"Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, I am free at last!" Not precisely as the Negro Spritual phrased it, but I am in tune with the spirit if not the precise nomenclature.
Following 27 days of 1853 (average) words per day I have completed my NANOWRIMO Novel. Well, that is imprecise. I have typed 50,035 words of the novel. It is actually about 50% done. My plan was to write 30 chapters of 1k words with a prologue and epilogue around each of about 337 words. That would mean that my 30 trios would add up to 50,040 words. Instead of 30 trios I've written 12 (see Pleonasm) in somewhat wordier fashion.
I note upon observing my previous paragraph that I remain in "volubility mode" in which I use three words to say what one could do. There I did it again. See?
The upshot of all this is that now that I have been freed from the ball and chain that is my NANOWRIMO novel, I will be out and about a bit. I plan to visit columbia tomorrow and to hit a coffee shop or two next week. It will be fun to be back on the laptop at CoffeeZone. Damn but I miss that place. I am addicted to their Rocket Fuel and their food too. Maybe I can get there by Monday. Monday is Kona day!
The Home Front
Since my last post, Sis has had her brain chirurgery (the 17th) for arnold-chiari malformation type 1. The chirurgery lasted about 3 ½ hours. She was awake and comfortable within 2 hours after that. They predicted a four-day hospital stay, but she was able to go home the day after her chirurgery. I keep calling it "chirurgery" because ever since my one experience having my skull hacked open it seems rather medieval to me to go chopping at the head. She has been recovering well enough, but now she and I both have the non-swine flu. I was rather worried for her yesterday. Her fever reached 102 and we couldn't get hold of a damned doctor who would do anything for her. Fortunately I had an old bottle of aciclovir (anti-biotic) and that seems to have killed off her fever. Theoretically, a flu is a virus and an anti-biotic should be ineffective, but it does seem to have worked.
I now return to my three current writing projects, M.U.S.E., Blood Mage, and Wizard and Wildwood, all tentative titles likely to be changed. Two fantasy and one science fiction. I also have a great many poems to get out of my system. It will be nice to do a little change-up now and then. Writing the same book for 30 days is less pleasant than I remember. I think my attention span is diminishing... "Let's go ride bikes!"
Well, my novel progresses apace. I'm not sure what I just said. The picture is a cloud of words from my as yet not firmly named. Guiden is the main character who is a Mage and has a close associate Joynre who lives in the village of Wildwood. I guess the title should be made up of those most-used words, huh? Naah.
The chimney sweep was here today. He did no sweeping of chimneys, but rather performed tuckpointing. Is that one word? I don't care. He'll be back to do a lot of work around the house. He seems able to do a lot of "handyman" work.
Today was spent mostly in the City of Columbia, MO, some 30 miles North of my home in Jefferson city. We visited Boone County Hospital so Sis could have her Pre-op exam before her surgery for an Arnold-chiari condition. The exam was pretty routine, EKG, chest X-ray, and about a quart of blood drawn. Sis came near to leveling a sarky phlebotomist.
"You smoked how much?"
"Three or four packs a day for thirty-seven years."
"... and you quit."
"September twenty-third. Of this year."
"Of this year?"
"Yes."
"After thirty-seven years."
"You don't believe me?"
"Yes. We're going to need a blood gas."
"Why?"
"To see if you get enough oxygen to have anaesthesia."
"Uh huh."
Now doubtless this is a legitimate test, but why couldn't she take her at her word? Y'know they were looking for nicotine. Besides, what were they going to do? Tell her she would have to have the brain surgery without anaesthesia? Cheese and crust.
The good news is that Columbia has an Arby's. We stopped there and bought a medium roast beef each. Sis had onion petals and potato cakes. I contented myself with stealing a bit from hers and drinking my green tea. We seem always to have a cooler of green tea in our presence these days whether it is a refrigerator in the house or an Eskimo in the back seat. A sure sign of addiction, I think.
Arby's is a tradition with us. It has been for quite a long time. There is no Arby's in Jefferson City, though there is rumour of one appearing in the near future.
I have asked numerous people where it will be, but have not received a definitive answer. The answers seem to center around the old Wal-mart, though. Some think it will be near Kohls (to the west of Wal-mart) or between Wal-mart and Brick House Deli (south of Wal-mart). Of course, there is the occasional outlier who thinks it'll be next to the east end Gerbes.
Me? I dunno. It doesn't matter. If it is in town, we will sniff it out (maybe literally). No Arby's can hide from my family!
My father started the tradition I think. For years in Washington, MO, dad took my brother and sister (and me when I was in town) to Dairy Queen for a treat. They had good burgers ("Big Brazier"), Dilly Bars, and rarity of rarities in those days, onion rings! They are still the only place in town that has deep fried mushrooms. In any event, Dad abandoned DQ in a flash when an Arby's opened up where he worked. He started bringing home roast beef sandwiches for supper and we kids lapped 'em up like he had brought home the nectar of the gods. Well, in fact, what's the difference... they were that good.
Alas I have begun to babble. Sis is cleared for her surgery on the 17th. I will probably stay in Columbia until she gets out of hospital. The doctor predicts three or four days of recovery time. We have to find a ride to Columbia. That is probably taken care of at this point. We have then to find a way home, as she won't be allowed to drive afterward. That has still to be sorted out, but shouldn't be a problem.
I am at 20k words on my NANOWRIMO novel as of today, that's about 3 days ahead of goal. I need to be ahead as I got little writing done today (though I'm going to try and get some going this evening). I suspect my time in Columbia while Sis recuperates will be fairly unproductive too. We'll see!
My writing, while plenteous in the last few days has become a bit jumbled. Oh well, your NANOWRIMO novel doesn't have to be good it just has to be 50k words long. I have to work on being more concise. I have written four chapters instead of the eight I should have according to my plan. Yet my four chapters are as long as the eight were planned to be. <sigh>That's the way it goes I guess</sigh> It is said that the first casualty of every battle is the battle plan so it is that the first casualty of a writing is the plan you intended to implement.
Health
Mine is stable enough, though I have been having some low blood sugars (a 68 this morning, a 49 in my sleep a couple of nights ago (it woke me up, that's how I know you nit-pickers), and a 79 last Monday. I think this is generally due to the addition of actos to my protocol. They also added metformin but after two weeks without the diarrhea going away, I have discontinued. I had diarrhea continuously from 1999 to 2008. I am not going through that again.
Sis
Janet is on her way to pre-op on the 10th. I don't know exactly what that means save that she'll have a lot of blood drawn. The surgery is planned for the 17th. She will be inpatient for about four days. I plan to stay in Columbia for that time. I may stay with a friend, but I think I'm more likely to pick a hotel. The hard part will be after she comes home. She'll have to endure a month of restricted activities. The major restriction is "no driving." That'll maker her absolutely crazy.
Out and About
Contrary to my habit of nearly ten years, I am now getting out to the coffee shops regularly. I will give the credit for this to the new laptop. Now I can go, swill coffee, and write. I sometimes meet people there. Woo Hoo!
Upon the Stairs-Just for fun As I was walking up the stair I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. I wish, I wish he'd stay away." - Hughes Mearns
Stairs One night as I climbed up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today I think he's from the CIA.
One sunny day I climbed the stair and met a beauteous woman there. Alas, she was not there today. I wish she had not gone away.
One shadowed night upon the stair I met a man with bottom bare. I asked him why he dressed that way; He glared at me and ran away.
Noisy children on the stair Left toys and objects everywhere I gathered them; tossed them away; And by their mother have been flayed.
I live atop a long dark stair, In an apartment cold and bare. Why I don't move I cannot say. There's no good reason why I stay.
Neglectful as always I haven't posted much here of late, but if you follow me on facebook you have a fairly good idea of what I've been up to. I have spent a lot of time at CoffeeZone writing up a storm. Well, I've written about 2k per day, that being my "practice goal" while gearing up for NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth in November.
I have four works in progress at the moment.
The first is a science fiction story that I will describe as philosophical explorations of the implications of a device somewhat like the "holo suite" in Star Trek Deep Space Nine. Loosely based. I call it MUSE for Malleable Universe Simulation Equipment. I expect it to be about a 10k-word exploration. Not that deep, y'know?
My second project is one I've been thinking about a long time and have failed to execute successfully on at least three past occasions and under a variety of circumstances. It is called Blood Mage. This guy is no Dumbledore as you might well guess from the title. I've always hated the fact that wizards were always frail skinny old men who would topple over backwards if they tried to lift a sword. The main character of this story is the antithesis of that, young, fit, a skilled swordsman, and a mage.
