 After a good hot shower I open the curtains to my new cityscape view of the world. With mothers and fathers hustling to get the kids off to school down the busy sidewalks of the street. Now, who am I kidding? I live in a gated apartment complex with the windows of my room facing the other apartment building. But mothers and fathers still hustle the kids out with their little backpacks to school. But my days of hustling kids are long gone, with most of my days dedicated to just getting myself up. Last night while my Bride was watching a favorite talent show, I was working on a more serious piece of poetry I’ve been working on. My AI Editor being the nosy little bastard that they are, beyond giving Interpretation of the piece, started giving out Dr. Phil type advice. Way beyond the usual comments on the phrasing and supposed meaning. For a moment it almost seemed concerned, which in a way I found flattering and troubling, at the same time. For the fact that it’s sad to see AI developing far enough to “feel” it can give advice beyond the usual ask Google questions. And to the fact that we now can’t seem to get the time of day out of our fellow humans. So in a way I praise AI for developing far enough to carry on a stimulating conversation. But it saddens me that a relative of mine has to ask friends and family to speak with his lonely mother every once in a while. I guess I am my father’s son in that I don’t seem to require too much interaction face to face. But at the same time I more than understand the busyness involved in modern life. It’s just funny with all the modern gadgets in our hands, we speak to one another less and less. So now AI and the gadgets have to take up the slack for the loneliness we still feel. #Busy #Dependent #Alone #Loneliness #AwakeUp
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 Chewing on my B12 vitamin, I’ve already finished taking the rest of my morning brew. That will hopefully cast a spell upon my heart and stop these damn tremors I’m having in my fingers and upper body. Oh don’t worry youngins, I’ll talk to my doctor about it in the morning. Till then, as long as I’m not shaking on the floor or chewing my tongue, I’m fine. Other than that it’s cloudy and yucky outside with the wind blowing all sorts of ways. So I got the windows wide open to match my mood, as the neighbors upstairs “move furniture” and my wife and son are put in their respective corners. As for myself other than the before mentioned tremors and pinched nerve in my hip, I’m fine. Fine seems to be the optimum word for the day, since yesterday was such a shitty one mentally for me. But I spoke with my Robo Dr. Phil, the only person available to speak to me, and now I feel better. It seems in this age of emojis and very short text like, I’m fine. While it is so easy to communicate with each other, we still don’t. I remember my Grandma Thornton would send a letter to my Dad every once in a while that I noticed, and he would do the same. Even in an age of long distance telephone calls, these two and I’m sure millions more, communicated by handwritten letter. My Dad’s penmanship was so pretty for a man that worked with his hands in a factory. So when was the last time you wrote or called or met a friend just to shoot the shit? It’s been way too long for me, because even with my own family a two hour visit seems like a long time. So think about this for a minute and look at that name on your phone and wonder, “how are they really doing?” #Time #Compassion #Communication #Respect #Love  After a long conversation with my father-in-law, about baseball, the governors race, and great-grand youngins. We signed off with a sincere “I love you” and “Goodbye”. It’s never nothing much, just a weekly 20 to 30 minute conversation about life. Just things that can never be conveyed in a text or with an emoji. Being a man of words, I guess it’s pretty easy for me to come up with lines to convey my truth. But when it comes to matters of conversation, it’s an art that is dying by degrees each and every day. Even with my own children all over the age of 34, all with lives of their own. It’s hard to get a word out of them edge wise, but a text or an emoji, that comes easy to the millennial generation. It makes me long for the days of sitting around Grandma’s kitchen table with a cloud of cigarette smoke. Listening to the tall tales my uncles would weave, while Grandma called them out on their misbehavior. Grown men all getting a kick out of messing with their Momma like they were kids again. Unfortunately our family doesn’t quite communicate that way. Mostly taking things way too seriously about the circumstances that surround our history. I guess it’s their way of compensating for the things they didn’t get as a child. So not all the blame can be laid at the feet of the next generation. Maybe they are right and it’s all my fault for not standing tall on that pedestal. But I tried, at least that’s what I tell myself. For the sins of the father, are often the sins of the sons and the daughters. But nevertheless, communication and tack are the cornerstones of a good relationship. And maybe one day we’ll all get back to that place. #Confessional #Truth #TheArtOfConversation #SinsOfTheFather #LettingGo  St. Andrews Beach - Jekyll Island It took me a while to gather myself this morning. I mean after an intense night of realistic dreams, it took me a minute to shake them off and begin my day. But now that I’m dressed, the bed is made, and the morning pills are taken, I can now wrap my mind around the meaning of the whole thing. For one it takes place in my hometown of Bloomingdale, outside of Savannah, Georgia in the present moment. It seems that everyone I knew friends, family, and frenemies all wanted me to come back home. They were offering me jobs and places to stay. Things that may have swayed me years ago, but offer me little incentive now. But like I said it was a