The Daily {W}rite January 2019 wk o4

I'm sorry that I didn't get right onto the this last week in January blog entry. A couple reasons for the delay. First off, I always wind-up with a shit load more days to write about in the last week of a month. For example, this wk. o4 of January had 10 days in it! Yes! Now that I've bypassed a couple of days, this week's blog will cover only the last 7 days of the week. Yeaaaaaa!

The second reason for the delay . . . well, if you know me, you already know. I was hit pile driver hard with a bout of manic depression. I know, we call it bipolar  . . . something . . . but I prefer Hendrix's phraseology. Anyway, I'm still buzzing from it, shaken from it, still reeling a bit from all the negative energy zapping my brain. I know, breathe in, breathe out. Breath in, breath out.

And there was also the Rally to End Racism on the OU campus. Was suppose to be outside but the weather forced the speakers and the audience into a very cramped ballroom. I had a difficult time taking pics because of the low light. So, I shot in monochrome, which works better in low light than color. It was a good rally, but more of the same rhetoric about how awful racism is, and it is but that's about all anyone said about it that I heard. No one has any real plan to attack and end racism. And I understand that. But how long do we say the same old things and march the same old march carrying the same old signs chanting the same old chants. Need to find another way to get through to people.

10:15pm

I don't want to spend too much blog time talking about racism. Not that I don't think it is an important topic . . . it definitely is. However, all we do is talk about it and in the same way we talk about mass shootings. Yeah, we don't like it when it happens and we want it to stop . . . but we really have no idea of how to do that. How do we change an attitude towards each other based on skin color that has been a part of America even before there was a United States of America? Personally, I don't think it's that tough to be not a racist. I mean, just don't be one. Don't say, do, or even think racist. Treat all American citizens should be treated . . . equals with the same Constitution rights as myself. Easy, right? Like the Bible says, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Easy way to live. Always remember that it is: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." and that it's not: Do unto others  . . . and then split."

Friday, January 25, 2o19
A cop of coffee. The TV . . . off. Just the sound of the space heater's air system rumbling, a steady hum pushing warm air the stove top creates into the living room. Believe it or not, the anxiety I've been feeling all week has dissipated. Good. My body, my mind at peace with each other. Drifting through the universe right now. Mmm. Tacos. I wish the universe, all the physical and metaphysical worlds were made of Taco Bell tacos. Mmm.

5:51pm

So, I'm on Facebook and there's this flash on the left side of the laptop screen . . . OH! An IM. Ong sent me and IM:
ONG: Where you live.
WOODIE: Trout Ave.
ONG: Where the hell is that? So, I gave him "perfect" direction and thirty minutes later I see him getting out of the car. I go down and we yack a while . . . about 30 min. or so and all I got on my feet are my house slippers so I'm getting a bit fidgety, moving my feet around so I can keep the circulation going . . . "Oh, here," Ong says, "this is our newest album. One for you and one for David." That was so cool. Tony Ong is a great rocker. Name of his group is ONG. Look him up on YouTube.

Saturday, January 26, 2o19

My main problem seems to be is I can't take all the bullsh** in without getting just ass-kickin' angry about it. Bill Maher. Bill "WTF" Maher did a rant on his HBO show about Stan Lee, and how people who are adults and still like Marvel comics and all the Marvel superhero movies are morons and should die . . . . ! Okay, there's Achilles heels. One of my friends on Facebook showed Bill's rant on Stan Lee and I just can't handle it without getting all red face pissed off about it. And that's not good. Not good for me or the people I  lash out at when I'm this friggin' angry! Aaaaaaaaugh!

Sunday, January 27, 2o19

Hey! Guess what? I got a hold of David early enough for us to go to a movie! Yep! We saw the movie Stan & Ollie, which is a decent enough movie. Really great work on the part of all the actors. THEN, after the movie, David talked me into going to the gym! Yes, I haven't been to the gym in at least two years! And boy, working on my biceps with 10 lb. weights, looking in the big mirror in front of me . . . MAN! Am I ever over weight! I mean, I'm more than Hitchcock FAT! But the workout went good although all I could with two sets, ten reps, of five upper body exercises (arms and chest).

Yeah, that's how out of shape I am. BUT it felt good! No, seriously, I think my body has been wanting me to do something "athletic" for it and it is now extremely thankful to me.

You may think that this day's blog entry has a lot different tone/mood than the one yesterday and . . . you'd be right. But no magical cure has made me happy, maybe the working out helped a bit but . . . I'm just on the up swing of my disease.

Monday, January 28, 2o19

My friend Brandon posted his top ten movie list for 2018. Damn it!  So, now I gotta work extra hard and get mine out tonight. Damn it!

10:18pm
I've got spend more time communing with myself, less time right now trying to fix all the broken people I run into on Facebook and real life. Yeah, more exploration of self, and less judging others, mocking, others.

