A lot of people and family have bailed on me recently. I suppose this blog, where I share my life with the world honestly, because I have the balls to do so, has had everything to do with it.

Ya know what? I'm beginning to really not give a flying fuck! I've blogged about my life almost every day since June, 2019. I also didn't enable comments when I created this thing, which kept it from becoming a social media platform.

I would estimate that 15% of my Posts stay up overnight until I trash them the next morning. I guess it just feels good to write when I shouldn't, and sorry when I wake up and realize that I did.

When I send a new blog post link to someone, I do it intentionally, there is no automated list. After a while of not getting a response, I stop.

Now I'm running out of contacts, friends and family from my past. I write a new post and then wonder if there's anybody out there, that really cares.

What the fuck am I doing?

Shelby and Amy mosied into the mancave this morning, with their freshly delivered Starbucks. They went out last night and did the town with their crew, and kicking their feet up on my table on a cool morning is just what they needed.

They got my neighbor Dan on video last night, playing piano and singing great, in a couple of clubs. I knew Dan was a local performer but after Shelby cast his stuff to my big TV, I'd never heard him, and he's great.

I got to know Amy better. She's the tall one on the left in a recent photo, next to the short one. She and Shelby met years ago here in Pensacola and have been friends since.

I met her once before when we were in Tampa but never really got to know her. Now I've done a road trip and a Cave chat with her, and she's great!

My initial age impression was late forties, fifty max. Turns out she will be sixty this year, and when I hugged her goodbye today, her body was very firm.

She has a prestigious job with people she likes down in Naples near the Florida southern tip. She would love to get a new job here in Pensacola and move back and so does her daughter.

I feel like I've made a new friend, and it's a pleasure. She and Shelby have left to attend this Mardi Gras thing with a big crew of women, and then she's flying home tonight, via Atlanta, GA.

I consider myself an intelligent man, and I've been having intelligent conversations with beautiful women lately.

I like it.

I've been on a great road trip today with Shelby, Chelsea, Amy, Amanda and Todd. The goal was to drive up into Alabama somewhere and play Top Golf and party.

We stopped at the southern Alabama Bucky's for fuel and snacks first. What a zoo! Todd and Chelsea jumped out and ran in for snacks as we tried to cross over the exit lane to the fuel pumps.

Our snack bearers returned and stopped traffic so we could get across. Then we drove to some huge mall in Folley, AL to get our names in for the final contestant drawing of the Taylor Swift concert, being held by a radio station set up in the mall.

We scanned our phones in and the drawing was in fifteen minutes so we hung around until we lost. Then we walked over to the sports bar and Todd bought us all Lemon Drop Shots. Then everyone was hungry so we ate some great southern food and some amazing wings.

I stuck around the sports bar and met some nice people while they went shopping at the mall. Then Todd drove Chelsea's amazing driving assisted electric car with a big screen computer in the middle, back from Folley, AL to the home here in Pensacola.

It's now 2200 on a Saturday night here and I've walked the dogs around the block while everyone's split for a party on the town.

Amy is visiting for the weekend and she's a tall hot surgical P/A. She was talking about women my age craving some hot sex but all the men around them have croaked. She mentioned giant clits on her patients caused by something, and a drug that is now being injected into clits to improve the orgasm.

It's tough riding along with kids in their thirties. They talk about sucking and fucking like it's just part of life, and it is. Because I'm becoming a sexy man again they just assume I get layed whenever I want to. The truth is, it's been more than seven years since I have.

I need to work on that...

Life in the mancave is fun, but the gnats and the flys are a pain. The gnats fly in front of my eyes so I slap my face to kill them. Sometimes there are no gnats, just big black spots on my eyes rolling across my vision, so I just slap myself for nothing.

The other problem is flys. Shelby bought me a fly zapper but I ain't zapped any yet. I'm constantly chasing them away from the rim of my cup.

This morning I sucked something through the head of the Pink Penis Straw, and I suspected what it was. Sure enough, I spit a dead fly out.

I guess we now know how pink plastic penis straws orgasm.

Here's a poker game from the other night with Shelby and Todd.

Well, if my old body decides to make a personal visit to the ground, and I need medical assistance, I'm in a good spot. Shelby's friend Amy just got here from Naples, and she's a surgical P/A. Now nurse Chelsea has just rolled in.

I'm surrounded by hot professional women. Well, not really, I'm hanging in the mancave and they're in the house.

I just went inside to grab a shot for the blog, but the vibe was mellow and private. Maybe later...

