Here's my boy Riley and his family this Easter.

I talked to my boy today on the phone. His mom and grandma were driving down from their places up north, in the Seattle area, to spend Easter with him, his wife, and their two young beautiful daughters.

He sounded good, at peace, and I told him to extend my regards. I know them both well, we raised him into the man he is, and I have nothing but respect left.

My history with them goes back decades and ahh, the stories I could tell. But the bottom line is that they're both alive and well, and treasuring their son and grandson's babies.

I wish I could teleport there now and spend this day with you all. But I have made life choices that have landed me a long ways away.

Son, please read this post to them, pass them my love, and have a great Easter!

My dying neighbor and I, the Parkinsons kid, walked down and slung our legs over the poles that he and a buddy installed years ago to stop erosion.

This creek took out the whole neighborhood back in the Nineties, and for the last few years has floated tubers down it, it's a place I worked for, and now they're done.

Daniel and his wife are hunkering down, I contemplated running up to the hospital to have a Wendy's fish sandwich pumped out of my stomach, and here we are. Happy Easter on our back creek!

Ahh, watching the holiday rush at the airports as people spread out across the country to celebrate their saviors resurrection.

All I care about is that it's going to be in the low eighties here tomorrow, the hell with everything else. I snuck Daniel up to the store for a FireBall today, his wife is next door and cracking down.

I said today that maybe I'll encounter a woman, who want's to hang out with me, one more time. The odds are so low...

So what am I going to do? I really don't know. There are two possible directions, sliding down into nothing until I die, or saying the hell with everything and taking life out in a giant splash!

I dug out a big old air fryer today that I bought a few years back and used once. Then I went to Krogers and bought this family meal package with a boneless beef chuck roast, potatoes, carrots and an onion.

Cooked it up good so the meat would melt in my mouth, turns out everything did, then I sprinkled some red pepper seasoning on it, spilt the small red potatoes in half and slapped on some sour cream.

Then I carried a couple paper plates with food over to Daniel and Jennifer, they liked it.

It's a beautiful Easter weekend here. As I was walking into the store a little girl with a huge smile came running up to me, followed by her mother with a big sign asking for money. She was young, very pretty and I would have loved to just swoop them up and helped them out, but I'm an old man and it would have been strange. So I just gave her some money.

Daniel is suffering from chest pains and a conviction that he's dying from heart disease. He's really old, mid-fifties, and nothing I say seems to lighten his load. There's a Monday appointment coming up at the hospital to discuss stents.

My other friend is off the charts, missing in action. I know his girlfriend is in jail here over child-support issues, and hopefully he's alright.

So happy easter everyone, christ is risen and the eggs are hidden. I used to love this holiday, hiding eggs and notes all over the neighborhood in the early morning, and then dropping off a starter note at Riley's front door, then waiting for him to find me in the end, with a big basket.

Now not so much. I had a great egg hunt here with Steph's grand-daughters a few years back, now they probably wouldn't even recognize me on the street, and that breaks my heart.

People around me my age are dying. I'll be seven in July, with seven decades underneath.

I've really been abusing my old body lately but I think that's just caused by depression over the fact that I have no one to love. And the more I abuse myself, lessens the possibility of that ever happening.

I'm in survival mode. Every morning I swing my legs out of bed to my left and plant my feet square into the slippers I left there the night before, which I don't remember doing.

Embracing the knowledge that I'm a good man. I love and respect most everyone I meet. I have no ill intentions towards absolutely anyone.

Somehow my genetics have allowed me to abuse myself and survive. I've made great contributions to this world, and I've totally messed up a few.

One day in the mid sixties, I was standing in the middle of the desert with my thumb out on Route 66, heading West.

A car pulled over. The driver was a buff good looking guy, two young hot women were onboard, and I slid into the back seat next to one. I was immediately offered a cocktail and the party was on.

Their story was, it all started in New York. The girls were school teachers, and they had time off, a good car, wanted to travel, but neither liked to drive. So they hooked up with this heroin dealer who needed to get to California, and the road trip was on.

We checked into a motel somewhere in Southern CA. and the guy went off with the car to score his dope. I remember that night was the first, and last time I ever did that drug, and then it was just sniffing it.

The guy split the next morning and the girls turned to me and asked if I'd like to drive them through Mexico, all expenses covered, with more female friendship than I could probably handle.

As I look back on that pivotal moment, I wonder where I would be now if I had said yes?

I've had an interesting day and it's only around noon. I've been to Square 40 for breakfast and dragged my neighbor back over for coffee later. Met a regular named Gail and I sat at her table and had breakfast. Talked to a whole bunch of locals, including Daniel's ex-sergeant back when he was a cop here.

I also chatted with a couple of lovely ladies in front of the place, representing the Jehovah's Witnesses. We talked about God and life, for a bit.

Now I find myself the odd man out, sitting at the bottom of my big round table, while my two high testosterone buddies drag out a chessboard and dive in. Neither have played in many years, but they seem to be having a good time!

Me too, my front door is wide open on my quiet little street, I've got an oldies station playing and my two friends are deep into chess.

Daniel got home from work today and drove our friend home. That's how it works down here in the South, we take care of each other. I'm down to a couple friends and I'm worried about both of them.

My neighbor Daniel has become my best friend, and we've been hanging out together for going on six years now. I share him with his wife Jennifer, who has her own home up the road. I like Jen, every things cool.

He was born and raised here half a century ago. Married, had two boys, and divorced. I know both his sons, good men. His ex-wife is like a principal or something within the school system where he's the head maintenance guy. He avoids her, which is easy because there are fourteen schools across many miles.

Daniel is concerned about his heart. I watched him struggle tonight and I share his worry. He will be going down for a while as they put stents in him.

I'm old enough to be his dad, but we are friends straight across the board, and I love the guy.

So, thanks god, I'm glad to be alive, and to just be me...

