The world I can't change . . . much. This life boiling over . . . it's sludge seeping in through those tiny cracks that the doctors bore into my head on that day I dropped out of that warm, quiet place . . . smack dab into the middle of this existence. The mind cripplers gearing up, enormous bills just for being born pouring out of their dirty mouths . . . Feed the rich; fuck the poor. They are the sores, not us. They are the plastic stable boys whipping at the ghosts . . . the ghosts created in their own image . . . fat ghosts shitting on the sidewalk and blaming it on the immigrant, whose hands are still bleeding from a forty-hour workday! No time to eat . . . It doesn't matter. There's no food anyway. No time to dream . . . again, it doesn't matter for all the dreams are white. The empty page. No longer blank, no longer meaningless . . . when black ink is added to its shapeless face.
1. And she asked me, not unkindly,
"How long have you been bleeding?"
"Not too long," I heard my mouth say.
"Just my whole fucking life." I was
surprised by her giggle that she tried
to hide behind her hand. And she answered, "That does explain a lot."
2. A shallow pool, barely enough water in it to wade properly, and does it smell? Like all the dead just crawled out of their respective graves. That's my life in this year of COVID-19.
3. I still remember the feel of her hair between my fingers, the scent of her hair. Her blond hair. Even after two weeks of not washing it, or perhaps because of not washing it, I could still smell home. And no matter how far away, my life took me from her . . . I could still find her by scent alone.
4. Unfortunately, as bad as today has been, tomorrow looks to be even more horrible. And the next day and the day after . . . even more.
Monday, March 23, 2o2o
1. Darkness is not caused by a lack of light but by a lack of imagination.
2. Slow down. No need to be so frantic. You're already dead. Your ghost is tired. Let it rest inside its grave. If there is an afterlife, it will find you.
3. I saw a comet once. It raced across the midnight like a bright white sparkler. It had a bushy tail like a squirrel's tail . . . and I remember I was a child. A boy. When I grew up, looked up at the sky all I saw was night.
Tuesday, March 24, 2o2o
It's a Tull day. Thick as a Brick in both ears. But no worries. I got the cell phone right in front of me. If someone calls, I'll see the flashing screen. But back to Thick. Frigging great album, and one of the longest songs ever coming in at 43 minutes and 50 seconds. Dude, an extremely classic piece of rock that I can't find anywhere! No CD of it in any store. But I probably have to go online. to find it IF it exists anywhere.
The world is deadly to me. Yeah, the world is out to kill me. First, it fucks up my lungs with 60 years of smoking three or four packs since I was twelve . . . COPD, a fluttering in my heart that the doctors can't explain, leukemia, and as it turns out . . . the cure for my cancer is fucking destroying my immune system.
Dialogue from Catch 22: “They're trying to kill me," Yossarian told him calmly. "No one's trying to kill you," Clevinger cried."Then why are they shooting at me?" Yossarian asked. "They're shooting at everyone," Clevinger answered. "They're trying to kill everyone." "And what difference does that make?”
. . . And that's exactly how I feel. Oh, forgot one other thing, I'm a male. Yes! The list of symptoms sent out by the health to explain who is most vulnerable to the COVID-19 and there were seven symptoms including age and . . . I got six out of seven! Son of a bitch! Don't tell me that life is not out to kill me . . . it's a personal vendetta.
Wednesday, March 25, 2o2o
It's been a day of getting some practical tasks done. Finally filled out (online) that pesky Census 2020 survey. Some weird shit happened. I put in my proper name, the name I use on all "legal/ business" documents: Robert R. Woods. But the census site made it: Robert Woods R Woods. What the hell is that? I tried to correct it but no way was the site going to do that. So, I guess from now on I am known by Robert Woods R Woods. So, I got to the end of the survey and it asked, What race are you? And so upset by the name thing they did to me I wanted to just get done with this so I put . . . white. But when I got to the bottom of the page the survey wanted to define the white race with an origin. You know, French, England, blah, blah, blah. Look I don't know any of that crap. So, I just put American. I mean, what the fuck, you know? I don't want to define myself as a race. Too much bullshit about race in this country. I refuse to play. I mean, why can't I just call myself "of the human species"? Yeah. I mean dogs aren't broken up into race. There's not a Chihuahua race, is there?
