I've been watching my duplex neighbor get food delivered via DoorDash for years now. You would think that a computer genius like me would have signed up with these guys long ago, but I just did now. Hungry, and not able to drive.

I got me some catfish, baked beans, potato salad and toast from Legends Express. Kinda pricey, DoorDash takes their cut, the driver gets an automatic tip, and I quite frankly don't get it yet.

Ahh, but now I do! I'm watching the amazing app that shows where your food is in-route, and as a coder I'm blown away.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw it turning on to my street so I went outside and greeted the car as it pulled up. A young lady with a big smile jumped out and handed me a bag, with no expectations for an additional tip.

So, the cost to get that meal DoorDashed here was a bit under twice as much as it cost. In this case, $16 something total. Was it worth it today? Hell yea! I was going to split it in half for later, but ate the whole thing standing at my kitchen counter.

This has been a wonderful experience! A delicious plate of food from my favorite local place arrived quickly with a smile, still warm, and the catfish melted in my mouth. Damn...


I was still in my robe this morning when I got a loud knock on the door. At first I thought it was the cops, but a peek through my door glass showed a tall old man standing there.

It turned out to be a guy I had chatted with in the Park a few years back, I had mentioned where I lived and he decided to drop by today.

He's an 84 year old country boy, hard of hearing so we talked loud. His girlfriend is 87 and they've been together fourteen years. He sold his house and moved in with her. The two drive as a team when together, one checking surrounding traffic while the driver handles the lights. They don't drive at night.

He was an insurance claims adjuster, which is interesting since my smoke buddy yesterday was urgently looking for someone to help him get some money from an auto accident a while back.

Mr. Jones said what he needs is an Independent Adjustor, someone who will jump through all the insurance company hoops, settle the claim, and draw a commission.

This guy was great to talk to, very down home, honest and ethical. He told me of folks he had helped over the years, even writing out checks on the hoods of cars.

He told me about a family that had made house insurance payments for twenty years, missed one payment, and then lost their home in a storm. The company didn't want to settle, but he got it done.

Then he said something that I liked so much, I wrote this Post to share it.

"If you do people right, you never lose."

I've been eating too many UPF's (ultra-processed foods), as in frozen meal style that I consume nightly, if I remember to...

I'm working on a possible new meal routine. Legends Express off N Military makes great food, right here, with a good menu. Today I was there at 1030, first one through the drive-thru. Ordered meatloaf, mashed potatoes, creamed corn and corn bread.

Eight dollars and change, served up quickly in a nice to go box, and I took it straight home. If you eat inside Legends, even though they're very nice people, the sides are cool for some reason, and they really need to fix that.

I put half in my air-fryer for a few minutes and had a healthy homemade lunch, at home. The rest I had for dinner later on in the afternoon.

I think the food is cooked locally and distributed daily to here and their sister restaurant Legends up the road from me. The locations just turn it from fresh refrigerated food into warmed up and serveable.

I could live off of Legends food. It would be like having a wife cook me lunch and dinner every day. With just a short drive thru the Square, a few stop signs along the way, and one light.

Their catfish is also great, by the way!

Man, Parkinson's is really kicking my ass today. The shakes are bad, I take the two top meds on the market, and I almost couldn't make out my rent check this morning. It makes me wonder what happens when I can't take care of myself anymore.

My grand-daughter Shelby just told me that Emma, one of my fourteen grandkids, watches my YouTube stuff and drops by here on occasion. I'm now working on a new radical thought.

We pick a spot in the middle of America, for a Summer meet up, of every family member that would love to show up. For a couple of days, we all stay at the same hotel, bring the kids, my great-grand-kids.

Everyone pays their own way. An opportunity of a lifetime to meet their siblings and families, and meet their grand-father.

I haven't landed well, it could have been way worse, but I'm still alive and somewhat presentable when I'm sober.

If I had ended up a rich guy, I would have tracked down everyone by now, connected with them, and loved them.

But I'm not, it would take the last of my stash to get there, but it would be epic.

So, I'm just tossing the thought out into the world, puff!

I just had a great talk with my grand-daughter Taylor. I had someone reach out from the other side, and told me to do it. I found her on FaceBook, sent her my number, and she just called.

She sounded great, her voice was calm and collected. Her baby twin girls are at eighteen months, and doing well.

It makes me wonder how much family I have out there, fourteen grandkids, most I don't know. I would love to meet them all, or just talk to them before I die.

