer bars that needed tending on Friday and Saturday night.) and I at 6, 7, 8 years old couldn't even go into most of them so . . . home alone with the TV set and . . . Friday and Saturday night HORROR MOVIES!

2:58pm

I'm having a bit of a health scare today . . . well, pretty much all weekend. Shortness of breath . . . say I went over al this in another post on this week, didn't I? So, no need to backtrack.

Listening to a little country rock out of the 70s. Can you dig it? Can you dig it? Not a question I hear much anymore . . . no, the fact is I've never heard it or any of the clichés that derived from it (I can dig it, you dig me? Can you dig it? ) since  . . . '75? Maybe I'll bring it back into style, here in the 21st century.

Need to write more. Poetry, that is. The blog is coming along . . . although only a few friends read this ever . . . I still enjoy the brain duster effect this blog has on my head. Brain duster. That's what I've always called the psychologists I've seen over the years, brain dusters. You know, sort of a spring cleaning for the thought process that at times can get a bit cluttered, confused by the dusty memories that collect within all the nooks and craters that fill my consciousness. Never cared for the term head shrinker or shrink! That always seemed like a sort of mental, surgical procedure, removing something from the conscious and subconscious forever . . . sort of a metaphysical lobotomy. Hey! I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.  Old joke. Anyway, I don't like dealing with head troubles by getting rid of some of the bad shit that keeps creeping into my mind, you know? The got a pill, a forget pill that takes away all the bad memories you have. No, I don't want that. I just want to learn how to consciously deal with those bad thoughts when they attack. I mean, who I am is made up of not only the good things that happened to me but all those bad things that happened to me, also. I don't want to forget any of it  . . . ever. The scars, the bruises, the smiles are all me . . . every bit of me.

Wednesday, August 28, 2o19

Looking back on what I posted so far . . . So, Three days since I last posted! Yikers! So, Let me catch you up.

1. Went to the doctor's day before yesterday for my COPD. Had a good talk. Told him that I had been only using the nebulizer at home because it was cheaper (about $20.00 a month) than having it and a rescue inhaler AND a "Once a Day." The doc, an old guy, was very sympathetic. He gave me three months worth of Once a Day (which is the most expensive of the inhalers running from $50.00 to $200.00 a month depending on whether the drug people need new cars that month.) AND hooking me up with a prescription for the rescue inhaler for . . . $24.56! Yeah, baby!
2. So, woke up yesterday to the sound of the phone ringing. It was the doctor's office telling me they wanted to bloodwork on me and would I come in. Sure, I made an appointment for to day, went to see them and wondered why I had to come in today when day before yesterday I was in the office.
3. So, went to a movie yesterday  . . . Good movie, I guess. David liked it better than I did, I think. Anyway, got home from that, sat down to watch TV . . . And a couple hours later, I see the red and blue flashing of lights on wall. Looked out and there's this police car blocking off the

street. I went out to see what was going on. And there was another car on Brooks doing the same thing, blocking traffic from driving onto Trout. I walked over to the police car parked closest to me. This big ass Godzilla looking cop (wearing Terminator sunglasses) leaps out of the car and walks towards me. I'm scared shitless now 'cause this cop is like the size of two average sized guys . . . one on top of the other! So, freaking out a bit, I say, "How you doing tonight?" "Alright," says Godzilla and I swear he said it in an Arnold voice! So, so, I smiled, nodding my head and without running I fast walked back to my apartment building. So, the cops left and about 10pm the news came on and I found out that there was a "bomb" scare on the corner of Page and Trout . . . And I freaked! I was three houses away from the corner of Trout and Page! Why didn't the cops warn me (hee! I had typed warm me instead of warn me ), give me a chance to leave just in case whatever it was BLEW UP?!

4:35pm

Wanted to write some more . . . guilt, I'm guessing, for missing three days of writing. I'm still angry all the time. Or at the least, I get worked up inside my self-generating anger whenever something doesn't go as planned, people being late for an appointment, people laughing at me . . . or maybe I just think they're laughing at me . . . strangers blocking my way in Walmart. Yeah, that one is strong in me . . . and petty. I mean, I guess it's a bit rewarding to know that I now know what it is that pisses me off about life . . . other people. Mostly. I just don't want to get mad any more or I really don't want to express my anger with shouting, screaming, and the occasional fist fight. Which really doesn't happen anymore. When it seems like I'm going to go to war mode on some motherfucker who just fucked with me, by body reminds me, "Hey, asshole, you're 71 years old. That 'motherfucker' will kill you!"