Well, not going to finish the top ten tonight. BUT I swear . . . tomorrow.

"Words, words, words!"
I forgot who said that.
But I vaguely remember
He was bummed out
at the time he said it. 

Tuesday, January 29, 2o19

As is usual . . . sleep dragged itself out of me and hid itself away somewhere in this my apartment. I should hunt it down that sleep of mine. I should hunt it down force it to crawl into my ears and find its way back into the gray matter that houses all that is me. All that is me. That one part, that runaway looking for a new home . . . perhaps more stray dog than rebel. Yes, I deranged, stray dog roaming the streets the dark alleyways, searching for a scent that will send it toward home. I should stand out on the front porch, call it's name. "Here boy! Here boy."

10:34pm 
By the standards my mind and body dictate, this hasn't been a BAD day. An okay day. I couldn't get David out of his house until 2pm. Problems with his bank. Some guy bought a pizza on hos card . . . in Frisco. I asked him what kind of pizza the guy bought. He didn't know. I asked the girl at the bank . . . okay, I shouldn't say girl cause she isn't a "girl" but a relatively higher up mucky-muck so . . . she didn't know either. She is from Alaska. So, I quietly asked her . .  .
Woodie: (whispers) you know the 30 Days of Night/
Mucky-Muck: (whispers) yes.
Woodie: So, it's true. There are vampires in Alaska?
Mucky-Muck: Yeah, but they are way up north. (Woodie smiles. He likes her.)

Thursday, January 31, 2o19
So, I skip a day of writing on the diary blog. I've been feeling  . . . unwell for most of this week. Headaches, body aches and the inevitable mind aches have chewed me up and, not liking the taste, spit me out on the carpet. But no worries . . . I'm just one stain on the carpet amongst a multitude of stains.

But, again, no worries. The brain housing group is working a bit over time correcting all the metaphysical glitches (I don't believe in ghosts, and hope that ghosts don't believe in me) that seem to be automatically popping into my consciousness anytime Life (the lives of others) starts picking on me like we were both back in the 2nd grade. I won't stand for it! You want some coffee? {smiles}See you next month.

The Daily {W}rite January 2018 wk o3

I'm sitting here wondering about my sanity. I'm an angry old man. I was an angry young man, NGRY middle aged man . . . my whole life has been one long temper tantrum. I read an article that stated that fear and anger are generated in the same area of the brain, and that fear and anger are related to each other. Makes sense to me. I've been scared a lot throughout this life, bullying, stepfather beatings , the Vietnam war, which I spent as a Marine Corps cook (semper fi, stir and fry) but still faced a few scary things. So, anger was my way of dealing with my fear. Something scares me, I get mean, scary right back at whatever's scaring me or I run like hell!

These days, I realize that my anger is a bit out of control. I get made about everything not just life or death things. Someone says a nasty word in my direction I'm ready into battle. Hell, I get so mad when any one contradicts me about politics, what movies I like . . . I even got mad at a Momoa look at like that serves coffee at the Stella Nova because the kid is too damn happy! "What'd'ya got to be happy about, motherfucker! You're stuck in a fuckin' nowhere coffeeshop serving coffee to a grumpy old motherfucker like me! Your life Sucks!"

Anyway, all today I've been in an angry mood. Fuck. There has to be a way to channel my anger onto a positive outcome. I mean, and fear are just as valid a feeling as LOOOOOOVE! Just need to find a positive way to express negative energy.

So, I seem to be out of my psychotic killer mood and back to my lovable self. Who am I kidding? When was I ever lovable? Okay, maybe once a very long time ago. {smiles}

Tues. Jan. 15, 2o19
12:00am

If you haven't guessed it already, I am in one of my manic-depression moods. I wind-up sometimes curled up in a ball on the floor after screaming my head off at the bathroom mirror for about an hour! I don't know if the neighbors hear me and are just being polite . . . Hell, I don't even no if they're in their apartments. Anyway, the shouting helps a lot to just get it all out . . . but I have such a killer headache after the "episode."

Thursday, January 17, 2019

A busy day yesterday for me. That's why I didn't do a blog posting. So, what grand thing were you doing on Wednesday? I was at the laundromat doing . . . a year's worth of dirty cloths. Yes, I said it. I haven't washed clothes in a year! And to shock you even more . . . it was probably MORE than a year!

Today . . . a doctor's appointment for my heart. Yeah, I didn't think I had one either. But says yep I do and that there's a beat of a rhythm problem with it. I don't no exactly what the doc is talking about, I mean he actually produced audio recording of it and I listened . . . and I didn't hear anything unusual. But HD kept say it was there so to not disappoint him I finally said, "Oooh, yeah! I hear it now. Man, that sounds BAD!"

