Thursday, November 19, 2009

Final Post

This will be my final journal entry, at least for awhile. If I didn't thoroughly enjoy blogging, I would have never kept at it for so long (nearly six years now - including my old AOL journal). It definitely serves as a catharsis and it's a safe & sane (or nearly sane) diversion. Everything I've written was from the heart (despite contrary rumors, I do have one....). I've always attempted to guard my private life and maintain a sense of mystery - which makes for good reading, but which also severely limited what I could write about. Details about the local weather and trips to Wal-mart get stale after awhile.
The problems in my personal life - during the past year, and especially during the past few months - have become so time-consuming and overwhelming that I no longer have the emotional energy to write much anymore. I've lost my sense of humor and my creative drive.

One of many personal issues that have been consuming me is the fact that I've been caring for my elderly mother for the past four years - ever since my father died. It has largely been a very rewarding experience, but recently things have been much more daunting.

When I think of my parents, there are so many memories and so many floods of emotion - on all levels - that an eternity wouldn't be enough time to cover it all.

My father was an extremely volatile, violent, and complicated man, whose existence nearly destroyed me. I feared him beyond anything else and the repercussions of his abuse reverberate to this day. It sounds pitiful and unfair to say it now - but he was largely responsible for putting me on the road to rapid self-destruction in my early years. "Self-destruction" is putting it mildly. My rage and intense hate for him and myself was overwhelming. In later years he mellowed somewhat and I pitied him and forgave him. I was with him when he died and the emotional effect on me was profound. There were too many unresolved issues. There were too many regrets. I had (and have) intense guilt for having been so selfish, so one-sided, so unforgiving.

My mother was a saint (it seems like a laughable cliche, but it's true). Beautiful, highly intelligent, strong, self-sacrificing. She put up with more than any other woman I know - from my father's violence and from my chaotic existence. The past four years that I have spent near her were the most peaceful and pleasant ones of both of our lives. Because of this, for the first time in my life, I have no regrets.

As always, I'm getting too verbose. I'll try to cut to the chase:

Despite being elderly, with numerous health problems, my mom looked and acted years younger than she really was. She remained incredibly mentally alert. It wasn't until some problems arose in early June that she needed a cane to assist in walking. She never complained and valiantly struggled on with the daily burden of aging.

There were no major problems until about a week ago. First came stomach pains and nausea, but they went away in a day. Then came alarming symptoms. My mom, who had always been completely rational, was having occasional delusions. A stranger was lurking by the back door. Something was crawling up the wall in her bedroom. She was becoming more agitated and more anxious and refused to sleep at night. Her mind fluxuated between the rational and the irrational. One morning she stood on a footstool to get something from her closet shelf and had a fall. She seemed to be all right.

Her birthday was Saturday, November 14th, and she was rational and lucid. On Sunday morning I found her standing by the back door, breathless. She had been out walking and walking, she said. She was exhausted. I knew she hadn't been out of the house. It had all been a dream, I tried to tell myself.

On Monday morning (the 16th) she was confused, couldn't find the bathroom, was wandering in a panic all over the house. I got her to her bedroom. We talked. Suddenly she had a seizure. I called 911.

She was first diagnosed with a severe kidney and bladder infection, which can often cause delusional behavior in elderly people. She became stable and quite coherent, but later fluxuated between rational and irrational behavior.

Not much change on Tuesday, but it was too early to tell. Mom recognized me when I came in the hospital room and seemed quite rational. Later she was confused and largely incoherent. I was hopeful, despite not having much faith in doctor or staff.

Wednesday morning (the 18th). Having been moved to another (more "comfortable") room, mom was sitting up in a chair. She recognized me but was extremely distant and quiet. I was encouraged to hear that she had eaten some breakfast, because she had refused food for two days. I brought a can of Slim-Fast and got her to drink all of it. The doctor finally showed up in early afternoon and was unhelpful as usual. He did say, however, that mom probably had a stroke.

