AWEW

Ten o’clock.

I’ve run out of my Vraylar since Friday night and I never got the renewal I ordered last Monday. So I called the pharmacy this morning and learned that my prescriber didn’t come to work Wednesday as he usually does, hence the order didn’t go through. Meanwhile I’m starting to sweat a bit.

This morning is bitter cold and densely foggy. I walked in it to the store after waiting a few hours for daylight to come…

Savanna at the pharmacy came through for me, and Darcy probably okayed the refill. Then I texted Gloria to see if she’s okay with driving me to LHC tomorrow morning.

All’s well that ends well. And patience is a virtue. 

Distress

Quarter till ten.

This Thursday morning I have an appointment for my annual assessment at the agency with Shawn. To be perfectly honest I’m scared spit-less of this interview because she is the agency head and I have no clue what kind of questions she might ask me about myself. My fear is she’ll ask about my beliefs and my cultural background, and I’ll be afraid to tell her I’m not religious at all. And if she asks me why, then how do I defend myself to her? For the last two nights I’ve slept a maximum of four hours and I’ve had crazy intrusive thoughts, just terrible and uncomfortable things. So between now and Thursday I have to try to keep myself calm, but no easy feat. I guess worst case scenario is I’m booted out of the agency so I’ll have to go somewhere else to have my meds prescribed. And maybe that’s for the better anyway. My fate is in the lap of the gods. 

Happy Face

Quarter after nine.

If not for the smoke it’d be a clear day. I think the only thing that’ll clean the air is a good rain, but none forthcoming. It’s a mess.

“You got to get up every morning

With a smile on your face

And show the world all the love in your heart

Then people gonna treat you better

You’re gonna find, yes you will

That you’re beautiful as you feel”

Quarter after ten.

My PCA said she would call me when she could come to work today. The smoke is thick everywhere outdoors and it’ll be a hundred degrees again. We’re just treading water until something happens. Waiting is no fun. I’m not a big fan of August, especially in the past few years as things heat up and the fires are worse every year. Nothing about today is a stroll in the park. But I’m thankful I have an air conditioner in the house. A Sanipac truck just went by. Life is inevitably now and smoke gets in your eyes.

“You got to get up every morning…” 

The Fountain of Youth

Forenoon.

It may be time for me to retire my dreams of being a rockstar. At 56 years, you have to be realistic about what is possible to pull off. This is not the Neverland of Peter Pan, and you do have to grow up… The sunshine is indomitable and the high temperature should be 90 degrees today.

Two o’clock.

Last night I left some dry dog food down in his dish; this morning I found an ant and an earwig in the same. But I didn’t take it like an omen of anything else going wrong in life. Also I’ve got a flock of swallows roosting in my chimney, the same ones as every summer. Since I was feeling rather anxious I took a gabapentin to calm myself and chill out. The good news is that Bi Mart will be open on the Fourth, and also Gloria will be working for me then, so we can go buy more dog food cans. Life is a project of constant maintenance, and everything is made up of parts that wear out over time.

Early this morning, as I was writing alone, I struggled to remember the name of the guy who was director of Harmony House at the agency before it was closed in 06. I wracked my brains for a half hour or more, but then finally it came to me: his name was Wesley. The thing that struck me most about him was how he looked 25 when he was 40 years old. I hated to see Harmony House go away, as the general vibe of the place changed afterwards. The years it was active comprised a kind of Golden Age for everyone who walked in. 

Fury and Sound

Six thirty.

I woke up in a good mood, probably because the gabapentin I took yesterday relieved my anxiety for a while. So then I walked out to the market for the usual Snapples, jerky for Aesop, and to use the ATM to pay Damien later today. A funny thing happened while doing the last task. In red letters, the screen told me that the transaction was declined and to take my receipt. When I examined it, I saw that the number was for an account that had been compromised and canceled over a year ago. The card I’d just used should’ve been destroyed a long time ago and I forgot about it. Then I hunted through my wallet and found the valid card, without further incident.

If I had felt more paranoid, then it would’ve seemed that my bank was being unfair and unreasonable, and I would’ve panicked or overreacted somehow. But when you stay calm, you perceive that most things in life conform to reason and order, and the universe is a rational and lawful place.

Aesop almost forgot about his breakfast, speaking of law, until I reminded him, and now he’s whining and barking impatiently for me to feed him.

Quixote, etc.

Earlier today I read two more chapters of the Cervantes and it was pretty good. His insight into madness is very acute. Like Freud, he suggests that it’s driven by desires and wishes: Don Quixote sees what he wants to see, like being in a dream. The truth of psychosis is very similar to the phenomenon of Don Quixote. Dreams are born of strong desires, so strong that you are convinced of their truth. I guess that’s the stuff of idealism, the craving for a perfect life, like imagining heaven or nirvana or whatever paradise you want. Reality doesn’t budge, but that doesn’t stop us from dreaming of a world beyond this one where everything you need grows on trees like the Golden Age. And the inspiration for this idea is the memory of childhood, when your parents provided everything you needed to survive. It is again like Anne Sexton with 45 Mercy Street, wanting to go back to her childhood when she could depend on others to take care of her.

