I have no control of my laptop desktop anymore. I've filled it up to to the max, I have no room left, and I've totally lost track of what I have there.
I've got folders full of shit, that I don't remember putting there. Photos and text mostly, a lot of which has made the blog, but the rest I don't know.
I should probably just do a Ctrl A and delete the whole fucking desktop, but I lack the balls.
Speaking of which, I should probably have my blog removed, ground up, and injected into my prostate. The words are totally useless at this point and just getting in the way.
It's tough being an old man. I remember what it was like to be a real man, I could fuck a women to a great orgasim, and be proud to do so.
Now it's been a decade or more since I've been with a women, and I don't care anymore.
Fuck it...
I loved you and it has been a privilege and a true pleasure to have known you. We've had great travels and adventures together for the last fifteen or more years, and I'm so sorry you are dead.
You were recently hauled off to the junkyard and stripped down to parts, after blowing your engine. The final step occurred today as I spent three hours at the Florida DMV getting your registration and plate retired from the system. You now officially no longer exist.
I had to do this before Dec 9th or my drivers license would have been suspended. So I walked into downtown this morning, joined the DMV que and then had Eggs Benedict at the Ruby Slipper. A couple hours later you were declared dead to the State of Florida.
Goodbye Jill.
Those are my grandmothers blankets btw, which are now on my bed.
Neurology deals with the diagnosis and treatment of diseases involving the nervous system, which comprises the brain, the spinal cord and the peripheral nerves.
Shelby drove me to, and sat in on, our first visit with neurologist Henry Porter. It was at a medical building in a busy area of Pensacola and the place was hopping at 1305.
I loved the guy, older, real, funny, and he wasn't pushing a pill agenda. But he did recommend a couple of over the counter vitamins, B12 and Magnesium Glycinate.
He had my medical records, he knows about my fall and strokes and whatever. He had my blood work from the new Primary care doctor that I saw here a while back.
It looks like, thanks to Shelby, that I am now integrated into the medical system around here. Copays are low as are the meds, and I have great insurance.
I've also run out of reasons to piss and moan about the sorry state of my old Parkinsons body and damaged brain.
I went into this meeting with an attitude, I was going to demand an MRI, find out why my body vibrates every second of my life, why are my legs giving out, and why do I always have a dull ache on the top of my head?
I told him what my issues were, then he's looking at my chart, checking my heart and lungs with his scope, and putting me through some physical tests.
Then he tells me I'm in good shape for a 78 year old guy with Parkinsons, and I ain't nearly that bad as I whine to the world that I am.
He recommended medical marijuana from a local place for the vibrations, and a skin doctor to cut the Basal Cell off my head to stop the headache. We made appointments for an MRI and something else.
Shelby mentioned vodka, and he said Yea, cut that stuff out too. Maybe there is still hope for me, quit feeling pathetic and worthless, stop drinking, and get a life again.
Life is interesting here in the Cave. Big old Molly the dog is in the living room laying on the covered couch. I tried hard to coax her outside this morning, to no avail.
Later on I picked up four big stinky turds off the floor inside the front door. Then I convinced this big old beautiful dog to let me slide a dog chain around her neck, walk her out to the grass at the Cave back door, and take a piss. It went fine.
As the sun came around the building she and I were hanging out on the porch. I had the front yard dog cord around her neck, and we were just chillin.
Suddenly two Pensacola cops came into the grassy area below the onramp where John lives, from opposite directions, right in front of us. They approached my neighbor in a friendly manner and had a nice chat.
About a half hour later John is still walking back and forth between the cops, up to his onramp home and back, while they chat from their drivers windows.
Molly and I were watching intently, but nothing happened, the cops drove away, and John climbed up into his miserable room for the night.
Homeless life in America sucks, and a lot of our citizens suffer. There is only one recourse, we help them turn their remaining moments alive into something of value, and they can pass on with some dignity.
I have a new roommate named Rodney. He comes from a law enforcement family and was an officer for a while. The rewards were not stacking up to the effort so he moved on. Now he's got his own power washing business.
We had a very nice get to know each other chat in the living room of our shared place last night. Swapped a few stories and had a couple good laughs, I think we'll get along just fine.
We talked about women, the bane of the male human species, and how our attraction to them provides the continuation of our species. How did we evolve to this amazing physical state of reproduction?
Hitting a strip club together in the future, also came up. I said I'd think about it, as I stumbled towards the stairs leading up to my bedroom, hoping I can make it up there...
I feel fucking miserable, I'm not enjoying life, and I should just be put down. Why doesn't our society treat us old hurting people like we do our animals?
I remember my cat Piper's life before I ended her suffering, and she was fucking miserable. I held her while the vet injected her with death. She let out a loud goodbye meow and went limp in my arms. It was the hardest thing I've done within recent memory.
I took her back to my little home in Tennessee and buried her below my front window. Then I drove up to the nursery and bought a beautiful small bush and planted it over her.
