Naming it and claiming it.
16,961 words

Day 62: Salty

Follow along if you can...

Has your "self" disappeared? Do you correlate your image by standing in line and receiving your instructions about what is expected of you to maintain a semblance of sanity? Are you "you" or an imperfect facsimile of your good intentions?

Fog is perfectly painless. It is plain as day. It is the sky grounded for a breather.

One's body is overblown if you never wrote or sang a song.

Suicides are becoming the salt of the earth. Living is losing its savor.

Blood and blood
Covering it all.
Forensic crucifixion,
Response and call.
One accord,
All to fall.
God and ghost,
angels recalled.
Heaven and earth
Imagine it all.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 61: A Mess

Follow along if you can...

I want to be nice. I want be calm and centered. I want to feel secure.

It's nice work if you can get it.

Are personal biases a bad or good thing? Are opinions reaching the point of no return?

America has been hit with the ugly stick.

All news is breaking news.

No news would be good news.

We are not nice. We are not calm and centered. We are insecure.

When's the last time you've seen or heard these words used before today? "Courage and moral clarity." Hard to remember isn't it?

I had this cassette many years ago. Warren could rock too. Loved him. "The shit has hit the fan!"

Here's a line to a poem I'm working on...

"Who remembers when God was living
and only he could make
a mess of things?"

Neither do I.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 60: Counting Again

I'm back to this. It's been a long hiatus. I had lost the challenge to post something 100 straight days. But I'm still challenging myself to reach the goal of 100 posts. Who knows. Maybe with this post I'm restarting a 100 straight day goal. Will see. Anyways, this is a day 60 post.

I'm dealing with something I've dealt with all of my life. But this time there's a definite different component to it. It's intense. It's intense in the way that I have lost any defense against it. I don't want to dignify it and call it depression. It's beyond that. It's despair. A living despair.

This past summer this drastic change took hold. For quite awhile I didn't know what had happened. Was it allergies? I have had those kick in the past years regularly. When I finally whet to a walk-in clinic, which was only about 5 or 6 weeks ago, the diagnosis was sinusitis. A bad case of it. I got the standard steroidal "cocktail shot" plus prescriptions for an antibiotic and something else I can't recall. There was some relief. But the ever-present and overbearing pressure and heaviness in my head was still there. It has taken control of my everyday movement and thinking and my ability to maintain my daily rites of living.

It has been a battle.

I am urged to return to a doctor. I resist. Because I know my bloodwork is perfect. It was checked at that last visit. And if I describe what is going on to a doctor they will instantly diagnose me as bipolar. Which I am. Or they can diagnose me with schizoaffective disorder. Which I have had. Or they can diagnose me with dysthymia. Which would be true. Major depressive disorder. Check.

And then the trial and error meds start. Which will not work. There has been only one med in my life that has made me feel a normal that I was totally unfamiliar with. And that would be an MAOI. Nardil. Or Parnate. Those worked. But the side affects about killed me. The withdrawal destroyed my ability to concentrate. It left me with severe tinnitus. I cannot read more than a few sentences. I cannot be at peace.

I know this is personal. And once again I will debate about posting this. More than likely I will. Not because it might help someone. Not even because it might help me. It's mainly because what harm is it going to do.

You might be urging me to seek professional help. I understand that completely. But I have a deep distrust of the medical profession because of my past experiences involved as a patient/client within that industry. Some very horrible experiences. I am scared of surrender. And for me that's what it would be. A surrender of my last source of strength, which is my determination to withstand whatever the gods that be have cursed me with. I truly want to believe that I can do this on my own. No matter when the world would say I can't.


That's off my chest.

It's good to type out a few paragraphs.

How about some miscellaneous, and hopefully lighter fare?

I still miss a writer who was using standard notes/listed. She was so honest. And it bugs me to death not knowing the name of her blog or journal. But I am forgetting, or not able to recall, a lot of things now. Oops. I promised lighter. lol

Okay. Here ya go...Oh my god. Another thing to keep my butt flat...