I guess these ideas say more about me than anything else. Of course I wish my parents were still alive and my life at home was perfectly comfortable and safe. Maybe that’s why I used to drink so much: I just couldn’t negotiate life without it. And then a counselor pointed out that I’d been living on my own for 16 years and I didn’t realize it.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the eye doctor in the morning. Also, Damien is coming to do yard work. Today the weather is very warm and sunny and I’m not liking it much. But the worst of it is my feeling of worry and anxiety about everything that comes up, kind of like what Fortune dishes out to Don Quixote and Sancho on their adventure through life. Quixote even says that his enemy is Fortune, and the things that happen to him are unforeseen and unexpected, just like everyone’s life. You never know what’s next.

Landing Gear; or, Wired on Snapple Tea

Ten forty AM.

I was eating a ham and cheese Hot Pocket when I dripped cheese on the front of my hoodie; a minor disaster. So I went to the kitchen to wipe it with a wet sponge, but there was an electrical problem with the light switch— only for a moment. The superstition crossed my mind that these were little acts of God, but I quickly filtered this illogic out. And besides, what would be the purpose in meaningful little catastrophes like these?… I have a full afternoon and evening today. I thought that any ideology can be turned into fascism, so I’m highly suspicious of most belief systems. Would culture fall apart if we dispensed with ideology? Is it possible to have a society based on tangible things alone, as the positivists advocated around the time of WW2? They didn’t actually propose such a place, but they wanted to clear up philosophy so the excesses of nationalism would be impossible again. I have a nagging phobia of fascism that I learned in school, and sure enough, the same issues of history repeat themselves when people are unaware of their past. The thing is that ideas are only ideas, just fluff that we make up completely, while the physical world is hard to deny with any kind of common sense. It is madness when we lose the material world and the things we agree are real. Dunno. People can say Believe and etc but do they know what they’re really talking about? What happens when our landing gear is so damaged that we can’t get our feet on the ground again? It’s like the disorientation of a sea diver with the bends who can’t tell up from down.

Or maybe I’m just having a bad day? 

A Ha Penny Will Do

Nine o five.

It’s strange how the neighbors on my street, except for Roger, are not very friendly. The ones across from my house put up their Christmas lights yesterday, a string of all white. But every time I get to N Park and Maxwell Road, I’m received more nicely, especially at the market… where I happen to spend a lot of money. I try not to be cynical of people. This morning, Lisa wore a funny red striped hat tipped with balls of white. She said she was selling more coffee than anything else. Only one biscuits and gravy order, and hardly any breakfast sandwiches… I have “Waltz of the Flowers” going in my brain. I haven’t been sleeping well because my mind is on my sister and her family, worried for the future if something happens to her. She is 74 with a few health issues. At times my consciousness feels ready to melt down or implode on itself when I’m lying in bed. Also she was considering giving our brother a call after a long silence. This could be a disaster if she gets ahold of him. Life isn’t altogether peaches and cream. For once I’d like to get a good night’s sleep.

But Christmas comes anyway. 

Paranoia

Noon hour.

I’m getting an overdose of society today, and I’ve got Gloria tomorrow morning. I just feel besieged and I worry too much all the time. I want the world to go away for a while, so maybe I should go off the grid temporarily. Unplug everything and take a holiday from people and their conflicting opinions. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. And the fucking news in my face every time I use my phone or tablet is driving me bonkers. It’s too much like The Central Scrutinizer of the record by Frank Zappa; so totally Orwellian and intrusive in our individual lives. Am I just paranoid? Meanwhile the clouds are clearing way for the sun to shine through. If nature were all we had to deal with! But instead we have The Monster, this disembodied octopus in charge of all human beings, thinking in ones and zeros, calculating our destiny with no mercy, no heart, and no soul. If we could just conquer this oversized brain, this cyber Messiah, with the will to love one another like humans and not machines… but it will never happen. There will be no Human Revolution during my lifetime, short of a cataclysm: an asteroid collision with the earth. The next Ice Age. Be careful what you wish for…

One Big Boat

Seven thirty.

Today I’m skipping the caffeine completely. It was turning into a problem with my sleep. There’s just a light rain this morning, but we get more rain than sun this June for whatever ecological reason. At one time, all I worried about was staying alive, but now I worry about more complex things. Frankly I’m tired of the stress. It’s tempting to just opt out of life one way or another. But then I’m probably not alone with the bigger picture. I’ve gone from poor to virtually penniless due to inflation. It doesn’t help when people say that the ultra rich will alone survive in the long run. Something must be done for the little guys, the paupers with nothing but the clothes on their back. My bank makes it more difficult for me. Maybe I should switch to a credit union or something. But not until I’ve paid off my credit cards, a long way away. I really need to talk to somebody at my bank, but they don’t answer the phone. I feel I’m up a creek without a paddle, but again, perhaps not alone.