Yes, I do know. I haven't written in a bit . . . more than a bit . . . two WEEKS worth of bits. The cancer thing, you know? Not feeling well . . . and then feeling well and then . . . not feeling well . . . and then . . . this last week my blood count is up to 14! That's a lot! Platelets were down and the hemoglobin down too . . . but the 14 count is . . . hopeful that I might be getting better . . . as better as I can get. The doctor hasn't said anything yet. So, not wanting to be too hopeful.
Yes, and it's Friday the 13th! Not really a holiday but is in a . . . way. I did a little research on Friday the 13th: “Friday the 13th is considered an unlucky day in Western superstition. It occurs when the 13th day of the month in the Gregorian calendar falls on a Friday, which happens at least once every year but can occur up to three times in the same year—for example, in 2015, Friday the 13th occurred in February, March, and November. 2017 through 2020 will all have two Friday the 13ths each, and the years 2021 and 2022 will both have just one occurrence each. Friday the 13th occurs in any month that begins on a Sunday.” -Wikipedia
So, back to writing. What should I write about? My life . . . have I ever wrote about anything else?
Politics are really getting to me as usual. I can't stand all the sniping going on all the fake news that democrats are throwing at each other. I try not to do it myself. However, I can't NOT say something when someone else talks nonsense, lies. I try not to get angry . . . but I do.
1. It's still raining a bit outside . . . almost inside my apartment. the kitchen window fell out of its frame and smashed itself all to hell on the rooftop. . . Police believe it was suicide. But I don't know. Right after the crash, I saw two juvenile squirrels jumping from the roof and scurrying up a wooden lamp post.
2. I got a poem I wanna share on here even though I've already shared it on Facebook in 2o19:
But the pale lady remembers in rhyme and pitch
So, back to writing. What should I write about? My life . . . have I ever wrote about anything else?
Politics are really getting to me as usual. I can't stand all the sniping going on all the fake news that democrats are throwing at each other. I try not to do it myself. However, I can't NOT say something when someone else talks nonsense, lies. I try not to get angry . . . but I do.
1. It's still raining a bit outside . . . almost inside my apartment. the kitchen window fell out of its frame and smashed itself all to hell on the rooftop. . . Police believe it was suicide. But I don't know. Right after the crash, I saw two juvenile squirrels jumping from the roof and scurrying up a wooden lamp post.
2. I got a poem I wanna share on here even though I've already shared it on Facebook in 2o19:
I Heard Annie Singing Little Bird
There's a cloud, a single cloud, a little cloud
sitting on a rainbow. Crows, I watch the crows,
There's a cloud, a single cloud, a little cloud
sitting on a rainbow. Crows, I watch the crows,
the old black crows floating through the rain.
I wonder why they try to swim when they were
born to fly? I wonder why, why chase rainbows?
Crows just aren’t smart enough, fast enough,
brave enough for dream pursuits. Their destiny
lies in night’s cold eyes. Blood on the moon quenches
the desire for warmer climates and sunnier days.
Whippoorwills. Lovecraftian angels, pallbearers,
Whippoorwills. Lovecraftian angels, pallbearers,
a flock of feathered mourners lifting the murderer’s
soul from its body at the moment of death, yes,
soul from its body at the moment of death, yes,
pulls the soul from the gravity of flesh tossing it
to the old gods! What a gluttonous feast for them,
the sweetness of a newly formed ghost, a tasty little treat
for those older gods who’ve forgotten their own names
because no one, no one ever sings of them anymore.
But the pale lady remembers in rhyme and pitch
the selfless reasons for our existence. She remembers
sparrows as true as a bass, a lead guitar, the synthesized,
panic rhythm mechanically laid down by a drum machine.
She is the goddess of sad looks and painful words that
strike ever so surely and hard the nastiest of hearts.
strike ever so surely and hard the nastiest of hearts.
