Shelby's been saying I need a kitten for a while now. I just had a DoorDash Big Mac and fries, so I might as well have a kitten. They're good, if you skin them properly.

Actually, the truth is, I'm a cat guy. I've had a few and recently had an amazing cat named Piper. She came into my life back in Idaho and left it in Tennessee, a couple years back.

I just searched this blog for Posts referencing Piper and I came up with fifty in Tennessee alone. There are just as many on my old blog when she showed up on our Idaho deck about twelve years ago.

When she died I swore I would never replace her, but now I think maybe I'm ready. I softly pushed the Go button with Shelby today and we'll see what happens next.

It's sad that people need love and understanding the most, when they deserve it the least. I see that truth all around me down here and I live with that reality personally. All I can do now is survive, and give my own love back when I can.

I want to make it to Stephs birthday on Dec 3, to see if the aliens really come out of the center of the earth and make contact with us. I need to get my dead trucks license plate turned into the Florida DMV before Riley's birthday on Dec 9, so they don't suspend my drivers licence. Hopefully I can drive again, but who knows. As long as I can still walk I stand a chance.

Maybe I can beat alcohol one more time, and last with it, but I'm running out of faith and reason. The only motivations I have left are my son, his babies, and the grand-daughter that still endures and supports me, somehow.

I picked up some frozen stuffed clams the other day at Publix. They had the buy one, get one free going on so I grabbed two. I was going to have one for dinner last night, but I ended up not eating.

So I'm soaking up some sun on the porch this afternoon, I was hungry, so I decided to heat one of those up. I was weighing in my mind to nuke it, or heat at 450 for a half hour.

Then my homeless neighbor across the street showed up and walked up the concrete to his home under the on-ramp, and I knew what I needed to do. I heated them both up at 450 and then walked one across the street after 30 minutes.

The guy was curled up in his sleeping blanket at the top and I called out to him and said I had food. He sat up and I walked up the ramp and handed it to him, along with a set of plastic utensils and some paper towels.

I introduced myself, his name is John, and he was very appreciative. Then I walked back and ate mine. They were pretty good, I'm sure he enjoyed.

I have done nothing but drink all day. I had a bowl of shredded wheat this morning with berries, and lactose free milk, which is all I could find at the Dollar Store.

It's pretty interesting drinking through Thanksgiving alone. I'm not looking for any sympathy in the slightest, I'm a grown ass man and I take full responsibility for everything I do.

The top of my head hurts, I need to find a doctor that can cut the cancer off. Other than that...

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I keep the doors to the Cave closed these days, and the volume down. I used to blast my music out the wide open garage door, pot smoke bellowing out, and I got to know my neighbors well this Summer. Now I just hide.

I probably could have gotten a turkey dinner today from the local bar, but I'm banned from there.

Did you know that thousands of soldiers are dying every week in that Russia/Ukraine war?

The last physical fight I had was at a party in Oakland, CA. decades ago. Some punk didn't like me playing footsies with his younger sister under the table, and he cold cocked me on the side of my head in the kitchen. It was his families house and I was surrounded by his siblings.

I was knocked out for a second, and when I came to I rushed him, threw him to the kitchen floor and started slamming my elbow down hard into his face, hurting him bad.

I was a raging motherfucker and as I look back, I never knew I had that in me. His brothers surrounded us and pulled me off, the fight ended, and I split.

I've never lived my life as some badass, and I truly hope I've been perceived as a good kind man. Because I know in my heart that I am. I hate fighting with people today, because it breaks me.

There is nothing more in the world that I would desire, than to connect with all my family, my many grand-children that I have never met, and my daughter. The problem is, I haven't earned that privilege.

So all I can say now is, Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm watching some good Thanksgiving football in the Cave today, and just saw an ad for the new AI version of Windows, running on their Copilot+ PC laptops with a neural processing unit (NPU) chip. I built two software companies on the original versions of Windows, so this is amazing magical stuff to me.

