Saturday morning. i'm feeling pretty good. it's been a good sleeping night, but it was broken about 130 or so, no real reason. the relaxation sounds have been working pretty good. i'm going to clean today. living room, bathroom, bedroom. then i can get some charcoal, grill those venison chops and see what i've got going on. going to text my friend Bob, let him know i'm not going to the meeting tomorrow. i think i need a day away from people. a Sunday away from people, i guess.
so, i had breakfast, made a pretty elaborate omelet. still amazing what i can do with two eggs. chicken, spinach, peppers, onions, mushrooms. and a piece of toast with sugar-free jam. i talked to my friend Patrice this morning. just touching bases this morning. i'm still trying to change some of my perceptions and hence change how i deal with some people. right doesn't always mean better, i'm learning that. just because i'm not wrong in feeling neglected, to react out of that feeling tends to make me more isolated than the neglect does. so if i stay in touch, and keep the expectations at zero on the meter, i get what i need. smaller doses, but some medicine is better than no medicine at all. that is a logic that the poor and downtrodden will understand.
i didn't talk to R yesterday. i know she's having it rough. i know she's thinking about me. those are the cool things in the world. but they're also the sad things. i hate and love when i feel someone inside me. i love that a person can mean that much to me. i hate that i can go through ups and downs because i care about a person. only because the downs have been so much deeper than the highs have been high. but to know that a broken heart still beats with love, despite the cracks and fissures, it is good knowledge. i wish i could spend twenty-four hours with her. i wish i could go to bed with her and wake up to her. but that's all in God's time. i get greedy, i think hearts always get greedy, especially in a world like this. it is a bad place and a bad time to live. the world is a painful, scary, selfish and uncaring place, by and large. wars are everywhere, people are needlessly starving and suffering, and progress and profit make people in developed countries stupid, boring and crazed. how do you get to the point where you can actually feel good about living? i am watching R going through horrible changes, for a human, for a woman, for a parent, for a spirit. her resilience is amazing, but her pain is palpable. i know she's going to be alright, but there's a reason they call it the 'mean'time. it is a very mean time. it is a time of pain and of madness. and i cannot change that. i am trying to be a respite in her storm, for she has surely been that in mine. i guess that's what this is about today. it would be nice to spend the blood moon with her.
i have to go and plunge my mother's toilet. cleaning begins after that. so, more later.
okay, toilet was easy. requisitioned cleaning sponges and charcoal from my parent's house, so the cleaning shall begin and the venison chops shall be grilled later. but i was talking about a mending heart, i think.
i look at my face. i can see some loss of weight there. i am not the best gauge of this. fat minds see fat everywhere on them. but the other side of insanity is, i believe its just my imagination. i don't go to weigh myself until the fifteenth of october. that will be a month. i'm going to do one weight per month. that will keep me from concentrating on weight and focused on doing better things. better things bring better results. but i do have to learn to see, and i have to learn to let others 'see' things i can't. and that involves trust.
so, where i am today is to just do the cleaning, do the writing, do the cooking, and stay out of the way. because soon enough there will be a fourth step to categorize and inventory my food fiend sickness. and that's going to take me to some very unpleasant places. so i think for today and tomorrow, i'm going to get spiritually prepared, and hope for the best, and prepare for whatever, and stay in a zone, and maybe i'll even get to see R, and at the very least i'll get to talk to her, i'm sure of that. and when monday comes, if monday comes, i will start on my inventory. it will be a combination step 4 and 5, so that i can not duplicate the process and not have to live there for a prolonged amount of time, but i can get in, get it done and get out and get on with my process. i know, i'm babbling. i'll get with you later.
okay, confession: i HATE not hearing from R. its been about 3 days now. i know she's in a bad place, but that's part of why i hate not hearing from her. this has been a long day because i've spent it waiting to hear from R. also because i really didn't have much to do. bathroom and living room are done,just need to vacuum out here. and the bedroom is still more about putting mail where it belongs and filling out the HEAP re-application than anything else. but i miss the fuck out of R, and was hoping to see her this weekend. but life will go on. it always does.
i ate good today, not detailing. i did pan-fry the venison in olive oil and a touch of butter. that was good. i love deer meat. and i saw my mom, and i saw my dad and talked with him, and saw my sister, and i saw my uncle Tommy.
