In Which I Start Out Good, Then Slowly Devolve In The Madness Of The Now.

It is currently a little after 9, maybe 9:30. I have been up since a little after 5. I don’t have a problem getting up that early, what I have a problem with is getting up that early and already feeling exhausted for the day.

I know a lot of it is because I have time-released medication and it is designed for me to be asleep longer than I sleep, so I’m still hitting the tail end of the dosage when I wake up, and I understand that and there’s Jack all I can do about that because the medication is what medication is.

another reason I don’t mind is that I don’t exactly have a busy schedule these days. If I go outside in a given day it’s kind of a wow factor moment for me. I just ordered some things off of Amazon that will help me go out more often, which means I essentially needed a decent pair of shoes, and I’ll least get to go out for walks during the summer because I don’t know what it is, but I am a fat guy who really, really likes to walk. My big on hills, but where I live, it’s mostly flat, and the hills that do exist don’t exactly ramp up in elevation by any significant amount.

now the things are opening back up, I am more terrified than ever then one of us is going to get sick because some idiot who was feeling sick decided that since Best Buy is open all the time now that they might as well get in there and buy the same thing they could have got off of Amazon, or any local electronics store, cheaper.

so I’m going to wait for the people in my life that are far smarter than I am to let me know when it is safe to go outside, and when certain measures can be reduced more than others, and all the various and sundry that goes with that.

I want to say that I’m going to try to get something creative written today, but I know as soon as I’m done with this, I’m going to post it, make myself a huge cup of coffee, and then lie in front of my computer with that feeling of existential dread and ennui and just zone for the rest of the day into weird combinations of cooking videos, sports highlights, and people playing Rimworld.

I’m the only person down here, which I’m kind of a fan of right now, because I’m not in a people mood, but I know they’re here. I know they’re in the house, that whole fear of being alone thing doesn’t kick in and I can just enjoy the quiet without panicking about the alone. Weird, but it’s how I roll.

I wish I could say there was anything else that was on my mind that was of import to talk about, but there isn’t. As I’ve been talking about with a very delightful person, I have these little conversations going on in my mind about things that have to get done with certain things, how to store things how to move things, but even as I speak those decisions of kind of already been made for me and some cases, and the other ones are as easy as a trash bag. If I go out today, which I highly doubt I will, it’ll be purely to pick up a prescription and I’m still waiting for.

you know what’s funny I used to keep my kids home because I was worried about what would happen to them. I was worried that they would go to school and get shot, or get sick, or a thousand other things that happen in public and private schools all over the country.

you know what, I still will keep them fucking home because I’m still terrified of what happens in public schools. I’m still justifiably afraid of sending my eldest son, a person of color, outside to catch a bus when I know that if the wrong cop drives by at the wrong time that’s all that it takes. I’m terrified to send my two younger children, children with severe developmental disabilities, to school because there are some horrible people in the world to just see schools like the ones they go to as prime targets to get the most points with whoever they’re killing people for.

So that delightful thought, I think I’m going to end this and go do some of that internet thing I was just talking about.

just remember that all we have to do is be kind to one another, and that solves a lot of problems. Not all of them, we still have to get rid of things like institutionalized racism and the gender pay gap, and a thousand, million other things, but kindness goes a very long way.

breathe deep, wear your mask, wash your fucking hands, and until next time, I bid you peace.

Winding. Fucking. Road.

This Bitch Is Going To Wander…

One of the things that have hit me the hardest in this pandemic cocktail drink of horror is that I am a very touchy-feely person. I love to hug people most of all and, if I can be a little cocky, I am pretty sure I give good hug. If you are a single-arm squeeze, a bear hug, or of course the patented Bear-Lifty-Twirly hug, I give a good fucking hug. I know it is a pretty minor thing in the long and short of things that people have lost, I am not trying to say it is a trauma, but it is a part of me that I am not allowed to express and that is a thing I am not used to at all.

My kids have been home since the last week of March. Now, if you can do basic math, and only basic math, like me, you know that is a long fucking time for three kids to be trapped in a place. I mean, Elder Duck’s summer vacation is shorter than the time he has been out of physical school. I don’t know what will happen when they all have to disappear and go back to real places again. I want to believe that there will be a mad rush to the door to get the hell out of a place they have been for nearly three-months solid, but Ia m also afraid the little dudes have established a routine so deep that there is a lot of bad things in the wind to get things back to “normal”.