So, today. Today was full of  . . . adventure! Went to the heart doctor. These once a year appointment doesn't endear you to the ladies at the front desk. They got to ask you all kinds of questions to make sure our file is up to date. Weird question from the front desk lady, "Do you have a living will?" I think for a moment. "A what?" "A living will." I could tell that my old man scratching his head attitude wasn't going over. "Well, Yeah. I mean I am alive and I got a strong will to get in to see this doctor and then go home." Yeah, it was one of those moments when you hear your mouth talking and wonder why it's saying all that. But instead of anger, I got from both of the front desk lady a loud giggle! Hell, everybody started laughing. Even David thought it was . . . funny. I was funny.

Anyway, the doctor's exam was fine. He does want me to lose ten pounds, but I am sitting at two hundred and seven  and suggested that I lose fifty pounds. He sort of chuckled and said, "Well, start with losing ten pounds and then we can talk about losing more." Everything I was saying today was funny. I was on a roll! So, doc also said that I need to get exercise. "Walking would be good." "Yeah I don't run anymore." "Well, walking forty minutes a day . . ." a fast walk . . . ?" "Yes, that's right. forty minutes a day." "I'll start as soon as we finish here." "Well, good to hear and you are done and I'll see you next year!"

Friday, January 18, 2o19

Hmm. Well, David and I made plans to go see the movie Glass today . . . called him three times . . . he never answered the phone. O-o-o-kay. No biggie. It's not like the movies going away any time soon . . . plus, I'm very apt at maneuvering around the spoilers with my fingers stuck in my ears, my eyes closed while singing, "LA-LA-LA-LA!" in a mind-aching, extremely piercing falsetto. {smiles, sad smiles, but smiles}

Besides, I got plenty to do today. "Oh, yeah? Like what?" Well, there's writing on the blog, working on some new poetry . . . Oh! There's a poetry reading coming up that I want to read at, I need to work on the poetry I want to perform. I could do what the doctor told me to do . . . WALK FOR FORTY MINUTES EVERY DAY! I'll probably bypass that until the weather gets warmer. Yes, I have plenty to do to keep my mind of the fact that I AIN'T GONNA SEE GLASS TODAY! {legitimate smiles this time}

Saturday, January 19, 2o19
Guess what? Yesterday David called around 5pm.
David: Sorry. My phone---
Woodie: Yeah, yeah, I know.
David: So, we could go see Glass-that's the movie, right? We could see it tonight---
Woodie: At night?
David: whatever . . . there's a show at 6:30---
Woodie: Yeah let's go to that! 
(And we did, and I love it, and . . .)
David: It was alright. 

Today I felt lousy. Had a weird ass nightmare where there was this rat nibbling on my fingers . . . woke up with a start (how do you wake up with a "start?") and splashed cold coffee all over myself, the nightstand (where the coffee was sitting) and the carpet! Okay, need to explain? I sleep on a couch sitting up because my sinuses don't like it when I lay down, and the nightstand is on the left of the of the couch's arm and my arm fell over that and the tips of my fingers fell into the full cup of coffee and . . . well, you know the rest.

Monday, January 21, 2o19

 Last blog entry for the week. A bit of a chore getting the words out due in part to me being super tired mentally and physically. The other part? People. I just am just uneasy around people for the time being. In their eyes I am so inferior. Every opinion I have blown off. Why? Well, because everyone is so much smarter, more informed, more artistic and they all have these BIG fucking degrees. Gosh how can you argue with a MFA, a Mother Fuckin' Asshole degree?! No, a mothing degree like an MFA? No, only a peasant would have that. Okay, I understand this is probably not the best way to end this week's blog . . .

The Daily {W}rite January 2019 wk o2

This book of Eastern philosophy says I can never find peace unless I spend more quality time with Mother Nature. Fuck. It's winter. Fuck. I mean, even during spring and autumn -the two most comfortable seasons of the year- I still don't dig on "nature" all that much. Now, I 've told this directly to the book, The Art of Peace, the book I'm reading to clear my mind . . . but the book (The Art of Peace) just stares at me . . . doesn't say a word. I hate it when literature does that!

Wednesday, January o9, 2o19

This winter's day slowly changes into its eveningwear, a dark blue, a black cloud of scarf around her neck. Soon she well be night. We will not recognizer. She'll no longer be that gentle day of light we love. The gossip is we'll soon have rain, a 100% chance! The odds are not in the favor of those soulless creatures who are annoyed by the waters from the sky. But don't rejoice you who love the rain, you worshippers of nature and all she does. I've no tolerance for either the sacred or the mundane. I distrust the both of you equally.

I wouldn't mind a thunderstorm! At least then I could keep a

suspicious eye open for what hides in those shadows the night creates.  You lurkers, you demons of twisted, human minds! I trust you even less than the holy and atheist.

I could wish if I wanted to because there is no law against secretively wishing . . . I'd wish for someone to share the night with me. Both of us frightened by the dark and what she bears in her breast . . . but never would we fear each other. We would be each others candle light, a smile of hope upon our faces.

