Florence, Urbino, Brooklyn.

It is almost 6:30 AM. It is light outside. J phoned in sick. I may have slept four hours. The subtext of exhaustion that dogs my life persists. I will go back to sleep eventually

I am watching Episode 4 of Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation. He discusses the Renaissance in Florence, Urbino, Mantua. Figures like Alberti, Castiglione, the Dukes of Urbino figure in the story. This episode provides me an opportunity to “should” all over myself. That episode concluded, I am now contemplating the beauty and symmetry of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Allow me to talk about the Bridge as a reflection of the American character. The goal of the Bridge was to expedite movement between the cities of New York (Borough of Manhattan) and Brooklyn, for, at the time of construction, Brooklyn was a separate city. Great risk was involved in its construction. The laborers in the caissons used to construct the pilings in the East River, risked contracting the “Bends’ or Caisson Disease. It is the outcome of working in a pressurized environment and not allowing the nitrogen in the blood to slowly depressurize. It could affect anyone who worked in the caissons. Washington Roebling, the Bridge’s designer, contracted the bends. We learn in this country that great accomplishments often involve taking great risks in bringing them into reality.

With the Broklyn Bridge we see beauty wedded to functionaliy, a driving characteristic of modern life. The stone towers of the Bridge from which hang the steel cables supporting the road bed, are inspiring verticals, much like the spires of a great cathedral. But we are directed not to God but to the mundane tasks of getting to work and home again.

And so now, I need to sleep. desperately. When I awaken, I hope to read real books in real time, and get some housework done. And write something that will make a difference.
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Up With Melancholy

I had a pretty good day. The housework gave me real feeling of accomplishment and pride.

Coming back from shopping ,J announced she was “frazzled”and had some nausea. She took a very small dose of promethazine which had her sleep seven hours. She woke up briefly, then went back to sleep.

I have had no one to really talk to for most of the day. This isolation under the guise of a marriage is frustrating. I’m just plain lonely.

Watching a documentary on the start of The Great War 1914-18 is not a healthy way to deal with these feelings. Let me find some cartoons quickly.

Chores

Yep. Chores is one of those words associated with working on the farm in Kansas, with Hunk, Zeke, Hickory, Uncle Henry, and Auntie Em.

This morning, after I awoke the second time, I decided today was the day I thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, not just the toilet, sink and tub. We have the clothes dryer in the bathroom. That means it is a wildlife sanctuary for dust bunnies. Plus there’s lint. So I get to work. Spent a couple of hours on everything and it’s all sparkly now.

I can and should do more. Keeping my focus on what I can do helps with the anger and frustration.

Now that the tub is sparkly, I think I will give J the bath bombs I bought here back around Easter. Hope she likes them.

BOKAR© Coffee & Cranky Old White Guy Issues

The day my Social Security check lands in my checking account is always special. It is like Christmas morning, without the religious overtones. With my money, I ordered a pound of BOKAR Coffee from Verdugo Coffee Roasters. The product was one of the brands in the A&P line of coffees back in the day. When Compass Foods took ovet the line from A&P, they eventually discontinued BOKAR. Verdugo bought the rights to the name, the package design and the recipe and now sells it. Dad liked BOKAR, so I think of him when I drink it.

I was tired around 10:00 PM last night. So I went to bed without prepping J’s fruit or assembling the rest of her lunch/snack. I awoke around 2:00 AM, and have been awake ever since. I fixed her snack and just sat here. I read a book on Kindle© that contained basic grammatical errors, like the wrong pronoun used with a preposition. I’m either too tired to know what that’s called or I forgot. Chalk it up to being an Old White Man that I even care.

“Am I the only one who gives a shit about the rules around here!”- Walter Sobchak The Big Lebowski

Speaking of The Big Lebowski, I feel more like Walter than I do The Dude. The “eff-it”attitude of The Dude doesn’t register with me.

Right now, I’m waiting for a train to pass through Ashland #98,The Northbound Silver Meteor is running a little late. It should go through town at about the time I can stay awake no longer. The train just passed through. Things are getting blurred as I write. J is stirring upstairs. She has to be at the store at 6:00 AM. It’s 5:11 right now. Guess I will stay awake to see her off. Then back to bed.

