The Daily {W}rite December 2019 wk. o3

I'm waiting for the end of Watchmen to begin on HBO. So, I thought I'd get the third week of December started on the blog:

My eyes. Old enough.
Stone they've become.
My face. Dried up.
A creek no longer
running wet with rain.
This is me these days.
A remembrance, 
a whisper on the air.
.Nothing more than
nothing . . . these days.

Tuesday, December 17, 2o19

So, I'm up and about after a transfusion yesterday. Yesterday. We spend a lot of our consciousness reliving yesterday . . . I say reliving not remembering. I refuse these days to remember yesterday. . . I stand with legs apart daring yesterday to make a move toward my present self. Go ahead. Try something.

1o:o7am
The singer I thought would win on The Voice . . . came in third. The guy I thought would lose . . . won the whole show. I'm not a good judge of talent . . . or character.

This is where the dreaming starts. A head full of caffeine, a memory or two poking at a headache that's simmering inside my brain housing group. My eyes will have no part in this blog I'm typing out . . . so, my fingers perform a perfect brail counterfeit move and finishes this entry blindfolded.

Wednesday, December 18, 2o19

Spent all day working on a major, super secret project. It didn't take as long as I thought it would but I did work on it for 2 1/2 hours. Turned out pretty good too.

Feeling good. Wonder how I can buy Christmas presents for everybody with all the bills I got to pay. Well, it will figure itself out. I have a bout 6 presents to buy.

Tomorrow we (me and David) will go out for a while. Maybe I can talk him into doing a little Christmas shopping . . . he doesn't like Christmas shopping. He buys a lot of presents for people, but  a Christmas present? Too much of an obligation. I mean, what if he buys the "wrong present" or something?

Friday, December 2o,2o19

Yes, today is my best friend, David Slemmons' birthday! This is the collage of pictures I've taken of David from 2o12 to the present, 2o19, and that's not half of the pictures I've taken of David. Yes, David is my best friend. Sound strange? He really puts up with a lot from me. No, seriously, I am an angry old asshole who is mean to everybody. But somehow, someway David has remained my friend even when anyone else would have just walked or ran away. And he's been here for me during this cancer scare. He drives to the hospital everyday (sometimes five days a week, and more than once a day.) for the chemotherapy, the transfusions . . . he's the best. I don't deserve a friend as good as David. But I'm glad he's here. Happy B-day, David!

Saturday, 21, 2o19

1.  I leave the TV on all night so I might sleep and not have to listen to the ghostly whispers of the many mice I've killed in the bathroom.
2.  8:42 and nothing to do except breathe and dream of falling asleep and . . . dreaming some more.
3.  Words have become atom bombs, and we throw them at each other with such childlike laughter,     laughter loud enough to cover up the tortured screams of our cruelty.
4.  My shadow has nothing to do when I sit in front of the computer all night long . . . so, it takes itself for a walk leaving me alone. I hope he wore his winter coat. It's cold outside.
5.  I have forgotten how often I have loved. I can't recall one time when I actually said and meant it, "I love you." Perhaps, I've never felt love at all. Maybe I'm fooling myself . . . making myself appear more human to myself than I really am. It's difficult to be honest with yourself when you don't know the truth.
6.  Some friends of David's (well, I guess the are my friends too) surrounded me last nigh in Othello's to tell me how sorry they were about me being "sick," and that they both (husband and wife) had battled cancer and . . . if there is anything, ANYTHING I need do call them. At first, I felt a bit embarrassed at them closing in on me tight like they did with their bodies . . . then when I realized how sincere they were being . . . I about cried.
7.  Christmas is bearing down on me, the Christmas commercials almost up to my chin, and my cancer bills? You know in the first Harry Potter movie when the owls are drowning the Dursley's house with letters from Hogwarts?

So that's this weeks blogs, the third week in December. The new year is almost upon us. I promised myself a to top ten movie review lists. Hmm. Hope I can do it.  {Smiles)