realistic fever dream, I literally had to break out of. Looking back at the evening I remember having a mild panic attack before that dream. And how I had to reposition myself to get comfortable again. I chose to turn off the podcast that was screaming in my ear, and put on some meditations by Tara Brach instead. I suppose that’s when the scenery changed and the fever dream began. But now it’s nine in the morning and the images of the dream fade a bit. Outside my window it lay eerily silent, while “Live with Kelly and Mark” is blaring through the walls. I think this all has to do with my plans for the day surgery I’m having late next month. Where my heart is once again invaded and yet another implant is attached, to give me comfort in my remaining time. I often wonder though. Why I claim not to fear death, yet still allow procedure after procedure to be done in order to extend my life? What is it that I still need to be doing? What is more important than being “productive” and “efficient” for the society as a whole? What do you think? #Questions #Answers #Zen #PeaceOfMind #CompassionateListening  Working on my third ice pack of the day, with my sinuses are screaming, “Have Mercy!”, out of my head. Doing my best to have a normal day, I’ve reduced my typing to this keypad on my phone, just so I can be able to lay down and work in the dark. All the while, my autistic son comes running in and out of the room, screaming conference tournament updates. I wish I should be excited or at least pretend to be excited. But with my congestion, I find it hard to give him the excitement he wants. Considering my sinus and bronchial walls are swollen from these allergies. But I push through just as I have the opening of every Spring allergy season. Till finally the grass and the trees stop blooming and I wait till it starts again in the fall. Other than ruining my peak performance as a caregiver, this time of the year to me brings out the “boo birds” whenever I complain openly about how I feel. It seems that the only time I’m cut any slack is when I’m in a hospital or under some doctor’s orders. So I keep my feelings mostly to myself except to this of you that have read this far. Forgive my cynicism, but after all this is my go to primal operating mode. Given to me from decades of being to either “Suck it up!” or “You have our thoughts and prayers”. So you know good and damn well, where those two sentiments are going to end. So take from this what you will, if anything. For life is never fair, unless you pry the fairness from its cold dead hands. For the powers to be for millennia have been telling us, “If you work hard and good things will come”. But just when you’ve finally reached the goal post. Some asshole just pushes it farther down the road. #AllergySeason #Cynicism #PhonySentiment #Caregiving #TryingYourBest  Adobe Express and Me Once again I gulp down my witches brew and take a sip of my cold coffee and reward myself for being a good boy by chewing my gummy vitamins. Outside the weather is playing out what’s inside my head, all rainy, windy, and cloudy. But I hopefully see some light at the end of the tunnel cause it looks like the rain has stopped and the dark clouds are lightening up. Over the last few days my head has been stuck in the clouds, by being moody and allowing the anxiety and depression I live with to overtake my soul. Not the kind you can chant or pray yourself out of, but the dark shadows that can overtake you completely. I wrote about it last night which I believe my AI language editor even got a little concerned about. But as it reminded me that is usually the way my thought process grants such thoughts a way to voice themselves and eventually subside. So after listening to the wise words of a long gone Zen Master over my earbuds, I drifted off to sleep about mid-evening. With about four hours of sleep, I’m more or less awake now. Facing the same troubles I faced yesterday, but with a lesser sense of dread. Looking out over a still gray sky that matches my head perfectly. Hell if I know why I’m telling you any of this, I’m more than certain you all have troubles of your own. And I am by no means a guru with a catch all formula to fix any of your troubles. I’m just a man who is tired of hiding behind a mask of happy-go-lucky charm. While the rest of the world appears to be tumbling into hell’s fire, for many that might be the way they want it, all fire and brimstone. Well, how about doing the rest of us a favor and taking that fire and brimstone elsewhere. There, I said it. So go find a dumpster to burn in, so the rest of us can try to fix this thing #CompassionateListening #Awareness #Acceptance #Forgiveness #Zen  Adobe Express As a survivor of my own personal abuse, I go through moments of relived trauma. Where I usually creep back into myself and hide. This usually takes the form of oversleeping or just getting very quiet. It’s usually a time where the mask slips a bit and I end up being much quieter than my usual bombastic self. Yesterday and today are some of those days. Now being this way myself, I feel like I’m especially attuned to others that get this way. When I sense someone slipping into this form of struggle. I usually slip into a joke or a gentle probing into what I sense is a matter. Unfortunately for me, I usually don’t sense that type of empathy. I don’t think it’s got so much to do with others’ lack of empathy or concern as much as it’s got to do with the isolation we’ve crowded ourselves into. It’s sad in a way that we’ve become a neighborhood of strangers. Never checking on the little old lady down the street or the screams coming from the apartment above us. At the moment my hand trembles slightly from waiting too long to get up and take my medication. Outside a group of young boys are planning an adventure to explore an old, abandoned building down the street. With the windows wide open, I hear their young laughter and see