It was so nice to talk to Taylor, we both knew in a moment that we were talking real, no bullshit talk. She has a couple twin girls, that maybe I'll meet some day.

I've been driving for sixty two years, millions of miles, and I've never gotten a DUI, totaled a vehicle, or hurt anyone. I take driving very seriously.

That's why it was so nice yesterday when my neighbor Daniel called me and wanted to know if I would like to ride up North with him.

It was a nice Sunday afternoon, he'd been hunkered down with his wife since Friday evening, and he had to empty the coins from a bunch of ice houses that he maintains.

I said hell yea, give me ten minutes, then I made a drink in my insulated cup, said high to the pipe, and slid into his passenger seat. He said I stunk, I told him I loved him.

It's great to be escorted through amazing Tennessee countryside by a friend that was born and raised here. Beautiful backroads I've never been on, fun stories along the way.

It also happened the previous day, when a buddy of mine and I drove to Summertown to see a lifted truck. We talked about going to the infamous Hippy Farm, but we ended up driving back to Lawrenceburg, again on roads I've never been on, with another guy born and raised here, and stories to tell.

I'm still blown away by the free gas this morning. Maybe this was Karma's payback to me.

I've helped a bunch of people here. Four different homeless people, at least, I got Gina, the young lady stranded in Veterans Park, some ID and into a group home in Columbia.

One afternoon some polite young teenagers approached me in the park, asking for gas money. I told them I wouldn't give them cash, but I would drop gas money off with my pretty Indian friend behind the counter at TazMart.

Yea, I'm an old stoned drunk, but I'm also a nice guy. I help others, without an agenda or ulterior motive.

I would have done exactly what those ladies at the gas pumps did. And that woman pumping my gas for me was delicately topping my tank up to the top until it could hold not a drop more, while trying to reach the fuel max of 35 gallons per transaction, for just one dollar. She fell just short.

Girls, if we ever meet again, please allow me to buy you dinner!

I just got a free tank of gas at our local store! I picked up supplies this morning, then drove around to the pumps. As I pulled up to my regular number 5, two women approached me from the adjacent one, a very nice local lady and her visiting daughter.

They were just finishing fueling their vehicle and they excitedly told me it's pumping at two cents a gallon, the total had topped off at $.77, and I should take advantage of it.

So I did, the daughter moved their vehicle forward while the lady stood there holding the pump. By the time I got out and walked around she already had the cap off and was pumping.

I tried to give them some money, but when my tank was full, it was just $1.00, and she had it covered. Two tanks filled up for a buck, and we had a nice chat while the lady stood there and pumped my gas. I always get the low grade, maybe she was pouring Premium into my tank!

It was a very nice thing to do, and I told them I would pay it forward somehow. I also feel no guilt, I've been shopping there for going on six years now and I've watched my store bills almost double. Karma has jumped in and rewarded my loyalty with free gas.

A view from the chair opposite mine. A scruffy old dude, hasn't shaved or cleaned up since Erica at the Beauty College quite a while back.

This is me now...


What a strange life I live as an old single man in a small Southern Tennessee house at the end of a dead end street.

It's real peaceful, I leave my door open all day and the only sounds are the highway to my right, and my neighbors little kids playing to my left.

I have the freedom to be myself, smoke my pipe in my doorway, have a fucking drink or three, and write, and share!

And I just had a revolution! So much is made about the two person relationship that lasts forever, great. But there is a lot to be said about living alone, as a friend to a few, open about who you really are, and doing whatever the fuck you want to do, when you want to!

Without another to feel guilty about. There is no other, probably never will be. It's just me, single and all alone!

It really is an amazing form of freedom and I'm learning to love and accept it.

The important family members in my life are my son Riley with his family, and my grand-daughter Shelby. We all had a wonderful time in Nashville last Summer, and connections were solidified.

I have fourteen grand-children, some great grand-children, all with families and stories. Wake up guys, you have a real grandfather, still alive!

I would love to establish a relation with all of you, share your life with me and I will share it to the world thru my blog until I die.

In the process, learn what I'm leaving behind.

Shelby, share this!

It's noon and I'm drunk and stoned. Any thoughts about adventure that involves driving, dashed.

I had the breakfast buffet at Square 40, one round, so food made it on down this morning.

It's a nice cool 54° day and my front door is wide open. I haven't seen my neighbor at all yet, he's got a case of White Car Syndrome.

