the kirkyard

@thekirkyard

Male. 67. West Tennessee. #100Days

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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...

https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/reports/mass-shooting

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.

Poem...

"Yourself"

Let me make myself
perfectly clear.

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

Obviously
I have much to learn
about mirrors.

...GK

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." https://listed.to/@Listed/5765/tips-for-writing-every-day

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...

Day 47: Climb

CLIMB

Climb the black
From the bottom
Search for sky

Practice reaching
And forgetting
The fall

Always scream
When dreaming
And slipping

Grasp the ledge
To avenge
Heavy breathing


Some poems don't make sense. But as long as they are nonsensical to me they're worth it.

Sleep is good while suffering. A deep long sleep is even better. I slept good and late this morning. First time in a long time. Mind fog hopefully will break. I will keep moving, climbing, today.

I am so ready to claim a new point. Nothing matters if you don't take care of the matter at hand. The matter at hand is to replace the place.

From experience, a lot of times to heal from the dark "D", sitting and riding out the storm is better than trying to fight back when you have no strength.

My daughter said, "Don't do anything if you don't have to."
I love that. I love her. Think about it. It's so profound.

More later. There's always more later. (Until there isn't.)

Day 46: Still still

Let's freestyle...

Worst store-bought cole slaw. Walmart's. Had it with my chicken livers that I fried last night. Livers were great. More onion is the secret.

There should be a law against whipped cream cheese.

Still lightheaded. Still grieving. My two other boys (cats) are too. Seriously. They are. I know.

I would like to get back to how I wrote starting this 100 day challenge originally. It felt real.

There was somebody who posted on List that must have stopped. I miss her. Can't remember her title. She was raw and honest. Please come back.

I'm still feeling so separated from the world. It has gotten worse this past six months. Maybe close to a year.

Went to two Mexican groceries in Jackson. Neither one had El Milagro shells. They are always out. Seems to me that you would buy more product when you have the demand for it. Seems to me that's the way you make money.

Speaking of which, the smell of a Mexican grocery/restaurant is one of my favorite smells in the world.

I want ice cream so bad. But I don't want the 25 carbs in a serving. About a cup.

I think the government should start issuing bullet-proof vests for everyone. They're certainly not going to ban assault rifles. I mean, it would make it a harder sport. Killing innocents.

It's all I got. I do better writing in the morning. Great advice...https://listed.to/@Listed/5765/tips-for-writing-every-day

More later. There's always more later.

(Still grieving.)

Day 45: Still

My world is lonely today.

Lonely wrapped in a heartache.

The decision was made yesterday and Snugglepuss agreed.

With his old body of flesh and bones and his head buried in the crook of my arm he purred and sang the song of goodbye, and let me know that his life had been enough.

Our life together needed to become a memory.

I cried.

I cried harder.

And then we made the drive to an office that held the elixir of death.

I stayed with him as slowly the needle and its contents showed how simple it was to end life.

The hardest part was for me to let him go.

I have had a cat die. I have had another one put to sleep.

But Snugglepuss was different.

I am not ashamed to say that he was the best companion I've ever had.

And if I have a regret, it's that I feel that I never gave him more than he gave me.

I'm still here Snuggles.

And you are too.

Day 44: Opening The Door

I'm afraid of opening the door to my deck this morning. No, not afraid, I don't know what the word would be. I'm hoping that Snugglepuss has given up the ghost, so to speak. It would absolve me of making the decision.

I'm emotionally ragged. For those such as me, emotions are like pure bleach. At full strength they eat away at our presence or place in the world. Not that we ever had a place.
Empathetic depressives exist in the world. They don't really live in it. We are on the outside looking in. Never quite understanding how others calmly go about taking a breath and smiling each day.

Well, enough of the deep maudlin. Let's get real.

My head feels less "crazy" this morning. I took magnesium last night, which I had forgotten to take for 2 or 3 nights. Helps the sleep. And I also doubled my 5-htp. I've been taking that for many years. Again for sleep. And it possibly helps with my mood. No. I know it does.