Clinging to the awning of my porch this afternoon, I saw the tree where Steph's grand-daughters and I played, a few years back. We had a great Easter egg hunt down by the creek one year, I fell in love with those girls, and I'm so sad I lost them.

Life is funny how it evolves! I have so many triumphs and absolute failures under my old worn belt, that I can't count. I have no idea why I'm still alive!

But I am, and still functioning. I take care of myself and my space, nobody helps.

So, what am I going to do next? That's the common question that drives our lives!

Take a sip from my drink and try to get a word out of the guy sitting next to me, buried in his phone.

As my time here winds down, I realize that I would love to have a final gathering, where my vast family from my daughters side, meets my sister's family in Idaho.

Maybe connections and friendships could be made. I miss my family on both sides so much, as I slowly die here alone.

I am the matriarch of this wonderful convoluted family! I wish I had landed better, but I didn't. My sister Lorelle has made a wonderful home for her family at the base of the Grand Tetons in Idaho.

The children that have spun from my lone daughter, have spread far and wide. The child count is fourteen, as far as I know, and I have no idea how many great grand-children I have.

We can land two ways! Complete whole and happy, or separate lonely and lost.

I've been staring at that picture of my older brother, in that locked down nursing home, in the middle of California, seven or eight years ago.

It had been decades since I'd seen him, but I found him, then I road tripped straight there from Idaho one Summer.

He was living on a cot in the back of that home. I had to sign in out front and they wanted to know my relationship to him. Not knowing what was going on, I said friend.

I sat on his cot next to him, and god I wish I had recorded our talk. All I have left from that now is the connection. He knew who I was, his blood, his brother.

Back in Idaho I tried to bring him into our Valley, and failed. In the process, we both lost.

I lost Steph and my sisters family, he lost his life.

When I was young I looked at women as sexual objects first, and possible companions after. As my life leveled out in the middle, I sought both equally.

Now I'm old and everything is flipped. I really don't know if I will ever have a woman in my life again, but if I do, love would be at the top, and sex would be an unrequired bonus.

I've got a date with a man named Dan. He just called and insisted that we watch a specific movie on NetFlix tonight, on my big TV.

I thought about pausing the moment, then checking my busy social calendar, making sure I'm not already booked. But I took a chance instead, and said It's a date!

It was a bold forward move on his part, and I admire assertive men, how could I say no? He's married, not that there is anything wrong with that, but there was no mention of her joining us.

It's a short trip to my place for him, maybe fifty paces, if that. I could DoorDash some food in, but I did that yesterday with a Big Mac, fries, and a milk shake, for $23.60! That's just stupid.

An old buddy dropped by this morning and he looked great. He's in his fifties and still has his hair, lot's of it, everywhere on his head and face. He looks like a wild Harley rider. (oh wait, he is) He's got truck driver grit vibes. (oh yea...)

He's got years of cross country semi driving experience, and his eyes lit up when I told him about the big growers party I attended back in the late seventies, up in the Carmel Valley hills outside Monterey, CA. It's been almost fifty years so I'm comfortable being specific.

These were the scientists that cultivated the products that are now sold legally around the country. Picture thirty to forty grown men, with their long haired hippy wives, walking around a big house with fat hand rolls of their own stuff, looking to share and show it off.

I'm getting buzzed just remembering that night. It was the same place where I took a big bag of leaf from a grower buddy and made the Thanksgiving turkey stuffing with it. Yea, it was an amazing evening, only my lady friend and I knew, and nobody got hurt, just mellowed.

I just learned that Abraham Lincoln was also my cousin.

I've been blogging across two domains for a decade and a half now. Laying my heart on the Net, trying to share who I am, if anyone cared.

I landed in the South six years ago come Fall, said goodbye to my Idaho based blog, and started this one.

I have poured my heart, my soul, my sadness, my love, my everything out to the world from here. I'm an old man that's becoming very real, mostly confused, and longing for love.

My brother Dana ended up in the California Mental Institution system for the last years of his life. He was an amazing and good man. He rescued me from Golden Gate park at the height of the Haight Ashbury, after I overdosed on the original Meth. We had a wonderful but tortured relationship, and loved each other.

I was there when he was abducted by a ship I remember seeing, as we camped out as kids, on the side of a Sierra Nevada mountain. They had him back in our camp by morning, and he was never the same.

There, but for the grace of God, go I. They could have grabbed me, a three year younger specimen, and this old blog would not exist.

It's been an interesting morning. Picked up my smokin buddy and came back to my place, and now I've got a McDonald's DoorDash heading here.

He called a friend this morning and I listened to them talk from my neighboring chair. It was a very nice lady with a great voice, retired military, and she was suffering from some of the same medical stuff I'm going through.

I liked her a lot, and asked to talk to her. We exchanged compliments about each others voices, I found out she is a recent widower, and about ten years younger than me.

She's looking for a three bedroom place around Lawrenceburg, with some storage, and accepts a support dog. If you're local, and know of such, hit me up! (see About above)

I just got text messages from the two most important people in my life.

My grand-daughter Shelby said: Don't stop blogging, and who cares what you post, it's not hurting anybody.

And my son Riley said: I would not be the man I am today without you in my life dad. I credit so much to you, I just wish I could repay you. Anyway possible so that your not lost or depressed. I love you so much and I hate to hear or see you down.

So, on those notes, this blog goes on!

I'm sorry, been writing some really pathetic posts lately. I've now done my best to get rid of the most recent ones, but this blog goes back five and a half years, so I've missed a whole bunch.

A long time buddy just reached out with a scathing email, saying the reason I'm down to just a couple of friends, no woman, and running out of money is because I'm a pathetic drunk.

She's absolutely right, and at least she took the time to ream me a new asshole. Sometimes you don't need to hear what you already know, sometimes all you need is a kind word, not a long lecture.

I could shut this blog down in less than a minute, where all that would appear is the word Done in the upper left corner. All of my visual content, the occasional good post, and all of the stupid shit, would be gone.