Project three is for NANOWRIMO. I have decided that this year, in order to reach my 50k-word goal, I'm going to write 30 vignettes of about 1k each. I'll surround each with an epilogue and prologue. Essentially I get 338 words for a prologue, 1k for the vignette, then 338 words for the epilog. Doing it this way, I get my 1667 words per day (1667x30=50,010) and a trifle more. I have already created an outline of sorts that describes each of the vignettes and proposes means for each epilogue/prologue to link to the next story. It is almost 5k words that will not be a part of my NANOWRIMO novel. So that's not cheating, right?
The fourth project I'll keep to myself for a while. I just call it Humphrey. It is my first excursion into a genre new to me.
I'm working on another project that doesn't involve much writing as yet. I am transcribing a serially executed novel by the local writer's group. I'm scanning some pages, transcribing others, and when I'm done, I'll add a chapter. I'll put the finished product on a pen drive and subsequent contributors can work with the full document in electronic form when it comes their turn to add a chapter.
I've had trouble getting started writing today. At CoffeeZone I'd have hit my 2k goal by now. Here at home it is harder. Even this diary entry is part of my cat waxing activities.
I am enamored of the villanelle as a poetic form. When eight or more limericks related by subject or theme are gathered to lambaste said subject or theme, the poetic form is called a "villanous".
The Ballad of Mighty Ed
Backgammon
There's a mighty man named Ed
of which much can be sed.
When playin' backgammon
my checkers he's rammin'
and frequently I wish him ded
Righty Ed
The reason Ed's called Mighty
is not casual or flighty
It's his height and his girth
and intellectual worth
and a political tend to the righty.
The Fate of Ed
Ed, he worked in radio
before he met his lady-o.
He became a programmer
but belonged in the slammer
then he taught in a classroom/studio
Ratings Revival
It may be hard to believe
but plaudits Ed does receive.
His backgammon rating
is always inflating
and my own I cannot re-veeve.
The Art of Noice
Somewhat should be said of Ed's voice.
Its reverberations are choice.
He once did some adverts
and radio sales blurts
now he uses it mostly for noice.
The Diminution of Ed
Mighty Ed is known for his girth
his weight in gold of consid'rable worth
but he's rapidly losing.
To be svelte he is choosing
through exercise like Hell-on-Earth.
Pototaoland
Ed's lady is Miss Kimmiepie.
Alas oft she does flie
to far Idaho
where, as you know,
they grow the potatoes you frie.
To Far for Sushi
Mighty Ed who plays backgammon
who my checkers is constantly hammerin'
lives too far away
to reach in a day
or we'd have sushi with wasabi and salmon.
Prose: She’s Dead Nothing brings you back to living in a fairy tale like a good hard does of reality. She's dead. My wife, my redhead. My son, my beautiful boy. My father, the rock of my faith. All dead. My job didn't last long. I didn't want to do it anymore. They took the car, they took the house. They wouldn't pay me anymore. They there's something wrong with my mind. She's dead. The mission was cool and all and I didn't mind sleeping there much. It was kinda dirty. She's dead. They're dead. I left the mission when they kept stealing my clothes while I slept. It is actually safer down by the park. Not in the park, but outside it. Usually there's a store somewheres with a big dumpster. Just push it out a little and you can sleep behind. She's dead. I don't feel like walking all the way to the park every night. I like the street right here downtown. I can find a door somewhere that is open or a place out of the cold. I usually get better food here too. People give you a lot. I tell them about her a lot. She's dead. After a while They stop looking at you. I'm pretty dirty I guess. I notice that little kids avoid me now, even the little high school types. I try to do what I can. I sleep inside most of the time now. There's a telephone building that is unlocked. It hums all night. She used to hum while she worked. She's dead. I'm usually hungry now. I don't move around much. People won't talk to me anymore. They don't even listen. I try to tell them something, so they'll help. So they know. She's dead. I don't try to talk to them any more. They don't care. Nobody cares. They should. I think they should. I need to tell them - about . . . Her. I need to do something. I don't remember what. There's something I have to remember. It is about - them. Them . . . I have to go somewhere. Where do I need to go? Nobody will tell me. I need to get to . . . Where, no, I mean who? I'm not sure. I need. I remember. No. I don't remember. I . . . I. You. I don't know . . . I don't care . . . I don't care . . .
Poem: Sky of Dreams Under a Neon Sky of dreams Where swift do chaos' clouds careen Electric birds slash tree to tree Leave ozone trails and thunder breed.
Swirling sounds rise high aloft bleeding colors pastel and soft into the air - a tangible thing made of songs that children sing.
Falling rain leaves tiny spheres to which the chips of leaves adhere and wash away in bouncing streams under a neon sky of dreams.
Weighted Down by Water x 2 Another fairly rare exercise in blank verse. I almost feel this should posted as prose.
Weighted Down By Water
When you read this I want you to think about me and about the wonderful times we've had.
Remember the time we went to Coney Island and those stupid hats we bought. We wore them all day long and you nearly cried when yours blew away on the way home.
Remember that old convertible we were driving when you lost your hat. The "road apple" we called it. We sold it for a hundred dollars to a kid that only had that much because he fell in love with the candy-apple paint job. It was his first car.
Singing in the shower is how I'll always remember you. You couldn't understand why I always laughed, but really, who sings songs from the "Animaniacs" in the shower? I mean "A quake... A quake ... The earth begins to shake!" Kiddy songs in the shower and torch songs in the twilight. That's you.
I know, I know. Don't even start about my habit of waving my hands while dancing. I can't help it. Remember that time you told me I looked like some CEO trying to manage a hostile take-over of an interpretive dance studio? How we laughed until we actually fell down?
Think of all those times and remember all that stuff. I will. I'll never forget them or any tiniest particle of you. Think of me like that, not in the bathtub surrounded by swirling pink and weighted down by water.
Weighted Down By Water Redux
Remember the cabin by the lake? How we used to skinny dip at dawn knowing we'd get caught by the fisherman down shore? How we'd laugh at his scowl and run without even a towel up to our cabin when he came paddling by, remember?
Remember the time you pushed me and I pulled you off the bow of the river boat that Sandy chartered for her wedding reception? Nobody believes us still when we talk about how we wound up swimming right in the middle of a school of dolphins. But we did.
We went to the park and spread out a picnic in the middle of a thunderstorm wearing slickers and galoshes and drank wine so thinned by the rain that it seemed like only water. Remember we got drunk anyway? God but you had a rotten cold afterward. I kept the electric blanket on your legs and massaged your feet every evening until you got well.
We ran into your parents at the public swimming pool that day when we told them we were studying. Remember how your father kept ducking me and got thrown out of the pool by that big valkyrie of a lifeguard?
All my memories of you are weighted down by water... and are all the more precious that I can pour them through my mind.
I remember In response to the writing prompt: “area codes”
I Remember
I remember this kid, couldn't have been more than five, who was brought in my first day in the emergency room. He had tangled with a lawn mower somehow and his father had his severed arm packed in ice and his stump tied off with a tourniquet made from a cable tie. The doctor tried for an hour to re-attach that mangled hand and arm but the kid just gave it up. The father pounded his head against a glass door and nearly broke it.
A couple of years ago a woman came shrieking into the lobby, claiming demons were drinking her blood. Security grabbed her, and the intern on duty bundled her off to a psychologist under mild sedation. The psychologist sent her back asking us to remove the several dozen leeches from her back.
Sweet old Mrs. Bailley saw us about once a month just after her social security check came in. She used the cash to buy a bag of candy and then pigged out. Her blood sugar went through the roof every time and she got so sick she had to call 911. She did it every month. She got to be a regular. One of the orderlies got some flowers for her every time she came in. She even brought a little bag with her each time and showed us all her grand children, the new babies in the family, and told us all the gossip. Last month, the strain was too much. After we gave her the usual insulin and left her to rest, she just lay down and peacefully died. She didn't get to show her pictures this time.
Some guy with a crazed look ran in the front door, slammed past security carrying his twelve-year-old daughter shouting, "Code blue! Code blue!" He watches too many hospital shows on TV. They're just called a "code" around here. The girl was dead. The doctor examining her found traces of barbiturates and heroin. He also found signs of sexual activity. When he told the father she was dead and asked about sex and drugs, the guy pulled out a gun, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. It took half an hour before he coded.
Sometimes I hate working here, in my area, codes are memories.
Sixteen When you were young and I was sixteen our days were filled. We spent them lavishly and our love for one another could withstand any test. You worshiped me, hung on my words, demanded my presence, my opinion on all things, my participation in every little game you played. I was glad of it.
