Days Past , Days Pass
Most of the body of this blog effort happened on Thursday. Today is Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. Basically, that's how the days of the week work. In the United States of America, many people don't know this. Unfortunately there's a pronounced element of brainwashed stupidity going on within our midst. Hopefully, if you're reading this, you are not caught up in this midst. And that's all I'll say about that. In the least, when stupidity walks through that doorway, the choice is yours… you needn't buy in. So don't be bullied. Fight for the rights of your own humanity. Remember The Alamo!
Haha! Bad example. Couldn't come up with any other relatable battle cry, I suppose.
The Alamo is in San Antonio, Texas. I had a pretend girlfriend there once. At the time, she was going to law school, on the verge of completing her studies. Then eventually, she wound up being a J.A.G. attorney. She also authored a pornographic novel (under a pseudonym, of course). Impressive, right?
That was back when the San Antonio Chamber of Commerce was in the process of inventing (or perhaps, perfecting) The Riverwalk. Now, it’s one of the most famous tourist destinations in all of Texas; one that attracts the biggest, best, and brightest mosquitoes.
Besides that, and while spending altogether too much time in a nondescript San Antonio apartment, I ate nothing but Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Day and night. From dusk until dawn. It turns out, my female friend wasn't a very good cook, especially not with the microwave. Somehow, she ruined to beef stew.
Anyways, the girlfriend / boyfriend experience ended once she came to conclude that I wasn't as ceaselessly entertaining as she initially suspected I might be. For some reason, she got the impression that I was simultaneously clever and funny (my fault, entirely … I do not multitask like that). During online chatting, and as pen pals, that was indeed the case. Yes, back then, so long ago, my sole strength resided in the written word.
In person? I was incapable of amusing her as often as she preferred (and possibly, not at all). So I learned a lesson. Or three.
Additionally, she wasn't all that attracted to me. My long-ish (at the time) hair turned her off. The reason why I knew this? Well, she continually suggested that I get a haircut, mentioning that she knew a guy. Well, I knew some guys, too - and none of them ever wanted to cut my hair. Nope, that subject matter was never broached.
So for me, as a means to make myself feel better about things, and instead of spouting inspiration that does not directly relate to my personal scenario (i.e. “Remember the Alamo!”) - the battle cry most appropriate, impactful, and most importantly, soothing to me?
Remember … the undercooked Dinty Moore Beef Stew!
Now, Not Then
I am much improved in the past week / month. My secret? Banana Flakes. Instead of having intestinal distress every single day (multiple times throughout the day), I'm down to once every three or four days.
And that's that for that. We don't need to get into other health related issues that do not have solutions. There's already enough of that (considering the subject matter of this website, that makes a whole lot of sense).
Well, let's do so, just very briefly, and in the most indistinct fashion possible.
Doctoring
I saw the surgeon last week, and he saw me. But we didn't see each other. Not eye to eye - probably a matter of different footing.
He insisted that I have my feeding tube replaced with a new one… which is something I already do at regular intervals, every six to eight months. But that's the entirety of his suggestion. And he's scheduled me to do so, but I'm not going to follow through.
But why … why not abide by the surgeon's request?
Surely he graduated top of his class, not bottom of the barrel. Nor did he graduate with monkeys in the barrel; nor is it likely that he’s shot fish in the barrel either; but possibly, his involvement may have included random squirrels, and perhaps, a singular wombat. My in depth background check continues… more to come.
In the midst of my continuing ever increasing pain, I had my feeding tube replaced back in October of 2023. As an immediate result, nothing changed. Heck, for that matter, the vicinity area pain only worsened since that most recent tube replacement experience.
But whatever. Doesn't matter. Everyone has pain in their life. Physical. Mental. Emotional. You know what I mean.
I don't want to be that person, the one who drags others through their own luck and misery.
It's like that horrible cover song by Metallica, “Turn the Page” - Remember Bob Seger? He did the original, along with his Silver Bullet Band. Hi ho silver!
