I'm really blowing it lately, pretty much out of control. I'm drinking half a liter of vodka daily, smoking seeded weed, writing stupid posts, and I can't seem to get a grip. My apologies...
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I shot a little video of life around my place today, from the perspective of my front door. No editing, just tossed it up there, if you're interested:
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I was up at Number Seven in the Park today, and ended up having a fun conversation with a buddy and a guy eating lunch in his car.
I approached the car because I thought I knew him, I didn't. Turned out to be a nice local guy my age and we started chatting.
It was a beautiful day in David Crockett State Park, probably still is, when a friend of mine rolled up, parked, and walked on down to our conversation.
It was great, three old guys shooting the shit and swapping stories on the best weather day of the year so far.
It broke up after a while, car guy had to split, and we all went our way. It was a fun lunch time at Seven.
I've been programming computers for fifty five years. It all started in Wilson Price's data processing class at the old Merritt College in Oakland, CA, in 1969.
It was a JC and I was only going to do two years, but I ended up doing another year running their computer lab with a brand new IBM Sys 3 Model 10.
I learned how to write code in a language called RPG 3. It was business oriented, designed to be the computer backbone of small to mid-size companies.
IBM sold that system with gusto to the San Francisco Bay Area in the 70's and I was right there to code it.
My first Sys 3 job was with the Mafia, developing accounting software for their shell company, Golden Grain Macaroni in San Leandro. It's where I met my lifelong friend Skoge.
It was the beginning of an amazing coding career. I started consulting, selling my skills for good money all over the Bay Area, and down to Monterey/Carmel.
IBM would install the equipment and call me with the lead. I developed great Systems all over the Bay, from the ground up.
The one in Carmel Valley was built around making a doll with a dick, named Uncle Sherman, made famous by Johnny Carson, called Flasher Fashions. It's where I met my lover Dawn, and my lifelong friend Beryl, living now in Hawaii.
I developed two systems for Interocean Steamship, the largest shipping company on the West Coast, based in downtown San Francisco, in the old California Building.
The first was RPG code running on a Sys/3. It allowed the hundred and fifty operators to manage shipments from their terminals, between Seattle, WA and Long Beach, CA.
A year later they upgraded to an IBM Sys 3, Mod 15 and hired me back to write brand new code. I did and even saved their company at one point.
I was at the top of my game, making great money like crazy! Blowing a bit of it at my favorite strip clubs, before taking the Bart train back to Oakland.
Then the IBM PC came out. I bought one of the first, bailed from the Sys3, and proceeded to write amazing code on that platform, that formed businesses from the ground up.
I ended up in Washington state, loving my boy Riley, coding for a living through the early nineties. Then the jobs dried up, I went homeless for a spell.
I dragged myself up to lead supervisor for a large transit company and continued being Riley's dad, writing code, and exploring the Internet. Then I met Steph, and we ultimately moved to Idaho.
My wonderful successful sister allowed us to live in one of her properties, a three bedroom, two bath log home, on an acre of land at the base of the Grand Tetons. For free the first few years, finally just $500 a month as Steph and I both established good jobs.
Family was there, never should have left. It's where I went from broke, to building up the stash that's now almost gone.
I set up a great office in the smaller room, bought a powerful desktop and a wide screen monitor, and dove back in to coding, when I wasn't working.
I carried that computer here, where I kept on coding, with my cat Piper in my lap. I got a new web host, started this blog, while my coding skills were at the top of their game.
I developed what I thought was a great template that scaled smoothly between phones and computer screens. I bought domains to develop code on, and I made some good ones.
Unfortunately, they never took off. It was then that I realized my coding days were done. I started living at my laptop, writing, only turning my old box on to scan or print something.
So, the story gets better! A while back as I wallowed in pathetic sorrow, I put out to this blog that if anybody wanted my shit, come and get it.
My computer was scooped up in a heartbeat by Hudson, wanted to turn it into a gaming rig. He assured me that he wiped it clean first.
Finally, I was thinking today that my old PC contained everything, every line of code I've written across many websites, over many years.
I could grab some of the code from the server, but why. I'm done! It's all gone.
So do I regret it? No. By submitting that box I wipe myself clean. I never want to code again, just live.
I landed in Kent, WA in the early nineties, from Oakland, CA. What stuff I had left was in storage down in the Bay Area. I flew up to Washington with one of my Jewish investors, a former tank commander with the Israel army. Our business connection had ended and he was off to meet with Microsoft.
I hooked up with Riley and his mom, who had just moved up to Kent. I lived there for many years, starting a new separate life, while raising Riley.
I remember New Years Eve 2000, walking back to their place after a night at the local bar. I honestly never thought I would live into the 20th century, but there I was. Suddenly out of the dark a beautiful woman appeared and kissed me strong, I was her New Years kiss, and I never saw her again.
