Winter finally arrived today. Puffed rain fell most of the day, until there was three inches of soft water covering anything with horizontal surfaces. The National Weather Service advises continued periodic dustings for the next four days.
Writer's Block continues. . . .
30 days from today I'll board a train to Chicago where I'll spend one night. Most of the next day will be spent in Chicago's Union Station waiting for the Empire Builder to take me to Seattle, WA.
Since my son confirmed he was will to put me up (or put up with me) for however long it takes to get an apartment of my own, I won't have to spend any money in a motel. My biggest expense will be the rental car I'll have until I find a car.
30 days and counting ....
Well, I made it back from a short stay in oblivion. In many ways, it was the waiting that hurt the most. Bureaucratic time runs too slow, especially if you’re caught in the eddies.
Basically, my bank did not send out a replacement debit card for my expiring card. After giving it a good wait, just in case some wayward demon had nothing better to do than mess with someone’s life, I called and the rep said, “Yes, I’d waited long enough and he’d send out a new card and, by the way your card has
Unless something very important occurs tomorrow, my life as I now know it will be seriously jeopardized.
It's not life threatening, but it will be a big bother; and, I'm not in the mood for getting screwed when I didn't, technically, do anything to earn this kind of treatment.
Oh, if something doesn't occur, I may be unable to get online for sometime.
Oh, and I think I'm going to stay here in Texas, maybe get an apartment over towards Arlington or Grand Prairie, or maybe even as far
What used to come easily now takes a moment or two of concentration. Honestly, I try to stay out of the exposition trap, but sometimes the story needs a bit of placement for it to get out of the starting gate. For dramatic effect it’s far better to jump right in and let the characters run with the plot, but this new story needs a bit of exposition to get moving. It’s good to know I have a starting point, though it is 858 words in and an end point when a potential might have been is turned into a
Okay, this is the deal. I've got a sixteen-year-old who is entering college. Yeah, it's a stretch, but skip a few years and suddenly you're in his shoes, too. So, anyway, this kid is entering because his family situation puts him there, probably by a bunch of geezers smoozing away with expensive bourbon and thick cigars who are not mentioned for obvious reasons.
So, anyway, this sixteen-year-old boy has an eighteen-year-old assigned to ease his entry and, well, not knowing the kid's age beco
I saw Yoko Ono and Saint Paul on my ceiling today. The image of Yoko Ono was from the top down across her face and depicted her at a much earlier age. Why she chose to appear on my ceiling is beyond me. I would’ve very much appreciated if she had chosen someone else’s ceiling, but that was not to be today.
My ceiling is of the industrial blown-in variety and more than likely contains a sizable percentage of asbestos. Whether it is slowly sifting down upon the residents of the shelter is anyb
I received my disability award from the Veterans Administration the other day. A month and a half ago they awarded me 40 percent for my crotchety knees. Now they awarded an additional 50 percent for the bipolar and 30 percent for what is called individual unemployability. In other words, I’m 100 percent disabled due to the bipolar, the knee problems, and individual unemployability.
The individual unemployability is the important facet of the equation. They went to great lengths to explain my
Been depressed quite a bit lately, it comes and goes, some days are full of sunshine other days, gloom. Seraph74 reviewed one of my stories, Merry Christmas Patrick, and asked for a sequel. So, with doing better to do, I’ve now got a fresh faced sixteen-year-old moving into a college dorm with an eighteen-year-old, who started in summer term, thinking all sorts of nasty thoughts about the cute boy with alluring eyes at the other end of the footlocker.
It’s the autumn of 1971, barely two year
Well, another week at the shelter is in the basket.
Got a new roommate yesterday. Seems nice. He used to be a trucker until his employer gave him a breathalyzer test one morning and his reading was over 0.04, which is way above the zero tolerance trucking companies usually expect. Needless to say, his world has gone from okie-dokie to oh-f**k-this-isn’t-good. The only negative aspect of our new relationship is his radio or rather the station his radio is tuned to. I guess it’s rock of some s
My roommate of the last four months left for home yesterday, deciding after being away for 15 years the snowy winters of Upstate New York are better than the ice storms in Dallas. I will and won’t miss him. It’s kind of hard living with someone who has to be right, all the time. Yet the sandwiches he smuggled into the shelter every now and then were very much appreciated.
He is the kind of guy who having earphones for his television will listen to the same appliance without the earphones at
I was trying to come up with some kind of blog entry today as tomorrow is my four month anniversary here at the Salvation Army shelter, but my mind is in a flurry of needless activity and I can't hold a straight thought for any decent period of time.
