Being gone applies to more than one aspect of my life. There are a lot of ways to be gone and I think I have been most of them.
I lost a large chunk of myself during a 25 year span. It was subtle. I didn't notice myself becoming the hole in the doughnut, but it happened. I gave up my whole life for another human being. Hindsight has proven to me that that is a terrible mistake.
I have once again moved on in a better direction. I have moved out of my fabulous penthouse (third floor walk up in the ghetto). I now live in a townhouse directly in the middle of the city that I chose to make my home more than 30 years ago. Life is going full circle for me and I now see opportunities forming before me.
Life is not easily regained at age 62 but I am trying to fly again.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Different Day......
It's been quite awhile since I posted. My habit is to not talk when I don't have anything to say. Strange this!
Now I am no longer in survival mode, I find that I want to survive more than ever. How does that work anyway?
My life has gotten costly...because I retired onto SS my SSI was cancelled and so was my Medicaid. My rent and utilities cost me more than 50 Percent of my income. Now I no longer have the medical insurance, I can't afford the specialists I was seeing....I don't see that as a bad thing actually. Each doctor seemed to find something that they couldn't deal with and find yet another specialist to send me too. All that stops very fast when the insurance and cash is gone.
It is my fervent hope that our president will keep on his path to health care reform. I can testify first hand about the flaws we now labor under.
Not much else has changed. I still live in the walk up penthouse apartment in Gods little acre. I have new neighbors across the hall from me. I think they are exercise enthusiasts as they run up and down three flights of stairs 4 or 6 times a day. I get a nose bleed just thinking about that.
The other night, I was just settling down for some sleep around 10:30 or so and some of the first floor folkin arrive home. They appear to be drunk and they are yelling and screaming at each other. This is a mother and daughter that each have their own apartments side by side. I open the window and say loud enough to be heard over the din. "You don't have to yell down there. I'm trying to get to sleep up here." The reply was, "I do to have to yell, this is family business. Mind you own business". Nice huh? "It is my business. I pay rent to live here too. If you don't stop yelling, I will call the police." There was a bunch of cussing, etc from the chick with the big mouth. She said I should go ahead and call the police but I noticed that the fight stopped. The mother went to bed. What part of family business dictates yelling your ass off in a parking lot? I must not understand the difference between public and private I guess.
I would like to say it was peaceful after that, but a bunch of people were still outside in the parking lot and by this time, a stray dog had arrived and was barking it's ass off at them. They were trying to catch it. Someone called the police to come get the dog. By the time all was said and done, it was midnight and the police were making more noise than my neighbors...Who do you call when the police need to quiet down? The officers were young and proceeded to flirt with the most unattractive women around. Just gross.
There may be a ray of hope or not. We have been interviewed for an apartment in a much nicer location, subsidized so life won't be quite so harsh. Even better, if we get the apartment it is right across from the police. Ummm, there must be some there over 20 years old that do their jobs appropriately.
Now I play the waiting game to find out about the move. If it happens it does and if it doesn't, sooner or later something will break my way.
I am starting to wonder if there are any other people over 60 that are still alive and enjoying life. All I've seen are ready for the bone yard. I have my health issues but I am not ready to belly up yet.
I haven't had any friends for many years. I don't want to discuss the reasons here. The main reason is no longer in my life and that is good enough. Anyway, I was thinking about friends and having friends and I came to the conclusion that I am not fit to have friends. I know that sounds a bit harsh or like I am putting myself down, but that isn't it. First, very few people my age have interests similar to mine. I am a bit odd and so are the things that interest my. Secondly, I do not have the desire to take care of yet another person in my life. I spent my entire working career taking care of others. I do not wish to spend my senior days babysitting as well. So, you see, it is much a matter of my attitude that keeps me unfit for friends. I am unwilling to put out the effort. If anyone knows of a way to have hassle free friendships, please write a book and send me a copy.
I really have no clue what I have written here today. I'll reread it sometime and maybe get some inspiration for another post.
Now I am no longer in survival mode, I find that I want to survive more than ever. How does that work anyway?
My life has gotten costly...because I retired onto SS my SSI was cancelled and so was my Medicaid. My rent and utilities cost me more than 50 Percent of my income. Now I no longer have the medical insurance, I can't afford the specialists I was seeing....I don't see that as a bad thing actually. Each doctor seemed to find something that they couldn't deal with and find yet another specialist to send me too. All that stops very fast when the insurance and cash is gone.