But I'm not going to do that, I'm going to try and leave it right here for a while. I'll try to stop making a fool of myself, because old pathetic drunken idiots should not have the right!

It's been a messed up day. I went into town for supplies at Krogers, ended up buying just three jugs of water. Took the backroads home because they were shutting 43 down to two lanes for some reason.

My smokin buddy called and wanted to hook up, never did, that would require me driving to his place, and all I wanted to do was go home and drink.

Daniel came over for a while and I was abusing him with videos from my YouTube channel while searching for the total eclipse video in Driggs, ID a few years back. He walked out, saying he'd seen all this shit, and the video of the plane flight from San Pedro to Belize made him ill.

So here I am, 1700 on 3/22/24, in a hick town in Southern Tennessee. I only have a couple friends here, and I'm beginning to wonder why I still have them.

I am alone in my small place. Staying alive for some reason, miserable, crying, muttering what the hell.

I know that with all my achievements in technology, I should have landed way better, but I have not.

I was telling Daniel that it has been more than seven years since I've held a woman's breast in my hand. The sad truth is I have landed on a dead-end street as a lonely old man, savings almost gone, and I am broken.

Erica trimmed everything on my head, except my goatee, down to nothing today. She works on consignment at Kim's Hair Salon, they really don't have a front desk there, and I was her Thursday morning appointment.

She is also Daniels hair dresser and it had been so long since she's seen me, she accused me of cheating on her to him the other day.

I made it up to her today as the hair fell from my head. She told me her grandmother is near her end, and she's my age. She has a great family, an eighteen year old, eight and nine year olds, and a two year old!

She's also very pretty with light blue eyes. Daniel and I are lucky to have found her, and followed her from the beauty college to this new spot at Kim's.

I was very honest with her today, and like a good hair cutter, she listened. I told her my drinking is out of control, don't remember the last two evenings, probably won't remember tonight.

I've been trying to figure out why I'm such a mess lately. I landed here going on six years ago, with my best friend, the woman I loved. She had family here, two granddaughters I was looking forward to watching grow up.

They've all been gone from my life for a while now. I have no family here, and I'm just a heartbroken old man.

If I don't write it down here, I won't remember life. Some things I'm sorry I remember, and they go in the trash.

I'm really depressed, don't even remember going to bed the last two nights. But I remember my hair appointment with Erica today at 1000. I haven't had hair cut from my head since she did it before Christmas last year.

If I wasn't so anti-suicide, I'd cancel that appointment. As it is, I have no choice.

I just learned that George Washington was my cousin.

And Daniel shared this picture of his co-workers having fun at work yesterday.

I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I'm sure this is how we've all felt at one time, because we're all human.

My self softens into nothing, my friend becomes quiet and peaceful, and here we are.

I wrote the above, last night, of a day that I just discovered, I don't remember. The neighbor had to be Daniel, I'll check when he gets off work.

But I touched base with my smokin buddy today, laughing about speeding down his driveway yesterday and sliding to a stop at his door. He remembered it very well, except it was the day before.

Which officially means I don't remember yesterday at all. My friend mentioned coming by with his brother last night while Daniel was there. I was on the ground out front at some point, Daniel said just leave him alone, he'll pick himself up, according to stories.

Today I remember so far. Bought some meatloaf and veggies at Legends, their first customer at 1030. Hit the Park, ran into a guy named Jerry who I've met before up there. We chated about old campers on old trucks, owned by old guys.

It's so weird to lose a day of your life. Tomorrow is important, I will be hooking up with the beautiful Erica at 1030. She has the most amazing light blue eyes, a true southern sweetheart, and she is going to cut most every hair off my head and face.

I have not cut a single hair off my head (ok, shaved a few off the top) since she did it before Christmas last year, along with the Christmas Nails.

I'm a mess, and I'm hoping she can bring me back to life. She has moved on from the Beauty College and landed at a great beauty shop in the middle of town.

I had to book this appointment last week, she's our new popular hair stylist in town. She asks about me every time Daniel goes in, and she's about to get my wild ass hairy head tomorrow!

I grabbed a snapshot from a video created back in Oakland, CA, when Riley was just a baby. Just wanted to let the world know I've been there from the beginning, I stood outside the delivery room and they placed him in my arms first.

It's been a true honor to be Riley's dad. We've had fun times together, he's grown into a fine man, a great husband, and a wonderful father. I love him.

I think my grand-children got their pretty gene from me. My mom and dad were good looking people, both representing strong lineages, across the mid-west on my moms side, the south on my dad's side, spanning centuries.

Here's my grand-daughter Shannon from one of her model shoots.

I mossied up into town today around 0930. I was hoping that some wonderful persons had set up a, I don't know what you call it, a trailer with people cooking food inside.

I missed one a while back, I was eating a terrible fast food fish sandwich, while watching folks buy lobster meals from the back of the truck next door.

No food trucks so I just kept going and did a shop at Krogers. Back home, Daniel asked me if I would like to drive up to the store with him. Well, of course!

He had just had his ride detailed, looking pretty, full tank of gas, early in the afternoon of a St Patricks Sunday.

So Daniel, a man who was born and raised here, and has lived his entire fifty six years of life here, turns to me and says where would you like to go?

I said somewhere I've never been and for the next hour or so we were cruising Iron City backroads that blew my mind. Places so far off the grid that the only time the police would show up, is when they absolutely have to.

We ended up at a bar called Parker's Place down on the Alabama border. Daniel and I were both wearing cowboy hats and probably looked like a father/son act as we came through the door. We hung out, had a beer and decided the best thing to do was to set the GPS to Home.

Here it is around 1800, door wide open, birds thanking me for the seed. I am alone. Suddenly the phone rings and it's a voice from Tampa, my favorite grand-daughter sending her love my way.

The truth is, I'm really beat up. I've been trying to hide it, but I'm a broken man. I think that's what drives me to write, I need to capture and save whatever I can, just in case somebody cares down the road.