It occurs when the white car is in the driveway, which means his wife is there. They live in separate places and she drops by occasionally.

God only knows what goes on over there? They could be snuggling down to NetFlix, bickering in the kitchen, or doing the deed!

I spent yesterday morning with one friend, and made another, the guy up the road with the lifted truck. We left there and ended up back at my place where we partied on into the afternoon.

A lady dropped by and swooped him up. After he left another friend dropped by, carrying a fifth of Southern Comfort in a brown paper bag. I've never had it before, so I opened it and we drank.

Interesting stuff, and shortly the bottle was half empty. After he left, Daniel dropped by. He stuck his nose up at it, and refused a shot. This is a man who drinks Fireball on occasion.

That's the last thing I remember...


The owner/creator's front walk around of his cool lifted truck, shooting with my Pocket 2.

Four of these little spinning things, cost a cool grand.

I've been hangin with a friend, watching video on my big screen and talking to my Echo. I asked her, per my friends request, what is Artificial Intelligence?

She went on to explain the science in technical terms but suddenly, the walk down the beach in Rio with the women in skimpy bikinis on the big screen changed, and a YouTube selection of videos about AI, was presented.

My Echo and my TV are friends. I appreciate and respect their friendship, but I'm cautious.

To present a selection of videos on my screen based on a question I asked my Echo, is amazing! Of course you have to have your TV on YouTube, but I can adjust her volume anytime, turn her On and Off, with just a voice command.

Made a new friend up in Summertown with a beautiful tricked out lifted Chevy Tahoe.

Lifted in the front, adjustable in the back.

And of course the front is also adjustable.

Spacious and open.

And the little spinning things in the middle of each chrome wheel, cost $250 each.

Allow me to present Topher, performing his signature sound.

I shot a little video of life around my place today, from the perspective of my front door. No editing, just tossed it up there, if you're interested:

I was up at Number Seven in the Park today, and ended up having a fun conversation with a buddy and a guy eating lunch in his car.

I approached the car because I thought I knew him, I didn't. Turned out to be a nice local guy my age and we started chatting.

It was a beautiful day in David Crockett State Park, probably still is, when a friend of mine rolled up, parked, and walked on down to our conversation.

It was great, three old guys shooting the shit and swapping stories on the best weather day of the year so far.

It broke up after a while, car guy had to split, and we all went our way. It was a fun lunch time at Seven.

I've been programming computers for fifty five years. It all started in Wilson Price's data processing class at the old Merritt College in Oakland, CA, in 1969.

It was a JC and I was only going to do two years, but I ended up doing another year running their computer lab with a brand new IBM Sys 3 Model 10.

I learned how to write code in a language called RPG 3. It was business oriented, designed to be the computer backbone of small to mid-size companies.

IBM sold that system with gusto to the San Francisco Bay Area in the 70's and I was right there to code it.

My first Sys 3 job was with the Mafia, developing accounting software for their shell company, Golden Grain Macaroni in San Leandro. It's where I met my lifelong friend Skoge.

It was the beginning of an amazing coding career. I started consulting, selling my skills for good money all over the Bay Area, and down to Monterey/Carmel.

IBM would install the equipment and call me with the lead. I developed great Systems all over the Bay, from the ground up.

The one in Carmel Valley was built around making a doll with a dick, named Uncle Sherman, made famous by Johnny Carson, called Flasher Fashions. It's where I met my lover Dawn, and my lifelong friend Beryl, living now in Hawaii.

I developed two systems for Interocean Steamship, the largest shipping company on the West Coast, based in downtown San Francisco, in the old California Building.

The first was RPG code running on a Sys/3. It allowed the hundred and fifty operators to manage shipments from their terminals, between Seattle, WA and Long Beach, CA.

A year later they upgraded to an IBM Sys 3, Mod 15 and hired me back to write brand new code. I did and even saved their company at one point.

I was at the top of my game, making great money like crazy! Blowing a bit of it at my favorite strip clubs, before taking the Bart train back to Oakland.

Then the IBM PC came out. I bought one of the first, bailed from the Sys3, and proceeded to write amazing code on that platform, that formed businesses from the ground up.

I ended up in Washington state, loving my boy Riley, coding for a living through the early nineties. Then the jobs dried up, I went homeless for a spell.

I dragged myself up to lead supervisor for a large transit company and continued being Riley's dad, writing code, and exploring the Internet. Then I met Steph, and we ultimately moved to Idaho.