So, emailed the company that makes my rescue inhaler to complain about the price for a month prescription that started out at $24.00 and within 6 months jumped up to $80.00! I didn't write an angry email. I just told them that it was too much money and would they please lower it to at least under $30.00. And I also called my doctor to see if he (since he prescribed the inhaler) could find one cheaper. And he did! I can pick it up at Walmart tomorrow. P.S. Never got an answer back from the company that makes the inhalers. Of course not.
Online and on the news people are really freaking out for us old people because we are the most susceptible to COVID-19. Everybody's pushing the six feet distance rule. Yes, you can talk to other people but you need to not get too close to them, no more than 6 feet. And I got to thinking. Since David drives me everywhere, how do I stay 6 feet away from him when he's right next to me . . . driving? I don't know. I follow the rules but that one seems a bit more difficult to follow. I mean, we don't breathe on each other, we don't touch each other . . . we are aware of how close physically we are to each other. We are careful. But I admit that when David started losing his voice the other day and started coughing a bit too much . . . I sort of backed away from him.
Thursday, March 26, 2o2o
Depressing. Scary. That's life this morning. MSNBC paints this horrifying picture of crowed hospitals filled with COVID-19 patients. One nurse put it like: we need respirators. Right now we only get a respirator when a patient dies.
Last night wasn't as bad as today. I mean, I was still under the illusion that this might pass by us without more damage. But still, last night was horrifying. Wrote a poem about last night's feelings. Not sure it's going over well with my Facebook friends.
Friday, March 27, 2o2o
Hell of a day . . . yesterday. I won't spend too long bitching about it. I went to get my prescriptions yesterday at Walmart Pharmacy and the price for one of them was not the price I was quoted over the phone. It was $13.38 more. I complained about it, and the girl at the counter just shrugged me off. I even talked to my sister who works at Walmart and she did basically the same thing. She did give me some advice about contacting my doctor and seeing if he could get the price down. Hell, she even offered to reimburse me the $13.38 which was sweet of her . . . but she missed the point. I should not be told by the pharmacy over the phone that the product will cost $24.62 and then when I get there it turns out to be $38.00. What's wrong with people? Price gouging should be against the law.
So, I'm spending the day writing on the blog. Probably not going out of the house today. Okay, maybe a short walk to the mailbox and a bit of journey to take the trash out to the dumpster. But other than that? I did walk a bit with David on campus yesterday . . . but I couldn't walk too far. Shortness of breath. And I had just got platelets and a blood transfusion Monday. It looks like the treatments are not taking. Fuck.
11:13 pm
Less than an hour and I can post the poem for Saturday. No, not gonna post it here. You'll have to see it, read it on Facebook. Of course, you probably read this blog (if you read it) on Facebook anyway.
It's dark out . . . here on Trout Avenue. On a Friday night too. Scary world we live in these days. Scarier than I've ever witnessed. Yeah, there were always a few scary moments in my life. Vietnam war was scary even if I was a cook in the Marine Corps, Simper Fi, Stir and Fry. The drunken stepfather shoving the barrel of a loaded shogun in my guts when I was eighteen . . . a bit on the hairy side . . . for sure. And then there was me on a motorcycle, drunk on my ass, early morning, doing a hundred and ten miles an hour on the 405 without a helmet. Not scary when I was doing it. When I woke up and realized what I had done? Horrifying. But this, this COVID-19? This is a whole new layer of horror for me. So many dead and more to come and all of it the fault of an egotistical maniac in the White House.
Sunday, March 29, 2o2o
Lat night was something rather homegrown wonderful. I wrote a poem about it:
COVID-19 (part 10) Norman Regional Hospital
The parking lot . . . crowded. Cars, trucks . . . I think I saw
2:21 pm
The pic on the right is from a B-day card that my friend, Kimm, sent to me some years ago. Sometimes I forget how important friends are to this life. Relatives also. But last night, when a whole bunch of Normanites jumped in their cars and drove over to show their appreciation for the first responders who are on the front line of this COVID-19 epidemic, that really gave me some perspective about existence and friends.
5:55 pm
1. I feel fine. Just a bit sleepy after I eat. Hmm. I wonder if vampires get sleepy after sucking the blood out of a person? Well, food for thought . . . HA!
2. I had a dream . . . somewhere . . . at some time . . . in this existence. Please, don't ask me what it was about. I have no memory of it but I am told that I always dream, all the time and might not remember because of . . . my age. Well, that's a waste. Why have dreams if you can't remember them?