Thurs. Jan 1o, 2o19
Have we not yet had enough? Enough of this? Enough of that, enough of enough already?  No. Never, I think. We'll  continue on . . . crawl if we must across the dried Earth if we must. Our legs and arms, our lungs will give up long before our spirits even think of giving in. All the flowers will die and we will still be here  . . . we will still have tears enough to mourn their passing. All the dreams will shrivel up becoming nothing more than forgotten memories . . . yes, we will be here, we will scream fare-thee-well . . . and long after our voices have quieted  themselves, becoming nothing but hollow whispers . . . we well still be here.

Friday, January 11, 2o19
The weather dude from channel 4 said, "Friday, 100% chance of rain." Well, it is no longer a prediction, it's confirmed  . . .  it's been raining all day. It's still going strong. {smiles} I do have a poetry site, but I decided to post this new set of poems (titled Short Stuff) on The Daily {W}rite. Hope you don't mind.

This are just little thoughts, little stories/ideas that pop into my head every now and then. Not a lot of words to them. But hope that because they're short the reader will take the time to contemplate the idea in each of the poems.
5:17pm

Damn! Sometimes my blog gets a bit prissy about what in place on its fine, white skin. I hate you, blog. I do.

Anyway, as was said somewhere above, 100% rainy day today! Not a mean-ass rain. But a gentle rain, a calm rain. a Chinese torture kind of rain that never appears to ever want to stop!

Saturday, Jan. 12, 2o19
{Note: poems and animations can be enlarged by "clicking" on the images. Smiles}
Last night our 2nd Friday Art Walk turned into a 2nd Friday Art Swim. A very cold wind blew at us a very cold rain. Ugh! Hardly anyone showed up. The one really bright moments of Art walk I spent at Resonator, a small "co-op" of young, very out there on the edge artists.

Really, an energy you couldn't believe. One "art piece" made up of two young men playing chess, was my favorite. But there were all kinds of "performance art" like pieces. One guy made pancakes that he gave away to the crowd to eat, or he'd throw them against a wall  . . . and we'd watch, hoping that we'd be there to watch as it slid down the wall and hit the floor. A great energy with this group. I wish I could be part of it.

Spending some time working up some of my poetry for this open mike poetry night at a local bar. I've done it before, once before, and it was a disaster! I had a difficult time, my legs were shaking, they wanted to run away, save me from a crowd that was rowdy and coughing all the while I was up there at the mike. And then the guy who ran the show, some punk-ass professor jerk, gave me the business about my material, it needed a "trigger warning"  for the audience . . . whatever the fuck that means.

I'm getting ready to call it a night, shut the computer down. Gotta a bunch of anime series on Cartoon Network designed specifically for adults that I like to watch. No, not THAT kind of adult stuff. Sheesh! You got a dirty mine. {smiles}

Sunday, January 13, 2019

Sometimes . . . no . . . most times . . . yes, that is better . . . most times during this life I find myself somewhat lost in the . . . in the . . . room? Yes, the universe is too large a word for me, hard to feel claustrophobic in something as undefinable as an entire universe. Ah, but a room, a simple, whitewall room, for walls surrounding you . . . the enemy inside and outside. THAT is something a singularity could easily become paranoid about . . . just thinking about confinement . . . external and internal . . . makes me want to rip out my hair and scream, shout so loud the world goes deaf!

Monday, January 14, 2o19

See, here's the thing. I know what I am talking about when it comes to politics. I know bullshit when I hear it and I can't help but say something about it when I hear it! But there's a problem. Most American folk like their damn bullshit-NO- they LOVE their damn bullshit. The believe there is a constitutional right to bullshit . . . The Inalienable Right to Believe Whatever BULLSHIT You Want to Believe! NO, it's true! The People don't give a flying burrito about the truth . . . especially if it tries to deter them from the bullshit that they choose to believe. You hear that? I mean, most folk KNOW that their bullshit is bullshit! But they don't care because as one Trump patron put it, "I don't care what the truth is. I believe what I want to believe." And that's it, straight up. So, knowing the truth doesn't get you very far. No one cares about the truth. They believe  . . . whatever they want.

But-but-but-BUT! I can't give up the truth because no one cares to believe me. I have to find a way to convince them that the truth talks and bullshit walks. Yelling at them doesn't do any good because they're not deaf! They ain't blind, they just pretend to be blind! They're not stupid, either. I mean, very rarely does calling someone "AN IDIOTIC MORON WITH THE IQ OF AN OVERRRIPE AVOCADO!!" do what you want it to do, change someone's mind about something that he/she has already made a decision to believe!

The Daily {W}rite January 01, 2019 wk o1

Hey, Long time no hear your laughter . . . seems like we haven't seen each since . . . oh, I don't know, last year, maybe? Instead of a New Year's resolution, I'm borrowing the idea of just a single word, one word to live by during this year. Can you guess which word I've chosen? Give you a hint: CRE + ATE. Yes! You got it in one try, so proud of you. Yes, my word to live by is CREATE. What not active enough? Well, maybe it's not but it is a powerful enough word to get me up off my ass this year and start tossing my art works out there so the public can see and hear what the hell I'm up to.