Thursday, August 29, 2o19

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Can  you guess why I'm so happy? Why have tears of joy filling my eyes? Well, the animation to your left? BIG HINT! Yes! The first Halloween shop for 2019 has just opened its doors. AND . . . it turns out to be my favorite store to take pics in,  and maybe buy a little Halloween thingy . . . if I can find somethin inexpensive. This place is pretty pricey. But I did see a pretty cool Freddy hat that I could wear for more than Halloween!

Friday, August 3o, 2o19
Just today and tomorrow before the end of August. Now that I've got all my medication for my COPD I'm feeling better . . . Went walking over to Campus Corner to meet David for coffee . . . and yes, the shortness of breath is still there

but I was able to walk the whole way without stopping. But after coffee we walked to OU's student union and I went home from there AND . . . yeah, I really started to breathe heavier. So, not totally well . . . yet. If I'm gonna be honest with you and myself . . . they say that once you have COPD you never get rid of it. So, the chances are that the meds may help but there's a good (I mean bad) chance that this illness is going to get worse . . .

It's 10:28pm on a Friday night. Damn. Used to be I would be out somewhere, a bar more than likely, trying to score  some good loving. Hee! Well, those days are way gone. And good that they are. I like my life slowed down, I'm enjoying being home and writing on the blog . . . and the drinking? I don't miss it at all. Not even a little. Smoking was harder to give up than drinking.

Saturday, August 31, 2o19

Tomorrow! The first football game on the schedule for OU is a Sunday game! I know! I never heard of a Sunday game during the regular season! So, I finally broke down and got an OU hat at Walmart. Well, I took me two shots to get it. I went to the OU store in Walmart and picked up a OU hat, grabbed one I liked . . . AND it only cost $10.00! Try to by one, same style on The Corner? $31.00! No shit. So, paid for it and put it on . . . oh, a little too small . . . no worries. I'll just adjust it . . . wait a minute! I adjust the strap as far as it can go and . . . it doesn't fit. David grabs it . . . He looks inside the hat like some archeologist looking for hieroglyphics  . . . and he smiles at me and holds the inside of the cap up to my eyes and . . . the tag says, YOUTH! Fuck! Got the wrong fuckin size! But no worries I'll just take it and exchange . . . and there are to people in front of me at the "exchange" table . . . good no problem . . . but the woman running the exchanges? The oldest and the slowest woman I've ever seen. I mean, she's so slow you to check he pulse every five minutes to make sure she's still alive. "FUCK!" Yeah, that one I said in full voice! So loud that the couple standing in front of me stared and then slowly moved away from me! "Fuck!" That fuck was internal. No one heard it but the inside of my head. Anyway, dead grandma has finally finished with the first family in line and sloooooooooooowly signals to the couple that I had just offended that they were next . . . AND! Thank God! Another exchange register is opened and I'm the first in line! So, That's the story of The OU Hat Walmart Massacre! And that's the last entry for this months blog. See you next month! {smiles}

The Daily {W}rite August 2019 wk. o3

Hmm. A bit slow starting the 3rd week of August's Daily {W}rite. My friend David went off to see his son in L.A. My sister is taking off tomorrow for Minnesota to visit with one of her daughters. I'm alone for the first time. Really alone with no one to talk to, go to the store with, to the movies. I don't like this . . . this . . . feeling of being alone.
And I'm not feeling extremely well physically or mentally. Haven't for a while . . . but it just seems to be getting worse. I've gone nowhere since David left . . . except for dinner with my sister yesterday. I keep giving myself the excuse that it is too hot out there to do anything . . . and yeah, it is, but I could go out a little during the day. Or I could at least wait until the sun goes down and head for the grocery store or, or Braum's or somewhere. But not much into going out at night . . . which is probably just another excuse.

Sunday, August 18, 2o19

So, didn't get out today . . . "Oh, what a big surprise!" I've decided to spend the day writing on the blog, on some poetry . . . Oh! This one poem that I started writing on in 2o12, Lighter Than Gravity, is getting a few hits on Facebook. Thought I'd use it in September's "poetry project."

The pic on the left (actually, above!), one stick figure turning into two stick figures falling through the void. That's how I feel most days . . . split in twos, falling . . . apart . . . yes, nice image. Both MEs falling away and apart from each other  . . . only to come together at the end of a series of movements and . . . {smiles}No. So, I'm still here at the computer . . . a gentle sip of coffee . . . across the lips . . . a caffeinated kiss . . . dark and delicious.