My wonderful successful sister allowed us to live in one of her properties, a three bedroom, two bath log home, on an acre of land at the base of the Grand Tetons. For free the first few years, finally just $500 a month as Steph and I both established good jobs.

Family was there, never should have left. It's where I went from broke, to building up the stash that's now almost gone.

I set up a great office in the smaller room, bought a powerful desktop and a wide screen monitor, and dove back in to coding, when I wasn't working.

I carried that computer here, where I kept on coding, with my cat Piper in my lap. I got a new web host, started this blog, while my coding skills were at the top of their game.

PHP, with JQuery, Javascript and CSS. Creating great blog code and individual apps. You can see the internals by clicking Stuff on the menu above.

I developed what I thought was a great template that scaled smoothly between phones and computer screens. I bought domains to develop code on, and I made some good ones.

Unfortunately, they never took off. It was then that I realized my coding days were done. I started living at my laptop, writing, only turning my old box on to scan or print something.

So, the story gets better! A while back as I wallowed in pathetic sorrow, I put out to this blog that if anybody wanted my shit, come and get it.

My computer was scooped up in a heartbeat by Hudson, wanted to turn it into a gaming rig. He assured me that he wiped it clean first.

Finally, I was thinking today that my old PC contained everything, every line of code I've written across many websites, over many years.

I could grab some of the code from the server, but why. I'm done! It's all gone.

So do I regret it? No. By submitting that box I wipe myself clean. I never want to code again, just live.

I landed in Kent, WA in the early nineties, from Oakland, CA. What stuff I had left was in storage down in the Bay Area. I flew up to Washington with one of my Jewish investors, a former tank commander with the Israel army. Our business connection had ended and he was off to meet with Microsoft.

I hooked up with Riley and his mom, who had just moved up to Kent. I lived there for many years, starting a new separate life, while raising Riley.

I remember New Years Eve 2000, walking back to their place after a night at the local bar. I honestly never thought I would live into the 20th century, but there I was. Suddenly out of the dark a beautiful woman appeared and kissed me strong, I was her New Years kiss, and I never saw her again.

It's now more than twenty four years later, and I'm still alive. I can't remember the last time I kissed a woman, much less on New Years Eve. Probably Steph since it was our anniversary.

What this has taught me is that setting limits on your life span is foolish. Also thinking you may never be with a woman again, may be wrong.

It's been a great day today. I had breakfast at Pats Cafe around eight. Eggs over easy, hash browns and sausage.

Then I went for a drive, up toward the park, when I called my friend. He was 3.8 miles away, he asked me to pick him up, so I did.

We stoped at a gas station where he bought an amazing array of greasy fried food, that we took back to my place, and he ate it all.

We spent the afternoon stoned. Not messing with anyone, just sitting in my wide open little space at the bottom of a dead end street in a small little house at the bottom of Tennessee.

A women dropped by, I liked her a lot, we talked about websites. Maybe my knowledge will connect again.

It's been a lonely weekend, too cold to go out and play, my neighbors wife has occupied his time completely, while my other friend has no vehicle and ladies to juggle. In other words, I have no life.

I really wish I was stoned, guess I should work on that. The weather is warming up to 70° by Wednesday and maybe a drive to the Thrive Metropolis dispensary up in Illinois would be a good test of the money I've put into my truck recently.

It's a couple hundred miles each way and I could layover in the Rest Area up there. The last time I drove there I took the mystery lady with me, and I've since lost touch with her completely.

I'm running out of reasons to restrain from stupidity. I'm tired of just hanging out with myself, done that too many times over the course of my life. Survival is not living, it's just waiting to die.

Fuck Tennessee, I wish I was back in Idaho, to be around my sisters family. I wish I was back in Washington, to be around my sons family. I wish I could afford Florida, to be around my grand-daughter Shelby.

It was a mistake moving here, thinking I could start a new connection with Stephs family. I fell in love with her grand-daughters, and was ultimately kicked to the curb. Now they've all disappeared from my life, my stash is almost gone, and I am alone and drunk, in a small place on a dead-end street.

I have two friends here, my neighbor Daniel, and a guy that gets me stoned once in a while, that asks to be anonymous. My neighbor has a wife and a life, while the other has no vehicle.

How did such a promising life get so fucked up? I was a computer genius back in the seventies and eighties, at one point making $250 an hour, collecting the cash as I walked out the door. I created great systems that made companies.