Lately my posts are more and more personal. I know. Well, after all it is sorta like my journal. And I choose to let it be out there.

I guess I've had enough coffee.

Time to open the door...

More later. There's always more later.

Day 43: Whimper

We're just waiting on death here. My best friend, my cat Snugglepuss, has been holding on. I'd like to think he doesn't want to leave me. Each day becomes a little slower. Is he in pain? I don't believe so. Of course he can't tell me. He's still eating good and drinking. Even can still jump up on the couch. But the funny thing is, I want him to die. I want him to die at home. I don't want to carry him to the vet and have him put to sleep. I feel like the executioner then. But I will not let him hurt. His comfort will overrule my selfishness. His day will be filled with my love and care.

When you are a depressive and live alone, well, an animal feels like all you've got. They are your companion. They are the only solace you have against the dark demons.

But in a strange sense they are also the reminder that in the final analysis we only live to die. There are no infinite breaths. There are no days of expecting that the best is yet to come. We begin and end with a whimper. Go ahead and shout and laugh and be as positive as you want about your life. It all ends with a whimper. And tears.

More later...

Day 42: Mental Morning

The non-drinking morning hangover is a little less heavy this morning than usual. May be a sign the "mental fever" is breaking. Hope so.


Is there any good reason at all to read Twitter? Let's face it. It's like a group of children jumping up and down with their hands in the air screaming "Choose me! Please! Choose me!"

I do the same. And admit it. You do too.

Our witty repartee is so special. Yeah right.

Speaking of which, there is no good reason for you to be reading this. I'm not writing the great American novel.


Speaking of American, who here truly feels "American"?

We are now tribes without a country.


Are you still trying to convince yourself that cold-brewed coffee, hot or cold, is way so much better than a fresh-brewed mug of Dollar General Toastmaster 5-cup drip of Walmart Columbian coffee?

Elitist.

Afraid you're going to look like you're "not with it."

We are all lemmings.


Why do I use so many commas and quotation marks?

I hated grammar and punctuation in school.

Loved spelling though. Loved English class.


I feel like I'm a poem with no words to use to describe.

A page without print. A pen with no ink.

A wound with no salve to use.


And what is it with my asterisks? Why can't I just ramble?

It's like I want to accentuate my profundity.

(Told ya. I loved English class.)

(And parentheses.)


Yes. I am addicted To Klondike Solitaire. Especially at the Grandmaster level. It takes only one move that you should have or shouldn't have made, that loses the game.

Sounds like life.

But some are dealt the losing hand to begin with. Be honest. You know that's true.

Some are not given a winning hand.

It's a lie that everyone can be a winner.


God is the Joker in the deck isn't he?

Take out the Jokers before you begin the game. No good game includes Jokers.

See? Now you stand a better chance at winning.

That's why solitaire has no Jokers. You would have even worse odds at winning with a Joker in the deck.

It's just you against the deck.

And about a 10% percent chance of winning.

That is, if you play your cards right.

And even if you do make the right moves don't count on winning the game.

It's all chance. The odds are against you.


More later...

(There's always more later.)

Day 41: Later

10:37. Saturday night. Light-headed. I believe I've had too much sun this summer. Haven't felt good for 2 to 3 weeks.

Of course your mental state also manifests physically. I'm going with the multiple factors cause.

My daughter said today that I needed to take care of my health. That I need to back off of doing things all the time for others and do some self-care. I do know that I need to shake this. Been down, physically and mentally, for too long.

So I did next to nothing today. May be more of the same tomorrow.

I know this post is more of a diary. It's the best I can do.

More later. There's always more later.
.

Day 40: Rough

Yes. Yesterday was rough. Could you tell? I was in fine form. But that's me. I don't know how to smooth my rough edges. Or at the very least I don't know where the line is.

Still, in this day and edge, I don't think we as a society have a line. We are told to be ourselves. I was. We are told to be authentic. I was. We are told to be or do many things. I did.