Woof Woof
Right now, the dog park is sprawled out before me. I rode around in my wheelchair for about an hour, looking for a shady place to hang outdoors. And, I found this place, beneath a scantily clad Palo Verde tree.
When you think about it, everybody's beneath something or somebody. That's the way humanity works. So basically, I'm enjoying several slivers of shade. Thin leaves doing their best, existing amid the typical low water usage desert landscape.
My next objective is to go someplace else. But it's warming up a bit too much. And more than that, the intensity of The Sun is burning level hot, so much so, that it's blonding my hair where I sit.
Either way, I need to force the issue. I hadn't really been out of bed much in the past couple of months, and based upon the currently favorable, but soon to be unfavorable forecast, I shall be relegated to the upstairs of the condominium before you know it.
Persons of Interest
The ex-wife is looking forward to having me upstairs, while also realizing that I'll be, in essence, grounded. But she's had to march up and down those stairs all too often in these recent five months, anytime I need water, or whenever she comes down for a social visit.
But with her former job lost, she's now employed as a temporary worker. And if she manages to get hired full time, the likelihood of us moving into another place increases. You see, the lenders have this thing, where you have to have a stable source of income before they'll sign you on for a home loan.
One obstacle in finding a new home is that there aren't many available overall. And then, there aren't many available that are single floor - specifically, a ground floor. After that, the difficulties continue on into the night.
Selling the condo won't be difficult at all. It may take a week. Possibly two weeks. We've got a plethora of California imports moving on in, buying up all the real estate - and then, this time of year, tens of thousands of snowbirds are still lingering, holding onto some semblance of warmth before heading back to the cold, flat, and boring northland. And the longer they linger, the more likely it is that they'll purchase a permanent winter home.
Unlike the way they suffer the cold, we suffer, too. All summer long. Five months in excess of 100° fahrenheit.
Speaking of the desert, we've had nearly seven inches of rain (in my locale) so far this calendar year. Normally, for the entire year, we receive approximately eight inches of rain. Total. Along with that rain we’ve had pleasantly cool temperatures. Mind you, I'm not complaining.
This coolness has allowed me to stay in the garage longer than I anticipated. But by the middle of next week, the warm up is coming. Three consecutive days in the 90s. Yikes!
Right now, what I'm doing is sleeping with the garage door partially open at night. It cools off nicely, allowing me to get as chilly as I can tolerate.
Isolation Chamber
Besides the wife, I've not had much contact with anybody in the past number of months. A certain percentage of neighborhood folk believe I am homeless. Or worse. Hmmm… I'm not sure what's worse, but apparently, they believe I fall into that category, likely based upon my physical appearance, and perhaps attributed to my non-typical behaviors while I am out and about.
I suppose it seems odd to just about anyone else that a wheelchair bound person would purposely choose to spend their time stationed in random parking lots, or affix themselves to a sidewalk, quietly watching traffic pass by on the well-traveled roadways.
But really, there's no place else to go. I don't eat. So restaurants and bars aren't part of the equation. I don't go shopping, because there's nothing I need to purchase. Plus, most importantly, there's no shade to be found at the nearby park, so I cannot lounge there. But I would. I swear it.
So these well-meaning people offer me food, shelter, and suggestions on how to get off of drugs. Hell, little do they know that I actually WANT drugs! But I can't get any. Not the kind that would help ease the pain. Which again, as I've noted, has been greatly diminished in the past week.
Pause
My park experience was interrupted due to my mother's phone call. As it currently stands, she's unhappy with her living situation. Many reasons. A smattering of details. But at least right now, there's one thing that brings her joy. And that's watching the Phoenix Suns play basketball on television. For some reason, she's recently latched on to the sport. Which is a good thing - gives her something to look forward to in the evening. Plus, it gives us something to discuss the following day.
Joy
Oh, I finally found another shaded spot, adjacent to the Bureau of Land Management outfit.
Moments later…
Oh great, now I've got someone stalking me. Perhaps. A person of unknown origins is now parked directly behind me. If they're not stalking me, maybe they're having sex by themselves (or with an unseen partner). Or maybe it's drugs. Car trouble? Car solutions?
