I try hard to be an environmentally friendly human, but I'm far from perfect. Once a year I take all the Krogers plastic bags that I've stashed, back for recycling. I was using the large water dispenser system, dumping the empties back into their bin at Kroger, but they became unreliable.

Drinking the tap water here is not an option for me, so I buy Deer Park spring water in jugs. Some I keep in my fridge for drinking, others out for cooking. And I feel bad when they end up my trash can!

I also use plastic straws for my drink, because the paper ones don't hold up. I buy these bags of multi-colored flex straws, and the color I pull out each late morning is a sign of how my day goes, and ends.

Blues and Greens usually indicate that I'm getting out to the Park that day. Yellows and Purples suggest a three to four Posts day.

Red means my chips are all in to the Poker game of Life. The hands are showing and the winner is obvious, and I get to choose the one I want. I've drawn Red the last two days, and I didn't win the pot yesterday.

So, I put plastic water bottles, tall white garbage bags, and straws, into the landfill. Their might be a plastic recycler around, but my place is small, where am I going to keep a growing collection of empty water bottles. I'm not.

I wish the city would provide a special container that we kept up against the house until it's full of plastic, then haul it out to the curb on recycling day. Since we don't, I lay the plastic induction into the land fill they manage, on them.

It was a tough morning, with pain sabers diving through my shoulder, and I was heading to the Store, when my friend Limited drove up.

He had an Acer Chrome book in basic Set Me Up mode, so I did my thing on it and turned it into a new vibrant laptop for the guy, with links to the Quality Assurance job he's going for here in Lawrence County, TN.

It's a new fresh tool that he can use to bypass the clutter of the 500 apps running on his seven phones all at the same time...

I need to change my group name from Pussy to Liberator.

Chris stays with Limited

Daniel stays with Asshole

And Tami stays Bitch, by default, because she said "Fuck both you guys" when I told her, on Limited's phone, that of course we're not alone, we got five hot bitches here. Then she hung up on me before I could say, just kidding...

It's been a fun uplifting Friday, and I'm now the Liberator!

Lim hung out here through the afternoon, raging wild rants against the big phone companies, over his phone that was near death, into the ears of a women that represented them, from the Philippines.

It took the poor girl almost twenty minutes to realize she was being hit on by a crazy American from the deep South. I was writing this Post while hearing this go down, and I figured it out. She gets paid by the minute while she's on the phone with a client, but she's not opposed to talking to a Southern Gentleman off the clock, and I suggested this to Limited.

Finally, at one magical moment, Lim asked her to call him back and she paused from her persistant company rant, and said Yes.

As the night went quiet, the outside world became dark, and Limited's cell phone rang, the ultimate question was finally answered. I am the fucking Liberator!

For an old guy with tons of world experience, I now find myself out of touch with the good things in life, like Lainey Wilson, and the Twin Peaks restaurant chain.

I rode with Daniel up to Brentwood, TN this morning to pick up a sleep study kit, and we had lunch and drinks at the tittie bar called Twin Peaks, down the road in Cool Springs.

It was more of a cleavage joint with a little ass cheek, but the drinks and food were good, and the vibes fine. I chatted up the guy to my left and he turned out to be a local chiropractor. I shared a couple stories with him and then the food arrived.

We noted the absence of women here, just mostly young to middle aged men, trying to be sexy. Two women replaced the chiropractor, and we determined that they were gay by the way the hot blond in cutoff shorts threw their coasters at them.

Daniel noted that we men had our drink coasters carefully placed in front of us, while those ladies had theirs casually tossed across the bar. He thinks it's a secret gay code, that only women understand.

I then proceeded to tell him about the greatest strip club I've ever been to in my life. It was along the Coast Highway in Oregon, South of Portland, in the seventies. It was a converted old Cafe, with a big counter in the middle, and chairs wrapped all the way around. The counter had been raised up so you could rest your arms on it.

It was a warm Summer day as the Sun filtered in upon the hot raised counter. The bartender women worked the stage, got your drinks, and then the hot young college girls emerged from a dark curtain on the right.

They began squirming along the counter clockwise, completely naked, on their back, with their legs spread.

You couldn't touch them and they were right in your face! Tits and pussy, and your job was to tip. They just kept on squirming on by, until I ran out of tips.

But I digress...

I worked out the chip denominations of MY poker chip set. There are two white rows with slightly different chip block colors, screw that, they're both White and worth One single "Lee ST Buck" each.

Next up are two rows of slightly off color black chip blocks, which will both be Black, and worth Five bucks.

Finally, we have the green and the red rows. I'm thinking Ten bucks for green, and Twenty for red.

I actually have no idea how this is going to work out. It's a no cash in game so just divide the chips into three or four stacks, and see what the hell happens.

I'll update this post after the game...

Update: Limited and Bitch were a no show, fighting amongst themselves...

So, Daniel and I tossed the heavy chips around and played with ourselves.

He finally claimed he won, having taken all of the red chips he had won from me earlier, and plopped them down on an illegal bet as he was hiding his last drawn card to fill a straight. You can't do that, but this is fun poker, so I went all in, let's play the cards!

My two pair beat his failed straight, but he claimed that since I couldn't match his large stack of reds that he put on the table in an illegal manner, that he won.

So, I conceded the fucking card game, with no fucking hard feelings, to my next door neighbor fucking Daniel, whom I love.

As to the chip monetary test, the Ones were useless, never played. Maybe because this is a cashless test run.

And Lainey Wilson just took the CMA house down up in Nashville, I really like this girl!

And she just won Album of the Year, WTF?