Well hell. I can't be lighter. I'm too tired. And that has nothing to do with being too crazy. So I'll call it right here.

Still, it's good to be back.

And as always...

More later. There's always more later.

Day 59: Embraced

I love the quiet mornings. The last couple of mornings have been that way. This morning in the stillness is the calm. I'm embracing it.

There's a last swallow of coffee in my cup on the arm of my loveseat. It will be refilled. "The Boys" are taking their after-breakfast nap on a chair and on a rug in the floor behind me, letting the morning's soft seeping light fill them through the front storm door.


My body is still working with the medication to heal and make my sinus trouble into a memory. I hope that in the next few days I will have forgotten it.

Even with this morning's meditation, I need to make this day a day of movement. A day of labor. A day of doing and accomplishing. Not just for the healthful activity of being doing, but for the pure doing of it. If that makes sense. Probably not. But it's hard to pull myself away from the deep moment that is flowing over and through me. I want a day of it. But the cup is empty and it needs to be filled. Then I will...

involuntarily end this time with myself. The neighbor dog has started barking for the day. It's funny how quickly your serenity can be destroyed from the outside of you.

I must stay within.

For me.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 58: Better

Getting relief from sinus trouble. Slowly but surely. It's been a summer of being dragged down and dragged out.

But it's getting better.

Better yet, I wish I had something to write.

I don't. So it's better not to force the issue.

More later. (It won't take much, will it?)

Day 57: Morning Portfolio

Been awhile. A few days at least. Have been puny. Weak. Fatigued. All those words. Have felt this way most of the summer. It just has gotten worse this last month. And I have the utmost distrust of doctors, or I should say, the medical industry in this country. Heck, I distrust most all authority figures. Mainly because they believe that they are the final authority. I guess an authority would say that my belief system falls under my DSM diagnosis. But today is the day that I have to find out what's wrong.

Coffee tastes especially good this morning. Especially after hardly being able to lift my head from the pillow and make it down the hallway to the kitchen.

Reading my morning email newsletter "5 things" from CNN. Learned that I need to update Windows 10. It could be vulnerable to being "wormable". Aren't we all? But that's not one of the 5 things. These are...

"Jeffrey Epstein had "multiple breaks in his neck bones," according to an autopsy..." That's to get your juices flowing. Especially if you don't read any further. The breaks are consistent with hanging. But that will be discounted as the day goes along.

"Asian markets stumbled this morning, after Wall Street suffered its worst day of the year." My non-stock non-portfolio non-financial plan laughed.

The "Wild West" can't hold a candle to the present day American shooting range.

Sex abuse. New York. 400 cases. One day. One year to file. Alabama and most of the South could probably top that. Child brides and all.

Hong Kong protestors? Meet the "People's Armed Police Force". Trump is salivating at that idea.

There's more after the main five. But that ought to be enough to feed your depression and anxiety for the day. It's like the pharmacy for pessimists.

But we all are drug addicts now.

Amazing I had enough energy and concentration to do this much.

I have a trip coming up that I'm really looking forward to. Get to be with my daughter.

That's what's in my portfolio.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 56: Glut

Tired is as tired does. Finished mowing. Incredibly hot and humid.

I remember a time when you never mowed on Sunday because it was truly the Lord's day, the sabbath, a day of rest. I don't recall anybody ever mowing on Sunday till maybe I was in my late 20's? That would be the late 70's. But even then I don't recall.

Broke down. Had to have something sweet. Very rarely do I have anything sweet. Hopped in the car and drove 8 miles to get a .99 cent dipped coin at McDonald's. I got some sugar. And a facsimile of ice cream. Was it worth the drive? In a word, no. But it's a lesson well learned. No offense McDonald's, but up your profit by upping your ice cream game.
Thank me later with stock options.

On the bright side I made awesome hamburger patties tonight. So good, somebody would pay good money for one. I love it when an experiment's result is a broad smile and taste buds that crave more. Feed me! Feed me!