I can't take any of it back. I could delete it. But I won't.

I am a depressive. In case you were wondering. I don't just have depression or episodic depression or situational depression. I am to my very core, depressed.

This very morning my depression is manifested in an obsessive anxious panic. This has lasted about two weeks. It has been very severe. Like diarrheic severe. Every little thing is a major life defeating event. Mowing a yard is nightmarish because of my perceived mistakes. A haircut's results has brought me to near tears. The expectation of losing or having to put to sleep my best friend, my cat Snugglepuss, is devastating. And so many other things...they kill me. Bit by bit. They kill me. The me that I will never know.

But on the bright side, if there is one, I have accomplished 40 days in the wilderness of writing. Albeit, I am more than upset that I wasn't able to accomplish 40 days in a row.

I'll stop now. For the moment.

More later...

Day 39: And God Is One Too

A hoax.

If I never hear the word "hoax" again, it won't be soon enough.

It's all a hoax anyway. The I and T. Apostrophe. S. And me.
And you. Hoaxed out of body. Hoaxed out of mind. The absurdity of it all. The absurdity of the universe. The absurdity of the universe having a "God". The absurdity of believing in something called a soul that breathes.

Then death.

Vanity of vanities. As they say.


Do you despair? Truly despair? Within you do you despair that you carry a soul in safekeeping for a creator "God" that detests you so much that you have to beg him for forgiveness?

I don't.

But I do despair because there is truly nothing there.

Thin air.


This morning I'm waiting for the brain to clear up its neurons. Purify, if you will. No rhyme or reason. Maybe coffee will do the cleansing.


Listening to the neighbor's dog. Incessant barking for hours on end. For over 5 years. I reside in a cesspool of a county in the "great" state of Tennessee. They love to abuse animals. They love the letter "K". Especially when it comes in threes. And don't forget the children. Abused upon abused children. But that's par for the course in today's America.

As an addendum, if you really want to abuse children, call them to the screen every time their President of The United States is on. Or read them his tweets. And tell them this is what they can be when they grow up. Tell them that this is what true Christianity looks like. Tell them that Jesus is living within Donald Trump.

Tell them to grab them some p*ssy.

That's what Jesus would do.

Oh wait. Jesus never did? Imagine that.

Wonder where his soul is at?

He never had one you say?

Then neither do I.


Don't have a good morning. There's nothing good, except to a god who's decided what morning or day you are to die.

Remember, "God" created darkness too and saw that it was good.

And he will cast you there when all is said and done, according to plan, unless you bend the knee and whimper for mercy.

Fooled you didn't he?

By the way, that same God is living in Donald Trump's heart. Precious isn't it?

The perfected hoax of hoaxes.


Day 38: It Comes To Mind

Long day. Tired day. That's what it is. Mentally tiring.
It's not a long day because everyday is confined by its length. The last shall be first and the first shall be last syndrome.

I'm feeling it.

My memory is making up its own mind. It's not so much a fading remembrance but a jumpstarted loss of identity. I don't know who I am anymore and I can't remind myself enough.


Let's write a poem. Shall we?...

LAST GASP

I had to learn
breath
that whatever I did
breath
worked
breath
for awhile
breath
to keep me here

until
breath
it didn't.


Will be back later. Will be tomorrow.

Day 37: Or So

Been out of pocket for awhile. My laptop decided to be a bottom-feeder. I cut the line. Back in business somewhat. Received Acer computer on Friday. Yes, it was from Prime Days. Well, I've been receiving support ever since I got it.

The bottom line is the bottom line..

Feel very bad for such a long stream of unpublished days. Yes I know there's an Android app. Pshaw.

Have been eating some carbs. Not happy about it. Neither is my gut. Did you ever notice how sweet Wheat Thins and Ritz Crackers are? I have.

Tonight I've had diced chicken breast and lettuce with roma tomato and Kraft Caesar Dressing. Not bad. Ate too much though.

Not going to tell you anymore about my day. So there.


Christianity is such a farce.