Riley had a childhood friend growing up in Kent, WA named Andrew. He was my friend also, as were his parents, Sheila and Brad. He spent a lot of time at my place and apparently saw me as some sort of technology guru.

He's reached out and we've talked recently. Turns out he got into tech and says I gave him the inspiration to do so. I just got a voice mail from him that said:

Would you be against the idea of me visiting you? I know I'm not family, but still, 30 years later I still see you as my non biological dad.

Wow, I'm honered and of course I said yes, it would be great to see him. Here's a shot I grabbed of him from a video link he sent:

It's a good thing Riley and Jess have a new baby, because this one is taken.

She's watching, she's learning, from her master craftsman father!

Until they merge together, safely and at peace...

This is my mom in Long Beach, CA, the Fall of '46. My dad was a sailor and he had probably split for Texas at this point. One night, she found a sitter and went to a bar, where she met Paul, fell in love, married him, and they stayed together for life.

One night Paul called me, we were all living in Oakland, CA at the time, and he asked me to come over and get my mom stoned. I said sure, we had never done this before, so I grabbed my big bong pipe, some bud, and drove over.

Paul was on a machine for his lungs, shooting vodka into them to get high. He knew his time was near and he had opened up.

I showed my mom how to take a big bong hit and hold it in. We did a couple of those, Paul squirted vodka, their eyes lit up, and they started talking.

I sat there in their kitchen and learned about the meeting in the bar. They both had different memories about some things and laughed about it.

The fact that I'm still here, writing about it, finding old photos that have magically remained in my hands, then enhancing and sharing them, humbles me.

It's 1600 and all I've eaten today is a small bowl of cereal with a banana, early this morning. Not really too hungry, more muncie, so I'm cruising around the local places that have signed up with doordash, and found this.

The total was $19.14, fortunatly Daniel was next door and helped me eat it. It was all good, except the Chimichanga's were advertised as Deep Fried, which implies a thin crisp shell. These were not, they were thick shelled tortillas. I won't order them again, and yes I left a review.

I was the Lead Supervisor for ATC/Vancom, based out of Kent, WA, south of Seattle. We were the largest paratransit outfit on the West Coast and I had several supervisors and many drivers under me.

I worked my way up with them as a driver and won the first Employee of the Year award, becoming supervisor shortly after. Suddenly there was a rift between two factions of management and Rafeh, the big boss, called Jerry, Lance and me into Jerry's trailer and we bonded together to stop the takeover by the other guys.

We won, and went on to build a great company. I was given the lead supervisor spot, and my job was to train new ones. I wrote a great supervisors manual while on vacation in Hawaii with Riley.

I had great adventures at that job, met Steph there, she was the receptionist, and everything was great until the feds swept in, but that's another story.

I been pissed off and saddened that a young guy I considered a friend, made off with my major external drive, when he grabbed my computer. I thought I had lost a lot of old photos, that I've been the family caretaker to.

I was overjoyed today to find that my secondary external drive, had a backup of the old stuff. Shelby takes over my computer and the photos when I pass, now she can retain the history.

Here's your great-grandmother sweety, my beautiful mom and her two boys.

I've been moving videos and photos off my laptop today, onto my external drive, to free up space. I keep running across amazing content that I can't help playing with.

Here's the amazingly beautiful Ariella, Riley and Jess's first born. I can see her as a Lindsay Lohan someday with beautiful red hair down to her waist. I zoomed in and cleaned this shot.

I've discovered a new tool on my Windows 11 laptop, that came with the March update. I've turned it on, and now when I take a photo with my Android phone, a notification appears on my laptop and the shot is available. Sure beats connecting with a USB C cord and copying files over.

In the process I discovered a folder where all screen shots are saved and I found a whole bunch I had forgotten about, that made the blog but are buried with others.

Here's one that came from that great Nashville trip with Jessica, Shelby, Riley and Ariella.

Not sure where this was taken, but I'm getting cleaned up like this next Thursday at Erica's new salon.

Here's another, no memory of where, but I like it.

I was standing on my little porch watching campers across the creek thru the glasses, when a familiar white truck stopped out in front. It was my ex-boss and friend, Ricky Fleeman. He and his daughter Rachel have run the creek tubing company I've worked at across three different Summers.

Ricky and I met out on my sidewalk, and he had someone waiting behind in another truck. These are the guys that put together my landlords new trailer space down on his property by the creek.

They were here to turn things on for Steve, the guy that owns my place and many others around here, whose moving in shortly while his new house is built. He's got a barbecue pit down there, maybe I'll get another invite or two this Summer.

It sounds like Ricky's got a bunch of projects coming up, but Crockett Shoals Tubing Company won't be one of them. They're trying to sell it, but shutting it down for good if they can't. It was a great tourist attraction for this town and it was my pleasure to work with them over five years.

This is my 2,137th Post since I started OldManJim more than five years ago.

I'm finally, slowly, accepting that this is where I was meant to land.

You can think about how a decision here, a mistake there, has dictated your current landing, and maybe you resent where you're at?

I say accept every bit of it, own it, be thankful for what you have. Give when you can, accept when you need it.

I'm grateful to have my life long best friend as company,

On this nice day.

He was telling me how he lost his left arm, but since he can't walk, it doesn't matter.

Here Teddy is when we both were young, and he still had his arm. We were hanging out with my grandmother and older brother.

I had a couple packages of Feel The Burn Crushed Red Peppers that came with Daniels pizza the other night.

I'm making my world famous Tuna and Egg Sliders this afternoon, and after tossing the eggs into the mix, I added a package.

After mixing everything, it wasn't quite there so I added the other package and mixed again.

I love it! A perfect kick, and now it's time to make some sliders.

Great sliders, I thought about Salsa on top, but not needed, they had The Burn.

I've known my son Riley's grandmother for longer than he's been alive. Her name is Sharon, his redheaded mothers redheaded mom, and I still consider her a friend. We saw each other a couple years back and I've talked to her on the phone once since I've been here.