My grand-daughters grand-mother got my cherry. Her name was Jenny Arcuri and I met her at a church in Paradise, CA. We even got married when she got pregnant, the church insisted.

It was crazy times, Jenny disappeared, never saw her again, and I started college as a single dad. And now I'm living with our grand-daughter.

I see that moment, where a young guy inserted himself into a girl for the first time, and ultimately creating life, as the formation of the large family I now have, and know so little about.

I'll be seventy eight in five days. My body is lean, mean and tan. The ladies I got stoned with today thought I was Shelby's dad, how about that...

I was rocking out and dancing in the mancave today, with my back to the entrance. I wasn't expecting company, but suddenly I heard a couple female voices behind me.

As I turned around, there were two hot women standing there, enjoying my moves. I cranked the music down and said hi. Then they asked me if I would get them stoned.

Seriously. I knew one of them, and her cute friend is watching the place while she and her husband visit New Orleans. I told them they could drop by anytime and get stoned with me.

Then we got real stoned in the mancave, blasting hip hop out into the parking area. I went into the house and pulled Shelby away from her job computer. As we walked towards the cave she started lecturing me about bringing women off the street into the cave just to party.

Actually, from the laughter and chatter coming from the cave, I understand her concern, but we all ended up hanging out, so I guess everything's cool.

My days have been interesting lately. I've been walking around my Pensacola neighborhood a couple of times in the morning, while the sun is hot, and my mind is not lost.

The last two days, at the end of my second walk, I've stopped at the local bar. I've developed a history there, so I limit myself to one drink. The bartender Brooke is pretty and runs a good show. I gave her this link today, hi Brooke!

Then I mosey on home shirtless, working on my tan. Shelby thinks I have a crush on a lady that lives across the way, but I do not. I teased the lady today about her dinner date with her neighbor yesterday, since I see everything from my garage door. She said it was alright, but didn't sound too enthused...

I have no romantic interest whatsoever in the woman, but if she want's to enter the mancave anytime and shoot the shit, fine.

I actually have no romantic or sexual interest in anyone at the moment. Sometimes I feel like my sexuality may come alive again, and I embrace the thought, but I honestly don't know anymore...

I've been wondering what life would be like if my cash income was $500 to $1,000 every day, in today's society.

As the seventies ended, my standard billing rate was $65 an hour. I was kind of famous for that because I started that rate on my first big IBM Sys 38 contract with Interocean Steamship, and kept it there for years.

As my reputation grew, people knew they would get a state of the art system, and they knew how much it would cost them. I was very busy in the San Francisco Bay Area, as the eighties arrived.

One day, the owner of a local bus charter company contacted me. His new business model was to pick up Japanese families at SFO, drop the women and kids off at fancy hotels downtown, then take the men to the strip clubs.

After the men got good and drunk, with all the tities in their face they could handle, they were picked up and taken to the hotels.

The idea caught on big time and business began booming. The charter company already had a stock IBM Sys 38, running accounting, routing, and everything else. But they needed a custom module to plug in and handle this new line of business.

And they needed it right now. I told the owner it would take two weeks to create the mod, but I was booked solid.

He was well aware of my rate reputation and asked me what it would cost to put all of my current jobs on hold for two weeks, and do it.

I told him $250 an hour in cash, payable at the end of each day. He agreed, and every day as I was winding down, I told them how much time I was billing, and the cash was handed to me by the receptionist as I walked out the door. In an envelope...

I usually put in eight hours so that was two grand in my pocket every day.

On a side note, I didn't respect the whole thing. The idea that the men were the providers and since their women were notoriously lacking in the boob department, they deserved a night at the strip clubs.

I was married for ten years to a brilliant Japanese woman named Marci, graduated second in her class from UC Berkeley. She had small tits but they tasted good. So did the rest of her.

What is a partner? It's someone you share your life with.

When you're down, you bury your face in their lap and cry.

When you're up, and strong, you offer it back.

I can't remember my last good cry, much less in the lap of a partner I loved.

When your brain gets hurt you start grasping at every memory you have, and try to store it, somewhere you can get it back.

I'm finding this happening to me. Fortunately most of my past memories are intact, while recent ones apparently have nowhere to store themselves, and they're getting lost.

My sweet grand-daughter Shelby has rescued me from suicide by vodka and given me this moment. We are now partners in forming a life here in Pensacola, FL.

God, I've been sharing so much honesty and emotions with her, and I love her so much, but she is not my partner.