Wed, Jan. o2, 2o19
Talking to a local musician I like a lot. I can never remember his name. What a life this cat has had. Makes me ashamed to not have made anything out of my creative life. This guy is genius. Taught himself to play guitar, harmonica and drums. Probably so other instrument he plays too. And sing! Yeah, the guy sings too! He's a regular one man band.
6:18pm
Winter snow and ice alert in Norman tonight and into tomorrow, which means I won't be going anywhere . . . other than to the kitchen, bathroom . . . Yeah, that's all there is to my apartment except for the living room which also takes on the guise of a bedroom when I need to go . . . to sleep.  Although the heater is out in my apartment, the stove and the large space heater (which gets too hot and no kind of thermostat on it) that  the landlord brought keeps the apartment fairly warm . . . but I'm afraid of starting a fire so I shut the hole thing down when I get ready for bed.

Thursday, January o3, 2o19

What did I accomplish today? It would be easy to say . . . nothing. but would that be true? No, in fact I could say not true at all. I worked on 5 poems, yes, 5 poems and I did a lot of creating on Facebook. Developed a few memes, responding to folks in some of the different sites I'm on. I don't try to stir up controversy, but I'm not above speaking my thoughts. And there's a lot to say because quite a few folks on Facebook are very closed minded. Not that I know everything, but I know enough to get me in trouble with the internet trolls that stroll onto sites just to stir up some trouble.

It's still ruthlessly cold out on the streets, but not enough cold to keep me inside my apartment. Granted, I didn't go farther tha a door down from my complex, but I did manage to get a few shots of what the icy weather left on the trees as it left town.
11:31PM
Well, what started out as just a cold slushy, muddy day turned into a rather beautiful snow filled night. Magical, in a way. My sister is probably disappointed that the weather gods decided not give her the pleasure of a white Christmas, saving it all up for this very lovely (but still cold!) January o3, 2019.

Tomorrow the sun will be out, Norman-town will heat up into the low 40s and most of this beautiful snow will be gone by noon, and before sun goes done it'll all be gone . . . as if it never snowed at all.

Friday, January o4, 2o19

I spend too much time alone with nothing to keep me entertained but my memories, which are often enough dark dreary, depressing. I wind-up lying on the floor, or curled up in a corner, fetial position. Memory is my death stalker, my private executioner. And some will say, they will easily say it's not your memory that haunts; it's you, yourself, your ego, your Igor mentality that you are inferior to anyone who stands up on two feet.  Yeah, that's probably true. I'm weak willed. Even a memory is stronger than me, can't beat down without lifting a fist.

11:58pm

But enough of this bullshit! Bullshit! Actually, a very interesting word, bullshit! Believe it or not, bullshit is a philosophy mostly employed by politicians, conmen, girlfriends. {smiles}

Saturday, January o5, 2018

I'm afraid of people. No, very true. I get around them in a social atmosphere and I can feel my legs going limp, my heart really start sprinting inside my chest. Sometimes I break out in a sweat. Makes no difference if it's winter or summer or spring . . . my hands start shaking and forehead turns into a waterfall of warm, smelly sweat.

Anyway, all this I've been talking about? If I want to get over my depression, I need to see past it. The book I'm reading, The Art of Peace, keeps telling me to stop getting involved with my past and start putting my attention's focus on the action that is going on, that I am involved in, in this very moment. And forget the future too. Let go of wondering about that. Just totally commit to experiencing the moment that I'm in right here and now.

Sun. Jan. o6, 2o19 3:30am

Three thirty in the morning and my mind is wide awake. I'm in a reflective mood. The last bit of coffee on my left, semi-warm. The TV's on, NCIS: New Orleans. Pride got his ass in a sling over something that was in the last episode and I missed that. Anyway, it doesn't matter because I'm really not listening to the TV. It's just background noise. Besides, I watch too much TV.

I wrote this thing yesterday, just a stream of consciousness thing about one of the new group of US House of Representatives, Reshida Tlaib, the first Muslim woman elected to the House, who held a press conference (on her first day) and bad mouthed Trump with a hardy, "We are going to impeach that motherfucker!" And of course, a lot of people had something to say about that! Most of it bad. I mean how could she use such language on the steps of Congress?! So shocked we are by language LIKE THAT?!Well, I was so inspired by there wholesome, all-American sensibilities that I wrote this:

11:35am
I turned off the TV. Nothing but the ambient sound of the fan pushing the hot air from the stove into the living room, and the occasional sound of cars one by one passing by my apartment. I thought I heard a voice outside somewhere, somewhere so far away that his/her screaming seemed more a whisper than a scream. It's nice to have relative quiet with only the mumbling sound of my voice mouthing the words that I type as they appear on the computer screen. Everything is calm. I think of nothing but what I'm doing right now . . . . communicating with you, my beloved readers of my thought through the chosen words. {smiles}