2:30am

Actually, it's 10:38pm on August 18, 2o19 in Norman, Oklahoma as I write this entry. It being 2:30am is more metaphorical than exact . . . for in less than 4 hours it will be (actually) 2:30am, August 19, 2o19 . . . in Norman, Oklahoma. But at this moment it is exactly 10:41pm, o8-18-19 . . . but it feels like (to my poetic self) as if it were 2:30am . . . in fact, every hour of every one of my days feels like 2:30am . . . it's routine I guess . . . repeating the moment that you just left . . . repeating it over and over again . . . like the directions on a bottle of shampoo: lather, rinse, repeat . . . which I'm not exactly sure IF they put that on shampoo bottles anymore.

Anyway, what difference does it make what time I say it is? Time is a manmade construct . . . according to my few science friends . . . time only exists because man created it in a perverse desire to control time . . . which doesn't exist. Okay, okay! I believe (I say I believe because I don't really know for sure) that what we call time is only a measuring device  . . . to measure . . . universal time, which is nothing like what we perceive time to be like . . . Sometimes . . . I even confuse myself.

Monday, August 19, 2o19

Well, Monday. Monday is always the beginning of a week . . . except when you are retired and don't work at all . . . except for what work you create for yourself just so you can say, "I work for a living!" Ha! Old Marine Corps joke. Any tome you call a staff sergeant "sir" they fire back with, "Don't call me sir! I work for a living!" Of course there are a lot more "colorful" ways to answer that question about being called sir along with one that makes reference to the sir-sayer's parents not being married!

The cop found guilty of killing Eric Garner was fired. The NYC Police Commissioner basically said he hated to do it but he "had" to. Which made the POOlice union really pissed off because they say the cop was just doing his job.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar accused Quentin Tarantino of racism today with QT's depiction of Bruce Lee as an "uppity Chinese guy" in the movie Once Upon a Time . . .in Hollywood.

Racism. There's more examples than what I posted above of the thorn in our country's side . . .  American racism. My only point is we still as haven't figured out the solution to the "racism problem" in this country. And I never see it ever being figured out.

9:27pm

So, I had a shower at nine and now I'm all clean and . . . ready to get out to Walmart tomorrow . . . on the bus. Yeah, I know. You have heard that one before . . . "Off to Walmart tomorrow! Yeah, right!" But I really do have to get to the store and I've been apartment celled for thre days! Something's gotta give.

I'm feeling a bit less  . . . melancholy. Or as we said in the 20th century (and now the 21st) I gots the blues  . . . still. Yes, I know as you know that I always have the blues. But there are different types of blues. The sad blues where I don't want to do anything except lie down and sleep. The angry blues which makes me scream, shout at myself in the mirror . . . or the creative blues which muses me into a creative mood that, yes, is sad but at least productive.

Tuesday, August 2o, 2o19
Oh, boy! Did make it to the store by foot and bus and . . . son-of-a-bitch! I couldn't walk more than one to two hundred yards (if that) without stopping to catch my breath! Fuck. Need to get to the doctors and see if a rescue inhaler will help . . . and find out IF I can afford one. It's crazy. Damn it!

Wednesday, August 21, 2o19
Last day of the third week in August and . . . I've hardly written anything of merit. Some great philosopher-poet am I.

My lungs gasp and begin to shut down. And so I sit down my lungs grabbing at whatever little chunks of air it can find. My head joins in. Dizzy, thoughts in their container, a

madman's frantic waltz across the grey's linoleum. And my legs . . . comatose . . . but the feet are still alive scratching at the sidewalk . . . incased within the leaping figure of Spider-Man, which is  accepting with a stoic look at  whatever the damage to its face it might receive from such brutal actions, senseless actions against concrete.

I just noticed. I use the reflecting water app. a lot. I should look for more animation apps. Anyway, the last of this week's blog and I'm worn out from fighting with a very slow computer today. I'll let it go for now, and promise to you, dear reader, to get to the doctor's and see if they can, again, help me get physically better.  {smiles}

P.S. I DID take the time this week to proof read before I posted! Hope I got all the little no-noes! Don't need this week for the grammar police to be hassling me. "Attica!"

The Daily {W}rite August 2019 wk. o2

The Daily {W}rite. I have forgotten what this meant, what this blog was meant to be. I'm not sure I even know now exactly what the intent was when I started this blog some . . . seven years ago? My. Well, never too late to pick up the spiritual slack and get back to the original business of writing, printing myself on this non-paper space and . . . seeing where it takes me.

