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Tonight, I started the first chapter of a new story. The working title is “The Black Scandinavian.” The lead character, Troy, comes from the last chapter of “319 Winesap Lane.” Yes, that book is finished, although two chapters remain to be published. (hint, hint, Sharon!) Many of my readers probably will not like the last chapter, but I will not let the cat out of the bag today.


Troy has an identity problem, which is identified in the last chapter of “319.” I won’t reveal it now because, well, it’s a bit of a stretch for me as a writer and some may not feel I should impinge on the obvious cultural appropriation. But, the psychological manifestation in Troy’s mind leads him into lots of situations, many of which are not pleasant. Whether or not Troy comes out at the end of the story in a correct frame of mind will depend on a number of factors, many of which have yet to be imagined on my part. The story will take place in the boroughs of New York City; a city I have often wished to live in.


On the home front, my son has finally gone back to work after being on paid administrative leave from his job for four months. It’s nice to be back to normal.


Guitar lessons on hold because I’ll be having cataract surgery sometime in the next month or two. I won’t be having it at the VA medical center because they have no regard for their patients. Going in for a 11:00 a.m. appointment and not being seen until I left in a huff at 3:00 p.m. is simply not right. They agreed to arrange for me to be seen by an outside ophthalmologist. As best as I can forecast, I won’t be able to start guitar lessons until January or February.


Nana is still spinning; actually, she’s in a spinning fit right now as I’m writing this. Of course, most of it is due to boredom—after all, German Shepherd Dogs are the third smartest canine, behind Border Collies and Standard Poodles—but with one owner who’s manic-depressive and the other who is medicated for anger management issues, it’s a wonder she hasn’t run away from home. Now that we’re approaching the solstice, I have to take her out into the backyard to pee on a leash, otherwise she’ll turn it into dark playtime and I’ll end up having to go out with a flashlight, treat, and leash to get her back into the house. I suppose the worst part of it is she selectively listens to what I say. She listens to my son better, but he’s not here and I have to do what I have to.


Last week my shrink informed that, per VA directive, I am not to see her on a long-term basis, so she’s arranging me to see an outside shrink. She asked if I’d be willing to do video conferencing with the new shrink. I said I’d prefer a face-to-face visit, but would be willing to try it on my laptop. Also, she’s weaning me off Depakote because the Seroquel I’m taking as an antipsychotic can also aid in mood stabilization. It’ll be interesting to see if I go nuts without the Depakote. Been there, done that, and it wasn’t fun. Nutso is not a good state of mind.



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