I still do alright with my old tech and my old code, but I love this new technological paradise I'm witnessing. Unfortunately I've lost the ability to drive it the way it can be, and all I can do now is sit back, get drunk, and say Hell yea!

Some folks may look at my life, on this holiday I've experienced for seventy eight times now, as sad and pathetic. I try very hard to make it neither.

I'm an old man wearing warm pajama bottoms and my favorite old Idaho sweatshirt, alone, no fancy turkey dinner in front of me, surrounded by no family, but I'm ok.

I really am, I've accepted my place in life as I fade to the end. I've done a lot with it, and experienced great things. I blew it many times along the way, now every new day is a gift from God. Thanks man.

I like to sit on the front porch these evenings as the Pensacola sun drops below the freeway. The onramp has a space to sleep at the base, and I've seen a few folks use it.

There's a homeless guy taking refuge there currently, been here for more than a week. I assume he's getting breakfast from the soup kitchen down the street, other than that I don't know how he survives.

He has nobody left in the world that cares about him, he is a broken man. Who knows what brought him to this state, obviously he fucked up along lifes path, and hopefully he didn't harm anyone.

There is no lower state of living that I can imagine. As I sit here in the Cave, reflecting on another Thanksgiving, I can only give thanks to the very few people that still care about me, and I'm very grateful to have them.

Otherwise this could be me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Shelby has been invited to sit on the board of Independence for the Blind. (ibwest.org). It's a nonprofit, devoted to educating the blind and visually impaired, here in West Florida.

She just came from a meeting with them and dropped by to sit on our porch. I may be biased, but I think she looks pretty hot.

So sad she can't be visually appreciated by the folks that they serve. I was in the paratransit business for twenty years and I had many friends who could not see. Loved them all.

I have a very bad addiction that I don't talk about much. It's not healthy for me, but lately it's been a major player in dealing with the nonstop Parkinson's internal vibrations that are ravaging my body and getting worse.

It's chocolate ice cream, and when I eat it, the vibrations go away. Or at least they leave my consciousness as it melts in my mouth. On my recent Publix trip I picked up tubs of Breyers Chocolate Truffle and Chocolate Peanut Butter. They are both now gone.

I'm amazed that my summer belly is still intact, but I don't eat much regular food lately. I thought about DoorDashing some Popeye's strips and a couple of sides, but the $25 tab stopped me. So I just had ice cream tonight.

I've been thinking hard lately about why I blog, and why I've done it for over twelve years. Part of it has been for me, I find relief in talking about my successes, failures, weaknesses, and opinions. I love to write and it has become my only remaining passion.

I also like to think there are still some people out there who actually care what I have to say, or wonder how I'm doing with life. To you I say thank you!

My old addicted, damaged, depressed brain is always trying to make sense out of life. Sometimes the answers I come up with are wrong, but still make it to my keyboard, and the world.

I would say that at least a third of my Post's have only survived in the wild for hours, before I trashed them permanently.

I have hurt and offended many friends and family members over the years, with these two blogs. To you I say I'm very sorry.

Am I going to stop blogging? I honestly don't know...

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I was sitting next to Shelby on the deck chair yesterday, looking out on the neighborhood from our front porch. Zinny was jumping all over us, happy that we were together, and she smacked a big kiss right on my lips.

I've walked that dog many times and I know where she likes to put her mouth. But you know what? I'll take that love any day. Besides, I can't remember the last time I've been kissed.

I Just did a quiet little walk-thru of the Cave. I shot this with the DGI at 4K/60, and I should have brought this little camera downtown and shot some even better video today. I could have also carried the Sony with me, and gone crazy.

But I'm trying really hard to keep my act together as my legs dissolve underneath me. My worst fear is that I will end up in a wheelchair, because at that point it's all over.

God help me that I never end up in a nursing home, where I'm being pushed around in a w/c with drool coming down my chin.

