The Daily {W}rite February 2020 wk. o4

We're not the dreamer . . . we certainly are the dream. The trees, the forest where they live, the stars, the heaven where they die and live again . . . all of this we are, they are not us. They are only a whisper on our rotting lips and when we're gone all this . . . the oceans, the mountains, the desert lands . . . all this will cease to exist. There'll be no one left to remember. 

The Daily {W}rite February 2020 wk 003

Thought of getting a bit of a jump on this third week of February's blogs. I'm sort of waiting to see if the mailman will stop by my apartment to day. Focusing on the blog while the right eye's peripheral area keeps a look out for the postman's truck. Well, that's not totally true, is it? My hearing is helping out because they will "hear" the truck's approach before my eyes can see it. I love it when my body parts work together to accomplish goals. And every part has its job. 

Sunday, February 16, 2o2o

I just finished watching an HBO show, Ali and Cavett: The Tale of the Tape. Really good and very powerful story of Ali. Yes, there have been a lot of bio. docs. on Ali and I have seen them all. This one, today and where I am in life right now . . . really moved me. It seems that these days I'm finally cementing my beliefs about America and myself. Wrote the poem below last night.

True Patriot

I've given up the myth of race.

Bound it up in heavy duty twine,

and chucked it all in the vast

emptiness where meaningless

thoughts and beliefs go to die.

A friend of mine said he was

tired of being racist. He wanted

to know how to stop it. I just

shrugged, "If you don't want

to be racist, just stop being racist."

My friend, of course, shook his

head, wandered away like he had

just been hit by a car . . .  delirious. 

But it's that simple, isn't it? You weren't

born racist, you learned to be racist.

You were taught the lie of race, and

you believed it because it came

from people you trusted . . . dad, mom,

movies, TV, the news, politicians.

But there came a time, right? A time

when you realized that racism was just

pure bullshit, nothing but lies and hate.

I try to live by the Bill of Rights. Yes,

most Americans are for the Bill of Rights

for themselves and people who think

just like them. And that's the problem.

Personally, I can't perceive patriotism

in a person unless that same person

defends not only his or her rights but

the rights of every American citizen.

People say that if you were born in

this country, you are automatically

an American. I say no. You are only

a true American if you wholeheartedly

defend the rights of every American citizen

with the same tenacity that you defend your

own rights. Anything less is un-American.

Woodie o2 16-2o

Yeah, took me almost an entire life to figure out my political stance. I mean, I'm sitting here and understanding what I should've understood from the moment I was politically aware: we are all created equel. And that the Bill of Rights from the American Constitution of the United States is the key to living that ideal: all of us are equal. 

5:16 pm
Need to think about eating  . . . it's become a bit of a chore . . . eating. I forget about it. The chemo, I guess, plays havoc with my desires to eat. So, I gotta force myself to cook and eat what I've just cooked! 

Monday, February 17, 2o2o

1.  Well, blood count up to 8.3 . . . I really don't know what that means exactly but it is high enough that I don't need chemo for another week which is very much appreciated by my fat tummy. It is still recuperating from the last round of shots. The right side is extremely bruised and may well be infected . . . or as the head RN says, " It looks very angry." And what I don't need is a pissed off infection of some kind. The RN told me to put heat on it and if it doesn't get better give them a call.

2.  Do you remember my New Year resolution. One poem for each day in January. Well, I reached my goal, but I'm still writing one poem a day! Guess I got used to it. So, I'm reinventing my resolution. I will just write a poem a day for the whole year of 2o2o! That should keep me busy.
3.  I've decided to stop trying to educate other people . . . particularly, I mean to never try to educate others about my political beliefs. Why? Because they won't get it, and that they definitely don't want to get it. So, no more talking to folks about that. I'll write my poetry, write some opinions on life which includes politics . . . but I won't discuss it. A waste of time. 
4.  A friend of mine who just finished her cancer treatment gave me some decretive surgical masks to wear. It could be fun.  