Insert sharp hairpin of a curve…

Do you know what pisses me off? People who think that the opposite of love is hate. As my way smarter than me best friend has been trying to remind me of for the last umpteen years, the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Think about it for a second, just stop for a second, and fucking think about it. What? No, still fucking think about it.

Now a straightaway…

My mental health, while never what one would call a particularly stable thing, has taken a hit over the last little while and I swear to the Goddess herself the next person who tells me I just need to go outside and get some fresh air is going to get my hand to their head. I am not a big fan of outside, but, you know what? I go the fuck outside. I breathe air, I go places because I need to go to them, hell I even go to places that I want to go to. Terry and I drive down by the lake to think and I breathe all kinds of goddamn air while I am out there. Do you know what else is outside? All of the things Ia m allergic to that exacerbate my migraines to the point where I go to bed at three in the afternoon for the day and then feel like a gutless fuck because I didn’t stay awake with my people.

Home Stretch Bitches…

Healing is an insanely personal thing and if I am smiling, or I make a joke or post a damn meme, that doesn’t mean it is “all good” and that I am all set for the Universe. No motherfucker, that just means that I am above water long enough just then to breathe deep and remember why being under the water for so damn long sucks so fucking bad. You stay in your lane about my mental health and I will stay in mine about yours, okay?

Now, I am going to listen to more fucking Weird Al polkas.


Returneth From The Drudgery Of Isolation, In Isolation, I Isolated Myself In.

Let’s try this.

Writing is hard. Not currently, that is a completely different beast. I mean in general. To look into the depths of your stewing think box and extract the exact right verbiage for the situation and to connect over and over again. It is a thankless process too, nothing in me feels an endorphin rush if I do the thing I want to do, it is more knowing that I did the thing that will release me from the panic that slowly starts to build as the words pile inside of me like grain in a silo that is just about full and no market to send it to.

It is not completely without merit mind you, knowing that I have placed a thought, especially a happy one, into someone’s head is a delight for me. I write in a very particular way that people seem to humble me by enjoying, so I try to do my best for myself and them and produce that which I feel would make all of us the happiest we can be with the situation.

You’ve heard the half-hundred metaphors I have used for the words and stories in my head. From the ever-popular airplanes to the less spectacularly worded ‘fuckton-o-things’. They are always there and when they are not pressing against me like a surging tide, they are slowly gathering more and more of themselves so the next wave of them might just break over the lip of the wall of my brain and end up just like the ones you are glancing at now.

I am overly wordy, it is a choice and not a curse. I always have felt the need to say in fifty words what could be said with a non-verbal nod of assent or even an extended middle finger on both hands, preferably after a clever pun about turning something up. I like to see words flow across the page and enjoying them like a multi-course meal that finishes with the perfect dessert of point, or a comical lack of one. It is not for everyone and to them I wish fair feedings at a restaurant that serves their choice of fare, this is mine and I will serve and enjoy what I like, no exceptions.

This morning, which I am fairly certain is a Sunday, the children I call waterfowl are quietly entertaining themselves and the grumpy old man has yet to come down from on high to impart sagacious wisdom on the youth of the world whilst simultaneously telling them to extract forthwith from his front grass patch. Given the state of affairs, it is going to be the same day it has been for months now, and I suppose it is okay because trying to make it anything else is a catastrophe waiting to happen.

My head is firmly attached and, with a little help from a Dragon I know, even shrunk a little. I got a fairly decent amount of sleep so I even feel vaguely human for the first time in a fair bit. Now mind you the cocktail of medicinal powders and tablets I consumed last evening cannot, at all, be repeated for at least another 10 hours, so let us hope the facade of mental and physical health holds up to scrutiny for at least that long.

Speaking of cocktails, while it is a little early for one as I am writing this, mayhap I shall treat myself to one this evening if the pain has not escalated to biblical, don’t look back, proportions. If it has, well, there are always the days that end in Y that come after this one to look forward to.

Tomorrow, with a lot of caveats, I am going to try creativity again and see if I can produce something that I am vaguely happy with. I will try a new thing, as I am wont to do because there are no expectations if I start with a blank canvas.

I’ll also talk about the other thing tomorrow is other than Memorial Day, a very, very not-so-good thing that I need to talk about from time to time.

One thing at a time though.