She's up in her late nineties, still going strong and I just want to share with the world, this photo with her great grand-daughters. Love you Sharon.

I love this shot, wise old lady sharing knowledge, smart young mind getting it!

I don't remember buying three fourths of the stuff I own. Like the two small binoculars sitting behind my big TV, that I rarely use.

I have a friend that likes to grab one as he walks through my door and then sits in the other big chair checking out Veterans Park from the open door. I gave him the smaller Bushnell's the other day.

I've decided to have a yard sale this Summer. Take all of the shit in this house that I never use, and lay it out on the grass. Why keep anything that you're never going to use again?

I need to get my life down to a lean and mean state. It's my responsibility to dwindling family on both sides of the country, to make my transition to the other side as painless as possible.

I'd actually prefer it if neither my son Riley or grand-daughter Shelby came here. They're both insanely busy, and the thought of disrupting their lives to wade through my stuff, while getting me converted to ashes, doesn't make sense.

I'll check out if their is an outfit that performs this service, empties the house out, and puts my ashes into a couple of containers. Now if I can pull that off, a Riley/Shelby quick visit to town would be OK.

If anyone did show up, Daniel could hold a little gathering next door, where the few people left in my life can talk about what a wonderful successful guy I used to be, and how I died a worthless old fool here in the South.

Riley and Shelby can put my ashes in opposite oceans, and this chapter is closed.

I've been watching these TicTok reunion videos, where people cry and embrace after years apart. I would totally lose it if my sister or any of her kids knocked on my door.

I'm totally out of touch with this side of my family. My sister brought Steph and I into Idaho and gave us a beautiful log home to live in, which we did for twelve years. We bonded with her kids and their families and now I don't know a single name of any of her grandkids.

Getting a knock and a hug from Steph would be nice, and explain why she disappeared.

It would be amazing to have any of my fourteen grandkids knock on my door, many of which I've never met. I'm working on a Summer reunion but who knows...

If some old friend or lover tracked me down, wow, but that's not going to happen.

I'm an old man living in a small house on a deadend street in the deep South, Nashville above me, hugging the Alabama line.

Honest, honorable, and helpful is my motto. I would love to connect with anyone from my life, drop by and knock!

My neighbor Daniel and I had a fun time last night. He said he was hungry so I brought up DoorDash, slid my laptop over to him, and told him to order whatever he wanted, on me.

So he ordered from Pizza Hut a 14" Meat Lover's Pizza, Hand Tossed, Classic Marinara, Regular Cheese, Pepperoni, Italian Sausage, Slow Roasted Ham, Applewood Smoked Bacon, Beef, Seasoned Pork. This thing cost twenty two bucks, thirty two after DoorDash.

I thought he was going to order a burger, with fries or something! That's alright, I did say whatever and he's bought me a lot of stuff over the years.

He offered me a slice, and the truth is, I hate pizza, ever since my young daughter and I wandered through a pizza joint in Berkeley, CA grabbing leftover slices off tables, to survive. I've avoided it since, for 55 years, as long as Daniel has been alive.

I hadn't eaten all day, hadn't planned on it, but I just spent $32 on this thing, I was a little messed up :-), so I ate a slice. That's the last thing I remember, and I regret it now.

Here it is noon on Saturday and I haven't eaten, I guess I'm fasting while colon cleaning, and the only thing sitting in my gut is a slice of Meat Lover's Pizza!

Something good happened to my old truck today. I needed to run to the liquor store this morning, so I started her up.

She's been going through issues, 250k on her, and I've poured a bunch of my dwindling stash into bringing her back.

My mechanic Thomas has done a lot, rebuilt the Weber carb, new head gasket, there's new plugs and wires, and she should be running great, except she's not been. Hard to start, takes a long time to warm up before I hit the highway, and rumbles for five seconds when I shut her off.

Today, none of those things happened. It's like she pushed a turd that was clogging her up out her tail pipe. Started in an instant, and purred. I let her warm up for a minute, then roared up the hill to the store. She's running trucking great!

Maybe I need a roadtrip.

Nobody knows why I'm so messed up. The truth is, there's only a few people left in my life, that care.

And I won't say why, until someone looks me in the eyes and asks. This isn't blogable.

In the meantime, Skoge sent me an email about her friend that moved to Tahiti. She and her partner Grant were involved in the music business, back in the day. Here it is:

Lopes, He lives on one particular island. One night after a Jimmy B. Show, Grant and his girlfriend went to dinner on Broadway, SF. There was a bottle of champagne on the table in a bucket of ice. Jimmy walked in and sat down at their table, for no reason at all. “This is the table I want to sit at.” Since Grant was a sailor, too, he told Jimmy to go to this one particular island in Tahiti. Jimmy did go, met Bobby, a Polynesian who was Grant’s friend from the Haight-Ashbury (Bobby Holcomb if you go to YouTube). Bobby sang the Polynesian verse. And “One Particular Island “ became a song. Thought you might enjoy this story. The song was written on that island and that’s where our friend Gary lives. He married the daughter of the watermelon man, Poiama. Divorced now, but Tahiti is his home. You would love Tahiti. The food is French and the people are beautiful. The beaches are white, the water is crystal blue. Much better than Mexico, and the Paul Gaugain museum is interesting. Across the bay, a ferry ride, is Moorea. That’s where there is a Fruit Juice factory and they sell fruit liquor. It is delicious. Did you know that Tahitian pineapples are different than Hawaiian pineapples? They have less acid and are 2x sweeter. Sent from my iPad

I was watching a baseball movie with Clint Eastwood in it and the credits showed it was a Malpaso Production. I've been around a long time, and I know that's Clint's movie production company.

I also know the origin of the name Malpaso. I lived and worked in the Monterey/Carmel area back in the mid seventies, and Clint was the mayor of Carmel at the time.

Back in the sixties I was road tripping with a hot girl I had met bussing tables in a Tahoe casino and we spent a week on an amazing beach that could only be reached by a trail off the creek that flowed into it.