I accidently found myself on the street in direct eye contact with a person I had known quite intimately in another time line. We decided that we would go to Starbucks, drink coffee and "catch up" on the other's life since last we met.
FRIEND: So, don't you get a bit tired of it?
ME: Of what?
FRIEND: This life, this existence if you can call it that.
Me: (shrugging) Well, as all my friends tell me: it beats the alternative. (laugh)
FRIEND: You must have some stupid friends.
ME: Yeah, but I like 'em that way. Makes me feel superior. (smile)
FRIEND: I thought about killing myself today. Before I ran into you.
ME: Really?
FRIEND: (irritated) Have you ever heard me lie? I mean, ever in the times in which you knew of me.
ME: I never have. You've always told the truth in my presence. However, what you do when I'm not around . . . (both laugh) END PLAY 

Monday, January o7, 2o19

The last day in the official first week of 2o19. We should celebrate . . . or something.

I am confused sometimes by my reactions to life, to people, to moments. I do things, act in ways, express myself to other people . . . not as me. Or at least not as I want to express myself to others. This afternoon, we went to this sign shop to drop off a present had for one of the people who works there. That person off on a job, but the boss wanted to talk to David, it seems. Anyway, I'm looking around the business and I see all this political yard signs, you know, the ones with the thin metal legs that you can stick into the ground? Any, I asked the owner of the shop, "Hey, if you got some trump guys come and ask you to make political signs for Trump's re-election, would you make those signs?" The owner paused just briefly and said that he would. We talked about signs and politics and then we left.

But when I got home I started questioning myself. Why the hell do I always do that? Why do I go somewhere and out of the blue start a political discussion? It's something I want to get away from, my starting a conversation that I know could end in yelling, screaming and maybe someone getting punched in the mouth.

10:33pm
Last entry for this week. I'm not liking my writing these days. Too ordinary, too trapped to this world from my remembrance of it. Too angry I am. Not at all poetic. Maybe it's my aging, my losing my artistic focus with my ability to think clearly . . . age it's away at me. Time devours me with long black arms. But I won't worry about it anymore. I'll look for that creative spark, that single gear, revved-up, ready to jump out of the garage, creative tires squealing, laying a thick smoke of burning poetry across the keyboard. Goodnight, good friends. Tomorrow starts a new week. {smiles}

The Daily {W}rite December 2018 wk 04

Aaaaah! The last week in the month of December . . . Oh! It just popped into my consciousness! It is also the last month in the year 2o18! Madness how time can creep up on ya, stroll by ya as if you weren't even there. Our lives. Not even the splinter of a shadow to time.

I've been sluggish all day. Did get out of my robe, but never set a foot out the front door. Kept dozing off all day. The landlord got me a space heater for the apartment, some kind of industrial looking thing on a 2x4 platform and . . . it heats the apartment for shit. Woke up in the middle of the night freezing! Legs, arms, sticking of the blanket . . . My back screaming from the pain . . . Got up and turned the stove on. Couldn't get back to sleep. But like I was saying sleep kept jumping on me making me crawl into sleep for maybe a half hour at a time . . . all day long.

Sunday, Dec. 23, 2o18
David's sick. Not unusual at our ages to get feel a little punkie after being out and about in the cold weather. Yeah, I'd like to blame it all on the cold but we both get worn out pretty fast no matter the season. David's got another doctor's appointment on Wednesday the day after Christmas. David's my best friend. We both sort of take care of each other. That's what old, bachelor types do. We sort of team up on life hoping that when one is sick the other is well enough to take care of the sicko. {smiles}

10:30pm
I've started work on the first poem for 2019, which I should have ready to post by New Year's Day. My God! The new year begins in nine days! I got lots to do . . . the poem . . . top ten movie list . . . Much to do!

Anyway, would you like to see a little bit of the new poem? Remember, it's a work in progress:

A wintery blister gathering inside my head,
every limb of thought, every memory
collected and store away in the cluttered
memory closet. Each New Year a promise
to clean up in there and, of course I never do . . .

No, no, I told you. just a taste. I'm really gonna spend some time on my poetry this next year, and if I can, get my "work" published and heard by more people. {smiles}

Monday, December 24, 2o18 ~CHRISTMAS EVE~

Well, here it is . . . Christmas Eve. And I've fallen into the same mood as many of my Facebook friends . . . I'm depressed. The Christmas Blues some people call it. It's not unusual, really. All of us are carrying around in our subconscious back-pocket a Jacob Marely like ghost or two (for some of us many, many more than two measly old ghosts! ) that stays pretty much undercover until some moron TV station executive decides to show Alistair Sims' 1951 version of A Christmas Carol, which even now at 70 years old makes me cry  and start thinking about how sad, lonely and down right icky my whole life has been and will be forever and ever.