Woodie o6-o7-19 (rewrites o3-13-2o)
Sunday, March 15, 2o2o
1. Got out to see a movie today, The Hunt. It got a lot of bad press even before it came out because it was hinted at poking fun at 2nd Amenders and Donald Trump . . . which it does. But it also takes the satirical look at the liberal left . . . a lot. It's a weird movie. Depending on the political position, some people will find some of it funny, and some of it not so funny. It smacks both liberals and conservatives.
2. I got in an argument with a guy from Direct TV at Walmart. I don't know why. I usually just say no and march on. But for some reason, I stopped to talk and the guy starts asking for my address my zip code . . . I thought he was looking to see if AT&T was servicing my area . . . but then he wanted my name and my phone number . . . and I got pissed. "Hey, don't try to con me into subscribing to your service . . . ! "Sir, you started talking to me first . . . " "Bullshit!" and I ran off towards the food section. I shouldn't have gotten so mad, damn it!
3. It was creepy at Walmart. Very few customers . . . a ghost store. Went to this small organic store that David goes to . . . same thing. There was a sign on the door: "We'll be closing the store early to clean up." Hmm. AND they had hand sanitizer at every cashier line! Yeah, creepy again.
Monday, March 16, 2o2o
COVID-19-Blues
1. I wonder if the Invisible Man is susceptible to the COVID-19? 2. Every time I hear a cough . . . I wince. 3. The bad news . . . I have cancer. 4. the good news . . . the type of cancer I have the doctors tell me means I have only a 5.08% chance of catching and dying from COVID-19! 5. Went to KFC to get chicken for dinner. Side door was locked. Went to the front door. Opened it and walked into a gauntlet of wooden chairs barring me from going to any of the tables, and forcing me to go straight to the counter. "So," I said to the smiling teenager, "No, dining in, I take it?" Yes, that's right," the teenager said with an even bigger smile. 6. No matter how old and sick I get the world still delights me with its cruel sense of funny. 7. AND I finally found out WHY everybody's buying up all that toilet paper (look to the right. {smiles}
9:28 pm
1. About 5 weeks ago, we met a friend's mother who was receiving chemotherapy. Beautiful lady. Very thin, bald, a beautiful smile that she flashed at me and David when she was introduced to us. Last week, we learn that she had succumbed to the cancer.
2. Last week my blood levels were at 14. Today it dropped down to below 7. So, life keeps jerking me around.
Tuesday, March 17, 2o2o
Well, Norman town is shut down. Can't go to bars, restaurants and movie theaters. Some restaurants will be open for takeout orders only. Man, this is creepy I Am Legend shit. Anyway, it does give me plenty of time to write.
1. Watching my neighbor get into an Uber. My neighbor wearing a double intake respirator. My body and mind are hard-pressed to laugh or cry.
2. The good thing about being 71 during this COVID-19 outbreak? I'm considered high priority venerable.
3. "Knock, knock." "Who's there?" "Nobody." "Nobody who?" "Nobody's knocking at your door, idiot, everybody is under self-quarantine!"
Wednesday, March 18, 2o2o
Natural Selection
"Stop your weeping," said the rain, "no one wishes to see that!
Not even the sparrows dancing on the winter lawn wish to see
your tears . . . even though they cry like falling leaves from
the oak tree branches whenever the night strolls by."
Shouldn't I ignore Mother Nature's speeches when she's never
shed a tear for me, never has she sent a sobbing wind rummaging
through the cracks in my apartment walls to keep me company,
protect me from the many shadows peppering my thoughts, and
those gentle dreams that evolve into haunted nightmares and
chase me screaming through the dark . . . what about some
solace then, oh lovely, caring nature? What about a single,
meaningful caress from the graying moon
that I watch every night when your storm clouds permit me?
Seventy-one years on this planet, this lovely Earth and you
won't comfort me with a whispered, "there, there," when
I'm feeling my ghost slipping from me towards the grave.
And when this flesh falls into your open arms, what then?