It is my fervent hope that our president will keep on his path to health care reform. I can testify first hand about the flaws we now labor under.
Not much else has changed. I still live in the walk up penthouse apartment in Gods little acre. I have new neighbors across the hall from me. I think they are exercise enthusiasts as they run up and down three flights of stairs 4 or 6 times a day. I get a nose bleed just thinking about that.
The other night, I was just settling down for some sleep around 10:30 or so and some of the first floor folkin arrive home. They appear to be drunk and they are yelling and screaming at each other. This is a mother and daughter that each have their own apartments side by side. I open the window and say loud enough to be heard over the din. "You don't have to yell down there. I'm trying to get to sleep up here." The reply was, "I do to have to yell, this is family business. Mind you own business". Nice huh? "It is my business. I pay rent to live here too. If you don't stop yelling, I will call the police." There was a bunch of cussing, etc from the chick with the big mouth. She said I should go ahead and call the police but I noticed that the fight stopped. The mother went to bed. What part of family business dictates yelling your ass off in a parking lot? I must not understand the difference between public and private I guess.
I would like to say it was peaceful after that, but a bunch of people were still outside in the parking lot and by this time, a stray dog had arrived and was barking it's ass off at them. They were trying to catch it. Someone called the police to come get the dog. By the time all was said and done, it was midnight and the police were making more noise than my neighbors...Who do you call when the police need to quiet down? The officers were young and proceeded to flirt with the most unattractive women around. Just gross.
There may be a ray of hope or not. We have been interviewed for an apartment in a much nicer location, subsidized so life won't be quite so harsh. Even better, if we get the apartment it is right across from the police. Ummm, there must be some there over 20 years old that do their jobs appropriately.
Now I play the waiting game to find out about the move. If it happens it does and if it doesn't, sooner or later something will break my way.
I am starting to wonder if there are any other people over 60 that are still alive and enjoying life. All I've seen are ready for the bone yard. I have my health issues but I am not ready to belly up yet.
I haven't had any friends for many years. I don't want to discuss the reasons here. The main reason is no longer in my life and that is good enough. Anyway, I was thinking about friends and having friends and I came to the conclusion that I am not fit to have friends. I know that sounds a bit harsh or like I am putting myself down, but that isn't it. First, very few people my age have interests similar to mine. I am a bit odd and so are the things that interest my. Secondly, I do not have the desire to take care of yet another person in my life. I spent my entire working career taking care of others. I do not wish to spend my senior days babysitting as well. So, you see, it is much a matter of my attitude that keeps me unfit for friends. I am unwilling to put out the effort. If anyone knows of a way to have hassle free friendships, please write a book and send me a copy.
I really have no clue what I have written here today. I'll reread it sometime and maybe get some inspiration for another post.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Life at the Top
I have the eagles nest for a perch, balcony and all. Life at the top is...how can I describe it? Ah, I'll just say it's rather unique. It's a superb spot for observing life without having to get involved with it in any meaningful manner. It is ideal for the Hermit.
What is a day like living in such a lofty manner you may wonder? Let's see, some mornings there is vomit on the doorstep. Most days there is trash in the stairwell. It may even be the non animated variety. That is during the day on the weekdays. The weekends are a lot different...well, maybe not a lot, there are simply more people around. This is a large building with lots of apartments. It's impossible to say how many people actually live here as everyone that rents here seems to feel the civic obligation or running their very own flop house. Generous of them!
Nights here are the best...just the best of the best. I may be the only person here that doesn't drink or smoke or have wild parties. Some of these people actually work. I would hate to be depending on them to do a good days work.
On quiet evenings all I have to contend with are my downstairs neighbors on their balcony chain smoking cigarettes and bitching about the complaint dejour. It's like having someone smoking in your bedroom if you leave the window open for air. I am convinced that this is how everyone here becomes acquainted. They simply leave their windows open and listen. For some reason unknown to me the folkin her seem to think that if they can't see you, that you can't hear them....isn't that a child's concept? It could be worse. They both work and don't do any heavy drinking or partying. Those are the good neighbors.
Where was I? Oh, yes, a bright spot. One that holds great potential. The huge lawn out back is the stomping grounds for a small skunk. I think it's a female and young by the looks. She has a lot of white on her. She's cute. She keeps the company of one of the multitude of cats that live here. She hangs out with a money cat from the first floor. I've seen them strolling around out there together. I call the skunk Little Cat. I think it's only a matter of time before Little Cat gives some of my neighbors a blast of perfume..sweet dreams are made of this. I relish the thought of a skunk at a lawn party.