3. I keep getting the internet's version of junk mail . . . spam. Why do new things have to always replace old things when the new things take over?
4. It's always good to keep a pair of traveling shoes on (even when asleep) just in case you fall into a black hole or something. The multiverse may not have your exact shoe size. And then where would you be?
5. Sometimes . . . too often . . . I feel like life's penyata. And when they break me open . . . they are surprised to find that there aren't any goodies inside me.
6. Will I remember tomorrow when I wake up in yesterday?
Tuesday, March 31, 2o2o
Missed writing on this Daily {W}rite yesterday. But that's usual for me when I go to chemotherapy on a Monday. I Lose sleep the night before therapy. Usually, I don't get more than 45 minutes the night before. And Sunday night? Even more restless than any other night before chemo. I was really dreading the chemo for the first time. It just started to hurt more after, what? 6 sessions? Anyway, Got there and they wouldn't let David into the hospital because he didn't have an appointment. So, I got there and had blood taken to see where I was chemotherapy wise. After that, I saw the doctor and . . . "Well, Robert, afraid that the treatment is not working on your body. It happens. You know we talked about going to OKC, OU medical hospital for other options to control your cancer. But the big one we talked about, the bone marrow surgery that you probably wouldn't survive because of your age? Yeah, they are not doing any surgeries up there because of the COVID-19. So, I got one more thing we can try here. We stop your chemo and let you develop leukemia, not borderline leukemia like you have now. This I can treat."
I listened to all this with a deadpan look down at the floor. So, the only hope I have is that they make me sicker so they can treat my cancer. So, I told her, yeah, let's do that. So, the battle of life or death is still going on within me. I wonder . . . who will win?
"How long have you been bleeding?"
"Not too long," I heard my mouth say.
"Just my whole fucking life." I was
surprised by her giggle that she tried
to hide behind her hand. And she answered, "That does explain a lot."
2. A shallow pool, barely enough water in it to wade properly, and does it smell? Like all the dead just crawled out of their respective graves. That's my life in this year of COVID-19.
3. I still remember the feel of her hair between my fingers, the scent of her hair. Her blond hair. Even after two weeks of not washing it, or perhaps because of not washing it, I could still smell home. And no matter how far away, my life took me from her . . . I could still find her by scent alone.
4. Unfortunately, as bad as today has been, tomorrow looks to be even more horrible. And the next day and the day after . . . even more.
Monday, March 23, 2o2o
1. Darkness is not caused by a lack of light but by a lack of imagination.
2. Slow down. No need to be so frantic. You're already dead. Your ghost is tired. Let it rest inside its grave. If there is an afterlife, it will find you.
3. I saw a comet once. It raced across the midnight like a bright white sparkler. It had a bushy tail like a squirrel's tail . . . and I remember I was a child. A boy. When I grew up, looked up at the sky all I saw was night.
Tuesday, March 24, 2o2o
It's a Tull day. Thick as a Brick in both ears. But no worries. I got the cell phone right in front of me. If someone calls, I'll see the flashing screen. But back to Thick. Frigging great album, and one of the longest songs ever coming in at 43 minutes and 50 seconds. Dude, an extremely classic piece of rock that I can't find anywhere! No CD of it in any store. But I probably have to go online. to find it IF it exists anywhere.
Dialogue from Catch 22: “They're trying to kill me," Yossarian told him calmly. "No one's trying to kill you," Clevinger cried."Then why are they shooting at me?" Yossarian asked. "They're shooting at everyone," Clevinger answered. "They're trying to kill everyone." "And what difference does that make?”
. . . And that's exactly how I feel. Oh, forgot one other thing, I'm a male. Yes! The list of symptoms sent out by the health to explain who is most vulnerable to the COVID-19 and there were seven symptoms including age and . . . I got six out of seven! Son of a bitch! Don't tell me that life is not out to kill me . . . it's a personal vendetta.
Wednesday, March 25, 2o2o
So, emailed the company that makes my rescue inhaler to complain about the price for a month prescription that started out at $24.00 and within 6 months jumped up to $80.00! I didn't write an angry email. I just told them that it was too much money and would they please lower it to at least under $30.00. And I also called my doctor to see if he (since he prescribed the inhaler) could find one cheaper. And he did! I can pick it up at Walmart tomorrow. P.S. Never got an answer back from the company that makes the inhalers. Of course not.