Tuesday, February 18, 2o2o
1.  Finally got all the info for the Norman Regional Financial Assistance Application. And I'll put it all together by tomorrow. 
2.  I had a dream last night and actually remembered it. But the remembering a dream after I wake up has been going on for about 3 weeks now. BUT I found out that whatever I am watching on TV right before I go to sleep is what I dream about! I know! It's like cheating. I just hope the DP (Dream Police) want arrest me for plagiarism. 

3.  I've become more of a thought shadow these days. Always clinging to the memory walls inside my delicate mind. Do mot be alarmed that if you are taking a whiz in barroom john and you look up and there's my shadow on the wall right beside the old joke: Why are you looking up here? The JOKE is in your hand.
4.  I was going to wear my Land of the Dead T-shirt to chemo last Monday but decided it would really be in bad taste.

Wednesday, February 19, 2o2o
1.  Finely finished the financial assistance form. Send it of tomorrow.
2.  The politicians, the Democrats on TV are serial killers. With their condescending words, their vicious syllables, Gatling gun metaphors tearing bloodless holes of the others talking points. It was a massacre. No one survived.
3.  Yes, your touch now a ghost. I feel it on my flesh no more. Do not turn away, fade away into the dark . . . My eyes refuse your leaving as an end to us.

Thursday, February 19, 2o2o

Well, big surprise when I got home today. Got the usual bunch (5-6 ) bills from the hospital for my chemo treatment. And the first five? three were $100.00 each, and two were around $50.00 each and then I opened up the last one . . . $15,001.46 . . . fuck! I don't have over $15,000.00 to pay out. I started this treatment with over $9,000.00 and I made a lot of payments with it. I think  may be at around $5,000.00 now . . . nowhere near $15,000.00! So, gotta call in the morning and see if there's anything I can do about that huge amount. Maybe I can pay it off a little at a time.

Friday, February 21, 2o2o
Last entry for the las day in the 3rd week of Feb. A little tense. A little unwarranted fear all day because of the fifteen thousand dollar chemo bill hanging over my head. I guess the Medicare is finished with me and the bulk of what is left (around twenty thou.) is up to me. But I got a call finally from the billing department at Norman Regional and . . . the lady waiting on me was very nice and is helping me a lot. I hope the financial aid packet I sent them yesterday will go through. Anyway, one big chore left: Change out the old cable box for a brand new one. There's that tension in my neck again. I do get freaked out easily. But no worries for the rest of this night unless my fretful thought machine finds something else to worry about. See you next week, readers. Oh! Maybe one improv poem?

My shirt sleeves frayed around the cuffs.
Old, worn. Reminds me of the mirror
I find myself trapped in . . . sometimes.
Spotted white from toothpaste slime
slung there by my heavy breath. I
never bother to wipe it off. The spots
remind me of  a ghostly snow leopard
that once hunted inside one of my
drunken dreams. Beautiful it was.

The Daily {W}rite February 2020 wk. o2

I sometimes don't get people . . . Sure, its normal not to get people who you don't like to begin with . . . but I'm definitely not getting people (who I like) still trying to get Bernie elected  by doing the same thing they did the last time to support him  . . . and they lost! They've already started on the conspiracy theories. The media and the party itself is out to get Bernie and Bernie lovers have plenty of fake news to prove it. These kind of tactics didn't work before what makes you think they'll work this time? It's like Yogi Berra all over again.

3:31 pm
I'm already watching the pre-Oscar shows! Yes, I am a junky for the Hollywood get together. I'm hoping that the movies I want to win . . . will win. And I think they will.

