I don't guess I will ever get it. Here is my feeble attempt to calm my despicable spirit.
Love and light, my dear...Love and light.
Monday, December 5, 2016
W the actual F

Friday, November 25, 2016
Toxic Thanksgiving
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I truly wish that for you all.
I’m not jealous of all the warm happy households, full of people eating and
playing games, talking and enjoying their visits. I don’t have room for
jealousy in my monochromatic pallet of emotion. I can see that enjoyment of
life is happening, and I don’t want to spoil it by injecting my lousy pain into
your moment. I am writing this knowing full well that it is too toxic to share. I have experienced joy in my lifetime. I have known the ease
of a life with few concerns. Not anymore.
It has been a slow, torturous slide for Sharon into complete, unfixable disease.
Being bedridden is one thing. Being bedridden and unable to eat or drink or
move or even sleep is another. She currently drinks from a Camelbak water bag
suspended from the ceiling. She is now unable to bring the hose to her lips.
And should it be provided to her she can barely swallow without aspirating and
coughing for five minutes. All the food she eats must be placed into her mouth
by me. But I can’t chew it for her or make her swallow without choking.
I was barely keeping up with the daily hygiene and meal
cooking. And going to work. Then I got myself ill. This year I’ve been going to
doctors to try to fix a gut problem. The doctors couldn’t figure it out, so they
called it IBS and told me to live with it. Take an antacid. I’ve maxed out my sick days,
vacation days and even family leave. I’ve even reduced my hours to 32, so I can
still qualify for their crappy health care. This last week I had a bout of
bronchopneumonia and had to do the caregiving with a 102 fever. I took the week
off without pay. I’ll be surprised if I have a job to go back to. It is all
going to hell.
She wants to die at home. That’s the damn hardest thing one
could ever put on someone else. Make them take care of you while you become
completely immobile and your body shuts down. Make them watch your decline and
do their best to provide care while it is completely ineffective. And then make
sure to tell them when they are less than adequate in the attitude department.
My empathy gene got skipped, but even my reptilian, narcissistic brain
registers that this is sad. So very sad. I don’t feel a lot anymore, but when I
do it comes in the form of anger, then sadness and regret. Her illness is killing
the both of us.
And the other day she said, crying, “I just realized that it
is taking me too long to die.”

Wednesday, November 23, 2016
A Dream I Had
This morning I was in a hypnogogic state, exhausted from
fitful sleep. I was recovering from broncopnuemonia and my mind kept me awake
until the wee hours. When I finally fell into deep slumber, I found myself
dreaming.
I dreamed I was in a military school, located somewhere in Durham, a little south of Chico, California.
I was in the locker room putting on my uniform and wouldn’t you know it, the
damn pants were too small. I looked at the tag: “Houa.” I was always getting
his tiny pants. I decided to suit up without them and left the locker room.
Roaming the halls, I got smirks as I passed the other cadets.
I thought of trying to blend in and practiced my “hut-huts”
while marching down the corridors. I was looking for my class, which seemed to
be behind one of many closed doors. The halls emptied and I felt out of place,
so I decided to climb up on the roof for a better vantage point.
That’s when I noticed the many plumes of smoke in the
distance. The sky was turning gray, and the sun was a deep red color. I lay down
on the roof and tried to get comfortable, but my eyes felt like they were being
pried open. I had a sense that I should be in class, but in the current state
of things maybe being on the roof without pants was just as good an option.
I thought of an idea that I had earlier and wondered if it
could have anything to do with all this smoke and apocalyptic gloom.
You see, I had been toying with the idea of constructing a
dimensional gateway in my backyard. I got the idea from, I don’t know, too much
sci-fi or late night talk radio. It was going to be simple: two painted, yellow
concrete pylons, about four feet high and spaced about four feet apart. At
certain times, moon phases or equinoxes, the theory went, it would open up, and
beings could pass through from one side to the other. What was on the other
side was unknown, but I liked to imagine a place called Azure, an endless beach
with crystal, turquoise water and shimmering white sand. But really, I didn’t
have a clue because all you could see through the pylons was the backyard.
Anyway, it was all in the planning phase and I really needed
to research it more.
More later on the nature of the monsters that would come
through and that I would have to deal with in the work that I will call the
Final Avatar. Hint: they look ferocious
but they like to have their belly rubbed.

Sunday, October 9, 2016
sunday funday
all shot to hell.
love and light love and light love and light.
all is well.
love and light love and light love and light.
all is well.

Friday, September 16, 2016
UHHHHH, LIGHT AND LOVE.........

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