The difference in our ages gave me all the advantage. I was the "experienced" one. I used you. You wanted to please me. I abused you, you were a little afraid of me. You did what I wanted, when I wanted it. You wanted to.
You hung with me through High School, though I ditched you often enough. You thought I was ashamed to introduce you to my friends. I just thought it was uncool. Right up to my Senior year you thought I was the coolest guy that ever lived. Some distance was growing between us. You didn't really step back, but we both knew what was going to happen.
I went to college. I left you behind. We phoned a while, then let it slide. You followed me to college, but it was not the same. I had different friends, I had a new girl-friend and you didn't get introduced. When we met it was no longer glad smiles and a warm embrace, just a casual glance, a nod, a civil recognition of one another.
Out of school, living our lives, our paths cross. We speak briefly, strangers now. We don't call. We don't write. Contact is uncomfortable, not fun, not the joy it had been. The love faded, the camaraderie, the need for each other vanished.
We are just strangers now. Strangers who happen to share some history. You keep in touch with my parents as much as I do, but we seldom see them together. They tell me how you are and I guess they report on me to you. We have nothing in common any more.
What happened, baby brother? Where did we lose it?
The Art of Parties I ran from the whirling bright-lit world to a place of quiet and sharing. I found me some rest in silence furled and surcease from caring.
My life in a world of noise and light left me damaged and sore and guarding. My mind was consumed with fancied flights musing the art of parties.
When rapid motion is all the world, and needful speed prevents you caring, seek out silent fields in gentle light - let your thoughts go faring.
small cake and finely cut bread
Signs of civility abound skirts like clouds of mist all whirling. My heart lifts at the orchestral sound and I find my spirit freed, unbound.
The flash of light on polished sterling, odors, sweet aromas that go to my head, banners bright in the breeze unfurling, warmth and courtesy 'round me curling.
There's naught I would have in their stead gallantry, amenity, the world around me seen in evidence of no stronger thread than a small cake and finely cut bread.
Just like a kiss to change my mood in a moment. She kissed me welcomely at the movies and turned a horrible mood into one of anticipation.
Just like a kiss to change my day in a moment. A peck on the cheek at the end of the day let us sit down to dinner at the end of what had been a horrible day and enjoy it as though it was the best day of our lives.
Just like a kiss to change my heart in a moment. She whispered "I love you" through a kiss and nothing in the world mattered as much to me as she. No thing was as important to me as marrying her.
Just like a kiss to change my year in a moment. She kissed me and told me she was pregnant and my head spun in circles for a year.
Just like a kiss to change my world in a moment. She said we needed a new life for our child and kissed me. In six months we I was a realtor in the Midwest and she worked in a department store.
Just like a kiss to change my soul in a moment. My father was dead and she kissed me to console me. It warmed me and took the pain away.
Just like a kiss to change my life in a moment. She kissed me and said that my age and my bald spot didn't matter. I stopped worrying that she would ever leave.
Just like a kiss to change me in a moment. She kissed me passionately and every time I was a bashful fifteen year old no matter how old I got. I never forgot that ever.
As you may have discerned, I have a headache. You can have it if you want it.
Today has been a slow day. I cooked lunch. The menu was fish, stir fry veggies in teriyaki, and rotini in possibly the worst cheese sauce I ever made. The cheese, havarti, mozzarella, and a mix of Monterey jack and sharp cheddar absolutely refused to melt together. Perhaps it was the liquid garlic flavoring?
Despite lunch I am entrusted with supper. It is to be Pork chops, the left over stir fry veggies and some potato wedges. Yes, I know, way too carbohydrate-laden. So kill me.
Things are not really improving around the house. I continue my unanticipated weepy moments. My sister is snarly and snappish and scared as shit. The dogs are confused. And, of course, I am writing more than I have in quite a while. The worse things get in my life the more I write. Doubtless were I starving in some attic garret suffering a lingering illness having no medium to record my maunderings but scribbling them on the walls in my own blood I would be hailed a genius. What price glory?
“Hello again everyone. I am most apologetic for my, embarrassingly emotional display yesterday. It was all in entirely too, too theatrical. I apologize but I, I thank you for the many out pouringa of good wishes and all the offers of help of various kinds, I'm very grateful. That aside, the packing of books continues. I haven't slept, that was not really going to be an option. Life goes on. I, I find that, oddly enough, listening to the third book in the Dexter series. Dexter if you don't know, it is a show time program series that features a serial killer, one who only kills bad people. It's kind of a long convoluted tale, but I don't know something about serial murder in the name of good just helped improve my mood. What can I say? Actually I really have nothing else to say today. Thank you all again and I do sincerely apologize. Goodbye.”
What do these people have in common? Left to right they are Ian Halliday AKA Ringbark, Neil Armstrong, First Man on the Moon, Miss Kitty of Gunsmoke the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold, Mighty Ed my Mighty Friend, Dr. Hannibal "the cannibal" Lecter, and Auric Goldfinger of great fame as a "Bond villain".
They were all in my dream just now. Mighty Ed and I were in go karts. If you knew our size, you would see just how ridiculous and undignified a scene that presents, but nevertheless we were racing up a mountain road as pursued by, well, by Auric Goldfinger. Auric had a golden go kart (why wasn't it too heavy to move?) from which he kept shooting at us with the side mounted machine guns. The pursuit went on for a while up a rather winding road with many a near collision with the mountainside and many a near slip over the precipitous cliff on the other side. Eventually we came to a truck stop called "Miss Kitty's" where, for some reason, we thought it a good idea to hide.
We went inside to find Miss Kitty playing the piano (I wish I could remember the tune) and singing. Neil Armstrong called out a hearty welcome and asked "Do you want the whiskey or the whiskey?" We sat down at a table where Ringbark was playing cards with Dr. Lecter and when the next hand was played joined in. I had no money, so Mighty Ed had to split his with me causing Dr. Lecter to give us a dirty look.
Auric Goldfinger then came crashing in through the glass doors of the truck stop shouting "I expect you to die." Dr. Lecter looked at him, turned back and began dealing the cards mumbling under his breath "Amateur."
Thus endeth the dream. Any and all interpretations are welcome.
I had a Hellish day today. I guess it was lucky I had this card. I got an unpleasant telephone call this morning about 9:00 am. I was pretty down to begin with and had been sleeping or nearly sleeping all day just to avoid getting up. After the call I just went back to bed and didn't actually get up until around 9:00 pm.
When I moved to Miami in '80, I didn't make a lot of friends right away. By '84 or '85 I had an assortment of "work friends" and "hanging out" friends. My "work friends" were pretty much lunch-time buddies and someone to chat with around the proverbial water cooler (actually a coffee pot). My "hanging out" friends were more like movie and dinner companions. There were around six of us and we got pretty tight. Sadly after about '86 I lost track of all of 'em. That's when I got involved with my movie fan club. I've regaled most of you about the BBI at considerable length so I won't explain it all over. My pre-86 friends kind of went by the wayside in '86 because I got interested in fandom and the members of the movie fan club (the BBI) weren't of the same ilk as my other friends. It's too bad, they were great people.
The phone call this morning was from Rhonda Lintz, the one female in that group. How she found my phone number is beyond me, but she did. I recognized her voice instantly, and jumped, almost literally, for joy. Unfortunately her news was bad. Brady, John, Barry, and Glover were out drinking two nights ago and were broad-sided by an 18-wheeler. She said it was the truck driver's fault, but the fact that they had been drinking was probably going to make it wind up looking like they did something wrong.
We commiserated a while. She caught me up on her life, married, a son, working mom at the local Wal-mart, husband that I had never met is a lawyer. We exchanged e-mails, cell phone numbers, facebook id's and I gave her my journal's address. I didn't give her much detail about my life. She didn't need to be bummed further.
I haven't any pictures of the guys. I wish I had and could write a proper memorial page for them. I can't. I do have to tell one story that some of you may have heard before. It's about Glover. Glover is a tall skinny black guy with a frame almost like Jimmie Walker (the Dyn-o-mite! guy from "good times"). We used to kid him about the resemblance. He hated it. That made it all the much more inevitable. Well, glover was so much one of the guys that I had an unusual experience. One of my "work" friends saw me out with the crowd. He came 'round and said hello (we were waiting in line at the movies) and cut the line to come in with us. We saw the movie together and then split up. The next day he asked me "Who was that black guy you were with?" I looked puzzled. He said, "The tall skinny dude." I was still puzzled because that described John, Barry, and Glover. "You know, the black guy." It suddenly dawned on me that Glover was black. We had hung out so long that the fact stopped registering on me. I told the guys about it and we all just fell over laughing. Glover pretended to be offended and did his best Malcolm X impression for the rest of the evening.
