Due to the fact that it is way too late for most things I would consider worthwhile for me to do or find, I have drawn my goals in a bit.
All I want is to be streamlined neat and organized in house and vehicle, and be nowhere near anyone when I die. Unless I had someone I wanted to be with at the time. As it is, I want to be far from humanity when I check out and leave no mess, and no confusion in my wake.
That is it. But for some reason, achieving that minor bit of normalcy--something taken for granted by most people--is almost impossible for me. It makes no sense. I'm referring to the reasonable handle on clutter, mess, and paperwork, not about being off in the wilderness when I kick.
So, maybe I will get it done. I am getting angry enough to fight the fatigue factor some, but dang. Just an hour or so yesterday at work and bammo--the skin attack. Comes over like a rush but lasts a long time. Not much fun. I wonder what is what with that.
My doctor resentment is a thing I am trying to subdue. But I need to take it into my own hands some because I am sure we have this thing figured incorrectly, or he does. He is half right. But if we do not get on it soon, I am pretty sure the dominoes will fall at an accelerating rate and there will be no return.
I just don't even know how to begin. I know I am becoming less sensible and able to decently communicate. I am way edgier than is normal.
Some guy was making a big deal about how people ended up in line at a convenience store the other day. You know how when it all of a sudden backs up and the main aisle gets blocked, and all that. So he says, "hey how about helping me fix this and line up over here! He was behind me, and I was kind of at an in between spot by a little island of goods, and the person ahead of me was my friend and she was involved in telling me something.
So the guy, who was nearly a head taller than me, starts grumbling again about people lining up wrong. I tried to defuse it saying the design didn't lend itself to big lines. They usually don't happen for long. He grumbles back, "There is nothing wrong with the design, people just have no brains, blablabla." I did not consider him very bright and I was sick of it already.
Soo...I finally look at him and say, "Yes, you are right, we are all so fucking goddam stupid. You are the only one who is bright. We are just too fucking stupid to do it your way!!" And I was perfectly prepared for him to attack if he wanted. I just did not care.
He shut up and mumbled under his breath, "No argument there." And I mumbled to my friend, "I told you, the California redneck is in a class of its own". Then I offered him to go ahead of me and he refused. Both of us not being at all polite in tone or manner.
He was a jerk, but what the heck was it with me? I just do not care sometimes. And I am tired forever of know-it-alls who spend all day trying to find reasons to prove their non-existent superiority.
This keeps up I will probably punch harmonica John in the nose next time he says some rude arrogant BS. Everyone thinks they know things regarding others, and maybe they do not.
Time to seriously try to find that parasail and learn how to fly it.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Little Adventure
So, Sande and I decided if we could find some new place to play tonight. Karen is out of town and we did not want to go anywhere and seem the same old faces.
So, she researches on line and we hit a place on the edge of downtown. Odd neighborhood right off the trolley line--a fact to remember for next time.
It was some sort of open mic deal, but they had bad equipment. Nice little stage and mic stands falling apart, one broken mic and one working but barely staying put. We made due with that. At least her guitar has a plug in and that was serviceable. I just projected acoustically and got on her mic for the solos.
We started playing and there were just four or five people, at most, in the house. By the second tune the place was packed. And it stayed packed until we were done. Homeless wanderers stopped and stared in. The doors were open so they could hear, plus there were some tables outside.
The cool thing is that we did not know these people, and they were mostly in their 20's and some in their 30's--maybe. And they liked it. Anyone who thinks people in 30s and 20s do not know anything about music and all that are wrong. I would say my peers, who are stuck in the 60s and 70s are the ones whose musical sense and evolution is stifled.
My God, Viet Nam is over, get a job and shut the F''' up!! So to speak
Really, this is where I part ways with so many; I do not pine for the 60s, for the flower power whatever. I do not pine for demonstrations and woodstock fantasies. I never did like obscenely loud music. I never did like mass groups or collective nonsense.
I'm a creature of seams. Neither did I think most of the protest people had a clue, nor did the reactionary idiots pulling in national guard on campus fools, or lining up police with rifles fitted with bayonets. The latter happened at FSU. The alleged demonstration was more a gathering of people looking for pot, sex, and the entertainment of the spectacle. I think it was a demonstration against ROTC on campus; the usual thing of collectivist types interfering with the choices of others. No one forced people to join ROTC, though the draft was a motive.