Not A Bad Day

I’m trying to keep my anger in check and mostly succeeding.

My life is a long process of letting go.

Energy is coming back.

J’s last day on her second job was today. Hopefully she will relax and rest more frequently.

Sex is still a dream.

Божественная Литургия Divine Liturgy

It is 10:45 AM in St Petersburg, Russia. We are watching the Divine Liturgy from The Church of The Presentation Of The Lord. The Choir is there singing the responses to the chants of the priests and deacons.

The members of the congregation are wearing their masks and maintaining the requisite social distances. There is awe and reverence for the Divine Liturgy being said.

This is Russia 2020.

After My Second Nap

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Actually it may have been my third. Who knows. I am coming out of a very deep hole, a hole I was unaware that I was even in.

I went up to nap beside J. She kept the news off, Praise Jesus, and had an Andy Griffith Show episode on instead. Then Jeopardy I think. I brought her a slice of reheated Mellow Mushroom Mighty Meaty Pizza, or The Vegan’s Nightmare, as I like to think of it. She had Antiques Road Show on by then. We have a running inside joke between us around the word provenance. And they used it twice while I delivered her slice. I don’t know why, but it evokes laughter between us.

There always seems to be somebody on the show with some crap that’s worth an absurd amount of money, like a late Victorian caster set, or the mourning locket (complete with lock of hair) of a Civil War widow.

But I came back down to eat my slices of pizza and watch YouTube channels. Right now the live camera on the Ashland railroad tracks has my attention.

Having walked away from the current cultural idiocy, I have noticed myself crafting my own newer idiocy.

“DAVID! STOP!”

That is my Guardian Angel speaking, I’m certain .

I’m going to watch these tracks on this exquisite night, complete with thunderstorms. A flash of lightning would be welcome about now. I hear thunder in my own neighbourhood. And saw that lightning flash I wished for. Then another.

Suddenly the sheer erotic potential of being alive has hit me like the proverbial 2 by 4 across the head. And I’m going to revel in it.

Getting Over. Getting Through

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This is Day 2 on my increased Prozac©{Fluoxetene) dose. I am sleeping a lot and don’t know why, except I’m just exhausted from fighting the negativity I had felt for so long. I could sleep now. My appetite isn’t ravenous. I’m no longer fueling the negativity.

I slept all morning. It felt great. I woke up to fix J a slice of warm buttered cinnamon toast to take with her to work. Then back to bed, where I slept til noon. As I write I am more certain that this is emotional exhaustion.

We may never know the whole truth about the George Floyd killing, the origin of COVID-19 and how it spread, or the Jeffrey Epstein death, just for starters. We are experiencing an endless cycle of event and cover-up. I was trying to make sense of things and failing in the attempt.

Yesterday #1 son came over to assemble his Fathers Day gift of a gas grill. We talked as he worked and he told me he ignores the news, just as I attempt to do the same.

I remember a joke from The Firesign Theatre recording Don’t Crush That Dwarf. Hand Me The Pliers.

“Those are the headlines. Now here are the rumours behind the news.

I have felt like I’ve been trying to navigate this ocean of lies, using the bioluminescence of a lightning bug as my polar star.

Now that I’ve stopped I experience moments of clarity that are similar to those discovered when getting sober or leaving a dysfunctional marriage(relationship).

The relief that comes from letting go is awesome.

Upping The Dosage

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Recently, I thought my general dis-ease in my overall mental health was attributable to the ongoing political melodrama being acted out in DC and elsewhere, culminating in the recent protests/riots.

Now I believe the problems and feelings I am experiencing are really about the efficacy of my antidepressant medication. So I am increasing my dosage of Prozac©from 20mg daily to 40mg. Earlier, my psychiatrist has been OK with my adjusting the dosage level on my own. After a few weeks, I will see how I feel. I have been taking this drug almost continuously for 26 years. It could be time to move on.

We shall see.