I've been out of touch with those guys for 23 years, but I feel the loss as sharply as though it had happened before my eyes. Today sucked.
I skipped my session with the chiropractor today. I needed to see him, but just didn't feel like getting out of the house. I am a little disgusted with myself for wimping out so completely. My disgust is further complicated by having ordered a large pizza from Pizza Hut and consuming it myself. *sigh* Binge eating... what can you say?
I have spent most of the day (when not sleeping) on zooescape playing backgammon.
This will be a short entry today. I have spent the day wasting time utterly by playing chess or backgammon incessantly. I have avoided online backgammon sites because they are all heavily gambling oriented. I just want to play, I'm not even interested in gambling with "virtual money".
Games aside I didn't manage to write anything. I have been ravenously hungry and any time not spent in front of the keyboard has been spent eating.
The good news of the day is that I have television again. My projector's bulb blew out last Friday (of course it would happen right before a holiday). Even though I placed an order immediately, even next day delivery failed to get it to me before yesterday (when it was delivered to the wrong house). Finally I got the new bulb at about 15:35. *sigh* my DVR was 92% full.
I'm sleepy. I deserve it. I haven't slept for about twenty-four hours. I've been to two doctors today. My "allergist" who is rapidly becoming my primary care physician prescribed some clonazepam/klonopin for my foot pain. I hope it works. I really hope it works. I can't go on sleeping only between bouts of pain. My other doctor, my chiropractor, did the usual adjustment. He was not very successful today, though. Usually, after a visit my back feels noticeably better and the pain in my foot often subsides. There was little change today.
I think part of the problem is my last seizure (on the 4th). I hit the floor hard and I believe I've bruised my ribs. The doc didn't think much of my theory, but I know where I hurt. He listened to my heart, did the pulse/blood pressure thing and pronounced me "normal sounding".
I did a little more work on my "psychic detective" story. Added or fleshed out the secondary characters (I am using a product called CELTX to organize and guide me through the scripting process. I do not like writing scripts. I may convert this to a novel.
This will be a short one, I think I'm ready for bed.
I rarely update so
frequently. I guess I must just be in the mood. The latest "tempest in a teapot"
to genuinely tick me off is the speech by Obama to school children.
( rant )
That aside I've been working on a list of all my medications. It's a scary list. I've tried all of the medicines listed below either for my neuropathy, diabetes, or for depression. I will try to show the year(s) they were tried if I can remember even vaguely.
( long list of meds )
On to other topics: based on a recent dream I have begun writing a story about a "psychic" detective. If any of you remember a television series called "Blood Ties" based on the Tanya Huff "Blood Books" starring the character Vickie Nelson, you'll see the inspiration for my story.
( more about my story )
Enough for now. This has taken me all day to type and I am exhausted.
Life is less than wonderful these days. Finances are in the toilet and Sis & I are both having health problems. I keep having chest pains. I don't think they are heart issues, as taking a nitro pill does nothing. I believe that I may have cracked a rib when I fell forward in my last seizure, or while pounding my chest on the ground. I don't think I'll go through all the x-rays and binding of ribs unless I get some indication of a problem. I will see the cardiologist though.
Sis is going to need brain surgery. Her condition is called Arnold-chiari syndrome. In the picture the wedge-shaped portions highlighted by a lighter circle are the tonsillar lobes of the brain. They are closely related to the cerebellum. When these lobes descend toward the brain stem and spinal column, they cause pressure that affects balance and coordination. They also cause a variety of pains.
As regards treatment, once symptomatic onset occurs, a common treatment is decompression surgery, in which a neurosurgeon usually removes the lamina of the first and sometimes the second or even third cervical vertebrae and part of the occipital bone of the skull to relieve pressure. The flow of spinal fluid may be accompanied by a shunt. Since this surgery usually involves the opening of the dura mater and the expansion of the space beneath, a dural graft is usually applied to cover the expanded posterior fossa.
The preceding is cadged whole-cloth from wikipedia. As is the prognosis: types I (almost certainly Sis's condition) and II are generally adult-onset variations and, while not curable, are treatable and non-fatal.
I hate to think of Sis under the knife for this. I had surgery on my skull a few years ago, and while I was upset by it, it was not of the same order (fibrous dysplasia). Sis has held up quite well so far, but her nerves are beginning to fray. All I can really do is remain light-hearted and optimistic and just "be there" for her.
All that aside, the rest of my life is uneventful. I'm spending my time worrying about how to finance the surgery, which is at least constructive worry.
Osage County Sheriff’s Office arrested six at an Osage County home suspected of meth production.
John A. Louderback, 53, who is the owner of the property, was taken into custody. Also taken into custody was Jonathan S. Quick, 21, of Owensville, Brock E. Maggart, 33, of Bland, Heather R. Kibbe, 28, of Chamois, Jennifer R. Kingsley, 24 of Bland, and Bethany N. Wilson, 19, of Bland.
Officers found every component used in the manufacture of methamphetamine including a large amount of pseudoephedrine, and several tanks containing anhydrous ammonia. Officers also found eveidence of a second meth lab in a truck on the property.
Warrants were issued for Louderback and Quick and are being held in the Osage County Jail with a bond of $75,000 each. The other four suspects were released pending charges.
My brother. We've been "estranged" a while. He was still on probation and probably has 3 or 4 more years to serve on that. After the new trial, we'll have to see how many years he gets. <sigh> He may not be up for parole in my lifetime. </sigh> It's not like he would welcome a visit from me anyway.
On top of all else, I am not feeling well. Been to the doctor and got no help. Sis is in just as bad shape. Had an ultrasound of her innards today and will have a CAT scan tomorrow or the next day. Don't know what they are looking for but she has been miserable in the bathroom for two weeks. Let's leave it at that and not go into the details of diarrhea, constipation, and bloody stool.
I have located doctors in St. Louis. I will visit them in August some time. At least I think so, we are still working out appointments.
I just don't feel like writing any more. Maybe I'll have something tomorrow.
My entry today will be relatively short. I have a shrieking headache that simply won't quit. I've been listening to soft music all day with the hope of soothing it. No result whatsoever. For what it's worth this is what I've been listening to:
Ellen's Chants, D. 839, Op. 56, No. 2: III. Ave Maria (Arranged for Violin and Piano)
Darkest Hour (Remastered 2008) Arlo Guthrie
Suo Gân (Welsh Lullaby)
String Quintet No. 5 in E Major, Op. 11: III. Minuet
Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 In C-Sharp Minor
All Through the Night Connie Wollenhaupt
Suo Gan - Welsh Instrumental David Shelley
Solomon, Act III: The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba
Yggdrasil Frost Enslaved
All Through the Night Pipe Organ Hymns (Church Organ)
All Through the Night John St John
Toccata and Fugue In D Minor for Organ, BWV 565
An Der Schönen Blauen Donau
Bagatelle In A Minor - 'Fur Elise' Ludwig van Beethoven
Carmen: Habanera María Callas
Rigoletto: "La Donna e Mobile" Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra, Jose Perez & Hanspeter Gmur
All Through the Night Peter, Paul and Mommy Peter, Paul and Mary
Il Barbiere Di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville): Overture Slovenia Symphony Orchestra
Hallelujah Rufus Wainwright
Orphée Aux Enfers (Orpheus In the Underworld): Can-Can New Philharmonia Orchestra
Serenade No. 13 In G Major, K. 525 (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik): I. Allegro Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra & Zdenek Kosler
Wilhelm Tell: Overture Tbilisi Symphony Orchestra
Carmina Burana (Cantiones Profanae), Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi: I. O Fortuna Tbilisi Symphony Orchestra
Today is a bad day. I am listening to depressing music and making myself feel worse. What the Hell? Of late, it has been my habit to reinforce bad moods rather than to try and fix them. I'm losing some ground here somewhere but I can't figure out why or how. Days when I don't get out of bed are the worst. I hate that half-doze filled with dreams I don't want to have. There's always bad temptations out there I don't want - that "come to the dark side" whisper and the almost as disturbing "there's no difference" denial. I feel like I've been reading Aliester Crowley and H.P. Lovecraft while sipping absinthe. That, by the way, I do not recommend.
A number of things have been moving at speed of late while others are stalled completely. I suppose that's normal enough, but they don't seem to be the right things in each category. Health care changes are screaming past at an unseemly rate that prevents me managing what is going on. The parts of my life that usually move quickly and relatively easily, my day-to-day activities and responsibilities, have lagged almost to a stop resulting in considerable unhappiness in those around me.