“That's right, instead of having car trouble, I'm experiencing car solutions.” - a local car dealership espouses during their TV ad.
Alright I'm going to start rolling along here. If this person is planning to shoot me, or simply run me off the sidewalk, I don't want to give them time to build up their courage.
Minutes later…
It turns out the Stalker Dude, the one in the pickup truck, was enjoying a triple cheeseburger and fries, and probably … onion rings - basically, all kinds of greasy stuff. How do I know what he was eating? Because discarding the unwanted toppings and used napkins onto the street seems to be his calling. So I suppose he simply needed an isolated locale to eat, while also making America ugly.
By the way, did you know and realize that 70% of Arizona drivers use their turn signals regularly?
Well, it's true. You've got to believe me on this. I often perform my own surveys, of sorts. It's an ongoing project. Also, it's something easily noticed while directly observing driving habits.
So that may not seem all that bad, or that good, but that's most assuredly the percentage I have tracked in recent months.
Also
One in ten drivers are distracted drivers. Yes, the ones moving along at high rates of speed, are also playing with / monitoring their electronic devices.
I nearly got hit by one traversing The Cave Creek intersection. That was a week ago. A teenage girl. To make matters worse, she was in the turn lane, navigating with her kneecaps. Clearly, a talent to be reckoned with.
Back at The Dog Park
Now I've got a pair of villagers in my sights, and they are freaking the fuck out. You see, it is no longer yesterday. I'm back near the dog park, underneath another Palo Verde tree, facing the opposite direction. Not much shade, but it's the best I can do.
Here comes the blue tarp!!! Meanwhile, the guy on the bicycle is totally sketching out. He left, came back, and now he and his paranoid partner are corroborating. Collaborating? Will explain later….
Ending
I hope that some of you out there are improving. Because really, what else is there?
Take care,
Howard
Adjacent to the Marijuana Store
After the Flood
Where the Dogs Are
I've got a fair amount of pictures that I'll save for later ---
Most of the body of this blog effort happened on Thursday. Today is Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. Basically, that's how the days of the week work. In the United States of America, many people don't know this. Unfortunately there's a pronounced element of brainwashed stupidity going on within our midst. Hopefully, if you're reading this, you are not caught up in this midst. And that's all I'll say about that. In the least, when stupidity walks through that doorway, the choice is yours… you needn't buy in. So don't be bullied. Fight for the rights of your own humanity. Remember The Alamo!
Haha! Bad example. Couldn't come up with any other relatable battle cry, I suppose.
The Alamo is in San Antonio, Texas. I had a pretend girlfriend there once. At the time, she was going to law school, on the verge of completing her studies. Then eventually, she wound up being a J.A.G. attorney. She also authored a pornographic novel (under a pseudonym, of course). Impressive, right?
That was back when the San Antonio Chamber of Commerce was in the process of inventing (or perhaps, perfecting) The Riverwalk. Now, it’s one of the most famous tourist destinations in all of Texas; one that attracts the biggest, best, and brightest mosquitoes.
Besides that, and while spending altogether too much time in a nondescript San Antonio apartment, I ate nothing but Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Day and night. From dusk until dawn. It turns out, my female friend wasn't a very good cook, especially not with the microwave. Somehow, she ruined to beef stew.
Anyways, the girlfriend / boyfriend experience ended once she came to conclude that I wasn't as ceaselessly entertaining as she initially suspected I might be. For some reason, she got the impression that I was simultaneously clever and funny (my fault, entirely … I do not multitask like that). During online chatting, and as pen pals, that was indeed the case. Yes, back then, so long ago, my sole strength resided in the written word.
In person? I was incapable of amusing her as often as she preferred (and possibly, not at all). So I learned a lesson. Or three.
Additionally, she wasn't all that attracted to me. My long-ish (at the time) hair turned her off. The reason why I knew this? Well, she continually suggested that I get a haircut, mentioning that she knew a guy. Well, I knew some guys, too - and none of them ever wanted to cut my hair. Nope, that subject matter was never broached.