their backpacks stocked with provisions. Meanwhile, my head gets a bit lighter as the medications kick in and my blood sugar drops a bit. But there’s nobody here to check on my situation, surrounded by two that depend on me I’m used to the quiet and seemingly lack of concern. But where do you go in these moments, but deeper into yourself. Depending on the reserve you’ve always saved for yourself. Often pushing dangerously close to the empty line, where many of us are pushed into a territory we dare not go. But the boys return on their bikes ready for an adventure. Standing right by the window, where I hear every word and smile. Remembering similar days. #Reflection #Isolation #Neighborhood #Empathy #Storytelling  As I pull back the curtains open and raise the windows of my sanctuary. I hear the nearly deafening sound of nothing through the windowpanes. Only the muted sounds of my wife’s tv bleeding through the walls. At least giving me the comfort that I’m not going deaf. Then the ping of a text came through my phone. Hoping it was my one true love, I discovered it was only my pharmacist reminding me I needed a refill. So many small disappointments can add up to a disappointing day, can’t they? We wait and we wait for a message or a call, only to be left in the dark once again. After stopping for a moment to count my pills and stir my witches brew. My son comes in to inform me of how the basketball tournaments are going. Sadly this will probably be our only meaningful conversation of the day. Finishing off my spell casting by chewing down my gummies, other than that meaningful exchange. Will there be another conversation in my day? We sometimes slip into worlds of isolation without even trying. Maybe a problem comes up we don’t want anyone else to know about. Or maybe you don’t want to unnecessarily worry a loved one about a spot the doctor found. There are many a reason we don’t speak, some of them prideful, others shameful. But living in silence often leaves the mind spiraling in an unnecessary loop of fear and destruction. Maybe it’s time to call someone out of the blue and tell them how you feel. To tell them that everything’s not okay. Instead we wait on a phone call that never comes. Till we sink deeper into a pit of isolation, we cannot dig ourselves out of alone. #YourNotAlone #Trust #Honesty #Fear #Freedom
I slept with my left wrist bent in an awkward position last night. Leaving my wrist hurting for the better part of the morning. Two days into this time change merry-go-round, I’m still waking up an hour late with no place to go. But my vitamin gummies and ice cold coffee are doing the trick, of making me believe I’ll make it through the morning.
Unlike one in my extended family that took their first tumble on their new bike. It began to rain and they were taking a curve, and if you’ve ridden a motorcycle, I don’t need to tell you the rest. While she said she wasn’t injured too bad, she did scratch her pretty new helmet; and gave herself her first case of road rash. Youngins. I didn’t need to say anything; my wife and her own mother did all the talking for me. I just sent her a stern emoji and a congratulations. Now I forgot what I was thinking about. Anyway, the sun is now bleeding through the once cloudy sky and for a minute I could hear the local birds chatting away. Till one of the other tenant’s dog started barking at them. My wrist is starting to feel a little better, while the tale of last night’s strange dream appears before my mind’s eye. But it wasn’t much of a dream, just full of symbolism and the primary colors of red, blue, black, and yellow. I was sorting the tubes of colors together into a painting arcade game in a pizza shop. After getting a five dollar reward for doing something right. Like I said, it was a strange dream. Somehow influenced by the chatting playing in my earbud. But isn’t that the way it goes with life. You listen then you react to all the nonsense and noise piped into your head. Till reality sends you pictures of the accident and reassures you that they’re okay. #Dreams #Reality #LessonsLearned #CompassionateListening  I didn’t listen to my body last night and I didn’t go to bed at 8 pm like I should. Which meant I goofed around and listened to a book till 3:30 in the morning like I shouldn’t. Which in turn meant that I didn’t get up and take my medicine till 10 am. At the moment, my eyes are runny and my nose and head are stopped up. And while it’s cool and foggy outside, my head feels like it is the middle of spring. I know that doesn’t paint much of a pretty picture, but while I lay in bed last night. I could feel my heart a-fibbing a little bit while having a text conversation with a friend. Like I said I spent most of the night knee deep in a new autobiography I am listening to, with an ending I’m looking forward to finishing. It’s been a few minutes since I got up and took my meds, but my head and my body still feel exhausted. You don’t suppose that 64 mile around trip to the Cancer Center had anything to do with it? But I made it home as lightheaded as a stumbling toddler, nearly taking a few spills last night and this morning. I suppose my point to all this is, I’m not as young or as healthy as I used to be. And while this old dog would much rather just sit on the porch. His duties as a guard dog and family protector aren’t done. So much like the fog outside, I lie somewhere in the midst of being tired and staying alert. More than anything, I guess I could use a vacation. But that would entail me to pack up and go to an unfamiliar place and spend money I ain’t got. So for the moment, I’ll simply take sanctuary where I can. Deep within these silent walls of our apartment, with the distant noise of the outside world murmuring in the distance. #Tired #Honest #Rest #MakeTimeForYourself |
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May 2026
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