I was in the ParaTransit business for more than twenty years and I've seen it all.

So, I'm really happy that I can present this video to you, while I'm still able to walk.

I woke up this Saturday morning alone. Not unusual actually, it's probably been over a decade since I've slept in the same bed with someone. I took a shower, and realized it's been the same number of years since I've had my back washed.

I decided to walk downtown to the Market and it was a bit chilly so I pulled some long pants from the closet, and they fit my skinny waist perfectly. I should have wandered into the market tanned and bare-shirted, maybe turn on an old lady or two. Fact is, I don't want no part of that.

So I wore a sweatshirt with Riley's auto-body shop logo on it. It's a beautiful day and I had a great walk, and landed in a very busy downtown Market.

It was fun, ate some Cajun food out of a Styrofoam cup, while sitting on a bench watching the crowd go by in front of me.

It wasn't the same as being there with Shelbs and Zinny so I sent her a photo. Turns out she was downtown getting her nails done (that's what I need!) and offered me a ride home at 1300. Not needed, as I walked back.

I've spent a few of these upcoming holidays with Shelby over the last six years, and they were all great times. Back in Tennessee sometimes I spent the same holidays alone, but I accepted and survived them all, because I had made my bed.

This upcoming Thanksgiving I will be alone here in Pensacola, FL, at my own choosing. I have no idea how the day will evolve, and I'm fine with it not evolving at all. After all, I'm an old pro from Tennessee.

But I'm surrounded by a homeless population that I recently helped feed. There's got to be something going on around here, to feed us needy.

I would love to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal with my homeless friends. I've got a few days left to check around and see what's going on.

The next time someone asks about my birth day, my reply will be It happened 324 days after World War II ended on Sept 2, 1945, at a Naval hospital in Long Beach, CA.

I was a preemie and spent the first of my newborn days in an Iron Lung negative-pressure mechanically functioning respirator.

Instead of going from my mothers womb to her arms, I landed in a fucking machine. I remember that time, it was lonely, I was depressed and I wanted my mom. A unique welcome to the world and it formed my identity.

It was tough on my mom too. She divorced my Navy dad who then headed back to Texas, but my grand-parents were there to help their only daughter.

She already had my three year older brother, and now she had me, stuck in a machine trying to save my little ass.

Sitting alone in the Pensacola Cave tonight. I've lived in a few and this is a great one, the space heater is blowing warmth around me and I have everything I need. A connected computer to share my world with, meds to keep me alive, and a whole lot of memories.

I've been involved with technology, photography, and video long before most of you were born. Now I sit here and embrace this amazing connected AV/AI device we hold in our hands, and it blows my old mind.

I'm grateful to the universe for allowing me to live this long to experience it, and still have the technical moxie left to blog about it.

I made my first run to Publix this morning on my single geared bicycle, because sometimes you need more then the local Dollar General can provide.

It's about a ten city block flat ride, with three busy high speed streets along the way. Just getting there was a chore, wondering how I was going to get everything back.

I bought two chocolate ice cream tubs, two shredded wheat boxes, a quart of whole milk, three packages of fresh raspberries, a double roll of paper towels, and a four pack of tp.

When I got the stuff back to my bike, I combined a few things and put two plastic bags on each handle bar, up at the base of the hand grips. The paper goods I attached to my seat by tying the bag handles around it, and set them on the rack in the back. Man, was that stupid, it must be the brain cancer.

There I was on the Publix sidewalk, balanced on the bike with wobbly legs, surrounded by brown plastic bags, and I must have been a sight.

As I took off, looking for an entrance to the parking lot and a way out to the street, my bag contraption holding the paper products behind me, fell apart. They got tangled up in the rear wheel, I almost fell over, while the paper towels and tp went rolling on the sidewalk.

You know what? I think I'm two old for this shit. With the help of a stranger walking by, I managed to merge the paper products into the layout in front of me, and took off again.