Thursday, March 26, 2o2o
Depressing. Scary. That's life this morning. MSNBC paints this horrifying picture of crowed hospitals filled with COVID-19 patients. One nurse put it like: we need respirators. Right now we only get a respirator when a patient dies.
Last night wasn't as bad as today. I mean, I was still under the illusion that this might pass by us without more damage. But still, last night was horrifying. Wrote a poem about last night's feelings. Not sure it's going over well with my Facebook friends.
Friday, March 27, 2o2o
Hell of a day . . . yesterday. I won't spend too long bitching about it. I went to get my prescriptions yesterday at Walmart Pharmacy and the price for one of them was not the price I was quoted over the phone. It was $13.38 more. I complained about it, and the girl at the counter just shrugged me off. I even talked to my sister who works at Walmart and she did basically the same thing. She did give me some advice about contacting my doctor and seeing if he could get the price down. Hell, she even offered to reimburse me the $13.38 which was sweet of her . . . but she missed the point. I should not be told by the pharmacy over the phone that the product will cost $24.62 and then when I get there it turns out to be $38.00. What's wrong with people? Price gouging should be against the law.
11:13 pm
Less than an hour and I can post the poem for Saturday. No, not gonna post it here. You'll have to see it, read it on Facebook. Of course, you probably read this blog (if you read it) on Facebook anyway.
It's dark out . . . here on Trout Avenue. On a Friday night too. Scary world we live in these days. Scarier than I've ever witnessed. Yeah, there were always a few scary moments in my life. Vietnam war was scary even if I was a cook in the Marine Corps, Simper Fi, Stir and Fry. The drunken stepfather shoving the barrel of a loaded shogun in my guts when I was eighteen . . . a bit on the hairy side . . . for sure. And then there was me on a motorcycle, drunk on my ass, early morning, doing a hundred and ten miles an hour on the 405 without a helmet. Not scary when I was doing it. When I woke up and realized what I had done? Horrifying. But this, this COVID-19? This is a whole new layer of horror for me. So many dead and more to come and all of it the fault of an egotistical maniac in the White House.
Sunday, March 29, 2o2o
Lat night was something rather homegrown wonderful. I wrote a poem about it:
COVID-19 (part 10) Norman Regional Hospital
The parking lot . . . crowded. Cars, trucks . . . I think I saw
a motorcycle or two. Warning lights flashing, car horns
bellowing like fighting bulls . . . and people. People inside
their cars, outside their cars, young and old and most
of them wearing surgical masks. Some high school kids
standing in the bed of a GMC truck waving homemade
signs, "WE LOVE YOU!" It felt like Woodstock . . . but no
rockers . . . then out of the hospital onto a grassy mound
so everyone in the parking lot could see . . . Nurses,
technical people, also wearing surgical masks and blue,
green, and pink scrubs . . . the crowd went crazy! Yelling,
screaming as if it if were The Rolling Stones, Joe Cocker,
Santana, or Jefferson Airplane standing in front of them.
Santana, or Jefferson Airplane standing in front of them.
And then these medical rock stars waved at the crowd
and the car horns got louder, the cheering even louder,
and the hospital groupies waved back, their arms swaying
in the air and love, and respect filled the parking lot.
Woodie o3-29-2o
2:21 pm
5:55 pm
1. I feel fine. Just a bit sleepy after I eat. Hmm. I wonder if vampires get sleepy after sucking the blood out of a person? Well, food for thought . . . HA!
2. I had a dream . . . somewhere . . . at some time . . . in this existence. Please, don't ask me what it was about. I have no memory of it but I am told that I always dream, all the time and might not remember because of . . . my age. Well, that's a waste. Why have dreams if you can't remember them?
4. It's always good to keep a pair of traveling shoes on (even when asleep) just in case you fall into a black hole or something. The multiverse may not have your exact shoe size. And then where would you be?
5. Sometimes . . . too often . . . I feel like life's penyata. And when they break me open . . . they are surprised to find that there aren't any goodies inside me.
6. Will I remember tomorrow when I wake up in yesterday?
Tuesday, March 31, 2o2o
I listened to all this with a deadpan look down at the floor. So, the only hope I have is that they make me sicker so they can treat my cancer. So, I told her, yeah, let's do that. So, the battle of life or death is still going on within me. I wonder . . . who will win?