Tuesday, February 11, 2o2o

Yesterday wore me out. Blood count was extremely low around 6.2. I'm not sure what 6.2 really means but the head nurse who told the news looked very scared as she set me up for not one bag of blood but two bags!  AND it took four and a half hours for my veins to suck it all down. Wasn't so bad for me  because I had the very comfortable chemo chair and David sit (all the way through the four and a half)  in one of those small chairs Oncology put out for visitors. AND since I hadn't more than forty-five minutes worth of sleep the night before, I reclined the chair as far as it would go and slept through most of it. Oh, yeah. About two hours in I remembered . . . I hadn't eaten all day. WHAT?" the nurse yelped. And she ran off and got me a cold turkey sandwich . . . and I realized then how hungry I was and that, that turkey sandwich was the best sandwich I had ever eaten!

10:30 pm
Also yesterday, I did a voice over for a film David's been working on. I don't like doing things off the top of my head even when it's a voice over and I have the few lines right in front of me. But I did it and I guess it went okay.

Wednesday, February 12, 2o2o

1.  When it gets too hot in the apartment, I can't sleep. When it gets to cold, I can't sleep. See my dilemma? Up almost every hour last night trying to get the heater at the right temp. so I don't have to get up and play with it a bit. Finally, I got it balanced out and I slept well until 12 noon.
2.  Moments, just moments when. Just moments when the world seems balanced just right on my skinny shoulders. But no matter how I try to keep the weight balanced on my tiny shoulders, it movies or I move and the whole thing comes down  . . . pinning me to the floor of my dirty apartment. That's the struggle of life . . . not just keeping the cruel  world balanced but digging yourself out from underneath the rubble when it falls on you. And believe it, it will fall.
3. I'm tired of politics. And I can't help but fight back when the opposition gets to wild. Unfortunately, most of my opponents are in the political party that I identify with.  {no smile}

Thursday, February 13, 2o2o

1.  Well, Thursday. On Facebook they call it throw back Thursday. For me, it's a bit like throw-up Thursday. Not well today. A bit depressed. Everything makes me cry a bit. Commercials for Saint Jude's Children's Hospital? Very sad to watch right now. And hospital shows on TV? I can barely watch any of them because you KNOW some character is going to be dying of cancer. Please, don't think I'm getting a bit maudlin because I'm laughing as I write this. {smiles}
2.  I'm having a difficult time on Facebook with all the political nonsense cropping up. Even the people I agree with politically . . .  I don't agree with politically. Yeah, I know. But exactly what I feel when I read some of my fellow liberals talk about politics.
3.  I've developed a alternate personality, a pseudo superhero  . . . Chemo-Man. My best pic right now is titled Chemo-Man and Pony. One pic above right with Pony and one to the left.
4.  I wish some days would be someday and some days would be days happy and some days just uneventful when I just smile because nothing bad had happened. Somedays I love

Sundays and some days I wish the day would magically become a Friday and I was young again and hitting the bars looking for love . . . or something I might mistake for love. Yes, I somedays wish I wasn't at the age I am at. 14. Yes, I wish to be 14 for the rest of my time on this mudd ball. Not 21. Don't need to be 21. 14 the magic number for me.

Friday, Valentine's Day, February 14, 2o2o

Yes, it is that love appreciation day, Valentine's. Not too sorry to say . . . but I never was much of a Valentine's Day celebrator. I don't really remember having ever celebrated it with a significant other. I'm pretty sure I must have at least once bought a girlfriend flowers, candy, a Valentine's Day card. I just don't remember ever performing  any of those gestures of love and admiration. However, I did start writing a Not a Valentine's Day Poem over the last few years just to celebrate not having an actual lover to adorn with a Happy Valentine's Day party favor. And it turned out pretty good, I think. I mean, I celebrated the occasion with a poem without actually celebrating it. The picture of the little guy carrying around this HUGE heart on his back . . . sort of expresses my feelings toward the holiday. But is it really a holiday? I know that people who are against Valentine's Day say it's absolutely NOT a legitimate holiday. Just a sad little con by the corporations to relieve you of more of your  hard earned money to put into some fat cat's pocket! Of course, the people who say all that are probably without love or a loved one to celebrate love with. I can understand their distain for the  . . . holiday.