Somehow I made it home without dropping anything, have a bag break, get hit by a speeding car, or fall over.

The next time Shelby asks me if I need a ride to Publix for supplies, I'm saying yes.

Last year's Mystic Mafia gathering, can you spot Shelby?

First row, center left, she's the real white one with the cleavage.

I've loved the Florida sun this summer and I ended up with a great tan. I also abused the top of my head too much and ended up with a skin cancer. I've been wearing a hat for months now, but it was too late.

It's either a basal or squamous, both of which I've had removed before, with the latter being worse. It's sitting right over this thing in my head called a brain, which I have damaged lately, and I'm afraid it's metastasizing downward. Areas near the back of the top of my head are caving inward and forming ridges.

Which explains why I'm writing this drivel, and making such stupid decisions and actions lately, my brain is being eaten up.

I have no control over any of it, my metastasizing shrinking cancerous brain is the villain!

This is great! I don't have to take any responsibility when I do my daily stupid things, I can just blame them on brain cancer...

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I love being alive! Sometimes it's hard and painfull as I approach eighty. It's also been amazing!

I just asked my phone what the weather was like today where I lived in Idaho for twelve years. It was a high of twenty five, a low of fourteen, and snowing. It's 1800 here in Pensacola and seventy six degrees.

I have a large family up in that cold country, and I miss them.

I am so envious of the great patriarchs who sit at the head of a massive table, embracing and loving the offspring of their genes. But you need to play life right, from the beginning, to pull that off, and I unfortunately didn't even come close.

I had a craving for a Big Mac and fries this morning. It was 0900, I hadn't ate for a while and I was hungry. Their lunch serving is at 1030 so I formed a plan to buy some nail clippers somewhere because my nails are a mess since I lost my previous clippers, then hit McDonalds.

It worked perfectly and I walked into MD right on time. There were a few people hovering back from the counter, probably doordash or app orders. Behind the counter there was a chick in a company uniform showing a trainee how to process the order of the guy in front of me. The trainee looked brain dead and they finally got the order done, and then they disappeared.

So I'm standing there in the middle of McDonalds with no one to take my order. I looked around at the folks waiting for their online orders, and they all had sympathetic looks on their faces.

Nobody came back. Almost five minutes went by, folks were stacking up behind me, and one old guy said Pound on the counter! then I looked over at that space where McDonalds people were running around like headless chickens and I thought Why not!

I saw the trainee walking around with a glazed look in his eyes, carrying a bag of fries, so I said What the fuck and slammed my fist down on the counter several times loudly, and it hurt after.

Nobody in the kitchen even noticed. I turned around and saw smiles on the folks behind me, and then I walked out the fucking door...

This was at the E Cervantes location in Pensacola, FL on 11/18 at 1030. Fix your stuff McDonalds.

Sometimes Shelby drops by to see if I'm still alive, and I continue to surprise her!

We just talked on the phone and I told her I'm very glad to be alive and I'll make it as far as I can, even though I could drop dead any second.

My dying wish is that nobody has an ounce of guilt from the event. I asked my favorite grand-daughter to celebrate my life, not mourn my passing. Get together with Riley and scatter my ashes somewhere cool.

I take complete and full responsibility for the life I've led, with no blame. I've done some amazing things, and some really stupid things, but in the end I know I'm a good man. I just allowed my weaknesses to defeat my strengths.

Depression combined with an alcohol addiction sucks. So does loosing your ability to walk. What the hell is going on, maybe I'm just getting old?

It's Sunday in Pensacola, a nice day, and I thought I would wander down for the chili cook-off at 1700 and some exotic cars parked around town somewhere.

I got out of the house this morning for breakfast at the Coffee Cup. Actually, the place is pretty damn cool. It was hopping when I walked in at 0720, and they open at 0700. I squeezed into the counter, surrounded by locals, and ordered up some eggs, hash browns and corned beef hash. Made right in front of me by the old black guy that cooks every order on a big hot plate.

