I had slept about three hours when I woke up. Seinfeld was on the TV. I felt dirty, sweaty and smelly. I had skipped brushing my teeth when I just fell asleep on the bed.

As I lay in bed, I asked myself, “What the Hell am I doing here?” So I got, brushed, flossed and rinsed with fluoride rinse. I climbed in the shower shampooed and scrubbed my skin with sandalwood soap Iwas pure. Again.

Unfortunately I was no longer sleepy. So I’m downstairs drinking coffee and watching Renae on Paper and Moose. She is a junk maven on YouTube. To my dirty old man libido, she has that wholesome sexy quality slightly reminiscent of Doris Day. Not bad at all.

Cartoons now seem to be in order The old Thirties and Forties cartoons are in the public domain abound on YouTube. Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Mickey Mouse, and Donald Duck make more sense than our current crop of politicians and office seekers.

Homeless persons defecating on the sidewalk are not evidence of a well functioning society. Just sayin’.

Another weekend, more just a Sunday , wherein the bubble in which I float through space bounced off of reality.

A fellow alcoholic called and asked if I would take him to his new recovery house. I had put my name and phone number in a meeting directory, along with several others. And he called me.

The recovery house where he was staying was populated with people who were using, specifically cocaine powder and crack cocaine. So J and I got him relocated to more a reliable and safer place

I shouldn’t be surprised by this. Addicts use. That’s what defines them as addicts. But using at a recovery house tells the world they aren’t serious.

I have a naive puppies, rainbows, and balloons notion of recovery that conflicts with reality.

So my new friend needed help and we offered it,

Addiction is everywhere. Remember that.

When I was a child, every other TV advertisement was about cigarettes. Now seventy odd years later it’s all about the bowel, the output of said bowel as it “moves”, and the resolution of such output into the greater ecosystem of Planet Earth.

Constipation, diarrhoea, diapers, adult diapers. So much to sell. Like with the cigarettes the end product is that elusive state called “satisfaction”.

And so we’ve come full circle.

Satisfaction

.

If you want my take on this election, the exhibition of these soulless monsters pretending to be human turns my stomach.

My guilty YouTube pleasures include the videos made about the contents abandoned in storage lockers. Theses videos tell us more about American wealth than all the summer houses and yachts moored in Martha’s Vineyard

The average person has the discretionary income to furnish an entire other household in a storage unit. And we wonder why there is surfeit of undocumented immigrants. Instead of paying storage fees, we could send our extra stuff to El Salvador and Guatemala and let the people use the stuff there instead of coming here.

In other words, why don’t we just turn the world into a giant thrift shop?

We expect from people who can barely write a grocery list to control our nuclear arsenal, while we encode stuff in to the cyber world. We’re not mad.

Tell me more about your advanced society

Let’s play pickleball and fuck our neighbours’ wives

Tomorrow Disney World.

Who do I have the feeling that Kamala Harris failed her audition for TV Weather Person?

This Walz guy really came through when he picked Johnny Fontaine to star in that war picture..

I would like to say I am fighting getting old, but that’s not true. The house is a trash pit. I sort of eat a balanced diet. The house is my prison.

What we learn in chemistry regarding entropy should be the ultimate caveat for living. We move toward disorder inexorably, but a few inputs of energy can slow the decline.

I should throw away more, drink less coffee, go to more meetings, start swimming every day.. etc. etc., etc.,

Much as I love the porch , it’s time to be about my self-care.

That’s it for now

It has the same meter as an old Evangelical hymn “Bringing In The Sheaves “. This the work I’ve been avoiding for several years.

There are books I planned on reading since I retired. Unread. There are interests I have yet to pursue, like drawing. What distinguishes this townhouse from a prison cell, other than square footage and freedom to come and go as I please?

My sons would ask why I kept this stuff, were they cleaning the house after my demise. I’m asking the same question now.

Time now to do the deed. Further reflection will come upon completion.