10:13 pm

End of the second week of February. Rather appropriate to have Valentine's at the end of the second month. On a darker, sadder note. February 14th is also the date of the 2018 Parkland shooting.  Want to keep remembering it an all the other mass shootings this country has suffered through since . . . well, a very long time.

So, shutting this week down. hope you enjoy my rants. I'm feeling like I'm not writing as well as I have been. I'm repeating subjects, I think. Maybe that's a good thing. Me realizing that I need to explore new ideas and ways of writing.  {smiles}

The Daily {W}rite February 2020 wk o1

The first day of February. I know, it's NOT important. Nothing is actually important. However, there isn't nothing. Nothing in this illusion we created for everybody can't exist. There's always . . . some thing. And we are back at the beginning of a thought. A thought is like a church. Take off your shoes before you enter.

Frog Boy

We think, therefore we are confused.

Thinking, consciousness the plague

of human existence. If we did not think,

our lives would be a . . . a . . .

There's an amusement park on

the Santa Monica Pier. Bright lights,

Ferris wheel the colors of rainbows . . .

Whack-A-Mole, teddy bears, the sideshow:

"Heya, Heya!" cries the Barker

from the sideshow tent, "See

the amazing frog boy pickled in a jar!

And there he is! Piss-yellow skin

and eyes a gangrenous green,

yes, there he is!”

There's your heaven, your Mecca . . .

free rides for the eternal soul . . . if

there is a soul. If not . . . the ocean . . .

reclaimed life beginning and never ending.

Worshipping the Holy Mackerel.

"Fan mail from some flounder?"

Asked Bullwinkle Moose.

Woodie o2-o1-2o

Sunday, February o2, 2o2o 

Yes, an angry man, I am . . . Thank you, Dr. Suess. There have been moments in my life, bloodied almost dead moments  . . . If I could've, I'd have murdered the whole world. But then like now, I haven't the strength to do such a thing. Unlike then, now I have no desire to harm the world as much as it has butchered me, left me on the side of the road . . . roadkill . . . nothing more than a doggy corpse drying in the desert sun. They murdered me a long time ago, those parents, step parents, lovers and friends. They never even thought of burying the body. So, here I am . . . still. 

7:15pm
I'm taking time off from the game to write to you, dear reader. Don't worry, it's half time. I won't miss anything. I am listening to the half time show and writing to you.

Look, I take full responsibly for the I of ME. I can't blame anyone for who I am. Why? Because I am the one who decides what I do, what I am. Yes, other people's action towards me may have had a hand in it. making me who I am . . . those people . . . father, mother, people I've known as I was growing up, people good and bad whom I've had interactions with . . . yes, that made me pretty much what I am . . . but I chose how they effect me . . . how I react to their actions towards me. That's the rub. "They" may well do the kindest or the nastiest  things to me  . . . but it's my decision how I respond to those actions of others. And those actions can't be transmitting to the actions of other people. I can't or shouldn't respond to an action that may (to me) resemble an action by a different person in my past. There's the problem with living. You can be what they tell you to be through their actions . . . or you can choose to be yourself, what you choose to be.    

Monday, February o3, 2o2o
this morning, 8:40 or so, blood tests. The RN that took my blood smiled on her way into the waiting room . . . always a good sign. "Well, your blood is in good shape," her smiles gets bigger as she says this . . . and then a change in tone with, "but lower than the doctor would like to see." Oh, well. A discussion with the doctor next with her saying the same thing the RN said but in an even happier mood than the RN because she's getting ready to go on vacation. Then . . . into the chemo room for more chemotherapy . . . and out until tomorrow.