I don't remember the thrill, the soft, electrical shock of love. But I remember that I once was deep  in the sweet mud-bog  love disguises itself within. I remember, yet I don't remember the physical warmth of loving someone, the cool touch of a lovers hand braille touching my face, and her always smiling once her fingers brushed up against the coarse hairs of my thick goatee. I take back all of what I said. Her laugh. Her laugh I remember so vividly that I laugh with it whenever, wherever I remember it.

Sunday, August 11, 2o19

Art Walk. Extremely warm . . . not hot but an uncomfortable warm. But fun as always. The people. They're the real heroes of Art Walk for me. So beautiful in there humanness, individuality. I take tons of pictures and mostly of the people. The people. Bob and Dog on the right there. No matter how hot, Bob and Dog are there, Bob playing and Dog . . . well, dog watches the money that folks drop into the beat up guitar case next to Bob's chair. {smiles} Like I said . . . people.

3:28pm
Last Night's Dream
A large swimming pool outside a very ritzy Hollywood home, L.A. skyline a few miles away, bright and

shiny. A girl in a very sheer jump suit . . . like I Dream of Jeannie . . . a very thin girl talking on the phone, pacing back and forth. I'm talking on a cell phone on the opposite side of the grand swimming pool. I see the girl faint, I run over to her. Lay down beside her, hold her as smiles at me and says thank you . . . she dies . . . me holding her in my arms.

What is so important about this particular dream for me to mention it on The Daily {W}rite? Well, number one reason? I remembered this damn dream! Seriously, for the last few years I haven't remembered a single dream. No, really. For the last three years (or so) I haven't remembered a single dream. Just a fragment of an image, which is  . . . well, just enough to let me know that, yes, I dreamt a dream . . . but that's all I know about it! And as the day wore on, I would lose even that fragment Yeah, creeping me out just saying it.

So, Quite an exciting thing to wake up this morning and have a full, unedited dream in my mind, and not only do I remember the dream but I remember the circumstances of the dream. The girl was dying from cancer. This was the last night she would be alive, and she wanted to spend that time at her own house . . . not in some hospital. I was her friend. She decided to invite me (and only me) to keep her company while she waited to  . . . pass-on down the road. I was on the phone with one of her other friends when she collapsed. And . . . you know the rest. When she died in my arms . . . I woke up.

Tuesday, August 13, 2o19

Learning is hard. You know, the old dog new tricks theory. But this change in me is not a trick, no sleight of hand, no illusion, delusion, confusion over the plight that faces me, turns me around every day and confronts me . . . "this moment is  your life. What the fuck do you plan to do wit it, this moment?"

A dream smile floats across my lips. I'm old, I'm tired, all night and most of the day I feel the pains of my aging-self . . . and yet I find a rare, exotic feeling forcing my withering-self to dream a bit longer on this page . . . write the words that just can't find fault, no matter how hard I try, with this life . . . my existence in this life . . . my moment of peace in a raging ocean of ranker, black storm cloud-like thoughts. The eye. I'm within the eye. I hope it will not close  . . . for a moment more.

Wednesday, August 14, 2o19
I should get out today. I should slap on sunscreen lotion so my arms won't burn up, a dash on the tip of each ear . . . my hair too thin to protect them and my riding hats cling too close to my head to afford my ears any comfort. Yes, I should go out, ride about town, wave at the neighbors as I soar past them on my hearty mountain bike! But I won't. Why? I tell myself that my body just isn't up to it, my lungs agree because they huff and puff at just the thought of exercise!

I'm drifting. A philosophical cloud pushed about by whatever pipe smoking theory is on the lips of the young intellectuals I run into . . . greet with a skeptical smile and handshake . . . my age and physical appearance on some kind of metaphysical/new age autopsy table . . . "Let's see if the old geez's got under the hood!" My years in on the mud both inspiring and horrifying to those who have not of yet contemplated the idea of death . . . and dying. "Death? Isn't that a plot device in all of Tarantino's movies?"

10:32pm
Gravity, the sleeping giant, pulls at my tired spirit . . . But do not wish to dive into the darkness with the hope of latching onto a dream as I fall, fall, fall . . .
No, damn it not yet! Get back! I will not enter that . . . that emptiness . . . that black hole inside my imagination. I will fill it with stars, bright thought stars burning up what gloominess you throw at them.