At around 2:30pm mom became very animated and started talking rapidly and with complete incoherence. Soon afterward she had a seizure, not unlike the one she had on Monday morning. She now remains largely unresponsive. They gave her more tests and put her on more anti-seizure medication.

That's the way things are now. There are many unanswered questions and I know little more than I did a few days ago.

Only time will tell.
I am completely mentally and physically exhausted.


This photo is one of my favorites, because it is so typical of how my mother used to look. I want to remember her that way.

Friday, November 13, 2009

End of the Tunnel or End of the Line?


Autumn foliage in my back yard (photo taken yesterday)
There seems to be a faint light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. After several months of incredible bad luck, extreme stress, eternal worry, and non-stop work, things are looking up. At least a little (remember: I'm a devout pessimist).

I'm slowly squeaking out of my deep depression. I've accomplished a lot of work, finished many projects. My mom seems to be doing better after a harrowing series of serious illnesses. I recently reconciled with an old friend who hadn't spoken to me in a year (I couldn't possibly imagine anyone not wanting to speak to me for a year. It was definitely their loss.....).

My life is still hell, of course - - - but presently I'm only teetering on the outskirts of Hell, not completely engulfed in the very midst of Dante's Inferno.

Does any of this make sense? I didn't think so. Oh, by the way, it's Friday the 13th. Something bad is bound to happen.

The weather is as gorgeous as it gets in West TX: blue skies, golden sunshine, mild temperatures. In the 70's during the day, the 40's at night. The foliage is yellow and glorious.

.........but I keep asking myself "Where the hell are the geese?". Thousands of Canadian geese faithfully make their annual pilgrimage to this Cowtown around the beginning of November and stay for the winter. So far, this year, they haven't shown up. Did they make a detour? Did they get lost on the Amelia Earhart Aviation Express? Heck if I know.....

So what about my washing machine that blew up last week?

I got so sick of the dirty laundry piling up that one warm day I went out in the back yard and washed some things out by hand in a large tub. Death by crucifixion would be easier. It was a near impossibility, and trying to wring them out nearly killed me. I'm definitely not pioneer material..

I dried myself off, uncramped my gnarled, prunish, arthritic hands, crawled inside, got online, and ordered a new washer & dryer from Sears. They will be delivered by wagon train next Wednesday, the 18th. I wait with eager anticipation.......

In the meantime......

I had to take some of the dirty wash to the local laundromat yesterday. I had no choice. I haven't been to a laundromat in many moons and the experience was nerve-shattering. Not to mention humiliating.

Picture this: me and a dozen Mexican women, all washing clothes together in one room. Their unfriendly, incredulous stares made me unnervingly uncomfortable. They were silent but I knew what they were thinking among themselves.

Hey, Juanita! Check out the crazy gringo cowboy washing the pink nightgown and panties.

Yea. I'll admit it. I wasn't only doing my own wash. I was doing some of my mom's as well. My abject humiliation knew no bounds.


To complicate matters, two of the damned machines wouldn't work and I lost several quarters. I had to transfer all the lousy clothes to other machines. It was a scene worthy of Woody Allen.

I hope to God I never have to repeat that sorry performance.

The Sears delivery guy better watch out next Wednesday because when he shows up with my new washer & dryer, I'm gonna give him a bear hug and a big wet kiss.



Monday, November 9, 2009

Twins??





I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT THERE ARE ANY PHYSICAL SIMILARITIES BETWEEN MYSELF AND BARRY OBAMA........



(I am definitely wearing the better hat)


Okay, here's the explanation:
I happened to find this photo of Obama on the internet and I said "My Gawd! He's striking the exact same pose that I did on my self-portrait!!" So I couldn't resist posting it here.