I did apply for Social Security today. Big step in the life of every American. I'm going in early because, well, with the bipolar messing up my life for probably a lot longer than originally thought, my chances of having any job more than part-t
As someone who has fallen by the wayside on too many occasions, I do not expect to participate in the Rapture tomorrow. It’s been kind of nice in this life and I suspect the next few months (years) are going to be very interesting until God actually gets to actively destroying his Creation. I suppose if you’re the Almighty and you get bored total destruction is a whole lot better than making a few adjustments to the whole Damned mess.
Anyway, I have my Rapture suit ready just in case I am ta
There aren't many cures to depression that actually work, but I do have one that works some of the time. If conditions are right, with a rising mood or a slowly sinking one, an idea gets wrapped by tentative thoughts conducive to further exploration. Plus, word count must not be anything close to a sizeable work. Short, short stories work very well.
One of the people I met at the psych farm was a cutter. He was a nice enough guy, early thirties, okay face, but had the scarred chevrons of a s
As I slip further down the slippery slope there come pauses where normal function is enabled for brief periods of time. Today I had to go to a class on time management. It was either take it now or wait until July when it will be considerably hotter. I’ve decided I do not like the hot, humid aspect of living in Dallas. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a great town and would love to live here, but I’m too used to living in the Pacific Northwest where 100 degree weather is a rarity, not the norm.
The last office building I worked in had three sub-basements. Actually, there was a fourth one, but no one worked there othere than to check for water seepage. I had a friend who worked on Level Three and she did not like it down there because she didn't have a window to see outside.
I've pretty much decided to call the crisis line tomorrow morning, unless something dramatic happens between now and then.
I know I’ve said I hate being bipolar countless times here since being diagnosed three years ago, so you are excused if you do not wish to proceed.
If I called into the Veteran Crisis Line right now and they asked the inevitable question, I would have to say, on a scale of one to five, I’m at about a two with my ideation of suicide. Two’s a good number. There’s a lot of space between two and five. Been to five, it was not fun. Five is a bad number as everything is seen in terms of its potent
I wish I would’ve had my laptop when I was at the funny farm, as it is not all was lost to the vagueness of mental instability. About a week into my stay one of the resident’s, D_____, sister agreed to bring in five composition books (those with the scrambled black and white pattern on the cover), so I was able to write an entry for nearly every day after that until I finally gave up in March.
D_____ is a good ol’ boy from north central Texas who is proud to say both he and his daughter rece
Went to the VA hospital today for an interview about my bipolar disorder. Seems I asked them to consider this as a service-connected disability because I’d seen a psychiatrist when stationed in Abilene, Texas, back in 1971 and ’72. I thought all I was asking for was a reconsideration of the existing disability on my decrepit knees, but, no, they wanted to know everything about the nutso side of me.
As interviews go, it went well, I suppose. I don’t expect anything to come of it because the m
I spent Christmas at The Bridge, a homeless shelter on the southern edge of downtown Dallas. I’d been brought there by the Dallas police, in lieu of going to the psych emergency room at Parkland Hospital (the local charity hospital). It seems you can’t just say you’re suicidal on Christmas Eve, you actually have to have the rope around your neck, your feet dangling over the railing, the gun at your temple, or the knife or razorblade at your wrist to get a free ride to a warm place for the night.
Where have you been?
The short answer is I went loopy, did some crazy shit, got myself admitted to a psychiatric ward wherein I attempted suicide (where else is the most logical place?), was sent to a state mental hospital, eventually ended up on the streets of Dallas during the day and at the Mission during the night. Finally, I found placement in a group living arrangement sponsored by the Veterans Administration and the Salvation Army.
What are you doing now?
Vegetating, mostly. My knee
Thanks to all who expressed concern here and otherwise.
I've only come back due to the amount of concern.
This is not a rash decision, nor has it been taken lightly.
Life has come to a point where it the option was to truly go insane as my world crumbled around me, take the ultimate exit, or to attempt to walk away.
I choose the latter.
I've been nutso before and, trust me, it ain't no fun being in a world unto your own, especially when no one notices. I went off my rocker an
All the pieces still pulling at their knots come undone tomorrow.
All the loose ends totally, completely unravel.
My final piece of the puzzel will be put in place, soon.
I think I saw the exit sign up ahead.
I have my final destination.
All I need is my boarding pass.
is not looking forward to the darker days ahead.
It can get only so deep before you have to climb out of the cesspool.
I am not looking for anything better, only peace.
In earlier times I may have gone on a pilgrimage. Today I can only seek inner solace.
It comes down to a choice, really.
And, I've always been a coward when it comes to choices.
I can only hold up my end so long without help. If you offer nothing except hindrance, I'll eventually drop my end.
I cannot do it alone. I've tried, and failed. I've tried, agai
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