If You Know, Well, I Love You and I Am Sorry

Jamey, Jamey, Jamey…

You know there is something in the wind, don’t you? You can smell it if you take a second and put down the weight of your crippling self-hatred and self-pity. There is a change coming and you need to make sure that it is the one that is be3st for you, not the one that is best for everyone around you and yet you are stuck in the past while everyone else moves forward…again. You give them the shirt off your back, yay for you, notice how many of your fucking shirts they have now? The best of them wash them, fold them, and hand them back to you with a hug and a smile. The worst of them rip them to shreds and feed the ends through bottles for wicks of the firebombs they attack you with.

The pandemic. Yes, yes the pandemic. Yes, it is a horrible thing being managed by horrible people that has resulted in tens of thousands, soon to be hundreds of thousands, of people dying in this “land of the…” whatever we are now. You’re not the violent overthrow of the government kind of guy. They have a few details about you that prove that remember? Yes, now you do. You’re more of the launch of the subversive website from your living room and encouraging kind of a guy. That is wrong that is not going to get talked about now, however.

Yes love, I know it hurts more than it used to. I know that it is a maddening thing and if I could take it away I swear I would. There is nothing “character building” about any of this and I hope you will keep those appointments that you made when this thing gets to a reasonable level of chaos. They may not be able to fix you the way you want, but they may be able to make you get to a place where you can fix yourself the ways you want.

You are listening to songs that remind you of beautiful women. I applaud you are doing this with none of that “what if” mojo that burns so incredibly strongly inside of you. No, this is just music, and occasionally a face flashes across your heart and you smile and keep listening to the song.

A demon you had been meaning to give a hug to for a very long time has been taken care of and once again you can smile when you think on simple things.

Hai person reading this.

Most people look in the mirror and do the positive self-talk thing, or maybe they don’t need it and for that I am happy.

If I write it down it is a record that at least for these exact moments, I felt good in the ways I have listed here. It doesn’t mean I am “okay” it means that at the moment, for these things here, I am, not not okay. I am clinically depressed, my anxiety is at a near all-time high and I am pretty sure there are some disassociation issues that I desperately need to talk to a psychiatrist about at the soonest possible opportunity.

There are things to be glad for however, not all is sorrow. My Elder Duck is going to end this year with a damn near 100% average in everything across the board, including the arch-nemesis that is the English language. My Connorface smiles brighter every day and my little guy can learn more in an afternoon than I did in my teenage years.

So no, not all darkness, just a lot of patchiness.

What is that is the Persian Sufi poets said?

This to shall pass?

The Mind Of An Introvert In Consensual, Non-Consensual, Social Isolation – Day The Tuesday

I had to go out today. Well, I mean, I didn’t but I did. I went to CVS with Terry to get prescriptions and while I was there I might have bought $40 worth of candy, that I then totally wiped down and sterilized as soon as I got home, then repeated the procedure on myself.

After this, if there is an after this, if I ever see a goddamn baby wipe that isn’t being used to wipe a fucking baby I am going to make it scream in pain like the ashen palms of my hands are screaming as we speak.

A weird sentence I know.

You will note the longer I am in the same house with my children I will become more and more prolific in my writing until a point where I cannot promise that food and water will be as important to me as the tactile orgasm of this little wireless keyboard I have sitting on top of the dead keyboard on this busted ass laptop.

I love my children and them being home is not the issue, not at all. Shit, if you know me at all you know I keep[ my Ducks home too much rather than the other way around. No, the issue is that it is all forced like this.

Now I am not saying we should leave the house, because fuck and that, #StayTheFuckHome.

No, I agree with all of the restrictions if it keeps my Ducks even the most minute amount safer during all of this. Yes, it is inconvenient and annoying to everyone. Yes, I know we are in an economic tailspin, but how are we supposed to be not those things if enough of us get this thing where it is 30, 40, 50 percent unemployment for two decades until the age gap closes again?

I am drinking too much coffee, emotionally eating way too much food and going to bed too late and not getting a lick of sleep until way too early in the morning. It makes for long days, trying days, annoying days.

However, I, like many of you, know someone who has to work in all of this chaos. I know nurses who I cannot imagine are anything short of both terrified and fucking superheroes. Mothers who are so scared they are brave, fathers who are trying everything they can to assuage fears they feel just as strongly.

It can always get fucking worse.

Or, if you are of a slightly Jesus tilt, just remember the old adage. “There but for the Grace of God, go I.” Savor the sweet moments, be strong through the roughest waves, be kind and compassionate to those who do not have the ability to sit at home and work and, most importantly.

Remember this was, at least in part, avoidable and get your ass out to the polls in November, even if you do have to be six feet apart still.