I've been spending a bit of time outside despite the recent heat. Jirel and I have been taking walks. It is actually a bit depressing. I feel like I'm saying goodbye to things I can still see. But Jirel is quite happy she doesn't get out enough and likes that fact that there seems to be a different dog or cat or squirrel or chipmunk scent in every yard. To my surprise the neighborhood is fairly lush. We have had a good bit of rain and the 100°F temperatures haven't been able to stunt the flowers. I actually found what I believe to be a lush spray of Edelweiss growing on and around a boulder in a yard about a block away. It must be tended quite carefully, as it doesn't handle these climate conditions well. It is my favorite flower, I think. The picture is just off the web, I didn't and don't plan to carry a camera on my walks. You should be awarded a third arm and hand when they give you a white cane.
On the home front, one of my immortal aunts seems to be on her last legs. There's really no shortage of them, but I will miss her very much. She is one of the few I've really had a relationship with. It is odd to me that the women of my mother's side seem to live past 100 and the men of my father's side rarely pass 50 (me and my father in the last 16 generations).
I will make efforts at neither poetry nor prose today. I'm just not in the mood. I remember a time when like Jubal Harshaw I had to write to avoid spiritual constipation. It may be a function of my inability to draw forth words with which I should be familiar. Oddly enough, German words come to me easily. Perhaps I'm reverting to my childhood? Today I remembered a joke about a German word. It was inspired by the German WOTD from the lookwayup dictionary.
An American, a Spaniard, and a German were sitting on a park bench. As so often happens, they began to argue the merits of their own languages. The American contended that English could be beautiful and descriptive... take "butterfly". If floats. It flutters. It sounds precisely like the creature it describes. The Spaniard took some exception, advocating "Mariposa" as a much more beautiful word. "Maripoooosa", said he extending the vowels and adding a lilting quality to the word. It is beautiful, it floats, it is soft, it is utterly descriptive of the creature. The German turned a bleary eye on his two companions and simply asked "Somesing ist wrong mit Schmetterling?"
German is rarely a beautiful language. To much saliva being shared. It is probably a precursor of Klingon.
It is hard for me to believe that my last entry was in March. I have been fiddling with facebook, but my interest in it has waned. A few friends I had lost connections with have returned to my sphere via facebook, but contact really seems limited to the occasional quip or some virtual lol, card, drink, etc. I am going to try to direct everyone on facebook to my three journals here louderback, louderprose, and louderpoetry. Then I will concentrate my efforts here rather than on the very limiting and pretty boring facebook. Apart from that I have no ambitious plans of any sort. I have spent all my time thinking since my heart problem and no time at all doing. I hope to correct that somewhat in coming days, but I honestly haven't a plan for doing so. Suggestions are welcomed.
I've been in quite a dark place for the past few months. I am seeing my therapist weekly now instead of monthly, and attending a group therapy session on Fridays. The sessions with my therapist have devolved into philosophical discussion. Seems he wants to reason me out of suicidal depression. If depression was reasonable nobody would be depressed. The group therapy sessions are largely a waste of time, save that they give me that feeling of epicaricacy (shadenfreude or joy in the misfortune of others) that gets expressed more or less as "Thank the Gods I'm not as fucked up as those jerks." Unfair to all around to feel that way, even to myself. I can't explain my feelings even to myself. Everything is all tied up in the sense of my life diminishing steadily without any remedy on my part. I remember being an articulate soul. I guess I still am on paper. I type better than I speak. I am constantly pausing for 6 or 10 seconds to find appropriate words and often don't find them. I am constantly learning new words that I know with absolute certainty aren't new to me. One of the words above is an example of that. I knew there was an English equivalent of Shadenfreude, and I know with absolute certainty that I would have looked that word up and committed it to memory years ago. I had to look it up again just now and it took me nearly 30 minutes to find it. My mind is failing me in odd ways.
Many of my problems must be related to my medications. I have 17 bottles of pills again, and take 23 pills a day. I am nauseous even when I take my pills with food. This cannot be right, but none of my doctors will budge and back off some of the pills. I have begun searching for an internist, an endocrinologist (15-minute look-up on that one... see what I mean), and a cardiologist. It looks like I'll have to go as far as St. Louis or Kansas City to find one. The medical center in the town 30 miles North of here (Columbia, MO) is filled with doctors I've tried and hated. I know that not every doctor is Marcus Welby (sort of the Anti-House) but you'd think bedside manner hadn't completely left the sphere of medical behavior. It took a while for me to figure out that the local doctors just aren't much good. Part of it is of course the fact that they practice in this one-horse town. They all see about 6,250 patients a year, even in larger cities (my thinking is 25 patients per day with a 5-day week for 50 weeks i.e. (25*5)*50=6250)) I believe I'll get a physician with more experience in a larger city, because there will probably be fewer "repeat customers" offering a range of experience at least slightly wider than the local yokels.
Some of my readers may recall me (in April of this year) challenging myself to write a poem based on a sculpture by Rodin (or Camille Claudel if you believe the rumors) "She who was once the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife" aka "La Belle Heaulmière". Alas, it is still a work in progress. I had a version completed in eight quatrains in sestina. An interesting exercise, it was nearly unreadable. I now have a shorter version of five cinquains consisting of two rhyming couplets and and unrhymed chorus repeated in each cinquian. It is still uncomfortable to read, though the iambic tetrameter pulls one through the lines. I'm thinking I'll try just twice more as a ballad (as distinct from a ballade) and as simple rhyming couplets (perhaps in leonine verse as converting from rhyming couplets to leonine verse requires no more than running them onto a single line).
I have been watching a great deal of television of late. My eyes are getting worse, and even my 42" monitor is becoming hard for me to use easily. I am, therefore, getting in as many episodes of my favorite brain-numbing tripe as I can. I am a great fan of Dexter, obviously, but have been following The Closer, Leverage, Mental, Law & Order: Criminal Intent (I have a man-crush on Vince D'Onofrio), Doctor Who, Primeval, and a few others. I hope to pick up Warehouse 13 over the summer and will not miss the 5-day mini-season of Torchwood. I've become a bit bored with CSI: NY, but it is hard not to watch Gary Sinise. I wish he'd make some more movies. For that matter I wish D'Onofrio would do so as well. <sigh>I suppose they are both busy enough with their series'</sigh>
Michael Jackson blah blah blah blah god-like talent blah blah blah blah great loss blah blah blah blah child-molesting fucktard blah blah blah blah King of Pop blah blah blah blah unique talent blah blah blah blah overdose blah blah blah blah where's the doctor blah blah blah blah the nurse did it blah blah blah blah the doctor did it blah blah blah blah someone got him the anesthetic blah blah blah blah.
SHUT THE FUCK UP! WILLYA?
People are still dying in Iraq. People who are trying desperately to free themselves from a repressive theocracy turned military dictatorship in Iran are being ignored. Farah died! The government is screwing with the economy while nobody is looking! The Washing Post, for cripes sake, tried to sell political influence to lobbyists... publicly!
WAKE UP MEDIA! WAKE UP VIEWING PUBLIC! MICHAEL JACKSON IS JUST NOT THAT FUCKING IMPORTANT! HE'S JUST DEAD!
Ok, now that I've gotten that out of my system, I've typed myself dry. I'll try to update more frequently. Every time I promise that, I don't. Oh well.
I've spent all my time since last entry, basically loafing and pretending it was "recuperation". Well, it works for me.
I'm back to taking over a dozen pills per day. I hope to get that reduced in the near future. It seems to me that the more pills I take the less often I feel good. I'm in a bit of a cycle right now of feeling bad one day and less bad the next. I've also had several days of weird cycling when I feel hot then cold and perspire either way. Oozy and clammy alternating is not a good thing.
I have done no writing but I have two projects underway. I'm planning a short story of 5k to 7k words. Inspired by the Mighty Ed it will detail the discovery of a way to track back those who spam you or infect your with viruses and take virulent revenge. It should be quite fun. Watch louderprose for results.
The other project is a poem based on a short passage from Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land.
Heinlein's character Jubal Harshaw educates his friend Ben Caston on "Sculpture" as opposed to "Statues" which according to Jubal are of "Dead Politicians". The sculpture in question is "She who was once the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife" [aka "La Belle Heaulmière"]
"Anyone can look at a pretty girl and see a
pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will
become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl she
used to be. But a _ great _ artist--a master--and that is what Auguste Rodin
was--can look at an old woman, and portray her _ exactly _ as she is ... and
force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be ... and more than that,
he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that
this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply
prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless
tragedy that there never was a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in
her heart ... no matter what the merciless hours have done to her."