Okay. Got that out of my system.


I'm going to write a poem as I sit here:

TOMORROW

is a word I heard
today,
that may make its way
or decay
yesterday
and have its way
tomorrow

Tomorrow.
Never the sweet,
only the borrowed.


"Love Island" alternate title: "Whoring Galoring".


It's a start.

Day 36: Mine and Fine

My coffee is mine and fine. MCT oil. Kroger's whole cream. Only Kroger's. Thick and gloppy. A scoop of hydrolyzed collagen peptides. Then the coffee that changes flavors according to my whim. McDonalds, not from the local McDonald's, the one in the bag. Premium roast. That's a particular favorite. Or today was my last two scoops of Walmart's hazelnut. Good good stuff. Mix it all together. There you go. Oh and if you run out of cream, butter will work. Oil that coffee up. It's good for what ails ya. And you won't be hungry till sometime later in the day.

Mine and fine.


When does "the best is yet to come" arrive? I'm still waiting on my blessing. I mean a real blessing that puts me more in line with those who "much has been given".

Is it by your God you are singled out and blessed and receive the best?

I always love it when Christians have good things happen to them or they receive nice things and everything is going their way and they proclaim to the world, "God has certainly blessed me/us!"

And the people around them nod their heads and respond, "Yes, yes. He certainly has."

But when something bad or a tragedy happens to someone, they'll say, "Well, it's all part of God's plan. He's in control."

They then struggle to explain why these bad things happen to those others.

It's evident that their God of love, their awesome God who blesses also curses people.

But then they twist themselves up to try to explain that it's the devil who curses, not their loving God. God only does good and wondrous things.

Even though their Bible shows otherwise.

Whatever.

This ranting and rambling must be all part of God's plan too.

He's in control.

As for me, I think I will just go on breathing today.

And when this evolutionary body has used its genetically programmed last heartbeat, I will leave a memory. And the world can do with that what they will.

Of course many "believers" in their hearts know that I will have been consigned to hell with the devil and his angels. To suffer and scream and wail and gnash my teeth for eternity.

If only I had gone to church and sat there and sang my songs, and bowed my head while someone else struggled to pray the most beautiful prayer you ever heard or preached a mini-sermon in the form of a prayer while they have a captive audience.

If only I had listened to a preacher give their interpretation of a verse or a story from their infallible "Word of God", which for some reason God has chosen them to give the ultimate explanation for.

If only I had contributed money to their cause of building a nice creature-comforted and technologically outfitted building that shows the world how much God has blessed them.

If only I had done those things, they could walk away from what's left of my body and say, "Well, he's in Heaven now, sitting at the feet of Jesus in glory."

If only.

By the way, you ever notice that they never walk away from a grave and say "Well, they're suffering in hell now. That's too bad. But they're getting what they deserve."

One thing I know for sure at this very moment...

My coffee is not bitter.

It's smooth as silk.

My coffee is mine and fine.

***Added: I wrote this this morning while I was drinking coffee. Posting it at 10:24 p.m. on July 2nd, even though Listed will probably date it as July 3rd.

***Another added: I know my rant on religion sounds pretty bitter. But if your religion works for you, more power to ya. I'm not bitter. I used to be. I just want to point out the hypocrisy of believing in untruths that do more harm to some people than do good.

It's my truth.

"And God saw that it was good."

Day 35: It's The Life

The life of this crazy is a life of questioning. Every. Damn Word. Every thought. Every sentence is a question of "why did I say that?" And yes I call myself a crazy. Crazy. Because that's what it is. Most importantly, that's what I am.

I know that this journal of posts is public. Well hell. Every day I'm public. I don't have anything to hide. And as my aunt would say, "I'm going to die anyway."

Freestyle alert...

Obsessing. The crack in the roof of mouth. Bite. Tongue. Feel. Bite. Tongue. Feel. Wider. Worry. Obsessing.

Break. Take a break. Break. Give me a break.

When is the final sleep? When is the point of being judge, jury, and executing by proxy?