my uncle has Parkinson's really bad. he's donig really not-well these days. my aunt needed help with him, as he was very sore, in some pain in his hip. i helped him stretch it out. i got him to smile. i feel so shitty. i barely see him. he was one of the most vibrant people you would ever meet on this planet. he was an avid reader. he was a cop. he was a fisherman. he was a photographer. he was a mechanic. he was so, so very many things. he was a radical thinker (still is). now he is on his back. he hates his situation. i'm fairly sure he doesn't really want to be doing life like this. i wouldn't. he tries to get out. when he walks he falls. he falls down basement stairs. my dad just went by with his neighbor to put a lock on my uncle's basement door. now. why am i crying? because if someone, a brilliant mind, trapped in a completely uncooperative and degenerating body continues to have bad, injurious, potentially fatal falls, why is it that no one speaks on the possibility that he is trying not to exist anymore? i got him to laugh. i have to get him a new book soon. i'm a shitty person. i don't see him. i don't see my sponsor. i guess that's another aspect of this belligerent little fuck that keeps trying to take the body control panel. i can't take my mentors failing. i can't take my elders dying. it feels like that part of my life, like my schools and my stores and my favorite things that fade into the woodwork, never to be seen again. i can't take that, or i don't take it well anyway. hence, the avoidance. but i guess i'll have to stop avoiding reality in that. i love my uncle and my sponsor. i have to do better by them.
these pulses. they are like throbs in the temples of the head when a headache is imminent. they're like a muted heartbeat when you're making sure you're not about to die. they are the fingers digging into your wrist, seeking the pulse of life. these are life pulses. and as long as you feel them, regardless of how much pain you may be in, they mean one goddamn thing: you're alive. you. are. alive. and the orbit continues. good night.
okay, toilet was easy. requisitioned cleaning sponges and charcoal from my parent's house, so the cleaning shall begin and the venison chops shall be grilled later. but i was talking about a mending heart, i think.
i look at my face. i can see some loss of weight there. i am not the best gauge of this. fat minds see fat everywhere on them. but the other side of insanity is, i believe its just my imagination. i don't go to weigh myself until the fifteenth of october. that will be a month. i'm going to do one weight per month. that will keep me from concentrating on weight and focused on doing better things. better things bring better results. but i do have to learn to see, and i have to learn to let others 'see' things i can't. and that involves trust.
so, where i am today is to just do the cleaning, do the writing, do the cooking, and stay out of the way. because soon enough there will be a fourth step to categorize and inventory my food fiend sickness. and that's going to take me to some very unpleasant places. so i think for today and tomorrow, i'm going to get spiritually prepared, and hope for the best, and prepare for whatever, and stay in a zone, and maybe i'll even get to see R, and at the very least i'll get to talk to her, i'm sure of that. and when monday comes, if monday comes, i will start on my inventory. it will be a combination step 4 and 5, so that i can not duplicate the process and not have to live there for a prolonged amount of time, but i can get in, get it done and get out and get on with my process. i know, i'm babbling. i'll get with you later.
okay, confession: i HATE not hearing from R. its been about 3 days now. i know she's in a bad place, but that's part of why i hate not hearing from her. this has been a long day because i've spent it waiting to hear from R. also because i really didn't have much to do. bathroom and living room are done,just need to vacuum out here. and the bedroom is still more about putting mail where it belongs and filling out the HEAP re-application than anything else. but i miss the fuck out of R, and was hoping to see her this weekend. but life will go on. it always does.
i ate good today, not detailing. i did pan-fry the venison in olive oil and a touch of butter. that was good. i love deer meat. and i saw my mom, and i saw my dad and talked with him, and saw my sister, and i saw my uncle Tommy.
my uncle has Parkinson's really bad. he's donig really not-well these days. my aunt needed help with him, as he was very sore, in some pain in his hip. i helped him stretch it out. i got him to smile. i feel so shitty. i barely see him. he was one of the most vibrant people you would ever meet on this planet. he was an avid reader. he was a cop. he was a fisherman. he was a photographer. he was a mechanic. he was so, so very many things. he was a radical thinker (still is). now he is on his back. he hates his situation. i'm fairly sure he doesn't really want to be doing life like this. i wouldn't. he tries to get out. when he walks he falls. he falls down basement stairs. my dad just went by with his neighbor to put a lock on my uncle's basement door. now. why am i crying? because if someone, a brilliant mind, trapped in a completely uncooperative and degenerating body continues to have bad, injurious, potentially fatal falls, why is it that no one speaks on the possibility that he is trying not to exist anymore? i got him to laugh. i have to get him a new book soon. i'm a shitty person. i don't see him. i don't see my sponsor. i guess that's another aspect of this belligerent little fuck that keeps trying to take the body control panel. i can't take my mentors failing. i can't take my elders dying. it feels like that part of my life, like my schools and my stores and my favorite things that fade into the woodwork, never to be seen again. i can't take that, or i don't take it well anyway. hence, the avoidance. but i guess i'll have to stop avoiding reality in that. i love my uncle and my sponsor. i have to do better by them.
these pulses. they are like throbs in the temples of the head when a headache is imminent. they're like a muted heartbeat when you're making sure you're not about to die. they are the fingers digging into your wrist, seeking the pulse of life. these are life pulses. and as long as you feel them, regardless of how much pain you may be in, they mean one goddamn thing: you're alive. you. are. alive. and the orbit continues. good night.
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