Will you be as cold to me in death as you have been in life?
Yes, we give you too much credit, we sing your praise, write
poems celebrating your eternal youth. It's gone to your head.
Woodie o3-18-2o
Thursday, March 19,2o2o
1. Listening to Thick as a Brick by Jethro Tull.
2. Hmm, the sun stares at me from the west window. A burning stare. I'm afraid my sweatshirt will explode . . . my whole life is gasoline and nitro. I wonder if I just allow the sun to stare at me as it is right now forever . . . will it go blind? See red Woodie spots pulsing in its one eye?
3. Believe me when I say . . . I don't know of what I'm talking about.
4. More than likely my legs will fall into a deep blackout before the rest of me realizes this is not some kind of demented dream forced onto me by my parents, by the world in general, by an uncaring intellectual cannibal that denies me my individuality.
5. FREEDOM! I shout the word and it bounces off the wall and back into my ears . . . a massive headache screams back with silence.
Friday, March 2o, 2o2o
My exposed flesh soaks up the warm sunlight dropping in through the west window. I smile at all this gentleness that nature has decided to lay on us in the middle of a horrifying pandemic. Unlike our leaders, our POTUS and his league of evil conservatives, nature seems to have some moral feeling towards this dying time. I know. Silly to think that nature gives a damn about us and what happens to us. Maybe she is even more detached than our "masters" here on her fleshy Earth. And yet it appears she has more feelings for us than the human powers that be in charge.
Saturday, March 21, 2o2o
The first day out of the house and into the ghost town once named Norman-town. David and I riding around in his car rolling towards the Sooner Fashion Mall. ME: But is the mall open? DAVID: I guess we'll see. AND it was! AND lots of folks in there walking around because . . . well, like me, they were tired of being under "house arrest" and just want to get out . . . ANYWHERE! Most of the shops were closed but there were a few still open. Jewelry stores, a small convenience store (mostly candy), a sports cap shop open. That one was weird. It has all these different sports caps hung up in sections. But one of the sections was stripped of all its caps . . . an all those caps were piled up at the foot of the section, like all the caps had said at the same time, "I can't stand this! I'm going to commit suicide!" Another freaky thing in the cap shop: a mannequin wearing some sport team's shirt on its torso, AND a cop sat on its shoulders because . . . THERE WAS NO HEAD OR NECK ON THE MANNEQUIN!
But more like life as we know it was the grocery store we went to Crest Grocery Store. Tons of groceries, and people shoving giant shopping carts along as they picked up this or that . . . . There were a few sections that were pretty bare. This store was really controlling the toilet paper, though. One person could buy just two, two-packs of T.P. at a time. I still don't know why there is a run on T.P. Pretty sure I don't understand why there's a run on ice cream, also. But there was. Needed to go to Walmart to get my sorbetto . . . . and I got the last two pints of that . . . but not the flavor that I wanted. I got mango flavored! I'll tell ya, this apocalypse stuff ain't all it's cracked up to be. Anyway, new blog next week . . . if there is a next week. {smiles}
3. It was creepy at Walmart. Very few customers . . . a ghost store. Went to this small organic store that David goes to . . . same thing. There was a sign on the door: "We'll be closing the store early to clean up." Hmm. AND they had hand sanitizer at every cashier line! Yeah, creepy again.
Monday, March 16, 2o2o
COVID-19-Blues
1. I wonder if the Invisible Man is susceptible to the COVID-19? 2. Every time I hear a cough . . . I wince. 3. The bad news . . . I have cancer. 4. the good news . . . the type of cancer I have the doctors tell me means I have only a 5.08% chance of catching and dying from COVID-19! 5. Went to KFC to get chicken for dinner. Side door was locked. Went to the front door. Opened it and walked into a gauntlet of wooden chairs barring me from going to any of the tables, and forcing me to go straight to the counter. "So," I said to the smiling teenager, "No, dining in, I take it?" Yes, that's right," the teenager said with an even bigger smile. 6. No matter how old and sick I get the world still delights me with its cruel sense of funny. 7. AND I finally found out WHY everybody's buying up all that toilet paper (look to the right. {smiles}
9:28 pm
2. Last week my blood levels were at 14. Today it dropped down to below 7. So, life keeps jerking me around.
Tuesday, March 17, 2o2o
Well, Norman town is shut down. Can't go to bars, restaurants and movie theaters. Some restaurants will be open for takeout orders only. Man, this is creepy I Am Legend shit. Anyway, it does give me plenty of time to write.