Mouth problems are a pain. (Specifically dentures.)

(Yes. I have dentures. It's a shame thing. Shh.)

Did I mention I also walked 6 miles today? I'm a glutton for punishment.

My life.

More later. Hopefully, there's always more later.

Day 55: Finishing

The day was mowing.

And more mowing.

Mowing an acre and a tenth.

Got about 3/4 done.

With a self-propelled push mower.

Will finish tomorrow.

Ate tacos.

Is it possible I'm tired of tacos?

I know I'm sick when I'm tired of tacos.

They don't taste as good.

Like most of what I eat anymore.

A week and about 3 or 4 days till Arizona and Vegas.

Can't wait.

Anything to escape.

Have you escaped recently?

And to finish...

this post was to hit 55.

Do you feel used?

Well, I'm sorry.

Join the club.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 54: Scattered

"By Midnight"

I want to breathe
and know it's me.

I want to thrive
because I decide.

I want to expand
and understand.

I want to say
this was the day

I went to sleep
and knew what to keep.



Why do we attach the term "passed away" to someone who killed themselves; also known as suicide? It was their choice was it not? Even if they made it under the weight of mental illness, or stress, or depression, or addiction, the manner and means and cause by which they died was not the normal way or the human experienced way. If someone dies in a car wreck we don't say they passed away. If someone is murdered we don't say they passed away. If someone drowns we don't say they passed away. What makes suicide the word that is more and more being silenced? It is a cause of death is it not?

I would like the three last words of Jesus to be the universal pronouncement of death..."It is finished."

Is anybody paying attention? We will soon be at the point of no return...

Day 53: What?

What the heck did the title of yesterday's post have to do with anything? I don't know what I was thinking. But what I am thinking of tonight many people in this country have come to the point that they can say that they are ashamed to be called an American?

I'm too tired to write much more.

So let me close by writing a poem...


When you care, cry.
When you've lived, die.

Where there's night, sigh.
If you dare, fly.


More later. I'm hoping there's always more later.

Day 52: Having A Chance

Looks like I'm barely going to get in Day 52. Nothing profound here. Never was.

Watching something about aliens in Antarctica. Ice is up to three miles thick in Antarctica. Don't worry. We'll get that melted in short order.

I sat today outside of a Walmart in Corinth Mississippi. I sat. And I sat. Thinking twice. I went in. But I do know now where to hit the floor. And the door.

Life goes on, some people will say. Of course today some people don't have a chance to even consider it.

Have a nice day America.

More later. There's always more later.

Until there isn't.

Day 51: Un-titled

Speak less to yourself and what you think you want to hear. You are speaking into a vacuum if you are not already doing what you are telling yourself to do.

A resting position is a place where the mind maintains itself on life-support.

The quiet morning. All mornings should be as quiet as possible. Being awake and being startled awake give two different responses. If you start out with a scream after being startled from your sleep, you spend the rest of the day recovering. Don't let yourself jump out of your skin. Motion the day to come slowly in.

Superficial. I pray to god that that's not a word that would ever be applied to me. But it's also a descriptive word that's not used nearly enough. There are lots of words that have fallen out of favor. Maybe it's because words, the oral speech, has become superficial in and of itself. We now use fingers to punch keyboards in the chest to make our point. But still, nobody is listening but to themselves.

The quiet morning. So quiet. Please keep on point for the day.

By the way, this is what I call freestyle, or freeform.

I have reached the point where the actual consuming of food holds less interest than the figuring out of what to consume. Then after all that work nothing really tastes good anymore. Or at least how I wanted it to taste.

Manifesto. Now that's a word that should fall out of favor. Doesn't even sound good does it?

Can't think of a word to title this note. I like that word better than post. Note. Noted. Is no title a title in and of itself? Dang. Why can't I think of a title? A descriptive word? My quiet is becoming disrupted by my frustration.