Party? Ohhhhhh. Weekends are made for Michelob and apparently anything else with alcohol in it. Sometimes I suspect that even antifreeze if fair game here. The parties are generally on Saturday nights and depending on who is hosting it, it can last until 4 or 5 am. Sunday around noontime, the party people start dragging out bags of bottles and tossing them into the dumpster. It's like some demented Anvil Chorus.
I think weeknights are somewhat less rowdy. Well, maybe not. Last night someone was outside my window in the parking lot going, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! JESUS,SHIT, FUCK!" This was at 1:30 am. I had been sleeping but no one could sleep through that racket. When I looked out the window there was a women sitting on the tar with her pocketbook contents on the ground around here and one of her shoes off on it's own. Her two friends were trying to get her up. She could barely stand she was so drunk. It was like something from out of a bad movie. As per the custom here, I yelled out the window at them, "TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP HERE! DO YOU MIND?" I was nice enough to leave out the swearing and cussing that is considered conversation here. They all yelled, "SORRY!" and staggered on inside. That was last night. Earlier this week I was awakened by some of the same crown at about the same time, with loud wales, "OHHHHHHHHH OHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" This went of four or five times. Needless to say I was awake by then. I yelled out the window, "KNOCK IT OFF!!!!" She was wailing loudly about her friggin' cars gas tank. The strap on the gas tank had broken or something. Anyway, it was worth waking everyone up to share her grief over this?! These things are only a small sample to life's daily occurrences here. No one ever has a problem that starts before the witching hour or a party that ends before they all pass out.
This is only the tales of building 92. I think there are at least four other buildings this size here and I know for a fact that each one plays out their own dramas. In the building across from 92 some women threw her boyfriends stuff out in the parking lot and spray painted it red... Nice people here. They have a lot of class too.
As a parting thought I wanted to mention there are about a million children in this building. It is how people fortify their income. It's common practice to have children for food stamps and welfare handouts, but I digress. The children are okay for the most part. Some of them have potty mouth but how could it be any other way? My point is, it's quiet here until after the children have been fed supper. At this point, they are all sent outdoors and the screaming starts. I mean that literally, screaming. It make me wonder what the poor little tykes have been fed. If I look out the window I expect to see them rolling around on the ground holding their stomachs. This goes on every night that it isn't raining out. What happens when it rains? Do the children not get fed on those nights or do the walls keep the silence? Knotty questions, these!
If you even wondered what life at the top is like..stay tuned in.
What is a day like living in such a lofty manner you may wonder? Let's see, some mornings there is vomit on the doorstep. Most days there is trash in the stairwell. It may even be the non animated variety. That is during the day on the weekdays. The weekends are a lot different...well, maybe not a lot, there are simply more people around. This is a large building with lots of apartments. It's impossible to say how many people actually live here as everyone that rents here seems to feel the civic obligation or running their very own flop house. Generous of them!
Nights here are the best...just the best of the best. I may be the only person here that doesn't drink or smoke or have wild parties. Some of these people actually work. I would hate to be depending on them to do a good days work.
On quiet evenings all I have to contend with are my downstairs neighbors on their balcony chain smoking cigarettes and bitching about the complaint dejour. It's like having someone smoking in your bedroom if you leave the window open for air. I am convinced that this is how everyone here becomes acquainted. They simply leave their windows open and listen. For some reason unknown to me the folkin her seem to think that if they can't see you, that you can't hear them....isn't that a child's concept? It could be worse. They both work and don't do any heavy drinking or partying. Those are the good neighbors.
Where was I? Oh, yes, a bright spot. One that holds great potential. The huge lawn out back is the stomping grounds for a small skunk. I think it's a female and young by the looks. She has a lot of white on her. She's cute. She keeps the company of one of the multitude of cats that live here. She hangs out with a money cat from the first floor. I've seen them strolling around out there together. I call the skunk Little Cat. I think it's only a matter of time before Little Cat gives some of my neighbors a blast of perfume..sweet dreams are made of this. I relish the thought of a skunk at a lawn party.
Party? Ohhhhhh. Weekends are made for Michelob and apparently anything else with alcohol in it. Sometimes I suspect that even antifreeze if fair game here. The parties are generally on Saturday nights and depending on who is hosting it, it can last until 4 or 5 am. Sunday around noontime, the party people start dragging out bags of bottles and tossing them into the dumpster. It's like some demented Anvil Chorus.