The poem will be longish (for me), sentimental and sad. I expect fifteen to twenty stanzas. I suspect quatrains or cinquains fit the subject best. I'm going to try an ababb pattern and either hexameter or septuple meter. It will be a challenge. Watch louderpoetry for results.
Well, here it is, Friday the 13th. The only news since my last post is big news. The daily stuff has been so minor and uninteresting I haven't been able to bring myself to report it. I guess the one minor piece of news is that I have finally established a meaningful (is that possible) presence on facebook. I've been there for ages but never so much as updated the pages. Search Karl Robert Louderback.
The big news is pretty big. On Tuesday the 24rd of February I was having trouble breathing, wheezing, feeling really exhausted. I thought it was bronchitis or just a bad cold. I called my M.D. Dr. Biller but he was full up on Tuesday and Wednesday was his day off. I made an appointment for Wednesday. Overnight I seemed to get worse, just couldn't sleep and called my allergist Dr. Horney. Breathing problem... allergist... within the realm, right? He saw me Wednesday morning, found I had high blood pressure and a really high heart rate. He did an ekg and ordered a cardiac enzyme study. He decided I should go home, take it easy and wait for the results. Sadly those didn't come back until the next morning. At 8:00 on Thursday the 26th the Doc called and said to go to the hospital. I checked in at the emergency room and was in bed 30 minutes later.
Many, many medications later they had reduced my heart rate from 165 to 78 and my BP from 160/110 to 125/80. My newly appointed cardiologist Dr. Stitch decided to keep me over the weekend and do a cardiac catheterization on Monday. This happened without a hitch and while they were in there they put in two stents. The procedure was done under some sort of light anesthesia. They tell me I was awake, but I don't remember anything. I experienced no pain during or after. The catheterization involves running a long flexible tube, like a hose up a major artery and directly into the heart. They then inject dye and look for blockages. If they find some they put in stents. A stent is essentially a small tube that fits inside an artery to hold it open. In some cases they put it in place and expand it so to as make the artery bigger. I got 2 stents.
My energy is very low... meaning I am tired all the time and have little initiative, but that is not much of a change from before.
Since I posted my last entry I've really done nothing but sleep in my sleepless not really awake hypnagogic fashion. You'd think that would leave me with nothing to write about but, perhaps, a dream. <sigh>I've had none worthy of note.</sigh> I arose in the early hours to begin this. That was at midnight, it is now after 19:39. I detest that it is such a slow process for me to compose so few words. On the other hand, I suppose it shows that Vista has some virtues at least — in the last few versions of windows I wouldn't have had much success leaving an application like an editor open for a full 18 hours…
<rant>I'm flirting once again with OpenOffice. Specifically, I am playing with the Draw tool.
Now, for years, I have wanted something that would tie a diagram like the one on the left to a story. Those of you who've been around the computer-centric world (OK, old-school programmers and their ilk) will recognize the pic as a flow chart.
Having spoken with a few friends, I gather that flow chart have been divorced from code or any form of words for some time now and have been relegated to the antique world of process flow, plumbing design, and factory floor process optimization — all of which can now be done "better" by a computer.
I would love to bring the flow chart to my writing, connect it to my text. If I could assemble my stories using such a format I'd be in heaven. Each box could represent a chapter, and some sub-boxes might represent points of divergence or "high points" within a chapter. Arrows could show where words or actions foreshadowed connect to that which they indicate and prevent "loose ends". If arrows are "attached" and remain so when boxes are moved, and if text moved with the boxes within your text document, it would be an excellent way to revise to ensure clarity and correct a variety of writing errors.
What I'd like is to type my text into an editor as usual, but use a flow-chart-like tool to somehow identify the text associated with a box. The boxes might show only a chapter number, a first line, or some arbitrary notation, that doesn't matter to me, only that the drawing and text be somehow connected.
Why won't someone write me this tool?
</rant> If I was still a programmer I'd try to write it for myself. *looks pathetic* hak hak cough… trails off weakly…
In other news I hear that they are making yet another Punisher movie. Gaak. The first one pleased only fans and seems to have had no elements of the comic in it. The second, which ignored the existence of the first movie and was therefore called a remake and not a sequel seems to have incorporated some elements of the comic and to have had actual actors— that seems to have pleased a small segment of the general public but to have offended the fans somehow. Now they're making another one. This one ignores both the previous movies, is neither a sequel nor a remake, but a "reboot". That is a word I don't like being heard in connection with a movie. I gather the latest Friday the 13th is a "reboot" too, meaning that continuity has been thrown to the wind and all bets are now off. I wonder if we'll have another series of 10 movies diverging from this new "rebooted" starting point? I pray it doesn't work. I don't want to see a "reboot" of Star Wars Episode IV. I don't even want a remake.
A movie I do want to see is "Taken". Liam Neeson has not disappointed me yet. It sounds suspiciously like an action-y rehash (rehash, reboot, remake, why do all of these terms start with "re" except sequel?) of Mel Gibson's "Ransom" or any of that "You can't make me, I'll make you!" ilk. Ick. I just had a vision of Yakov Smirnoff spouting, "In Soviet Russia, Blackmailer pays you!"
My sugars have been outrageous today because I have been grazing continuously. Maybe I should take up smoking so as to have an oral fixation other than food. Gaah. I wish such a thing as an appetite suppressant existed (besides crack, I mean).
I have begun to blather again. More tomorrow.
Current Location:Home Current Mood: apathetic Current Music: None
Naah, but my unkle was born on that date & feared it. He absolutely refused to even leave his bedroom on Friday the 13th for as long as he lived. For me, it has never been a particularly bad day. I'm more like Garfield. Monday is the bad day.
It's been a while since last I wrote. You know what that means… lots of peculiar images gleaned from the web and a pleonasm on my part. Given the sound of the word I think that should feel better than it does. To my readers who receive this as an RSS feed I apologize for the pictures you don't see and the words you do.
Well, we are fully an Obamanation at this point. I swear if I hear one more instance of "this-is-the-first-time-a-black-president-has-shit-on-this-particular-toilet" journalism I will upchuck. I am also tired of the Lincoln/Obama comparisons. Yes, they both had hair, teeth, and testicles (presumably), but I don't care!. Maybe Caroline Kennedy does too! Sheesh! It doesn't matter! Can we have some news? People are fighting and dying in the war! Coca Cola is cornering the bottled water market! Ceos (does that need an apostrophe?) are overpaid! How about filling us in on just exactly what all this money being thrown around is actually going to do. So far, all I've heard of the bank bailout is that it is being given to the same people who proved they couldn't manage money. The stimulus package seems to be more of the same. And, for pity's sake, can we stop with the Bush jokes? It's over. Get a grip! Move on!
As to jokes, can we let Phelps and his crew off the hook too? I mean really. Besides he is special. Check out my entry of 2008/08/21.
My life is not special of late. I have been savagely bummed of late for no particular reason. A good reason to be bummed, however, does exist. I'm having great trouble keeping my diet, weight, and blood glucose under control. 200's in the morning and 300-350 during the day is not unusual. I'm taking 4 shots of 30+mg of quick acting (Humalog) insulin everyday and 80 or 90 mg of Levemir at night. This is still leaving my Blood glucose high all day long. Of course, it is because I am eating like a horse. My doc (neuro) upped my depakote (for seizure and neuropathy) from 3.5k to 5k per day. When I pointed out to him that it was making me intolerably floopy (that means you feel floppy, but with more "oops" involved) all day he lowered it to 4k of depakote & 150mg of oxcarbazepin. I am still intolerable sleepy. And hungry. And floopy. I do not wish to live my every day perpetually thirsty and perpetually hungry. It sucks.
On the insulin front, I have had to buy some "udder balm" to rub into my belly. Yeah, it's called udder balm. Yuk! Yuk! Yuk! Get it over with us and let's move on. It is reducing the "track marks" I'm getting on my belly from the fucking 5-times-a-day insulin injections. I'm going to have to move on to arms soon (hate that, it hurts) or to my things (hate that, pulling my pants down and injecting myself just don't go together in my mind). Surprisingly, udder balm is working pretty well. A bit on the greasy, but it seems to be improving my hands as well as my belly. For what it's worth the alternative was "bag balm" and I just don't want to go there. Grow up!
My vision has taken an odd turn. While my blood glucose is out I'm told that my vision should be worse. In fact it seems a bit better. I am able to read with slightly less contrast than usually. I am watching TV with less contrast too. Surely a comfort to my Sis who must endure my settings. My old infocus projector, a replacement by circuitous city for an earlier infocus projector that threw craps, threw craps last month. <sigh>I bought a cheap replacement (epson) without realizing just how cheap it is.</sigh> Despite my 42" monitor, I am going to need something larger soon. I guess I'll have the old projector repaired. It'll probably be cheaper than trying to buy a bigger TV/monitor.