Back in Seattle during the nineties I was the first employee of the year for the largest paratransit company on the West coast, and eventually lead supervisor. That's where I met Steph and we ended up moving to Idaho.

It's been an amazing fucked up life. I failed my daughter in the late seventies and she went on to have fourteen children, most of which I've never met.

I really wish I'd had one of those magical lives, where you love and marry a woman, raise a large family, and end up surrounded by them as the patriarch.

But I did not. Instead I'm a pathetic old man, with no family around, wishing I had the balls to end it all, but I don't, and all I have now is regrets.

I've been thinking real hard lately about my life, which is easy because I don't have one anymore. I've shared a lot of it here, probably way too much, but I find that writing about it helps a bit.

I could have just been writing a daily journal all these years, for maybe someone to read when I'm gone, but instead I share my stuff, my strength and my weakness, with the world.

I often dive deep into the weakness part, leave it up for a few hours or a day, and then send the Post to the trash.

It actually doesn't matter to me now what the world thinks. I only have a very few people left in my life, and they know who I am. If the world drops by my blog and reads a Post, well that's cool.

Verbs, nouns, pronouns and adjectives have been floating through my brain a lot lately, describing this point in my life that I have arrived at. I'm going to write them here, and if it's too much, please bail now!

The Physical: Old, out of shape, barely walking, falling. I'm amazed I can still do the things that keep me going, and I'm fading quickly.

The Medical: Parkinsons, Dementia, Arthralgia. The shakes are getting worse and I find myself doing simple things stupidly, and painfully.

The Emotional: Depressed, lonely, regretful, suicidal. I spend most of my days alone and crying.

The Sexual: Wishful, accepting, over. I will never experience a woman again.

The Compassionate: Caring, helpful, generous, non-judgmental. I have this desire to help people in need, and I do as often as I can, unless I find myself being used.

So here's where I've landed in life. It could be much worse, and I'm grateful it's not. I'm going to live my life until it's taken from me. This is my Synopsis.

Kip the homeless guy came by today. The last time he showed up at my door I turned him away. I was still pissed off from a previous attempt to help him, and I just closed the door.

Today as I looked at him in his beat up, living under the local bridge clothes, my humanity to my fellow man kicked in, and I allowed him inside.

I made him a drink and we chatted for a while. I said I was still pissed at him, he wanted to know why, and I told him. No anger or animosity, just stated the facts, and he accepted it.

He's used up every service in the county and they're all turning him away now. His life has been a tormented mess since he was born here forty years ago. I saw the agony in his eyes today.

But I have done what I can, I slipped him a twenty and sent him out the door. Then I sprayed down and cleaned my chair.

Shelby is hanging out with the girls tonight at Mardi Gras in Pensacola, and sent me a shot.

The previous night she sent me this:

It's her with Pensacola's resident artist Homer Jolly. I know she loves that town, she and Homer cooked me Thanksgiving dinner before a swanky party one year. The next year he escorted us through the Alabama State Zoo, that he designed.

Hey Homer, looking good!

As I was looking at that shot of the krewe I thought how nice it would be to zoom in on any face and see details about them, using a worldwide facial recognition database, implemented by AI.

Of course the tech exists, it's just not available to us. Do you ever just have peanut butter for dinner?

Actually, I just did. Kept the jar on the counter with a kitchen knife hovered over the sink, as I wrote at my laptop.

I jokingly told Shelby that I would jump in my truck and join them all down there for Mardi Gras, and she thankfully said we should shoot for a quieter weekend in March, instead.

I'm doing good just getting to the peanut butter and I couldn't concur more!

Shelby is heading to Mardi Gras in Pensacola, FL. She used to live and work there, joined this Krewe, recently did a Christmas event with them, and now she's headed back.

She didn't go into detail about all the events that were planned, but I sensed a slight concern at keeping up with all these beautiful women, at the 2024 Pensacola Mardi Gras.

My favorite grand-daughter Shelby called me today as she road trips down to Pensacola, FL from Tampa.

With her dog Zinny.

She's going to be hooking up with her Mardi Gras krewe again and Josie, Shelby's lovely Brazilian friend will be there.

Even Andy, Shelby's ex Navy Commander boyfriend stationed in Italy is going to be there.

It should be a wild and fun time, high everyone!

It's been an interesting Wednesday morning. I decided to have breakfast in the Square and as I headed out I thought why not do my laundry at the Wishy Washy, after. So I gathered almost everything up, grabbed quarters and detergent, and drove to the Square.