But it is time to end this second week of The Daily {W}rite, August, wk 02. So, I will say goodnight to you, reader, and hope you dreams and  . . . well, what much more to wish for than a good dream? {Smile}

The Daily {W}rite August 2019, wk o1

So, the heat is still a bit heavy out there on my bare arms. But it was cooler today. Driving around in David's car with the windows open (there air conditioner not working) and the breeze felt good on my face and arms. Made me smile a bit. David came up with this cool image . . . when old people forget in mid sentence what they were saying: "Sorry. I feel into that rabbit hole." Ha! funny! Yes, the second time david actually said something funny. The first time? It was a Thursday. {smiles}

We are going tomorrow to some kind of ice castle, or something like a castle at the museum? I'm thinking I better bring at least a hoodie . . . just in case.

Saturday, August o3, 2o19
Well, forget the museum and the "ice castle" exploration. Called David at noon . . lucky I set the alarm today for noon because it was the alarm that woke me up! I probably wouldn't have gotten up at all if had not been for David wanting to go to the museum if for no other reason just to cool off. Anyway, called him. He answered on the fourth or fifth ring . . . "Ghurh . . . not . . . grumble . . . to . . . uuuuuugh . . . get out of  . . . blaaaaaah! bed." "CLICK!" his end of the phone conversation said, and that was that for today.

So, I sitting here headphones on . . . yeah, picked them up along with an 18 foot long cord to hook them up to the TV and wear them while watching TV . . . listening to Joe Cocker compilation album that David bought me a while back. Had forgotten I had it! Which reminds me I need to pick up another 25-30 CD carrying case so I get my "favorite" CDs out of the big case (which holds about a hundred and fifty CDs.) and put them into

something a little more portable.

Cloudy day. The sky draped in a grey bathrobe with warm-white trim. A harmless day. The sky doesn't threaten, warn us of the bad weather to come because there is no bad weather to come . . . It's sleepy weather, dreaming weather, stretching the fantasy legs out and across those colorful, playful worlds that no one may enter with eyes open.

Sunday, August o4, 2o19

Two mass shootings within 24 hours. Whoopie-hoo! Some kind of record, I hear . . .  even for us! We're number one! And of course, the conservatives and the liberals are both saying their nonsense as usual! Now, I do tend to side mostly with liberals on this . . . but even they keep kicking themselves in the balls with  . . . get rid of all the high-capacity magazines! Get rid of ALL the guns! For sure no semi or automatic weapons! Yeah, they don't get that this is a gun country and you're not going to get rid of all the guns, all the weapons of war! But conservatives are worse. I love their trying to shift responsibility off of Trump for all the killings going on. "Well, this liberal or that liberal caused the conservative guy get shot when he was at a softball game!" "Yeah, and this liberal or that liberal . . ." on and on it goes. I admit, I got caught up in a bit. Some conservative clown started on the talking points all conservatives have been mouthing  . . . "No other president has been held responsible for gun violence why should Trump?" Because he has, in public said that 2nd Amenders should use a 2nd Amendment on some one! But that aside, Trump is responsible for doing something about gun violence in America because  . . . he's the fuckin' POTUS! What the hell is a matter with you clowns.

Monday, August o5, 2o19

Enough politics. Today poetry. Need to get to work on the new poem for the "ninja" art project. Torn between a couple of entries. Bu think I'll settle for a shorter piece. Most of the writing has been way too long for a hit and run art project.

Tuesday, August o6, 2o19
Hat today. Ha. I wrote "hat" instead of "hot." It's very hat today. So, if I go out while the sun is up I should wear my straw, well ventilated hot . . . on my head.

Sime days the sadness comes calling. No, phone call to warn me of it's visit. Hell, not even a gentle knock on the door. I'm sitting at the computer working on my blog and then BAM! I'm thinking about that time when you and me were together "forever" and then suddenly . . . you left and I . . . alright! That's enough. Out! Out! Damn thought!

Wednesday, August o7, 2o19

Damn. All day I felt . . . lethargic. Like a lump of conscious mashed potatoes. Ugh. All I want to do is sleep . . . but even that is difficult. I got the Princess and the Pea syndrome. My body cannot get comfortable enough to fall asleep, and it's awfully hot even with the air conditioner on. You got to be sitting right in front of it if you want to cool off at all . . . but the only chair I got . . . a canvas, fold-up chair . . . I can't sit in for too long. Anyway, last day in the first week of August . . . done. And so am I.