So for me, as a means to make myself feel better about things, and instead of spouting inspiration that does not directly relate to my personal scenario (i.e. “Remember the Alamo!”) - the battle cry most appropriate, impactful, and most importantly, soothing to me?
Remember … the undercooked Dinty Moore Beef Stew!
Now, Not Then
I am much improved in the past week / month. My secret? Banana Flakes. Instead of having intestinal distress every single day (multiple times throughout the day), I'm down to once every three or four days.
And that's that for that. We don't need to get into other health related issues that do not have solutions. There's already enough of that (considering the subject matter of this website, that makes a whole lot of sense).
Well, let's do so, just very briefly, and in the most indistinct fashion possible.
Doctoring
I saw the surgeon last week, and he saw me. But we didn't see each other. Not eye to eye - probably a matter of different footing.
He insisted that I have my feeding tube replaced with a new one… which is something I already do at regular intervals, every six to eight months. But that's the entirety of his suggestion. And he's scheduled me to do so, but I'm not going to follow through.
But why … why not abide by the surgeon's request?
Surely he graduated top of his class, not bottom of the barrel. Nor did he graduate with monkeys in the barrel; nor is it likely that he’s shot fish in the barrel either; but possibly, his involvement may have included random squirrels, and perhaps, a singular wombat. My in depth background check continues… more to come.
In the midst of my continuing ever increasing pain, I had my feeding tube replaced back in October of 2023. As an immediate result, nothing changed. Heck, for that matter, the vicinity area pain only worsened since that most recent tube replacement experience.
But whatever. Doesn't matter. Everyone has pain in their life. Physical. Mental. Emotional. You know what I mean.
I don't want to be that person, the one who drags others through their own luck and misery.
It's like that horrible cover song by Metallica, “Turn the Page” - Remember Bob Seger? He did the original, along with his Silver Bullet Band. Hi ho silver!
Woof Woof
Right now, the dog park is sprawled out before me. I rode around in my wheelchair for about an hour, looking for a shady place to hang outdoors. And, I found this place, beneath a scantily clad Palo Verde tree.
When you think about it, everybody's beneath something or somebody. That's the way humanity works. So basically, I'm enjoying several slivers of shade. Thin leaves doing their best, existing amid the typical low water usage desert landscape.
My next objective is to go someplace else. But it's warming up a bit too much. And more than that, the intensity of The Sun is burning level hot, so much so, that it's blonding my hair where I sit.
Either way, I need to force the issue. I hadn't really been out of bed much in the past couple of months, and based upon the currently favorable, but soon to be unfavorable forecast, I shall be relegated to the upstairs of the condominium before you know it.
Persons of Interest
The ex-wife is looking forward to having me upstairs, while also realizing that I'll be, in essence, grounded. But she's had to march up and down those stairs all too often in these recent five months, anytime I need water, or whenever she comes down for a social visit.
But with her former job lost, she's now employed as a temporary worker. And if she manages to get hired full time, the likelihood of us moving into another place increases. You see, the lenders have this thing, where you have to have a stable source of income before they'll sign you on for a home loan.
One obstacle in finding a new home is that there aren't many available overall. And then, there aren't many available that are single floor - specifically, a ground floor. After that, the difficulties continue on into the night.
Selling the condo won't be difficult at all. It may take a week. Possibly two weeks. We've got a plethora of California imports moving on in, buying up all the real estate - and then, this time of year, tens of thousands of snowbirds are still lingering, holding onto some semblance of warmth before heading back to the cold, flat, and boring northland. And the longer they linger, the more likely it is that they'll purchase a permanent winter home.
Unlike the way they suffer the cold, we suffer, too. All summer long. Five months in excess of 100° fahrenheit.
Speaking of the desert, we've had nearly seven inches of rain (in my locale) so far this calendar year. Normally, for the entire year, we receive approximately eight inches of rain. Total. Along with that rain we’ve had pleasantly cool temperatures. Mind you, I'm not complaining.