My finances, unlike many others, aren't completely in the toilet. Sis and I have been paying off credit card debt and are in "good" shape. I used a "credit calculator" and fed in incomes individually and separately with various debts and credit cards distributed appropriately and we both scored right where we should be ("good") separately or together. I'm hoping to eliminate all credit card debt later this year then max it out buying a new (maybe my last?) computer - a Mac. Wish me luck on that one.
I have a novel in progress. I won't go on about it, but it is science-fiction and sort of internally self-anthologizes three stories covering over 30k years of human history. It is at 140k words at the moment and I am stuck. <sigh>My internal Editor has reared his ugly head and instead of writing and finishing the book I am revising and editing as I go along.</sigh>
As a consequence of all my novelizing I have written almost no poetry since November (the novel started with NANOWRIMO). I need to do that, it is a necessary release for my system. In Heinlein's "Stranger in a Strange Land" Jubal Harshaw was said to need to write lest he become spiritually constipated. I think I must drizzle out my poetry for similar reasons. Would that I could do so in similar fashion or at least circumstances to the good Jubal.
I've begun to blather so I'm going to quit now. More tomorrow.
OK, so last night I became
a vampire. Big deal. I've more or less been expecting it for a while. I'm more of a half-vampire at the moment, my body hasn't died yet. It might not for a while, I'll live out my normal life span and when the body gives up I'll be the real thing. This comes from being converted by drinking vampire blood without being bitten and drained.
It was kind of an accident. You know how you always have a few "kookie" friends, those ones you invite to parties because they can be counted on to do something odd? Well one of those stopped by last night. I always thought he was a bit weird, always wore black, went on about Satanism, black magic, the "darkness" and all that. I just thought it was an emo act to get goth girls. We were having wine and things just went wrong. He has always brought his own bottle and insisted on keeping it to himself. I understand. I am almost that bad about the travicello I enjoy. Most evenings he sips his glass, I sip mine and things go smoothly while we sort out the problems of the universe and plan how things would be if we ruled the universe. Last night, well, we usually have different glasses. I like my big glass goblet with the pewter dragon pedestle, and he uses a silver chalice (which I think is actually polished pewter). He forgot his glass and rather than "upstage" him I served us both in plain crystal wine goblets. To make a long story short, they got mixed up while we were looking up a horoscope for the Obama administration and I became a vampire.
My appearance has changed a bit but I'm not seeing a big downside. We compiled one of those pro and con lists. Part of it is here, but it went on for a long while. It is not like there's anything I can do about it anyway. I was worried about a lot of the mythology, staurophobia (fear or crosses), alliumphobia (fear of garlic), eisoptrophobia (fear of your reflection in a mirror), phengophobia (fear of sunlight), xylophobia (fear of wood, or at least wooden stakes), even maybe taphephilia (fondness for coffins or cemeteries). Most of that turns out to be a non-starter. Crosses don't bother you unless you're overly religious. Garlic is just a myth from the get-go. I can't see my reflection in the mirror, but I don't really "see" the downside. I guess my hair might become unruly. I'll shave. Maybe that's why Count Dracula always looked like he had an entire tube of Brylcreem in his hair. The who bit of sleeping in a coffin or a mausoleum. I'm told that is just for effect. You're harder to find in such places. My friend has a room as steel plated as a bank vault.
I'm told I don't actually have to drink blood until my body dies. I'll want to, but I don't have to. My mentor (oh, by the way, that whole vampire master/slave mentor/servant thing is BS) will be setting me up with a "connection". He says there's such things available all over the world. The local connection is actually out of town, this being a pretty small burg, but he actually has a delivery route that starts somewhere in Iowa "pig country". He drives almost to the Arkansas border delivering then makes another round in about three weeks. You just leave your orders with him when he delivers. Also, there is a web site. It's pretty boring really.
Con's of being a
vampire
Pro's of being a
vampire
Unending ravenous blood lust
Not much of a change
Can't watch sunrises or sunsets
Sunrise and Sunset available on DVD
Outliving family, loved ones, acquaintances, and
enemies
Outliving family, loved ones, acquaintances, and
enemies
Sleep all day
Sleep all day
Only go out at night
Party all night
Can't stand sunlight
It was always "burn and peel" anyway
Pale skin, cold hands
Pretty much no change
Same meal every time
Will miss Thai food and Taco Bell
"I never drink... wine"
I really enjoy wine
Have to wear black all the time
Look good in black
Never grow old
Didn't happen when I was 18
Never die
Never die
I've been putting off writing for a while. First I wanted to wait for the inauguration, then I wanted to give the inauguration a little space. I found a horoscope for the "birth" of the Obama Presidency. It's been 42 years since I could cast a natal chart (Remember Linda Goodman's Sun Signs?) and more than 30 since I could read one. I will take the time, I think (now that I'm immortal) to bring my charting skills back up to speed and read the future for the new administration. Wow! Thinking about '68 I just heard O-bah-mah mah mah-mah mah ko sah! to the tune of "Soul Makossah" There should be a where is he now episode for Manu Dibango.
I like of some of the things Obama has done so far. I approve of closing GITMO, but hope this doesn't mean "get out of jail free" for all of the prisoners. That would be plain stupid. GITMO makes us look bad everywhere. It is drawing fire. Shut it down and deal with those prisoners elsewhere and otherwise. I liked repealing several of the Bush initiatives, but I don't like all of his "let's undo the Bush Administration publicity". His actions so far have been "positively" negative, if you take my meaning — positive, but in the sense of negating things I don't like.
The new prez has earned my ire in one respect. After announcing more stringent rules for lobbyists, he has asked for a pass on one of his own rules. He wants a Senior VP of Raytheon for an Undersecretary of Defense. Isn't the conflict of interest obvious? Why should he be considered for the position at all? The list of Obama-offenses will doubtless grow, as does the list for every president.
Democrats, today I saw a cartoon declaring that the four most beautiful words in the English language were "Former President George Bush". Pull the frikkin cork outta your collective ass and get on with your life. Damya!
Empire Magazine has revealed its list of the 50 Greatest TV Shows ever:
1. Bold the shows you watch/used to watch.
2. Italic the shows you've seen at least one episode of.
3. Strikeout the shows you've never seen.
4. Post your answers.
50. Quantum Leap 49. Prison Break 48. Veronica Mars 47. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 46. Sex & The City 45. Farscape 44. Cracker 43. Star Trek 42. Only Food and Horses 41. Band of Brothers 40. Life on Mars 39. Monty Python's Flying Circus 38. Curb Your Enthusiasm 37. Star Trek: The Next Generation 36. Father Ted 35. Alias 34. Frasier 33. CSI: Las Vegas 32. Babylon 5 31. Deadwood 30. Dexter 29. ER 28. Fawlty Towers 27. Six Feet Under 26. Red Dwarf 25. Futurama 24. Twin Peaks 23. The Office 22. The Shield 21. Angel 20. Blackadder 19. Scrubs 18. Arrested Development 17. South Park 16. Doctor Who 15. Heroes 14. Firefly 13. Battlestar Galactica 12. Family Guy 11. Seinfeld 10. Spaced 09. The X-Files 08. The Wire 07. Friends 06. 24 05. Lost 04. The West Wing 03. The Sopranos 02. Buffy the Vampire Slayer 01. The Simpsons
My stress level is through the roof today. Sadly it is not due to my stress. It is not something I can talk about here, but suffice it to say I am stressed on my Sis's behalf. State jobs suck. I had one back in '80. They sucked then.
I'll write more later. I am moving from stressed toward pissed and that just won't do.
"Help! Help! I'm bein' repressed!" The python-esque aside, I do feel repressed of late. I feel like a lot of things are piling up on me. A lot of them are nothing about which I can do anything. Needless worry is by definition needless, but I am not so rational that I can avoid it. Oh to be a Vulcan. Except for the mating once every seven years thing. I think that would suck. I've had a few too many exceptional expenses lately, a few too many medical bills, a few too many of just about everything. Why don't I ever get a few too many strokes of good luck?