There was nobody there but me as I said goodbye. A couple weeks later as I was getting out of bed, she called out from the other side with a loud peaceful meow that echoed thru the house. It came from the direction of my old desk where she used to lay, watching the creek and the wildlife below.
It was her way of saying thank you, that she was free from misery, and that she was still out there, and happy.
Shelby say's I need to get out there, do stuff, make new friends! You bet my sweet grand-daughter, I'll stagger right on that. Hey, I got a short bike ride in yesterday and didn't fall over, but that's about all I've got left.
In the meantime I'm seeing a local neurologist tomorrow. I wonder if it's going to be one of those sit there and listen to your issues visits, perscribe some new meds, then send you out the door to Walgreens.
Or can I get a real solution out of it? And it ain't about quiting the shit that gets me drunk and stoned. All that does is soften everything and make it bearable while I wait for the needle, which is obviously not coming.
A/I takes your query and performs hundreds of millions of evaluations within milliseconds of every word you write, or ask, against the massive amount of human knowledge that it already knows, which is increasing exponentially every millisecond.
I started my computer journey in 1969 at the old Merritt College on Grove St in Oakland, CA. I took the only computer courses they offered, which involved antiquated sorting equipment, with wires!
For the next couple years I expanded my knowledge base, and just when I was getting ready to graduate with an AA degree in computer science, IBM released the System 3, Mod 10. It was a revolutionary mini-computer aimed at small businesses, and they developed a language called RPG, which stood for, of all things, Report Program Generator. But they had nobody available to write software for their business clients.
Then Merritt College purchased one as I was ready to graduate. I was running the lab at that time, I said the hell with graduation, and stayed on for one more year.
I mastered that machine. I learned RPG as it evolved into an amazing computer language, I developed software that ran the schools accounting, then I graduated with a three year AA degree.
As I hit the SF Bay Area market I landed at a medical billing outfit, where a brilliant woman taught me Level Breaks in Cobol. I transferred that technique into RPG and my career took off as a Sys 3 consultant across the Bay Area.
I had amazing adventures through the seventies that would fill a book. When the early eighties arrived I embraced the new IBM PC and another decade of computer madness ensued.
Now I sit on a porch soaking up the Florida sun, with a slight headache that never goes away, a vibrating body, and legs that are giving out on me. I've got a neurology appointment tomorrow and maybe I can find out what's happening.
Yesterday the new dog in the house was standing tall behind the folding fence when a gang of teenaged punks came running through the neighborhood. They grabbed the electric bike that was sitting next door and tried to take off with it, but when they saw big Molly they dumped it out front and split.
I've got a couple of new roommates. Rodney is a cool guy that's renting out Shelbys bedroom, and he's got an old Great Dane named Molly. She's sixteen, tall, and has cancer.
Rodney said she's hard to walk and may take off on me, but I'm sure I'll find out.
I've blogged about this before, and maybe a rare few of you have heard this story, but it's time to tell it again.
I was living with my family, a mother and father, a younger sister and an older brother, in a very small town called Floriston. It was on the side of a mountain along Hwy 40, just over the border into California from Reno, NV. We did our shopping in Reno, and us kids rode a school bus into Truckee, thirty miles away.
I figure I was about seven or eight, which would put the time frame in the early fifties. One day my older brother Dana and I took off into the mountains with these cool jungle hammocks that were designed to be hung between two trees and had a bug proof netting.
I don't know how we got them, but they were cool and we wanted to try them out. Imagine two young boys and their dog hiking way up into the Sierra Nevada mountains, to spend the night.
We found a nice clearing and hung our hammocks between trees, about fifty feet apart from each other, and went to bed. Our dog slept across from me with my brother.
In the middle of the night I woke up, and our campground was lit up. I looked over at my brother's hammock and it was empty, and our dog was standing next to it and barking loudly. I looked out the right side of my hammock and up into the night sky.
The memory of what I saw is still burned into my brain. There was a very bright round glowing object hovering over our campground. Suddenly I experienced the most amazing thing, a large mountain lion walked under my hammock, and I passed out.
When I woke up it was morning and my brother was back in his hammock. I have no memory of us talking about what happened, but Dana was never the same again. He had been abducted that night and it fucked up his life from that moment on.
I'm lucky it wasn't me, and I'm still able to sit here and write about it. I am so sorry my brother that this happened to you, and maybe one day we can talk about it, on the other side.
Shelby's been saying I need a kitten for a while now. I just had a DoorDash Big Mac and fries, so I might as well have a kitten. They're good, if you skin them properly.
Actually, the truth is, I'm a cat guy. I've had a few and recently had an amazing cat named Piper. She came into my life back in Idaho and left it in Tennessee, a couple years back.
I just searched this blog for Posts referencing Piper and I came up with fifty in Tennessee alone. There are just as many on my old blog when she showed up on our Idaho deck about twelve years ago.
When she died I swore I would never replace her, but now I think maybe I'm ready. I softly pushed the Go button with Shelby today and we'll see what happens next.
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