It's now more than twenty four years later, and I'm still alive. I can't remember the last time I kissed a woman, much less on New Years Eve. Probably Steph since it was our anniversary.
What this has taught me is that setting limits on your life span is foolish. Also thinking you may never be with a woman again, may be wrong.
It's been a great day today. I had breakfast at Pats Cafe around eight. Eggs over easy, hash browns and sausage.
Then I went for a drive, up toward the park, when I called my friend. He was 3.8 miles away, he asked me to pick him up, so I did.
We stoped at a gas station where he bought an amazing array of greasy fried food, that we took back to my place, and he ate it all.
We spent the afternoon stoned. Not messing with anyone, just sitting in my wide open little space at the bottom of a dead end street in a small little house at the bottom of Tennessee.
A women dropped by, I liked her a lot, we talked about websites. Maybe my knowledge will connect again.
It's been a lonely weekend, too cold to go out and play, my neighbors wife has occupied his time completely, while my other friend has no vehicle and ladies to juggle. In other words, I have no life.
I really wish I was stoned, guess I should work on that. The weather is warming up to 70° by Wednesday and maybe a drive to the Thrive Metropolis dispensary up in Illinois would be a good test of the money I've put into my truck recently.
It's a couple hundred miles each way and I could layover in the Rest Area up there. The last time I drove there I took the mystery lady with me, and I've since lost touch with her completely.
I'm running out of reasons to restrain from stupidity. I'm tired of just hanging out with myself, done that too many times over the course of my life. Survival is not living, it's just waiting to die.
Fuck Tennessee, I wish I was back in Idaho, to be around my sisters family. I wish I was back in Washington, to be around my sons family. I wish I could afford Florida, to be around my grand-daughter Shelby.
It was a mistake moving here, thinking I could start a new connection with Stephs family. I fell in love with her grand-daughters, and was ultimately kicked to the curb. Now they've all disappeared from my life, my stash is almost gone, and I am alone and drunk, in a small place on a dead-end street.
I have two friends here, my neighbor Daniel, and a guy that gets me stoned once in a while, that asks to be anonymous. My neighbor has a wife and a life, while the other has no vehicle.
How did such a promising life get so fucked up? I was a computer genius back in the seventies and eighties, at one point making $250 an hour, collecting the cash as I walked out the door. I created great systems that made companies.
Back in Seattle during the nineties I was the first employee of the year for the largest paratransit company on the West coast, and eventually lead supervisor. That's where I met Steph and we ended up moving to Idaho.
It's been an amazing fucked up life. I failed my daughter in the late seventies and she went on to have fourteen children, most of which I've never met.
I really wish I'd had one of those magical lives, where you love and marry a woman, raise a large family, and end up surrounded by them as the patriarch.
But I did not. Instead I'm a pathetic old man, with no family around, wishing I had the balls to end it all, but I don't, and all I have now is regrets.
I've been thinking real hard lately about my life, which is easy because I don't have one anymore. I've shared a lot of it here, probably way too much, but I find that writing about it helps a bit.
I could have just been writing a daily journal all these years, for maybe someone to read when I'm gone, but instead I share my stuff, my strength and my weakness, with the world.
I often dive deep into the weakness part, leave it up for a few hours or a day, and then send the Post to the trash.
It actually doesn't matter to me now what the world thinks. I only have a very few people left in my life, and they know who I am. If the world drops by my blog and reads a Post, well that's cool.
Verbs, nouns, pronouns and adjectives have been floating through my brain a lot lately, describing this point in my life that I have arrived at. I'm going to write them here, and if it's too much, please bail now!
The Physical: Old, out of shape, barely walking, falling. I'm amazed I can still do the things that keep me going, and I'm fading quickly.
The Medical: Parkinsons, Dementia, Arthralgia. The shakes are getting worse and I find myself doing simple things stupidly, and painfully.
The Emotional: Depressed, lonely, regretful, suicidal. I spend most of my days alone and crying.
The Sexual: Wishful, accepting, over. I will never experience a woman again.
The Compassionate: Caring, helpful, generous, non-judgmental. I have this desire to help people in need, and I do as often as I can, unless I find myself being used.
So here's where I've landed in life. It could be much worse, and I'm grateful it's not. I'm going to live my life until it's taken from me. This is my Synopsis.
Kip the homeless guy came by today. The last time he showed up at my door I turned him away. I was still pissed off from a previous attempt to help him, and I just closed the door.
Today as I looked at him in his beat up, living under the local bridge clothes, my humanity to my fellow man kicked in, and I allowed him inside.
I made him a drink and we chatted for a while. I said I was still pissed at him, he wanted to know why, and I told him. No anger or animosity, just stated the facts, and he accepted it.
He's used up every service in the county and they're all turning him away now. His life has been a tormented mess since he was born here forty years ago. I saw the agony in his eyes today.
But I have done what I can, I slipped him a twenty and sent him out the door. Then I sprayed down and cleaned my chair.
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