This coolness has allowed me to stay in the garage longer than I anticipated. But by the middle of next week, the warm up is coming. Three consecutive days in the 90s. Yikes!
Right now, what I'm doing is sleeping with the garage door partially open at night. It cools off nicely, allowing me to get as chilly as I can tolerate.
Isolation Chamber
Besides the wife, I've not had much contact with anybody in the past number of months. A certain percentage of neighborhood folk believe I am homeless. Or worse. Hmmm… I'm not sure what's worse, but apparently, they believe I fall into that category, likely based upon my physical appearance, and perhaps attributed to my non-typical behaviors while I am out and about.
I suppose it seems odd to just about anyone else that a wheelchair bound person would purposely choose to spend their time stationed in random parking lots, or affix themselves to a sidewalk, quietly watching traffic pass by on the well-traveled roadways.
But really, there's no place else to go. I don't eat. So restaurants and bars aren't part of the equation. I don't go shopping, because there's nothing I need to purchase. Plus, most importantly, there's no shade to be found at the nearby park, so I cannot lounge there. But I would. I swear it.
So these well-meaning people offer me food, shelter, and suggestions on how to get off of drugs. Hell, little do they know that I actually WANT drugs! But I can't get any. Not the kind that would help ease the pain. Which again, as I've noted, has been greatly diminished in the past week.
Pause
My park experience was interrupted due to my mother's phone call. As it currently stands, she's unhappy with her living situation. Many reasons. A smattering of details. But at least right now, there's one thing that brings her joy. And that's watching the Phoenix Suns play basketball on television. For some reason, she's recently latched on to the sport. Which is a good thing - gives her something to look forward to in the evening. Plus, it gives us something to discuss the following day.
Joy
Oh, I finally found another shaded spot, adjacent to the Bureau of Land Management outfit.
Moments later…
Oh great, now I've got someone stalking me. Perhaps. A person of unknown origins is now parked directly behind me. If they're not stalking me, maybe they're having sex by themselves (or with an unseen partner). Or maybe it's drugs. Car trouble? Car solutions?
“That's right, instead of having car trouble, I'm experiencing car solutions.” - a local car dealership espouses during their TV ad.
Alright I'm going to start rolling along here. If this person is planning to shoot me, or simply run me off the sidewalk, I don't want to give them time to build up their courage.
Minutes later…
It turns out the Stalker Dude, the one in the pickup truck, was enjoying a triple cheeseburger and fries, and probably … onion rings - basically, all kinds of greasy stuff. How do I know what he was eating? Because discarding the unwanted toppings and used napkins onto the street seems to be his calling. So I suppose he simply needed an isolated locale to eat, while also making America ugly.
By the way, did you know and realize that 70% of Arizona drivers use their turn signals regularly?
Well, it's true. You've got to believe me on this. I often perform my own surveys, of sorts. It's an ongoing project. Also, it's something easily noticed while directly observing driving habits.
So that may not seem all that bad, or that good, but that's most assuredly the percentage I have tracked in recent months.
Also
One in ten drivers are distracted drivers. Yes, the ones moving along at high rates of speed, are also playing with / monitoring their electronic devices.
I nearly got hit by one traversing The Cave Creek intersection. That was a week ago. A teenage girl. To make matters worse, she was in the turn lane, navigating with her kneecaps. Clearly, a talent to be reckoned with.
Back at The Dog Park
Now I've got a pair of villagers in my sights, and they are freaking the fuck out. You see, it is no longer yesterday. I'm back near the dog park, underneath another Palo Verde tree, facing the opposite direction. Not much shade, but it's the best I can do.
Here comes the blue tarp!!! Meanwhile, the guy on the bicycle is totally sketching out. He left, came back, and now he and his paranoid partner are corroborating. Collaborating? Will explain later….
Ending
I hope that some of you out there are improving. Because really, what else is there?
Take care,
Howard
Adjacent to the Marijuana Store
After the Flood
Where the Dogs Are
I've got a fair amount of pictures that I'll save for later ---