Bad luck du jour: the projector broke. Since the projector is the only TV in the house that means no TV until it is repaired. Rather than subject myself and my Sis to that again. I just went out and bought a cheap replacement. The projector I bought initially, almost 4 years ago was an infocus high-end model. It ceased to function after 2 years and Circuit City (We hates them, Precious) replaced it with a clearly inferior model. That lasted about 2 years and just ceased functioning. I will try to have it repaired later, but I don't want to spend days rambling about Jefferson City and Columbia finding someone who will repair it. The projector I now have is a step down from either of those, but it was cheap. When I get myself into a situation where I have two working projectors, I'll use one for my computer and one for watching TV. Then I'll save up for a really good projector again and start over. What I'll do with a 3rd projector I don't really know. Maybe put it in my bedroom so I can watch TV in bed?
We seem to be heading down a vanishing trail at Livejournal. Several rumours have surfaced. Nothing has been verified by anyone, but there is at least a chance Livejournal will be one of the first of the diary/social networking sites to disappear. That would devastate me personally.
In my livejournal I have the opportunity to consolidate everything into my friendspage. This means I can put more than 150 people who update their diaries at whatever interval onto a single page. I get their new entries whenever they make them and don't have to go look at their journals or rely on email to notify me that they have made a new entry.
To this you can add over 70 "communities" that I follow, places as diverse as cooking, ssdi and banzaiinstitute. Some update many times a day, I get easily 20 recipes every day, and others maybe once a month, even less.
On top of that, I follow 50 RSS feeds all of which automatically appear on my page with their latest updates. I don't have to go out and check them or go through a list.
Using my friendspage I can do something I've never seen anywhere else and which is uniquely useful to me because of my vision and limited computer skills (of late). Livejournal's friendspage puts literally hundreds of entries a day on a single page through which I can scroll throughout the day getting all my news, updates on friends, and tidbits to feed my interests.
If I had to look at all those journal entries manually, find all the communities, work through all those RSS feeds, I would never see any appreciable part of that information in the course of a day.
In short I'd hate to lose Livejournal. I actually have a "permanent" account here. I have set up a bail-out spot at http://louderblog.wordpress.com. I am also setting up at Insane Journal as louderback. Insane is a Livejournal clone but a somewhat lesser child of it's greater sire.
nuniabiz mentioned shopping for hippie chow, so I went looking for some. I see a nutburger of some sort, bean sprouts, tomato, onion, potato and some unidentifiable, and ineffable substances. That oughta do it.
Even when trying to be vegetarian I never ate that way. I never tried that hard, though. Vegetarianism is a difficult regimen to maintain, let alone true veganism. The nuances escape me and the benefits seem mitigated by the many frustrations.
I have not been improving my diet in any way of late. Since increasing one of my medications less than a month ago I have gained 11 pounds. I graze continuously if I don't control myself. <sigh>I wish there was a real appetite suppressant available.</sigh>
I'll write more later. I seem to just be blathering.
I activated/reactivated my Facebook for the first time since I created it a couple of decades ago. OK, a while back, May of '07. The version I use is intended for the blind; I find it much more usable than the standard one. If you have a Facebook account, try it out. I decided to do some blogging there and discovered that there is no real support for blogging per se. I tried to establish myself at Myspace around the same time (well, the November before) but I didn't like blogging in two places and both Facebook and Myspace are fairly photo-intensive. The blind guy is not going to be taking and uploading a lot of pix. I do want to establish a bit more of a web presence, but I think I'm going to concentrate more on getting what I'm already doing noticed than doing more in different places. I specifically want to get my louderprose and louderpoetry communities noticed in more places around the web. That means I need to write more. If anyone has suggestions about this, let me know. It may be that livejournal is not the place for such, but it is the environment in which I am most comfortable
I have been asleep since around 15:30 (it is now 22:30). This seven-hour stretch is one of the longest I've had in some time. Partly, I attribute it to sheer exhaustion. For the rest, I'll lay be blame on visiting family.
Sis and I went to my cousin's today for lunch. My other cousin was there with a friend from Georgia. Neighbors dropped by. Visitors visited. Altogether it was a pleasant Hell. I honestly don't enjoy such occasions but try to make the best of things. I spent a little time talking with my aunt who is (I think) 95 this year. She is extremely hard of hearing and does not wear any sort of hearing aid so this involved a deal of shouting and hand waving. I suppose I enjoy catching up on things but the process exhausts me emotionally.
Within 20 minutes of getting home today I was asleep.
Now that I'm up again I'm facing blood glucose of 269. I'm going to take my "overnight" shot to start my day and slam 70mg of levemir. I'll throw in 30mg of humalog and probably be back to the 100-150 blood glucose range around 1:00. Then, of course, I will be ravenous and I'll blast my sugars back to astronomical figures by eating a grain of rice. I hate that my sugars are so unpredictable.
"I'm going through a phase". I've heard the phrase too often. Like many clichés, it has lost its meaning for me. I will concede, however, that my life has had periods (or phases) unlike those preceding or following them which have left defining marks on me.
My youth in Germany was idyllic in many respects. I was wealthy without realizing it. Life had strict rules, but they did not really apply to me. I rode horses in a beautiful setting every day. I lived in a beautiful setting. I was raised by my great-grand-uncle one of the last scions of the old Prussian aristocracy. Even when I went away to military school I was one of the privileged ones.
Today is the last day of 2008. It is a chance to sum up the year, to reflect as so many of us do, to make a few observations on ourselves and others. I intend to avoid resolutions as I usually do. Or to make just one resolution: to make no further resolutions. I like that one.
As the pictures above symbolize, or at least as I hope they successfully imply, 2008 has been a year in which I transitioned from full blown depression to some other state. Things at the beginning of the year were bleak, looked bleak, felt bleak, and I was working hard (in retrospect) to keep them that way. Some time during the year that changed. I can't say what or when. I can say that I have read more philosophy in 2008 than in the preceding 20 years. That, by the way, is not saying a lot.
I've become interested in "humanism as a lifestance". I must say that I detest the phrase lifestance it has an utterly artificial ring to it I don't like. Humanism can be summed up well by the Amsterdam Declaration of 2002. I like much of the descriptions of humanism I read and much of the philosophy encapsulated therein. I also renewed my readings of some of the classical German philosophers this year.
None of my readings have led anywhere but, perhaps, just the fact that I'm wandering means I'm no longer standing still.
My health has been erratic this year, bad much of the time though seldom debilitating. This is the year I began taking insulin. I am now poking into myself five holes a day and filling them with insulin. My blood sugar readings, however, approximate normal for the first time this year. This is progress of a sort.
I have sworn off news after the hideous overload of a two-year-long presidential campaign. I am not as displeased with the result of the election as I thought I would be. I assumed Billary would win. Obama got the nomination I couldn't conceive that he would win. Now that he has won, I find myself just hoping that his presidency can be about more than being the first black president. Despite the fact that the campaign was "not about race" it was all about race. I do not want to spend the next four years hearing about "this is the first time a black man sat here or pulled this bell cord or ate a meal in this room" I don't want to hear about "firsts" that have the word "black" in them. It would have been a lot better, in my opinion, to have talked frankly about race and how it would affect the presidency - it absolutely will - than to try to ignore all the issues in the name of some soi distant race-free climate.
In addition to being tired of the word black, I am tired of the word green. It needs to be banished from the vocabulary. If you can't say that an action is good for the ecology, then it isn't. If one more huge corporation declares itself "green" by adding the word "green" to its advertising, I feel screaming will become appropriate. By the way, "green" should not be used as a verb.
While discussing the ecology, I stand steadfast in my opinion that the whole global warming thing is just a "thing" and not a fact. There is still no scientific consensus as to what is happening, how it is happening, and how fast it is happening. Some time back, however, a high-school science teacher on youtube convinced me that if any of the predictions are true, the consequences are pretty horrible. How bad can it be to be more environmentally responsible? There's no downside. As a consequence, I got interested in the No Impact Man Blog. I find he is my guiding star on the subject of environmental responsibility these days. He simply feels that you can live a better life by dispensing with a lot of extra, unneeded stuff, thereby benefiting yourself, the environment, and others. I like that.
I've not made significant changes in my life along those lines yet, but maybe those should be my resolutions for next year? Naah, I'll stick to my original intention to make no more resolutions.
I've spent more time than ever, and taken a long break, from Walkers in Darkness. Naturally once I returned, the place became virus-infested. Some hacker has settled on it as a target. I wonder what pleasure can be derived from denying depressed people their chat room? My break from walkers really involved no decision on my part, it just happened. My return was the same. I find that my depression comes and goes differently than in the past. It is more "level". That may be due to medication or simply through accommodation on my part. I find I now talk about "my depression" the way people talk about "my house plant" or "my herb garden". It is like it has become something I tend and prune and occasionally harvest. Ick.
I'm done for now. See you next year. May it bring you what you want.
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