It is 2:16 AM. I’m drinking hibiscus tea, diluted with seltzer. I should be sleeping like a regular person. Upstairs Seinfeld is on and my wife can let it lull her to sleep That not how this show works for me.

I could make coffee but the coffee maker parts are in the dishwasher

I have lost weight with Weight Watchers before. And regained it. I also am a diabetic and I need to pay attention to my blood sugar levels.

Beating myself up figuratively about my weight loss failures doesn’t help. Just as finding fault with my eccentric sleep schedule doesn’t help.

What I notice is that I’m avoiding exercise. My AA meeting routine is good but rather inconsistent in finding and sticking to regular meetings.

I think about sex a lot. I fear my wife loves me, but is not in love with me. There’s a difference, a big one.

As I prepare this “laundry list” for self improvement, I fear these goals are just stops on another journey of self-defeating behaviour

Right now I know that I went to bed wide awake, expecting to fall asleep, while my shortcomings were dominating my self-talk.

Seinfeld is not my friend. Adopting my wife’s sleep routine will not serve my needs, even if I could fall asleep with the TV on.

I could write about the elephant in the room of our relationship, sex, but I won’t right now.

I will not turn into an old man, even if it seems inevitable.

That’s the best way I can describe my denying that I have a Type 2 Diabetes diagnosis. The sheepishly taking whatever drugs my internist throws my way is not proactive self-care. All I have to do is feel worse and worse until I have a stroke..

I suppose I should read the books on diabetes that I have purchased

I can spend a lot of time ignoring the problem, watching trains or porn videos or reading any book not germane to the issue.

Bad ideas on self-care include sitting in my comfy chair, drinking lots and lots of coffee, not exercising , and letting my sleep schedule match that of my wife’s.

My wife says she cares about my health , but she says “No” consistently and leaves it at that. She means well, but if I’m not responding, this is insufficient.

Ultimately my health is my responsibility.

I’ve been awake a while. But my mind can’t seem to focus on little things . There are a bunch of films (videos) from the Internet Archive that have my attention There are works from experimental film makers from the Silent Era that impress me.

I’ve managed to miss the 7:00AM broadcast of Highway Patrol, the best cop show ever. The budgetary restrictions that came with paying for Broderick Crawford’s services made the series what it was.

Right now, I need more sleep

I cook oat bran cereal on the stove top, since I don’t have a microwave oven. That means i have to clean the sauce pan. I had my oat bran with fresh mango, a shake of cinnamon and maybe a tablespoon of honey. Pretty good.

So President Hot Shot Real Estate Developer wants to turn a unique piece of real estate in a wealthy and sophisticated city back into a maximum security prison.

Huh?

I remember when the Alcatraz debate centered around the ownership rights of a Native American tribe. How did that debate turn out?

How about developing this real estate into a marvelous community with housing for middle class and affluent families? There could be offices and artists’ studios for creative types Maybe a ferry service to whisk residents to the city proper. And non residents could visit the island for its possible cultural offerings .

Having Alcatraz revert to its old function as an urban gulag is down right stupid.

Try again, Mr President.

I woke up around 0400 hours . I was hungry , or thought I was. Then I looked at all of the Rubbermaid containers sitting in the trusty Whirlpool, containing God Knows What. So I started tossing them out.I was thorough. Perhaps the half filled jar of Cheez Wiz was still edible, but out it went too.

I feel a profound sense of relief. They’re all gone!

And now, I’m just not all that hungry any longer.

If I hear the word “Trump” again, with the exception of a bridge game, I’m going to scream!

I bought a box of Wheaties the other day. A tennis star Coco Gauff is the athlete featured on the box.

This got me engaging in the the internal process that passes for thinking in my inner life:

1. Was O.J. Simpson ever the featured athlete. on the Wheaties box?
2. If so, given Mr Simpson’s subsequent notoriety, what would an O. J. Simpson Wheaties box be worth as a collectible?
3. How would I find out?

Looking on eBay, an OJ box is worth about $90. Almost anticlimactic.

If they made one, what would an Oswald Box be worth? Or a Jack Ruby?

I don’t know how far I’m going with this.

Men and women have different criteria for making friends.

Can women and men be friends? I suspect if at least one of the parties is lesbian or gay , the way is easier than if both are heterosexual.

There is a subconscious evaluation for partnership potential going on.

Permanently platonic is not a desired outcome.

(Warning! Bad Word used! Hide this from your children or the Sensitive. Maybe from Republicans, just in case.

I can find them now with ease. All over the place. Not like when I was a boy, when they were covered by skirts, and pantyhose, or dungarees and knickers.

C&$ts.

Women have them. And some women show them off, like they were Gucci bags or fur coats. Some women show them bald, others furry. But they’ve let the secret out.

Life has something to do with them.

And the people just can’t stop looking.

Those c&$ts. Those. Magic. C&$ts.