And now she just won Female Vocalist of the Year, I'm in love...

And finally she took home the top prize, as Entertainer Of The Year.

If the video fails to load, click Here.

I have no doubt that my grand-daughter Ariella knows her new little sister is inside that belly, and she can't wait to help out!

Tonight is the CMA awards, up the road, and I'll be playing it in the background as we get a poker game on.

I was just checking out this Lainey Wilson in advance, damn, how did she dodge my radar? I relate to her lyrics:

I got a heart like a truck
It's been drug through the mud
Runs on dreams and gasoline
And that old highway holds the key

My favorite grand-daughter Shelby and I have been discussing Thanksgiving. She has an invite to Fort Lauderdale that she could take her old grandpa to, or we could hookup with Homer down in Pensacola.

I spent an amazing Thanksgiving a few years back with Shelby and Homer. They cooked a great Turkey and Fixins, in her place, while I loved on my great-grand-daughter Prudence. We ended up later that evening at the hottest party in Pensacola.

Homer Jolly was a well known local artist at the time. Now he's a famous one, and he designed and created the new Alabama Gulf Coast Zoo along the way. What I'm saying is, Thanksgiving with Homer could be much fun.

Either way it goes, I'm getting out of town and spending it with Shelby, and wherever we land, I'll have my cool poker case with me, and a beautiful lady on my arm.

I thought I was going to get out and about today, when our lovely mail lady stopped in front and walked around to the back of her truck. Oh yea, I had that poker set coming today, so I went out and met her. Glad I did, it's heavy!

And very nice, everything has a quality look and feel. Hopefully we can get a game going tonight.

There's a sweet new deck of cards, five poker dice, whatever they're for, and three Texas Hold'M chips. There are also instructions for playing Hold'M, but that game has a bunch of rules and procedures, that should not be attempted tonight. Draw and Blackjack will be fine.

Teleport yourself here tonight Shelby and pull up a chair. It was our recent games together that inspired this great poker set! Actually I have to include neighbor Daniel in that insperation, since we've been playing nightly.

Who Am I? This question permeates every movement I make forward in this moment called life. It doesn't matter who I was in the past, that's done, history. The past now defines me as just a raw field of energy and knowledge, surviving here in Tennessee as an old male human.

My emotions fluctuate between sad and happy. My sexual feelings have been driving and confusing me, and that cool wagon I rode on for eleven days down to Tampa has been swept into the fucking Bay.

I've got a little bag of local bud that I'm using to break on through to the other side. Tomorrow's poker party should finish that off, and that's fine.

This marks the fifth consecutive year I've been facing the Holidays here in early November. I've faced it better, and much worse, and now I'm just hoping for a smooth survival time back into Spring.

Other than that, I'm nice, loving, peaceful, thoughtful, emotional, and intelligent.

I sometimes wish I had someone to share this adventure with, but that's just crazy talk. I'm way too far gone for that to work.

So, this is me...

Ok, I'll reveal the obvious, I am currently on drugs. I've been taking this mixture of Fentanyl, Heroin, Meth, and Peyote, with a dash of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, for years now.

Hey, some people make strange trendy smoothies, this is my druuggie. There are so many ins and outs and sideways going on with this droctail, it all mellows out into that wonderful crazy together man everyone sees as Old Man Jim.

As you arrive here at the junction of this Post, you will probably have one of two reactions: "OMG, I never knew!", or "Bullshit, what's the reality?

Ok, that was my attempt to write fiction, and it felt strange. I live inside a body of honesty, I have no reason to tweak a fact just to make myself look better to the listener of my story. Or make myself look worse if it fits the narrative.

I tell my story, a lot of it here, with every bit of honesty and reality I can muster, because to do otherwise, disrespects the actual memory moment.

I'm way to old to do anything but tell the truth, to everyone. That doesn't mean I'm an open book, and that I share everything with everyone. No, I have secrets that most don't know, and I share them with a rare few, if I share them at all.

So, despite a couple of intriguing secrets, who the fuck am I? And why should anyone give a flying fuck about me? The answer is, you shouldn't, but here you are, so lets go!

I took care of errands this morning and pulled into Preston's in Leoma just as they opened.

I sat in one of their side areas and a group of three older people, two ladies and a guy, came in. As they were moving to the table next to me I was getting the good old boy, how you doing routine, from them. I guess this is just the way seniors greet another single senior around here.

As I was peacefully eating my improperly made, but good, Chicken and Dumplins in a single bowl with no sides, I noticed the woman across from the couple making eye contact with me.

Ya know, if I was interested in meeting very nice god-fearing folks, and single women, I could be more out there. I could have walked over and said hi to the lady, and then told her that I have lost my only belt, and I'm afraid that my shorts might hit the ground as I head to the cashier.

I could have then charmed her, saying she looks like a woman who would know how to fix this, maybe even have a solution in her purse. And maybe start something I'm not ready to handle in the slightest.

So I just sauntered to the counter with right hand on hip, holding my shorts up, while the left hand was pulling wallet and cash out of my shirt pocket, because my pants couldn't support the weight.

As I past her, we exchanged smiles, strangers passing on a warm Southern day. As I continued to keep my shorts from meeting my ankles while I walked to my truck, I realized Alabama was off. It was time to just head back home and maybe make the Park later.

Now where is that damned belt...

Update: After exausting every possible place it could be, I finally narrowed it down to one spot off my office computer station, a place I never set clothes, just bedding and sheets and stuff. I dug down to the bottom and found my belt, attached to my favorite black shorts, that I had also lost. Yea!!!