There's only one difference: I've held up fairly well, despite the booze and carousing. Barry looks like hell from the drug use.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Murderer Hasan

The cold-blooded murderer is a victim, according to most American media accounts. Army Major Nidal Malik Hasan - the crazed Muslim/psychiatrist/counselor who gunned down over forty innocent people at Fort Hood, Texas last Thursday - is himself a victim of our harsh, unjust, insensitive, Satanic western culture. People didn't understand him. He was ridiculed and persecuted for being a Muslim. The Evil American Empire drove him to commit mass murder. At least that's what our hopelessly moronic news broadcasters and quasi "journalists" would have you believe.

Why did Hasan commit the dastardly deed? all the Boob Tube Boneheads want to know. What drove him to the brink of abject frustration? Was it something that happened in his childhood? Is American society as a whole responsible? What could we have done to prevent it?

Well, you stupid jackasses (I'm referring to the so-called journalists and TV talking heads), perhaps Hasan's long-time pro- Islamic, blatantly anti-American behavior might have been a warning sign. His websites praising Muslim terrorist bombers might have sent up a red flag.

But, then - we wouldn't have wanted to offend him, would we? Thirteen dead and thirty-some wounded innocent American people is a small price to pay for looking the other way when Muslim terrorists infiltrate our country (yea, I know he was born here.....but his heart was with the Taliban.).

I, for one, am completely disgusted with how our country is deteriorating - how the American spirit is waning, how pride in our nation and what it stands for is quickly going down the toilet. I am sick of catering to all those minorities and foreigners and freaks who despise our country, yet live off the fat of the land and suck the National Teat dry.

For that matter, I'm thoroughly sick of those twisted radicals who want to change the greatest country on earth. Our American Constitution, our values and ideals, have worked well enough for over two hundred years. Those who don't like it should go back to Kenya (Hawaii???) or Siberia or China or wherever the hell they think life is better.

Hasan was supposedly shot four times and is presently clinging to life on a respirator. I hope he rots in Hell.

Good Gawd, was I ranting? Heck, I do it so often that I hardly even noticed. Will you forgive me? Will you come back and read more - if I promise not to editorialize and politicize next time?

As Norman Bates once said "We all go a little mad now and then."

I'm harmless, really. I wouldn't even hurt a fly.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Farewell, October & Possessed Washing Machine

It's gone. October. My favorite month. Gone like the leaves that were clinging to yesterday's trees. I hardly had time to take a breath and notice its existence. This October was one of the most busy, stressful, joyless, uninspired months I can remember. I wish I could have it back to do over again - but no such luck. The days are ignoring me in their frantic race towards the end of another year.

No time to write any decent blog entries (or indecent ones, for that matter). No time to write about Halloween or ghosts or things macabre. No time to think, hardly. I drag myself from one hectic day to another, scarcely having enough time to process the sporadic panic attacks and heart palpitations. Dealing with life is like trying to take a piss against a straight wind (don't dare attempt to visualize it).

Do I sound depressed? Heck, I shouldn't. This is one of my good days.

Somehow I managed to make it to the end of the month. Halloween was a gorgeous, glorious autumn day. Even ugly, uninspired West Texas wears splendid attire this time of year. Halloween night was as perfect as a night can get - deliciously chilly, crystal clear, absolutely still. The full moon was incredibly bright, drenching everything in a mellow, ethereal light. Trick or Treaters were rampant. The night wailed with the distant sounds of revellers. The Daylight Saving Time ritual of turning back the clocks added an extra hour to the festivities.

And me? I was too weary to party. Too lethargic to go haunting. I locked my front gate, turned out all the lights, and purposefully avoided the little bastards who go begging from door-to-door for treats. Am I mean? Probably. So are most of my neighbors. The entire street was completely dark, except for one lone front porch light.

Sunday, November 1st

It's Sunday. All I want to do is stay home, relax, and try to recuperate from the previous month. I force myself to do some domestic chores. I have piles of laundry - mountainous piles. I haven't washed clothes for several weeks, at least. It's enough stuff for three large machine loads. I figure I'd better do them before they crawl outside in search of a laundromat.