Tuesday, December 25, 2o18 ~CHRISTMAS DAY~

Christmas Day. Finally winding down. As I said above for a lot of us, many of us older folks, Christmas tends to be a  . . . very depressing time of year. As I read the sadness of one of my Facebook friends . . . who shut herself away today, didn't see anyone, didn't watch TV or even call anyone to just say Merry Christmas . . . I got to thinking the book, A Christmas Carol, and how it really does express the concept of "The Christmas Blues." Yeah Dickens hit it right on the head with his story about ghosts, how memory is the real ghost that haunts us. That haunts us all.

But I have to say, Christmas Day this year was for me a very joyous time. I went with my friend David and his son Michael to have Christmas dinner/lunch with Brendan and Mabry Agnew (Mabry is David's daughter) 

and their daughter, Marian, and Brendan's parents and his sister who brought a "boyfriend" to the feat. And of course, Robin was there in a chair, quiet as a shadow . . . very sick she is. I'm hoping she'll be on her way to a full recovery soon.

And yes, there were a few dramas, something that was being cooked was not cooking fast enough, some people were a bit slow getting to dinner on time and someone left the door open and Alistair (the dog) got out! But he was captured and returned to his pen without getting hit by a car or killing a cat or something . . . and the dramas were short lived and we all sat back, opened presents. The presents were given out one at a time in order of age, which meant that I was last each round! But that I was the older person there did not kill my Christmas spirit . . . And the food! Wow! What a feast! I mean, really, it was delicious. It was a good day, a good celebration of life with a group of good friends. You know, this is all I'm going to write for this year. I won't start writing on the blog until 2019. So as Tiny Tim said, "God bless us, every one." {smiles}

The Daily {W}rite December 2018 wk o3

DIMENSIONAL ME

This has always been a splinter in my mind . . . the imagination as the fifth dimension of human existence. Aaaah! I will explore this more a little later on. But not right now.

Yep! Back again After a delightful movie about tanks the size of a huge city that chases down and destroys smaller tanks which are made of smaller cities! Great fun.

Okay, so I began spilling my intellectual guts onto the electronic page about the imagination as the 5th dimension in what we often think is only a 4 dimensional reality. And I also remember that I told you I'd be back later on to explain the theory of the imagination as a dimension and . . . Well before I get into that . . . I better think about it. Explore it personally before I go off on a philosophical rant . . . Okay, granted. Most people don't think about or experience in real time the philosophies, religious points of view  that they demand we adapted to own lives without explanation. I am not that type of spiritual guru. I want to think about live in my philosophy for a period of time and THEN force you to see life the way I perceive it. That's the kind of guy I am. {smile}

11:18pm

Browsing through an old GIF file and found this animation I did last year. Really forgot all about it. Actually, it feels like one of my best. I love Norman-town. Love walking its streets, eating at its restaurants, going to movies in its one theatre. And OU campus. I don't go over there much anymore. I loved studying at OU, being a college student. Yeah, I'm gonna stay in Norman-town forever.

Sunday, December 16, 2o18

It appears I'm a trouble maker, riff-raff, instigator, traitor, backstabber . . . I take great offense to last metaphor. If I've ever stabbed someone  in the back, I've done it while standing in front of him . . . her.

My problem is, my "kill them with logic" button is always activated by absolutism.

Absolutism: Noun: The acceptance of or belief in absolute principles in political, philosophical, ethical, or theological matters.

Yep. Nothing drives me crazier than people with their absolute answers to any question. My science friends are possibly the worse offenders. "If science says there is no god, no afterlife . . . then, by God, it's so!" And I do understand the opinion that everything in religion (specifically in Christianity) is just hokum, bullshit made up to keep the masses, the slaves in line, in their place as property of the rich and powerful. BUT science, in its defense of those who do not want to be enslaved by religious zealots, has become the thing that it says it's against, a totalitarian approach to life and governing others. I wrote a poem about this Hitleresque approach to logic, science which you probably have already read since I'm sure, dear reader, you follow ALL of my writings with a teenybopper fanaticism for anyone with a "rock-god" stature . . .  Hell! Here's the poem . . . P.S. IF it's too small, click on the image to enlarge. P.S.S. you do know I'm talking about the poem, right? {smiles}

Monday, December 17, 2o18

Went to see The Mule. A sad little movie with Clint Eastwood (Starring and directing) that should have been a lot more interesting than it was, sorry to say. I am biting at the bit to see the animated Spider-Man that everyone is raving about! One of my movie reviewer friends says it's the BEST superhero movie . . . EVER! Hmm! We will have to investigate that outrageous statement. Why does everything have to be better than for us to like it? Sometimes our egos get involved with our critiques of other people's art.