Too much light this morning. Don't want light. Love the grays. The grays cover. The grays blanket. The grays soften the blow of having to make an appearance in the light of day.

Not that I care.

I don't keep up appearances. By all appearances I'd rather be demonized than idolized. Demons at least are more effective than the so-called "angelic host".

"My thoughts and prayers" and all that horseshit.

Post a selfie of you in prayer. Better yet, shouldn't they be posting videos of their prayers? They are such saints. They should be showing it.

Oh. I get it. They are too humble.

Laughing so hard I'm almost peeing. Now that's humility.

Let's pray to our awesome God who set his creation up for failure. Places a beautiful tree in the middle of a garden then tells his created animal not to eat the fruit off of it. The best fruit in town. You'll die. It's like putting a bowl of candy in the middle of the room and telling some kids not to eat any of it. Then leave the room. Bet they can't eat just one. Death to them! Suffer! Burn! Release the maggots! What a loving God! Amen!

"Ultimate truths
begin as ultimate lies.

That is the life.
You cannot deny.

The best thing to do
is to live to defy."

It's the life.

Day 34: Solace

There is solace in solitude. I can testify to that. Sitting in silence with me as my only conversationalist is sacred. What's that? Me using the word sacred? Yes. Anything that calms me, centers me and corrects my course is sacred.

Sacred is a space. A place of perfecting the inward. An outward movement to peace.

A stillness.

Shh.

But not every moment is like that. I love to imitate the whirlwind. I love to pontificate. I live to educate. I had one of those moments today. A lot of us crazies have those moments. We live for them.

I went on a rant today with my cousin. I would call it half a rant. Guess what it was about? Religion. Specifically Christianity and its adherents, or more specifically, its non-adherents who believe they can mandate your adherence to their conception of rules and regulations in order to be "saved".

Okay. Enough already. But kudos to my cousin for being very patient with me while I had my moment.

I wasn't that bad. Honestly. And that's the only way to be and to complete me. Honest.

That being said, I wonder why I feel like I have to launch into a diatribe like that. Actually, I wonder why I wonder.

Because I know the answer. Us crazies live to hold on to one thing that convicts us. One thing that explains us. One thing to sustain us.

Then comes the silence.

The satisfying empty.

And for a moment...

we have solace.

Do you?

Day 33: Broken

Broke my streak for the days in a row.

Durn.

Actually I had written something yesterday and then forgot about it and forgot to post it

"Freestyle!"

Let's begin.

Walked 6 miles. Walking is life. (Seems like I've talked about this before.)

So there's that.

The pressure is off. What pressure there was.

I'm writing this at 11:44 p.m. on June 29th. For the record.

And so to sign off...My last rite(write) by rights...

"Death forgot to explain to you
to live
quickly."

-Gary Kirk

Day 32: It Really Stinks.

My goal for tomorrow is to keep moving. That's my goal everyday. As older folks tell me, "I keep moving because once you stop and don't start again you're done."

I watched the second night of the Democratic Debate. Those who are licking their chops over the idea of Kamala Harris debating Trump forget how smug Dems were picturing Hillary dismantling him too.

I support Mayor Pete Buttigieg. I have since before he officially announced. I'm scared of people who are constantly yelling and pointing fingers and talking at me instead of talking to me.

Pete has the gravitas the Presidency deserves. Especially in times like these.

And he's only 37.

That's a bonus, not a liability.
My oldest cat pooped on the floor in his litter room for the first time in about five days. So disappointed. Wish I knew the cause.

There's a fog trying to reach me. You know. That dreary, regretful feeling that seeps into your bones. The feeling that beats and tries to defeat you.

I will outwalk it in the morning.

Cat poop really stinks.

It's the shits.

Day 31: I Did

I really don't want to write tonight.

I had catfish with a friend today.
That's all that really needs to be said.

But I will also say
that I walked to clear my mind.
I walked to move me.

I walked because I wanted to.

This I don't.

But I did.

Goodnight.