I learned later that Clint's ranch was back into the mountains a few miles from there, with Malpaso creek running right through it, emptying into the Pacific at the spot that I called Secret Beach.

Over the years I've taken friends, lovers and family there, and each time it had become less accessible. I'm sure by now it's closed off just to the expensive homes up on the cliffs.

Anyway, now you know the origin of Malpaso.

I used to love Calamari, and Escargot, back when I had teeth. Now they have the McGangbang burger on the secret menu at McDonald. There is no way I would try to stretch my toothless mouth around this thing. I love a good burger, but the options are limited.

I'm thinking about pulling the DoorDash trigger on that build your own burger, and splitting it with my buddy scrolling thru TikToc next to me. Problem is, he don't like sauteed stuff.

It's been a fun afternoon with my door wide open, 70°, hanging out with a crazy man. His phone battery died, thank god, and he emerged from a state of conspiracy theory photo and video emersion, to actually talking!

He wanted to settle a debt, with no means to do so. I told him what I wanted was for him to get his shit together, then settle up like a man, when he can.

I've just run him back to the spot I picked him up at this morning, a left off the back road, just past the car detailer guy, and a ways down the road.

Riley and Shelby! It's off the little road from that pile of old tires on our trip to the Park last Summer.

I'm sure glad the kids got down here to my little place, to see how I live. It's a quiet magical space, with highway noise nearby that you eventually use as background music to your life.

I was telling my buddy that after an amazing computer career in the seventies and eighties, where I made a lot of money, I crashed and burned in a field next to an apartment complex in Kent, WA, in the early nineties. Flat broke and the few possessions I had were stored on the back porch of Riley's moms second story apartment.

That was thirty years ago, and since then my life has twisted and turned, and I landed here. This is where I was destined to be, a quiet stoned little spot where I can document my existence.

It's a strange life I live, I have everything around me to keep me alive and going, barely, but I have no passion, so I just survive.

I wish I had a woman in my life. I'm lonely, I would love to have someone to talk about life with, not about aliens.

I'm real dizzy today, losing my balance. A buddy's coming over to roll a fat one and I'm hoping that will help. I'm on day three of a colon cleanse, not eating much, so I'm sure it's related.

There's a new burger joint in town called Daydream Diner. Last night I was putting together a build your own burger online, because I was starved. I like that approach, I can put things on there that I can actually eat. It was $10, plus $1 for sauteed onions and $1 for sauteed mushrooms, plus $5 to get it here by DoorDash. I left it in my cart, maybe today, seventeen bucks for a hamburger is something I'll have to think about.

Of course, I could also drive there, it's next to Walmart on the North side of town, and I'm running on that Free Gas, and the tank is still almost full.

I got a disturbing email today from my friend Skoge in Sacramento. She spent a week in the hospital with a BP of 220/198, it sounded like a horrible experience but she's alright now.

She told me that they have a friend in Tahiti that has Parkinson’s. He has NO cost. I could marry a Tahitian and let France pay for my care. Best suggestion I've heard in a while!

Daniel was trying to get my dander up tonight, accusing me of being wasted all the time. I asked if he was willing to pay for rehab but he ignored the question and kept on bitching.

Being quite intoxicated himself, it was comical. I do have a normal lonely life, a routine that starts when I roll my feet off the side of my bed early in the morning, thankful to be alive.

My daily goal is to take care of my place and accomplish all external chores by 1100.

Then I start getting wasted. It's my place and my life, I'm not going anywhere and I am bothering absolutely nobody.

There is some magic that occurs within me when I reach a certain state. I make no apologies for anything, I'm not hurting anyone, I'm just finding myself.

I've got the shakes real bad today. Some days my body is a vibrator from head to toe and it's too bad a Giant Woman's Society doesn't exist, I could rent myself out!

I've been watching a NetFlix series called The Resident, where the lead surgeon's hands are shaking, like mine. Not a good thing to have if your cutting on people. The solution is brain surgery.

That sounds wonderful, I'll pursue it! And just before I go under I'll tell them "Remember, if air hits the brain, it's never the same". Just in case I wake up as a still vibrating girl with altered memory...

I realized a while back that my main external drive sitting on the table next to my PC had been sucked up in the grab. The whole thing was turned into a gaming rig, with the drive formatted for storage. I hope they're having fun with it.

Unfortunately, my entire collection of digital photos and videos, my code, and everything else that was on that drive, is gone. The good part is that over the years I've curated all of it, and published the best over two blogs, Flickr and YouTube.

The originals to everything were also there, the source from which all my content came. What difference does it make if it's gone, I'm not going to adjust some old photo or re-edit a video!

All that PC had on it was a history that should have been erased anyway. I just found a smaller drive stuck away that had a bunch of stuff from Teton Valley, a decade ago, I'll call this my empty Tin Cup.

Well, I'm living up to my history of failing to vote in the Primaries. I knew yesterday it was Super Tuesday today, but when I woke up, I had forgotten. By the time I remembered, it was too late to drive there responsibly and perform my civic duty.

If Trump loses Tennessee by one vote, take me out in a field and hang me, I'll tell you to hurry up. As to the other items on the ballot here, I have no idea what they are.

I would actually be doing this State, County, and City a disservice by walking in as an uninformed voter and checking boxes straight down a party line. But I always vote in the Presidential.

So there, that's why I really don't vote in Primary elections, never mind that forgetting thing...

Modern human life exists as a scale of 0 to 99, where a 0 is the sad soul living on a cold big city street with absolutely nothing, not a penny, starving and dying.

A 99 has it all, the billionaires. And between the two is an amazingly relative structure of levels that change as they interact. Back in my early seventies programming days we called these Level Breaks, but I digress.

Your LSN (Life Scale Number), 0 to 99, defines where you feel you're at right now, relative to everyone else on the planet. We'll put Elon and the Saudis at 99.

The decimal, 0 to 99, defines your self esteem at the moment, changing often, it's your how the fuck do you feel about yourself number.