Tuesday, December 18, 2o18

It's four in the morning here in my apartment . . . in Norman-town. As I type these words into my computer, the National Geographic TV show is airing a special on . . . God. Good. God is better contemplated when it's early in the morning before the world wakes up into a new day of sunlight and shadows. Best time to dream, wide eyed open to Him . . . or She. In fact I had a debate about God with a Facebook, scientist friend. Science people are very  . . . very . . . well, they are always, the ones I know, very . . . may I say skeptical about the existence of a God. But the are particularly stubborn about their believe that there is no God when they are talking with a Christian . . . and yes, I admit it! I am a Christian.

3:50pm

I'm blog rambling again. I do it all the time when I'm "talking to myself" on the laptop. I try NOT to ramble when I'm in conversation with another human being, face to face, voice to voice. I do often enough take over a conversation and am hard pressed to give it up to other people, who have their ideas too on whatever subject were involved with. But of course their ideas are NOT as important as my own ideas. See? That's what happens! I say something like that, "But Woodie, you do think I have a right to my own ideas, don't you?" "Of course you do! As long as they don't contradict my opinions, my ideals, my philosophy!" {smiles}

Wednesday, December 19, 2o18

So, it's a mild winter so far in Norman-town, but it is still cold, uncomfortably  cold  and cold enough to be a bit dangerous for the older folk . . . like me. And guess what happened today? The pilot l ight went out on the gas heater. But no problem to light it up . . . well, okay, a bit of a chore for my old, somewhat portly body to get down on the floor, lay down on the floor actually, and push the pilot light knob in, light up the pilot light and keeping pushing on the knob for about 60 sec. and that's what I did . . . but the pilot light wouldn't stay lit. I tried a couple more times and still it wouldn't hold. Finally, my neck and back started aching and I stopped trying. Called the landlord, got his message app. and I told it the problem . . . and he didn't come. Around 10pm he did call and I told him the problem and I suggested he come by tomorrow and he said he would. So, everything is fine and I'll have heat tomorrow and . . . and . . . I'm just depressed as hell. Such a little thing like a pilot light going out and I'm losing it. It's not just the heater . . . well, it was sort of the last straw sort of thing, right? the straw that broke the Woodie's back? Exactly that, yeah. My whole life sucks . . . from the day I was born.

Thursday, December 2o, 2o18

Today is  my best friend's B-day, David Slemmons. I'm trying to wake him up so we can go celebrate . . . but waking David is sometimes a lot like trying to wake the dead. Hmm. Probably at our age (70 years old) we shouldn't joke about . . . the big D, biting the big one, the dirt nap, the sleep of forever . . . Actually, I probably shouldn't use any of those colorful phrases.

1:00pm -Two hours later and I still can't get David on the horn. Oh, well. A rather rowdy wind kicking up out there. Comes and goes, really. Sometime that southern breeze goes all mime on me. Not word from it's invisible mouth. And then . . . WHOOSH! A very load, boisterous rattling of the elm trees that line the curbs on the westside of Trout Ave. The leftover autumn leaves take flight out of the gutter graves they've inhabited for the last two months and tumble, fly like ancient angels down the asphalt roadway.

         ~INTERMISSION~

A Winter's Poem

The truck was far more excited about
sliding down the icy road that
leads to town than me and why not?
It's fossil-fueled engine -Yes, I know you always say,
An electric car would work better! -kept it warm
while I shivered in the cab 'cause the heater
never works . . . except in the summer.
But, you joked, our love is passionate! True, or
at the least, obsessive enough to keep icicles from
forming on my hands as I swerve and skid
toward the closest grocery store just to buy
a quart of milk for your morning tea.
And yes, there's something (sort of) comforting
in the knowledge that when I finally make it back
home and alive we'll wrap ourselves up
in that huge quilt you made, sip a hot cup of  cocoa,
smoke a couple of cigarettes (and maybe
sneak a chilly kiss or two) while I
wait for my for my frozen feet to thaw.

Friday, December 21, 2o18 12:39am

Finally got a hold of David and we did go out to celebrate his birthday a bit with coffee and a late lunch at Panda Garden. It was nice. But tonight we are going over to the kids' house for another celebration because Michael, David's son, is in town. Oh! Today I was wondering if I would ever get to see the new Spider-Man animated movie. David wouldn't go and I'm not sure my sister would really be into it, she'd rather see Aquaman because . . . well, it's got Jason Momoa in t the lead so  . . . anyway, I just got out of my street clothes when the phone rang.
Woodie: Hello?
Brendan: Hey! You wanna go see the new Spider-Man Movie? Robin was going to go but she wasn't feeling too good and I got a spare ticket . . . you wanna go?
Woodie: Oh, hell ya!
Brendan: Pick you up in ten minutes!
Woodie: Yep! I'll be ready.
And so, I jump out of the robe, got back into the my street clothes and we drove off to The Warren to watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and  it was wonderful!