1. Watching my neighbor get into an Uber. My neighbor wearing a double intake respirator. My body and mind are hard-pressed to laugh or cry.
2. The good thing about being 71 during this COVID-19 outbreak? I'm considered high priority venerable.
3. "Knock, knock." "Who's there?" "Nobody." "Nobody who?" "Nobody's knocking at your door, idiot, everybody is under self-quarantine!"
Wednesday, March 18, 2o2o
Not even the sparrows dancing on the winter lawn wish to see
your tears . . . even though they cry like falling leaves from
the oak tree branches whenever the night strolls by."
Shouldn't I ignore Mother Nature's speeches when she's never
shed a tear for me, never has she sent a sobbing wind rummaging
through the cracks in my apartment walls to keep me company,
protect me from the many shadows peppering my thoughts, and
those gentle dreams that evolve into haunted nightmares and
chase me screaming through the dark . . . what about some
solace then, oh lovely, caring nature? What about a single,
meaningful caress from the graying moon
that I watch every night when your storm clouds permit me?
Seventy-one years on this planet, this lovely Earth and you
won't comfort me with a whispered, "there, there," when
I'm feeling my ghost slipping from me towards the grave.
And when this flesh falls into your open arms, what then?
Will you be as cold to me in death as you have been in life?
Yes, we give you too much credit, we sing your praise, write
poems celebrating your eternal youth. It's gone to your head.
Woodie o3-18-2o
Thursday, March 19,2o2o
2. Hmm, the sun stares at me from the west window. A burning stare. I'm afraid my sweatshirt will explode . . . my whole life is gasoline and nitro. I wonder if I just allow the sun to stare at me as it is right now forever . . . will it go blind? See red Woodie spots pulsing in its one eye?
3. Believe me when I say . . . I don't know of what I'm talking about.
4. More than likely my legs will fall into a deep blackout before the rest of me realizes this is not some kind of demented dream forced onto me by my parents, by the world in general, by an uncaring intellectual cannibal that denies me my individuality.
5. FREEDOM! I shout the word and it bounces off the wall and back into my ears . . . a massive headache screams back with silence.
Friday, March 2o, 2o2o
My exposed flesh soaks up the warm sunlight dropping in through the west window. I smile at all this gentleness that nature has decided to lay on us in the middle of a horrifying pandemic. Unlike our leaders, our POTUS and his league of evil conservatives, nature seems to have some moral feeling towards this dying time. I know. Silly to think that nature gives a damn about us and what happens to us. Maybe she is even more detached than our "masters" here on her fleshy Earth. And yet it appears she has more feelings for us than the human powers that be in charge.
Saturday, March 21, 2o2o
Out Into The Apocalypse
But more like life as we know it was the grocery store we went to Crest Grocery Store. Tons of groceries, and people shoving giant shopping carts along as they picked up this or that . . . . There were a few sections that were pretty bare. This store was really controlling the toilet paper, though. One person could buy just two, two-packs of T.P. at a time. I still don't know why there is a run on T.P. Pretty sure I don't understand why there's a run on ice cream, also. But there was. Needed to go to Walmart to get my sorbetto . . . . and I got the last two pints of that . . . but not the flavor that I wanted. I got mango flavored! I'll tell ya, this apocalypse stuff ain't all it's cracked up to be. Anyway, new blog next week . . . if there is a next week. {smiles}
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