I think weeknights are somewhat less rowdy. Well, maybe not. Last night someone was outside my window in the parking lot going, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! JESUS,SHIT, FUCK!" This was at 1:30 am. I had been sleeping but no one could sleep through that racket. When I looked out the window there was a women sitting on the tar with her pocketbook contents on the ground around here and one of her shoes off on it's own. Her two friends were trying to get her up. She could barely stand she was so drunk. It was like something from out of a bad movie. As per the custom here, I yelled out the window at them, "TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP HERE! DO YOU MIND?" I was nice enough to leave out the swearing and cussing that is considered conversation here. They all yelled, "SORRY!" and staggered on inside. That was last night. Earlier this week I was awakened by some of the same crown at about the same time, with loud wales, "OHHHHHHHHH OHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" This went of four or five times. Needless to say I was awake by then. I yelled out the window, "KNOCK IT OFF!!!!" She was wailing loudly about her friggin' cars gas tank. The strap on the gas tank had broken or something. Anyway, it was worth waking everyone up to share her grief over this?! These things are only a small sample to life's daily occurrences here. No one ever has a problem that starts before the witching hour or a party that ends before they all pass out.
This is only the tales of building 92. I think there are at least four other buildings this size here and I know for a fact that each one plays out their own dramas. In the building across from 92 some women threw her boyfriends stuff out in the parking lot and spray painted it red... Nice people here. They have a lot of class too.
As a parting thought I wanted to mention there are about a million children in this building. It is how people fortify their income. It's common practice to have children for food stamps and welfare handouts, but I digress. The children are okay for the most part. Some of them have potty mouth but how could it be any other way? My point is, it's quiet here until after the children have been fed supper. At this point, they are all sent outdoors and the screaming starts. I mean that literally, screaming. It make me wonder what the poor little tykes have been fed. If I look out the window I expect to see them rolling around on the ground holding their stomachs. This goes on every night that it isn't raining out. What happens when it rains? Do the children not get fed on those nights or do the walls keep the silence? Knotty questions, these!
If you even wondered what life at the top is like..stay tuned in.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Choose A Side of the Door You Like
Last night my neighbors seemed to have a problem choosing a side that they liked. They were in and out 4 or 5 times. That is inconsequential but it did bring me to the thought that maybe that is what governs our lives. Maybe we get to choose the side of the door we want to be on but we don't get a preview so we don't know what is behind the door. It could be the door that takes us to freedom or the door that takes us to jail or to fabulous wealth. The other choice is to stay where we are. I picture it as a sterile white room with no visible features except a straight back white chair in the middle. It is boring but it is warm and safe and food arrives when it should.
Could be Soylent Green for all I know but it's food and I didn't have to work for it.
Not a pretty picture but sometimes I wonder, I just wonder how much of reality is real. Then I have a stroke of genius and realize that reality is only what I believe it to be. I try not to believe it is anything but a dream and that I will wake up sitting on a Downy bed with golden coverlet and pillow bolsters and that I am only 30 and fit as a fiddle and the last 25 years of my life never happened. How long do dreams last anyway?
My mind is rattling around inside my head like a dried pea. It feels as if my brain has shrunk up and dried out, pulled through a knot hole backwards so to speak.
I live in a castle in the clouds now. The whole world stretches before me as I gaze off my third floor balcony. This is a terrific place to listen to the neighbors fight it out. Well....anyplace from here to a half mile away can hear that. It's like the nightly entertainment. Which neighbor will fight with their wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend? It may happen in broad daylight or at 3 in the morning but it will be loud, abusive and long enough to make you utter a few choice words to them both yourself.
I've never understood people that like to air all their troubles for the rest of the world. Maybe I should just do what the other people here do and just stand outside where I can see and hear better. Today 4 people hurried over to a picnic table to get a ringside seat. I swear I saw someone with a box of popcorn. It could have been a coincidence I suppose.
Never a dull moment here. It's too bad people can't just enjoy what they have instead of ripping everything apart and scattering the entrails.
Could be Soylent Green for all I know but it's food and I didn't have to work for it.
Not a pretty picture but sometimes I wonder, I just wonder how much of reality is real. Then I have a stroke of genius and realize that reality is only what I believe it to be. I try not to believe it is anything but a dream and that I will wake up sitting on a Downy bed with golden coverlet and pillow bolsters and that I am only 30 and fit as a fiddle and the last 25 years of my life never happened. How long do dreams last anyway?