I cram the washing machine with a heavy array of cruddy clothes. I feed it detergent. I put the setting on extra-large. I wander away, relieved that I'm finally in the process of baptizing and redeeming my dirty laundry.

The loud, grinding sounds fail to alarm me. My washing machine is often noisy and tempermental. The mini-explosion and ear-shattering bangs eventually attract my attention. I open the lid just in time to see the soapy & astonished contents sloshing wildly out of control. As if on cue, a large puff of black smoke spews out from behind the machine, accompanied by several bright orange flames. I quickly pull the power plug out of the socket and douse the flames with a pail of water. I then briskly retreat to a safe distance, half-expecting to see the Wicked Witch of the West.

It is just about then that I notice the flood of water on the floor, completely filling the laundry area and rapidly advancing towards the carpet in the family room. I leap over the machine to turn off the water faucets, then grab everything ( and I mean everything) I can find to sop up the flood: towels, clothes, several sets of dirty sheets, a rug, a mop.

Do you want the long, excruciating version of the story - or the short, merciful one? I'll opt for short, but I think it will be a rather long short one.

It takes me over an hour to clean up all the water on the floor, and another hour to bail the rest of the water out of the machine. I transfer all of the wet, soapy, still-dirty clothes to the bathtub.

As I try several impromptu meditation exercises to ward off cardiac arrest, two thoughts cross my mind:

1. It takes a helluva lot of bailing to empty a washing machine full of water when you're only using a small plastic cup.

2. It's probably time to buy a new washing machine.

At this moment, all of my wet & dirty laundry is still piled high in the bathtub. I'm still in the process of drying and cleaning the laundry room floor. I'm still scanning the internet, deciding what new washing machine I'm going to buy. It certainly won't be another Amana. I could tell you a very harrowing story about what happened to my Amana clothes dryer last year.....

I was planning on purchasing a new sofa this month. I guess a washer is more important.

November is only three days old and I'm already stressed to the max. I have a feeling it's gonna be a long month.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Autumn Comes to Cowboyland

This is about as close to autumn as it gets in West Texas.
I'm posting a few recent photos, only because I'm too tired and lazy to write anything.




Back yard trees (my neighbor's black cat is in lower left corner)


Flowers and potential jack-o-lantern


The lake near my house

Saturday, October 17, 2009

ain't what it used to be

I watched the Dodgers-Phillies game the other night, accompanied by a large & dangerous dish of highly-spiced nachos. With sour cream. By the end of the eighth inning I had heartburn. Not from the nachos. From the Dodgers. Well, at least the team is consistent: they've never failed to disappoint me in nearly thirty years. I used to be a huge Dodger fan when I lived in L.A. I was there the year they won the Series. Was it 1980? 81? At this point, who cares. Baseball sure isn't what it used to be. I remember when the playoffs used to take place in September. Now, they drag them on 'till Halloween. When the hell does the World Series begin? Thanksgiving? Christmas?

For that matter, television isn't what it used to be. Sixty channels available (here in Cowtown) and there's nothing substantial to watch. Grim "reality" shows, liberal-biased news broadcasts, lethally inane dramas (cop or medics - nothing else), fluff fillers, infomercials, reruns.

Fluff fillers? What's that? Things like Celebrity Poker. Cutting my wrists with a $19.95 Ginsu knife and slowly bleeding into a Home Shopping Network set of Tupperware dishes would be less painful than watching Celebrity Poker.

Of course, here in the wilds of West Texas, TV also offers a rich diet of hunting shows, religion, and agriculture. Celebrity Poker is easy viewing compared to watching a 300 lb. camouflage-attired Bubba blasting a 65 lb. doe between the eyes.

Ever notice that a good deal of the commercials are pushing medication and doctors? Americans are completely obsessed with doctors and pills. Hypochondria is rampant. There's a pill for everything: a pill to go to sleep, a pill to wake up, a pill for sex, a pill to breathe, a pill to cope, a pill to crap.....Well, you get my drift.