Every spot around Square Forty was taken and I had to park up the street. When I staggered (I don't walk anymore, it's a Parkinsons thing) through the door at 0830, the place was full and rocking. I mentioned how busy they were to Shana as I headed to my back table, and asked Sue along the way, what's up?

Over the dull roar she said Pat's Cafe was closed today, which is the only other place in town to get breakfast. Shana told me they close every Wednesday, for some reason.

Then, as I'm doing my laundry, I realized that combining this with breakfast, was not a good idea. I didn't grab my coat hangers when I left the house, and I was wearing my favorite warm pants, which really could have used a wash.

My mind and my body are going out together, like an old married couple named Deme and Park.

My memory bank is a swirling vibrant separate entity, where fragments of my entire life float around in there, wrapped up in visual bubbles. Switching it on and presenting those bubbles to my mind randomly, and quickly, is my entertainment.

Who am I, this old man right at the beginning of being really old, bumping up against eighty, asks?

Around 1963 I discovered that I was smart. I was also a star athlete, musician, and an overall outsider in high school. Hit the road in the summer at sixteen, graduated high school later on at night school.

In the late sixties I was into everything. The seventies brought me through college and into a brilliant computer career, that extended on to a couple of years ago.

Now I love to write and share my words with the world. I still have so many memories that will never be saved, but I will record as many as I can.

The bottom line is, life is a document. If you don't record it, it's gone, as are you.

Finally, my little truck is running good again. My mechanic Thomas did a great job on the engine and the carb, but she needed new plug wires, which I installed myself this morning. Two of them had fallen apart at the plug.

I also found a compression plug missing it's tip and the engine was sucking air. I could put my finger over the hole and feel the suction, then listen to the engine quiet on down. Daniel's home and he helped me fix that.

My truck manual states you should install a new timing belt every 60K miles, to avoid engine damage. She's got 250K and I put a new belt on well over 100K ago, back in Idaho. So I ordered one from the parts store when I picked up the plugs.

My parts guy was quite supportive of this decision, saying if it breaks it would twist the valves, destroying the engine. Besides, he wants to sell me a $60, part. I know the guy and like him, and that's his job.

Then I called Thomas, to tell him the problems have been solved, and to inquire about a timing belt job, dreading how much this would cost. Then my friend made my day. He said the timing belt looked in good shape when he had the engine torn down, if it had any issues he would have told me.

He said cancel that order Jim and get your money back, also tell your parts store friend he's wrong about the valves twisting. This particular engine style would not, it would simply stop.

Then I drove to Napa and canceled my order. Al was very gracious and gave me a credit on my card. I told him Daniel says hi, he did the B&W Auto Parts store lighting a year or so ago, before Napa bought Al and them out.

So this is where small town trust comes in. Most of these people around me were born and raised here. They work and live together, and if you don't maintain your honesty and integrity, you're done.

I trust and respect my mechanic, and friend, Thomas. He's done great work on my old truck, with passion and integrity. I think he's become fond of her, they have bonded.

I told Al at Napa that my mechanic said the valves wouldn't twist, just stop. He said Who's your mechanic? and as Thomas's name left my lips he smiled broadly and said Ahh, the black guy!, I didn't even have to name the shop. Respect is earned and maintained around here.

I started my modern blogging almost thirteen years ago. I spent decades before that creating technology and sharing it, but I wasn't sharing my life with the world every day.

Back in 2011 I was living in a beautiful log home at the base of the Grand Teton mountains in Idaho, driving the local TRPTA bus around the Valley.

In my beautiful office, with a great PC, I created a blog using the best platform on the market, WordPress. I learned how to host it, maintain it, and I named it BusDriverJim.com.

The first post was called Vegas Notes One on June 6, 2011. I had driven down to Las Vegas from Idaho to hang out with my boy Riley, and his girlfriend Jessica, who is now the mother of his two girls.

Blogging is an amazing process, I kept living there and writing, shooting photos, and publishing it all to the world, untill September 30, 2018.

It was a glorious site on PC's and laptops, but once it ended I had to bring it down to phone size, for retirement.

If you truly wanted to follow my life in Teton Valley, either forward or backward, you still could...

Then I moved here and started this blog from a Joomla platform. I didn't miss a beat and my life in Lawrenceburg, TN, and the world, is documented here, in excess. With some really crazy shit sitting in the trash :-)

I've been seeing a TikTok promotion for a Social Security food supplement of $3,300 a year. It was one of those click a few button sites to see if you qualify, before it expires. And it was not from the Social Security department.