So I'll start it off, my LSN is 23.77. Far from 0.0, where I have been a couple of times before.

I'm living in a nice quiet little place now, stash running out, but still alive and creating a new number system.

My .77 self esteem number represents my levels. There were many moves I made in life that changed my direction, and I regret none of them, because I wouldn't have the ones I love, in my life now.

Self esteem involves integrity, and you have to factor it in from your beginning, to where you are right now.

Mine is damned solid now, just damaged, so 77 it is.

Here's my 23.77 world, with an empty chair:

The only person I talked to today was a good old boy who jumped out of Karen's passenger seat to give me a bag of DoorDash food. He thanked me for indicating I was a new customer on the left of the duplex, in my profile. They've been delivering to my neighbor on the right for a while now.

Very interesting way to make a living, Karen drives while her partner picks the product up, and delivers it. Meanwhile she's juggling the business and new orders on her phone, sitting behind tinted windows at the wheel of her little car.

If I couldn't blog now, I would go mad. It is my outlet, like Acid was in the Sixties. Like creating new computer code and concepts in the Seventies and Eighties was.

Blogging at the most honest level with the world gives me peace, knowing I've documented it. I can go back to any day of well over the past decade and see where I was at, who I was with, what I was doing and what I was thinking.

And on another level, I've documented my entire life, because writing about my past, shares the stage with my present.

My blogs have been my therapists, I tell them personal stuff so I can feel better, not expecting any, but hoping for, a little feedback in return.

I watch the snow dump in Tahoe, and I'm sure the place I left in the Idaho mountains has been hit. The Texas wildfires have probably burnt out unknown relatives of mine.

Meanwhile, it's a beautiful Monday here at the bottom of Tennessee. Sunny, light wispy clouds, no wind, and 70°.

My door is wide open. Daniel's off today, playing hooker hooky, and man them ho's been flying up and down this street!

I don't even get crumbs, those girls walk a straight line between his door and the road. As I sit on my knees at the edge of his sidewalk, I can't get a peek up a skirt, much less a flash.

So because I have no life, I decided to see how DoorDash would handle my missing BBQ Beans side order problem.

I jumped through a few hoops, told my sad story to a text box, and within an hour I got an email from DoorDash.

If you click the image above, it will take you to DoorDash Claims. I'm impressed by the whole process there, you answer a few questions on screen as they narrow down what your issue is.

DoorDash's AI bots are then able to extract the issue, analyze the transaction from they're side, determine a solution, and execute it.

A silly message is injected saying a resolution will be sent to you in 58 minutes, implying that humans are actually looking at your issues, in a queue, and making decisions. After an hour, it's sent to you.

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe they have thousands of Dashers handling claims on their phones, in between dashes. Calling the driver, calling the place, demanding to know what happened to this old man's beans! Naw...

Anyway, they were sorry it happened and issued a $2.38 credit to my account, usable next time.

I've got me a DoorDash order going from Legends Express. Getting the Meatloaf, I've discovered they make if from scratch, right there, and it's good. Along with Mac & Cheese and Potato Salad.

There is a DoorDash new user coupon code you can use for a month that gets up to $7 off orders over $10. So I added on Bbq Beans as a side, and saved a couple bucks on the order, at $15.84.

I'm getting kinda hooked on this way of consuming. The service charges and tip pretty much double the cost, but there is no cash involved, just food handed to you at your door.

My food has been picked up according to the brilliant interactive map, but now she (Karen) stopped at McDonalds for another pickup.

I split everything in half when it arrives, one for a later meal, and the other I heat up in my air fryer.

I'm not concerned about food temp since Legends sides are always barely warm anyway. The Dashers were nice, but the order got fucked up. I picked the Beans as an extra side to bring the total down, but there were no Beans when I opened the bag inside my house.

I wonder how things like this get resolved in the DoorDash, provider, consumer world. I'm not going to sweat a $3 cup of beans, that saved me a couple of bucks, but bigger issues would be tough to navigate.

I'm not living at the moment, I'm buzzing and surviving. I can't remember the last deep intelligent conversation I've had with anyone around here.

My son Riley and grand-daughter Shelby provide me the words that keep me on track, it's all about love, family, and happiness.

And not about heartbreak, marital disputes or those that betray and abuse you.

I've been drinking smoking and writing all fucking day, just because I can, and I have no life. But what I say is very real, and the way I live my life is very honest.

Anybody that want's to know who I am, only has to ask. Or simply read this blog!

I stepped out onto my little porch this evening, to caress it with a puff of smoke, and realized how dead it feels. Yea it's quiet, private and safe, but theirs no vibrancy, no life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one really living on this street. Since I landed here going on six years ago I've had some great drives around the country, two cruises, been to Belize three times, and Roatan twice.

I had an epic drive across America to hang with my boy in Seattle one Summer, while Brian and I hooked up there recently and did the NorthWest by car, fed the homeless in downtown Portland, and attended my grand-daughters first birthday.

My truck knows the routes between my place and Atlanta, Pensacola, and Tampa, well.

My heart was broken midway through this southern adventure, but I carried on, and for a guy in his late seventies, I've done alright!

But it's all catching up to me now. My physical health is quicky matching my monetary health, and both are bouncing on the bottom. Maybe I have one more great adventure in me, Omaha, NB.

Daniel and I had a fun moment this evening. He finally came over after wasting away in his chair all Sunday, feeling miserable and sorry for himself.

I've been blogging all afternoon, and was really proud that I made it up to the tobacco store for ice and peanut butter cups.

At one point I started parroting him, pissing and moaning about how his wife doesn't love him anymore, and how sad and depressed he was.

Suddenly he returned it right back, doing a great imitation of me throwing blog posts and photos at anyone I can find. Read this post, check this out! Shut the fuck up Jim!

Daniel has gone home, but sometimes in life you know you have found a good friend.