PBS still has some of the best TV programming, even though they often manage to sneak in a heavy dose of mainstream liberalism. I like much of what PBS has to offer. Ken Burns recently gave us yet another sprawling documentary, which provided much more information about our National Parks than I ever really wanted to know.

Don't get me wrong - Ken Burn's documentaries are great and his efforts are genuinely sincere - - despite his snooty, ultra-elitist attitude. He always injects a thickly-veined streak of typical textbook liberalism into every documentary.

The Civil War: white men are bastards because they owned slaves.
Baseball: white men are bastards because they wouldn't let minorities play ball.
The War: white men are bastards because they bombed Hiroshima.
The National Parks: white men are bastards because they stole the land from the Indians. Oops, I mean the Native Americans.

Easy, dude. You're giving me a complex.

New ideas for future Ken Burns documentaries: how about The Sex Life of J. Edgar Hoover. Or maybe How Straight Men Almost Ruined Broadway Musicals. Well, it's just an idea.....

Ever notice that all the women on the Fox News Channel look identical? They all came out of the same plastic factory. Even Greta got plastic surgery. Now, if only they could do something about her annoying voice.....

The Food Network has a few passable shows. If you can get past ubiquitous Bobby Flay. And Alton, that weird guy with the glasses. And that dumb fat guy on Diners & Dives , who is literally eating his way across America. The entire show consists of nothing more than closeups of him stuffing his big mouth. He's getting fatter with every episode. He's like Humpty Dumpty with a spike cut. He has no neck. You couldn't possibly hang him. I'm waiting for the day when he explodes on the air.

Anyone ever watch Ace of Cakes? The cakes are absolutely fantastic, but the people who bake them are an unnerving assortment of creeps. They look like back seat leftovers from rehab. The environment in which they bake the cakes is frighteningly unsanitary. Where's the Board of Health when you need them? Looks like Peewee Herman's Playhouse, with sugar & flour.

My favorite cooking show is Dinner Impossible with Robert Irvine. Can't get enough.

I absolutely hate the unending influx of so-called "reality" shows. Hulk Hogan? Gene Simmons?? Gimme a Barf Bag. I can't stand Jon & Kate, or whoever they are. I especially loathe that publicity-hungry geeky couple who has eighteen children. Where the hell did they get eighteen kids from? Mother Goose? Foster Care? Their sizeable clan certainly wasn't the result of hot sex.

The History Channel, which I used to love, is getting boring. Ice truckers? Loggers? Gimme a break! For some strange reason this channel has all but abandoned historical programing. Years ago they were obsessed with Nazis. There was a predominate Hooked on Hitler theme. Now it's Nostradamus, 24-7. Go figure.

Nearly every cable channel is cashing in on the Ghost Buster's act. There are more ghost shows than there are ghosts. So-called paranormal "experts" are invading haunted houses en mass. I like these shows, but - let's face it: no self-respecting spirit is going to show up in a room filled with people, cameras, sound equipment, and ghost meters.

Comedy? There really hasn't been anything funny or original since Seinfeld, but I'll watch things like Reno 911 or Scrubs.

Home & Garden Channel: home makeovers, home makeovers, more home makeovers......and that House Hunters show with Tokyo Rose. I mean, Suzanne Wong. Or, WHHHAAAAAUUUUNNNNG, as she says it.

Project Runway. Good Gawd, your seam is showing! This show has more gay guys than a Bette Midler matinee - - and that really hot model Heidi what's-her-name. She's gorgeous but she's perpetually catatonic. No emotion. No movement. She's like a Stepford wife, or Tippy Hedren on Quaaludes.

I could go on (and on & on & on......) but I'll risk becoming as boring as TV. Or maybe even more boring. I think I'll tune out.

Read any good books lately?