So I mossied over to our local Social Security office to see what's up. I waited forty minutes in their lobby before talking to a nice lady through a window.

She confirmed my suspicion, that Social Security has no such supplement. Who knows what the scam is, but this old man ain't buying it. It's sad to think how many folks do fall for this stuff.

I did sign up for a Medicare Advantage health plan from a local outfit when I first moved here, best thing I ever did. A couple of nice ladies showed up at my house, sat in my comfy chairs, and took over my Social Security Medicare.

Since then, I've been living in the land of $10, and occasionally $35, copays, for high level visits and procedures! It's been excellent medical care on many levels, where I can just lay $10 down as I leave, or hand them my card for a $35.

I've had skin cancer removed, my few remaining teeth removed, major examinations of everything, from the speciality places up in Columbia, TN.

Blood worked, brain scanned, and in return I once bought my local FastPace Clinic friends some fresh donuts from the best bakery in town.

The bottom line is, somehow with the insanity of my life, I've landed in a space where my health can be maintained, at a price I can afford.

Major shit would blow it apart, I'm sure. I've had a couple of dealings with our local hospital and they don't play within this 10/35 copay world.

I drove up to the Park today with a bag of Quack Cocaine, looking for my ducks. It's been a few months since I've fed them and I didn't know if they were still alive. I've lost a couple over the last year and a half.

I spotted them down by the dock as soon as I pulled around the corner, in the water, with about a couple dozen geese up on the bank.

They used to recognize my truck and come running, not this time. The geese were very tame as I walked through them down to the shore. I sat within five feet of my old friends, giving out my quack quack call, and they ignored me.

I used to be able to bring them in from the middle of the lake with that call, today they just floated around me, totally forgetting our past. I couldn't feed them at all, much less from my hand.

It's good I suppose, the wild bird seed and cracked corn was eating into my budget, and the gas both ways was adding up. It was a great run, I grabbed some fun videos, they're doing just fine, and now it's over.

I've had one of the most depressed days of my life today. If I was suicidal, you wouldn't be reading this.

I made my bed, did my dishes, and just started a movie on NetFlix when Daniel knocked on my door. He sat down, grabbed the cards, and we continued the game we've had going on for three days now.

I try to speak to him about this depression shit, but he turns me off. I accept that.

About an hour into the game, my phone rang. It was my sister Lorelle calling from snow covered Driggs Idaho. It was great to hear her voice and we put the game on pause.

Then she said something that blew my mind! She said that she was told by the other side to call me, out of concern.

I haven't talked to my sister in years. I think of her and her family all the time, I love them.

She mentioned our deceased brother Dana's name, as if it might have come from him.

What this tells me is that there very well is another side. The concept of my brother and all of my other beloved family members looking down on me with concern, and contacting my sister, is real!

My words and pictures define my life, as it fades away, and I have so little left.

What a trip it is to feel life fading! Yea, there's always the get yourself back together physically and stop drinking mode. But I've been there, done that, and failed. A few times...

Now I think about the very few people left who care about me, and wow, I've really dropped to a new low. They are my son Riley and family, my grand-daughter Shelby, and my neighbor Daniel.

Beyond that, I have my sisters family back West that I never see anymore. She brought me into Idaho, and I bailed eventually to Tennessee.

To chase a love, a possible new family, and have it dissolve around me without really understanding why.

All I do now is stay alive and write!

My chest hurts, I don't know if it's my lungs or my heart. I walk around my small house wondering if this is the day I drop dead. A hell of a way to live...

I'm absolutely done with Post notifications, shoving my shit into peoples text feeds. I'm just going to write until I can't.

I feel really broken. I actually would end it if I wasn't so morally opposed to that.

My friend and neighbor Daniel showed off his new clothes before heading off to his sons wedding this afternoon. I think he looks great! My advice as I hugged him, and told him I loved him, was to wrap Jen onto his arm for the whole event, be cool and be proud.

btw: he's the top heating and air guy for the Lawrenceburg, TN school system. He also maintains our ice houses, wires corn silos and local businesses lighting. Those hands are genius and I really am a fan of his mechanical ability.

My son Riley is one of the top Auto Body technicians in the country, and I have to put him right there with Daniel.

Hmmm, it would be so cool if they hooked up, but Riley is rocking Seattle, and Daniel is ruling southern Tennessee.