My mind is rattling around inside my head like a dried pea. It feels as if my brain has shrunk up and dried out, pulled through a knot hole backwards so to speak.
I live in a castle in the clouds now. The whole world stretches before me as I gaze off my third floor balcony. This is a terrific place to listen to the neighbors fight it out. Well....anyplace from here to a half mile away can hear that. It's like the nightly entertainment. Which neighbor will fight with their wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend? It may happen in broad daylight or at 3 in the morning but it will be loud, abusive and long enough to make you utter a few choice words to them both yourself.
I've never understood people that like to air all their troubles for the rest of the world. Maybe I should just do what the other people here do and just stand outside where I can see and hear better. Today 4 people hurried over to a picnic table to get a ringside seat. I swear I saw someone with a box of popcorn. It could have been a coincidence I suppose.
Never a dull moment here. It's too bad people can't just enjoy what they have instead of ripping everything apart and scattering the entrails.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Survivalist Extraordinaire
I have by told by someone who is supposed to be in the know that I have been in survival mode for the last 7 months of my existence. What's next? Am I done trying to survive?
When asked if I was suicidal I laughed and said, "why bother, time will take care of that on it's own".
It's a confusing place inside of my head. I am just glad that I am not inside of yours now instead. I do have some sort of a vague map for mine, 'though it is subject to change without notice and I can very well find myself totally lost behind enemy lines.
The boxes in the corners of my mind are screaming and the tops are bouncing up and down. It may be time to check out the contents. I have to wonder if my storage of things like that is the best idea. There are lots of boxes stacked up in my head. Some of them have been there so long the labels are faded completely away. I wonder, will the box fade away too?
I am the survivor extraordinaire. I am the great I am!
When asked if I was suicidal I laughed and said, "why bother, time will take care of that on it's own".
It's a confusing place inside of my head. I am just glad that I am not inside of yours now instead. I do have some sort of a vague map for mine, 'though it is subject to change without notice and I can very well find myself totally lost behind enemy lines.
The boxes in the corners of my mind are screaming and the tops are bouncing up and down. It may be time to check out the contents. I have to wonder if my storage of things like that is the best idea. There are lots of boxes stacked up in my head. Some of them have been there so long the labels are faded completely away. I wonder, will the box fade away too?
I am the survivor extraordinaire. I am the great I am!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Soggy
My brain has turned to mush. It isn't working right or maybe it is. I find myself trying to get to sleep at night worrying about what I should be worrying about. Needless to say, it isn't working too well.
I am still hanging in for the long dash for the light at the end of the tunnel. Well....at least I think there is one. Isn't there? A light I mean or a tunnel? Garrrk!
The only brain storms I am having are central core meltdowns. One of these days my neighbors will awaken to a great mushroom cloud over our apartment building, or at least where it used to be. It will be a black smoking hole in the ground.
Too many video games? Not enough? SHHHHHHHABOOOOOOM!!!!! Stop drop and roll? Oh, no, duck under your desk and cover your head with your arms.
I am still hanging in for the long dash for the light at the end of the tunnel. Well....at least I think there is one. Isn't there? A light I mean or a tunnel? Garrrk!
The only brain storms I am having are central core meltdowns. One of these days my neighbors will awaken to a great mushroom cloud over our apartment building, or at least where it used to be. It will be a black smoking hole in the ground.
Too many video games? Not enough? SHHHHHHHABOOOOOOM!!!!! Stop drop and roll? Oh, no, duck under your desk and cover your head with your arms.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Lon Chaney Wrist Rockets
Somehow that managed to get to be a topic of conversation last night at our monthly pagan discussion group. Lon Chaney wrist rockets are as much fun as sock puppets to my way of thinking. I'm not sure, would that wrist rocket launch werewolves or simply fuzzy steel shot?
That's the fun of that group, never knowing where the conversation will go or who will lead it there. Also, we never know who will show up for the group.
I would like to see it grow, but since we hold it at Borders, I'm pretty sure they would like us to dry up and blow away. I usually sit so I can watch the people around me and I see the looks we get...wonder if they would like it if I stood and stared at them when they were having a conversation or trying to read? Note to self, must try that some time soon!
That's the fun of that group, never knowing where the conversation will go or who will lead it there. Also, we never know who will show up for the group.
I would like to see it grow, but since we hold it at Borders, I'm pretty sure they would like us to dry up and blow away. I usually sit so I can watch the people around me and I see the looks we get...wonder if they would like it if I stood and stared at them when they were having a conversation or trying to read? Note to self, must try that some time soon!
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