I've been thinking about death today as I walk around my little place. I'm alone with a will, that more and more just looks like possession distribution.

Death brings about disruption, and I don't want that to happen to my family. In fact, I wish you would all stay home. Unless you're in my Will and want any of my pathetic things.

I give my neighbor Daniel power of attorney to get me cremated. Use the possessions not covered or wanted in the Will, to cover the cost. Estate sale baby!

Split the ashes between Riley and Shelby, for a West/East coast beach goodbye.

Hopefully I'll continue being around for a while, just wanted to let my wishes be known.

I watched Caitlan set her record at halftime, and enjoyed a down home cooked Sunday afternoon supper. Basketball on my TV is now off, my door is open, it's 59° and quiet.

I saw something big and white run across Jeffs yard across the street. I jumped up, grabbed the binoculars, and sure enough, our albino squirrel is back, and all grown up.

Last year he was just a kid being bullied by other squirrels because he didn't look like them. He's big and badass now!

Caitlin Clark's playing her last college basketball game today for Iowa, at noon, Central Standard Time. I've been following her since she recently broke the record for most points in a game.

Now she's eighteen points away from breaking the season scoring record, women or men. I'll be watching and cheering her on.

Here's my view of the record breaking moment.

Caitlin has the ball with thirty seconds left before halftime, two points away from breaking the record that has stood for over fifty years. Other players stay back, and she slowly dribbles as the half approaches. Finally she rushes towards the net and launches one of her high signature shots.

She wants swish, nothing but net, a crowd erupting, halftime ending event while the network has the time to revel in it.

But she missed. The clock was down to 0.3 seconds and it was stopped for some penalty. Suddenly the court was cleared and somebody took a free throw shot, then Caitlin appeared and was given two free throws, on a cleared court, to break a fifty year old record, before halftime.

Thank god for the network, she made them both, but later on in the first big interview, she said she didn't know she had broken the record until the crowd erupted, because she was so focused on the game.

Sorry girl, congrats, but you didn't know you were breaking a huge record with each shot, right before the half ended that you slow rolled so you could take your big shot? And where the hell did those two free throws come from?

Gee folks, I think we might be getting played...

I have some daily rules that I live by in my little house. The two most important are to make my bed and do my dishes.

But this was one of those let the fucking dishes slide kind of day, so I did.

I rolled my feet onto the floor at 0715 this morning, and straight into my clothes, instead of my robe. I was hungry, I called my neighbor Daniel and he was on the same wave length.

We drove to the Square in my truck and had their Saturday buffet. It's funny, but I've never had more than one round there, I just build me up a good plate.

Later I ate those sliders, all four of them. Then Daniel wanders over from his nap and say's he's heading into town for Chinese food.

He came back with a container of good stuff and we both ate a plate full.

Anyway, back to the fucking dishes, two more plates and a couple of forks have joined in.

I can't remember the last time I've used an electric dishwasher, it's been decades. I am a professional dish washer, having once dragged myself from hopelessness, to a job at the local hotel, for a few years.

I asked myself if destroying my buzz by doing the dishes was the right thing to do now, and myself said hell no!

Living alone and caring just for yourself is challenging. I have empathy for those that have to work, on top of it, and sometimes we just have to say, fuck the dishes.

And do them in the morning...

I whipped up my original sandwich mix today. It's one can of lobster meat, one can of albacore tuna, both drained well and chopped up, four boiled eggs, mayo and seasoning. Everything is mixed together.

Then I cut the crust off two slices of bread and airfry them until brown on one side. Flip them over, put the mix on, a slice of tomato on each, then sprinkle cheese and more seasoning on top.

Back in, and airfried until ready. Fish Sliders.

They are so good and just melt in my mouth, which works out great since I have no teeth.

I have so many emotions floating through my old mind, as I sit here fucked up in my little space in the South. Love, honesty, and being true to myself is really all that matters!

I didn't land rich, although I should have, instead I landed existing, lonely, horny and sad. I'm also the smartest mother fucker you've ever met in your life!

Yea, I picked up the smart gene, didn't know what to do with it, and it blew up in my face! Now I just respect it.

I dropped down into Instagram today, a land I rarely go to. I saw a message sent a year ago from Andrew Aldworth, a childhood friend of my son Riley, a kid that I loved as a son through the nineties in Kent, WA.

So, I left him a message, call me, with my number. I was passed out in my chair tonight when my phone rang. It was Andrew!

We had a great talk, he told me that I was his inspiration to pursue a career in technology.

I was doing some stuff back in the nineties that obviously inspired him. I had crawled my way back from living in a fucking field, to driving a bus and writing code.

My friend Andrew is now around forty and doing great in the tech world. I'm truly touched by the emotion he expressed tonight, and that I was his inspiration.

I happened upon one of the last Posts I made on my old blog. Steph and I were bailing on Idaho, not sure if we were even going in the same direction.

We landed here together. I formed a bond with her family, that sadly dissolved into dust, and I miss them. I also yearn to reconnect with the family I left behind in Idaho and Wyoming, somehow.

And now my grand scheme is to connect with as many of my grand babies as I can, in one spot in the middle of America, this Summer.

Other than that, I'm just a bit drunk, smoked and sad.

My phone and my watch are connected, and I just found a photo that my watch took, and sent to my phone. I have no idea of when or where, appears to be an Amish jar of mustard, and it looks pretty tasty actually!

I've been looking at the middle of our country, waiting for a place to jump out to me for a possible family reunion this Summer.

It needs to be large enough to have an airport, attractions, restaurants, but not too big, no freeways, flat, quaint.

Omaha, NB checks all those boxes, and is close to the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states, in Lebanon, KS.

I have just set up a new Facebook Group, private and by invite only. It's for me and my fourteen grand-children, and their children, to communicate and ultimatly connect.

It would be wonderful if our families could come together now. I'm proposing a place in the middle of the country, this Summer.

The idea is that my group admins, Shelby and Shannon, could get all of my other grand-children involved, and talking with each other.