Okay. There it is. Un-titled. See what I did there? Didn't think so. I don't either.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 50: Halfway

Halfway to the 100 days of writing. There's no time to rest.

Walked 10 miles today. Just like yesterday. It seems that today and yesterday should be the only days that count. And that they are. Aren't they? And yesterday should be looked on as a second cousin to tomorrow.

Walking is my soul. I want to be at the point of walking as long and as far as my spirit moves me. Walking is my meditation. It is my mantra. I need it to make its mark on my body. To put it and my mind under its control.

I have noticed after these recent shootings that nobody says like they used to, "Did you hear about this? Have you seen that? Isn't it awful? It breaks my heart! What is happening to us?!" It has lost its affect. We are a desensitized culture now. We are the culture of death. Our president has trained half the population to worship at his altar. The altar of a despot. And he accepts their sacrifices. They are justified by being washed in the blood. Aren't we all complicit in the slaughter?

Why don't we use the word slaughter more often?

According to this website...

there have been 128 deaths in what they term mass shootings since I started this 100 day challenge. I'm betting even money that that number will not be any less, if anything, by the time I finish this challenge.

More later. I hope there's always more later. Beginning to wonder.

Day 49: Myself

A walker will walk. The walker will walk. I walk.

I love meditative music.

Dreams are real. Hope is real. They are means to an end.

This is a day of activity. This is a day of inactivity. Ying and yang.

“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” ...The Buddha

I could say a lot of things about the recent mass shootings. But saying anything is empty. Doing something fills the void.
The void of feelings is a deep darkness. We must fill it.

I will live as it is. I will live as I am. I will walk, love, dream, hope, and do.



Let me make myself
perfectly clear.

I take a good look
and see the need to be
living quietly.

I have much to learn
about mirrors.


More later. There's always more later.

Day 48: Dream Ahead

Slept late again. Feels good. Refreshed. Brain fog diminished. Lots of dreaming. A good dream. Bad dream I do. Back at the home I grew up in. Weedeating. Feels like I've been living there. Lights turned on. Early evening. But there's a yellowish tint. Inside and outside. Then I noticed the holes in vinyl siding, just on one side of the house, that I must have put there in my weedeating. But now that I remember a lot of the holes were way above where I had weedeated against the house. More to the dream. People next door. A talk with a man who appeared from across the street. Found a fifty and a five dollar bill on the front steps. No need to remember. Unless there's a deep meaning to it all.

Beautiful sky and sun this morning. One of those mornings that's clear and hopeful and fills you.

A reminder to me..."If you simply transcribe what your mind is thinking, then there's no way you fail this challenge. Have you ever observed your mind not chatting incessantly? It's impossible. It just goes on and on, for better or worse. Your job is to simply sample a small timeline of those thoughts onto paper. You're not doing any work here other than transcribing the thoughts that naturally flow through your mind onto paper."

Why did I ever buy a Toddy for cold brew? Glorified glass pitcher. You could use a mason jar. Waste of money. Dunkin Donuts packets are the best.

Will check-in today on somebody in the hospital. Will continue mowing. Will try to stay hydrated. Will try. Will try not to deny. Sounds like a to-do list. Made my bed. Always the first to-do. The best to-do each day.

Would love to time travel. Would love to astral project. I talk as if it's been done. When I was a kid that stuff fascinated me. I dreamed it as part of my daylight dreams. I loved living in that world. A good world.

Reincarnation. Just had to write the word. Reincarnation.

Time for more coffee. Time to enjoy the bliss in the brain. The soft mood of the mind. The small portion that I need to grow. Been a rough month. But there's light at the end of the tunnel. I even see the long walks beginning again. I even see close to normal. Was that a movie? Everything's repeated anyway. Nothing is original. Don't fool yourself. You aren't the universe. You can't make something out of nothing. Even your dreams don't originate with you. You're just the host.

Freestyle. Freeform. I like those words.

More later. There's always more later...