I've been playing Poker with Daniel all morning, watching a bunch of vehicles for the second day in a row, parking across the street for an estate sale out on the highway.

Daniel's oldest son is getting married today at 1700, and he just left with his wife to buy clothes for the event. Here's what I've learned:

His ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law will be there.

His son has been seeing this woman for ten years, and Daniel has never met her parents, even though they're good friends with the ex.

His younger son called and advised him to not show up drunk. I've been encouraging him in the opposite direction.

His good friend and neighbor me was not invited, thank god, even though I know the boys and the bride to be. I haven't trimmed my head since before Christmas, I look like a wild man, no decent clothes to wear, and I'm staggering and grunting, as opposed to walking proud. And my pretty fingernails are still rocking!

Hah! Daniel could have drug me along as his old hippy avant garde videographer, with my DJI Pocket 2 camera, and I'd put the whole wonderful event up on YouTube.

Probably best not...

Update: Daniel went up to town and spent $350 on clothes. Then he came back and I kicked his butt in poker. We just had on epic hand where I grabbed a bunch of his red chips, beating his straight with four kings.

Now he's heading back to his house next door, to shave and shower, put on the new clothes, meet up with his wife there, and then go to his son's wedding. And, yes he is, thank you.

Btw: reds are twenty, greens are tens, and whites are one.

I'm writing this in case I don't make it. I've been having chest pains pretty consistently lately, and there is a chance I might just drop dead soon.

My Will is on the small table next to the icebox. I think having a garage sale would be a good way to clean this place out of anything left.

The Will says bury me, but with whatever money I got left, cremation is fine.

Thanks for reading my blog.

I am really beginning to accept reality as I approach 78. This little house in Lawrenceburg, TN is where my crazy life has landed, and this is where I will continue to live, until I die.

Now the focus becomes survival, not adventure. Trips are off the table, I need to figure out how to use every service available, to stay alive.

I haven't used any local or federal services yet. I have a moral code that say's, if I can pay for it, do it, until the day I can't. And I am approaching that point, this year.

Hmmm, as I write this, I'm smiling. If I had landed with a wife of sixty years, a great pension and a huge family, I would not have ended up loving who I do.

I have no regrets!

It's been a long morning stuck down on my deadend street, while my mechanic Thomas is working on my truck. He said yesterday it would be ready today around 1300, and he called at 1315. Turns out his helper didn't show today so he devoted his very full shop, to my truck.

I've made some friends here, Thomas is the brother of another buddy, Tim, who works for my landlord and that I drove cars down from Nashville for. Black guys, grew up working on vehicles as kids, and in my opinion, the best in town!

Tim's worked on my truck a couple of times, getting a ride from the car dealership where he's the head mechanic, to here after work, then takes it to his place to do the job.

I told Thomas to click the Home button on my GPS and it brought him right here. I jumped in my passenger seat, for the first time ever, and as we headed back to his shop, he told me the deal.

He tore the engine down, said the head was smooth, and the cylinder walls looked great. He said the engine has a lot of miles left on her. Considering she's at 250K, that's great news! He's also recommending four new spark plug wires, ordering now.

As Thomas was showing me the engine, back at his shop, I slid twenty fifty dollar bills into his hand. Straight out of my bottoming out stash, but absolutely necessary.

My beloved truck Jill, is back!

I honestly consider myself a good man. As I look back on the 77 years I've been around, I made a ton of mistakes, but deliberately hurting anyone, or committing an obvious crime, was never my makeup.

I broke the law on occasion. Hell, I did many recreational drugs, so did half this country. I stole a pen from the small store on the side of a mountain outside of Reno when I was seven, and was banned from the place for a year.

Hell, I was busted for public intoxication right here a few years ago! Case was dismissed. I've never had a DUI and I've never assaulted anyone, other than in self defence.

Somehow, I've made it this far, I have nothing to hide, I am who I am, I don't share everything, but all you have to do is ask.

I drove my truck up to Thomas's shop this morning. He wasn't there yet so I left it in his yard with the key, and walked down to the Square for breakfast.

My watch beeped at me for the first time in a while, giving me a thumbs up for the walk home after breakfast. Now I keep glancing towards my carport and freaking out when I don't see my sweet old truck.

If I lose her, I'm screwed. I can't afford another vehicle, and walking around town with Parkinsons legs just won't work. So I'm thinking positive, waiting on a good phone call.