It gets dark outside the apartment. Night begins its drop into our sunlit world around 5:00 pm. And the world is aware of the arrival . . . the cars that pass my apartment seem more sluggish, almost standing still as it gets darker. The local black cat runs to the closest porch . . . a favorite place for street cats to hide . . . under the porches of the houses on Trout Ave. Dogs? Dogs just howl mournfully the dying of the sun, getting louder and louder until the sun is no more. And then the dogs just shut up, disappear into the black until the morning sun arrives.

Tuesday, February o4, 2o2o
Had a better sleep last nigh than I've had in a while. "Experts" tell me that you need eight hours of uninterrupted sleep for sleep to do you any good. Okay, but I have an old man's bladder that doesn't care. It wakes me up every two  hours or so. Anyway, did wake up in good spirits even though my abs ache from the chemo shots and my left arm is aching from the protein shot the RN gave me. But other than that. Feeling damn good. Some one on Facebook wished Trump to die of cancer. As much as I despise what Trump and his minions continue to do to this country, I would never wish cancer on him or anyone. And if you have paid any attention to my entries on this blog . . . you know why. {smiles}

Wednesday, February o5, 2o2o

Snow Day! Yea! It was a little nasty out but not to cold and beautiful snow fall. Went to the hospital for chemotherapy early, around 10:00am, instead at 2:00pm because a lot of patients cancelled their appointments because of the snow. What'a bunch'a wimps. Some of the doctors also took a snow day and cancelled appointments. Again, wimps.

6:26 pm
I wrote this poem last night after Trump's State of the Union speech, which I couldn't watch for more than 2 minutes at a time. I fear for my country.

The Fate of the Union

The president sat on the edge
looking down at the swollen ground

where once the people laughed

and sang now they cowered and

grabbed themselves and cried

to the sky above "when will it end?"

But the Orange One just shook
his head his Orange One hair
dancing in the wind. He pretends
that the problem is with the people
down there in the hole he created.
And all his crow-like followers agree,
"This country belongs to you and me
and not to the people way down there."

But the sparrows know how it goes.
Get enough of them together and
they can end the reign of the cowardly 
crows. Kill the ignorance, the stupidity 
that got them in this mess . . . but unless

their featherbrained ways come together,
become bigger than the power that has
stomped them down, the crows will fly
in numbers so large they'll fill the sky
with the blackness of their wings. And then
no matter how hard we try, no matter how
loud we yell, the world will die without its sun.
Woodie o2-o5-2o

Friday, February o7, 2o2o

The first week of the 2nd month of this "new" year. Pretty soon we'll not be calling it  New Year . . . in maybe 4 to 6 months from now. My birthday is approximately 3 months away and  . . . I'm just happy to maybe be alive for it. Yes, sometimes I'm very bitter about life,  how my life has turned out . . . but now that an expiration date on my life is close to be set, I feel much more in love with this life that I may be parting company with . . . AaaaaahahahahaHA! No, I plan on living forever . . . but I did fool you . . . didn't I?

A Facebook friend asked me if I ever plan to publish my poetry. Probably not while I'm alive. And if I'm dead, I won't be able to publish . . . anything. Look, I have my monthly poetry project. Granted the project is probably not even noticed by people. And it's designed that way, I guess. That's all I'm telling you. {smiles}

10:10 pm
My friend apologized to me over IM for being "grumpy" at me. I didn't really say anything I just blew it off. But we both got each other's nerves. I should apologize for all the rotten things I've said to him, actually.

I'm so glad that this week of chemo shots are over. Yeah, I know, I'm getting a minor dose of it when you compare it to other cancer patients. Today, man, the shots really hurt me more than usual. Still, it's not all that bad. Hey! Some great news from the pharmacy. The people take your prescription order are starting to look at the price and if it's too high THEY look for coupons for the patient! I had a nausea pill that was costing around $50.00 a bottle and the pharmacist got it down to $15.00. And today they got me a lower price on an antibiotic. Good. Very good. So, that's all from me tonight. See you next week.