The hospitality was amazing, as was my waitress Jennifer. The food was what breakfast is all about.

Not only did the cook later walk up to me and ask how it was, in the middle of a busy morning where he's already fed about 25 people, but the manager (maybe owner) did the same. The meal was $13, $5 tip, so breakfast was $18.

Meanwhile, as the afternoon evolves, I'm hoping to hook up with Shelby and spend some time downtown. She and I have been butting our smart complicated heads together lately, and I've lost big time. We need some quality time.

I also have to announce that I've stepped away from volunteering at the Soup Kitchen. My health and my ability to walk normally, were the primary reasons. They thanked me for my service and wished me well. I told them it was my honor.

I haven't been eating well lately so I decided to try out the Coffee Cup joint over on the main drag this morning. As my feet hit the sidewalk, a hunched over old man carrying a couple bags and a rolling tattered suitcase appeared.

We exchanged good mornings, and he was really soft spoken. Obviously homeless, I asked him if he ever went to the Soup Kitchen down the street, where I volunteer. I was already in a bad depressed funk, wondering when I was going to tell them it was over for me, and what he said just stunned me.

He said he stopped going because the black lady there was disrespectful! At that point we continued down the sidewalk in opposite directions, and I grabbed the nearest utility pole to keep from falling over from shock, and a loud OMFG came out of me.

The lady he referred to is my boss there. I like her a lot, and she's the point person for the dining room. She deals with everyone coming through the door, and she runs a tight ship. I've heard her chew people out if they're too demanding, but this meek old man was far from that.

Well, guess who I ran into as I rounded the corner on my way to the cafe? I asked where he was going and he said The Coffee Cup. Needless to say, I walked there with him and we had breakfast together. There's a local business that picks up his tab on occasion, but this morning it was on me.

His name is Mike, eighty years old and born here in Pensacola. I liked him a lot and we talked about life, over a pretty good breakfast. I asked if he would ever go back to the Kitchen, especially next Monday morning when I'm the point person. He said no, because he was disrespected, and respect is the only thing left that he want's out of life. omfg...

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I was sitting in the comfortable chair out on the front porch today, watching traffic enter I-10, when a petite, 50ish woman walked by me on the sidewalk. We didn't make eye contact, but I had her figured out in a heart beat. She had a nice backpack on and was carrying a couple luggage style bags in each hand.

Around here, that only means one thing. Anyway, as she headed down the street I went into the kitchen. I had left the door open and suddenly saw her out on the street looking my way, so I went back out. I stood on the sidewalk with her and she asked me how to get to Palafox Place.

Well, she was asking the right old man, who has learned these streets, and I told her how. As she turned to walk away I asked if she was homeless, and she said yes. I asked if she did the Kitchen down the street, and she did this morning.

I told her I volunteer there and we had a nice chat about it. I was there this morning, bright and early, but the three ladies running the show had it down, so I split.

Otherwise, I would have met Janet this morning. She asked if I had a couple bucks for water, and I gave her enough to get a sandwich to go with that.

Maybe I'll see her tomorrow, and I'll give her a hug.

I got to run the front station at the Soup Kitchen this morning, for the first time, and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

As folks walk in, they have two options. If they're eating inside they just walk by me, seat themselves at a table and get served there.

The other option is to be greeted by me, at which point I've got coffee to go for them in a Styrofoam cup, water, and a bag with a breakfast sandwich and a banana. Extra sugars and creamers are a common request.

I'm also the point person for supply requests. It's rainy out there and I handed out socks and blankets to many. Saying good morning and making eye contact, giving them warmth and sustenance, is very rewarding. I think I've landed this job for Mondays to come.

Maybe I really am a fucked up old asshole who has burned every bridge, maybe that's why these people feel so real and honest to me...

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