So, there I was; despiser of the draft, disgusted with the sheep mentality and ignorance of my peers. A bunch of parrots who had no idea what the totality of the facts were. No inkling about the Constitution or much else. But if you did the parrot thing and smoked pot, and did the hippie appearance---instant acceptance!!! Alone no more, and relieved of the burden of thinking for yourself. Big relief to many.
How did I end up here?
So, this was a successful experiment. We did play the element of surprise a bit. I knew if we acted mild mannered and unassuming, they'd figure these old weirdos would be playing the usual Neil Young, or "The Cruel War is Raging" or other protest crap.
We did originals and one killer spanish song from Argentina. Sande lived in Spain for a few years speaking only spanish. I love that spanish melody junk. Hits me where I live.
This is how we quietly make waves. Also looking forward to playing with Chris Hamilton band at Mt Laguna on the 19th. Up on Sunrise parkway, a two lane road in the Cleveland national forest. Only one venue up there. I will take a break from another stint of house and pet sitting. This time with the new great pyrenees, Frank. Now Frank is one smart and cool creature. We hit it off from the first. We miss Max, but Frank will be a little easier because he is highly telepathic and has a high IQ as well as plenty of integrity.
More on that later
So, she researches on line and we hit a place on the edge of downtown. Odd neighborhood right off the trolley line--a fact to remember for next time.
It was some sort of open mic deal, but they had bad equipment. Nice little stage and mic stands falling apart, one broken mic and one working but barely staying put. We made due with that. At least her guitar has a plug in and that was serviceable. I just projected acoustically and got on her mic for the solos.
Little glimpse of stage area when place was empty--before we packed it. The mic on the right fell apart in my hands and was inop. The stand fell apart too. Wish I had a pic of the crowd when the place filled. It is small so only about 30 people, but that is actually a lot sometimes. The night was a victory of sorts. And really kind of a surprise.
We started playing and there were just four or five people, at most, in the house. By the second tune the place was packed. And it stayed packed until we were done. Homeless wanderers stopped and stared in. The doors were open so they could hear, plus there were some tables outside.
The cool thing is that we did not know these people, and they were mostly in their 20's and some in their 30's--maybe. And they liked it. Anyone who thinks people in 30s and 20s do not know anything about music and all that are wrong. I would say my peers, who are stuck in the 60s and 70s are the ones whose musical sense and evolution is stifled.
My God, Viet Nam is over, get a job and shut the F''' up!! So to speak
Really, this is where I part ways with so many; I do not pine for the 60s, for the flower power whatever. I do not pine for demonstrations and woodstock fantasies. I never did like obscenely loud music. I never did like mass groups or collective nonsense.
I'm a creature of seams. Neither did I think most of the protest people had a clue, nor did the reactionary idiots pulling in national guard on campus fools, or lining up police with rifles fitted with bayonets. The latter happened at FSU. The alleged demonstration was more a gathering of people looking for pot, sex, and the entertainment of the spectacle. I think it was a demonstration against ROTC on campus; the usual thing of collectivist types interfering with the choices of others. No one forced people to join ROTC, though the draft was a motive.
So, there I was; despiser of the draft, disgusted with the sheep mentality and ignorance of my peers. A bunch of parrots who had no idea what the totality of the facts were. No inkling about the Constitution or much else. But if you did the parrot thing and smoked pot, and did the hippie appearance---instant acceptance!!! Alone no more, and relieved of the burden of thinking for yourself. Big relief to many.
How did I end up here?
So, this was a successful experiment. We did play the element of surprise a bit. I knew if we acted mild mannered and unassuming, they'd figure these old weirdos would be playing the usual Neil Young, or "The Cruel War is Raging" or other protest crap.
We did originals and one killer spanish song from Argentina. Sande lived in Spain for a few years speaking only spanish. I love that spanish melody junk. Hits me where I live.
This is how we quietly make waves. Also looking forward to playing with Chris Hamilton band at Mt Laguna on the 19th. Up on Sunrise parkway, a two lane road in the Cleveland national forest. Only one venue up there. I will take a break from another stint of house and pet sitting. This time with the new great pyrenees, Frank. Now Frank is one smart and cool creature. We hit it off from the first. We miss Max, but Frank will be a little easier because he is highly telepathic and has a high IQ as well as plenty of integrity.
More on that later
Friday, August 28, 2015
#1 panderer and demagogue ever
Maybe not ever. Maybe Steve Cohen is just very adept at following the tradition of pond scum pandering, agitating politicians.
For some reason I am on his email list. He's a democrat out of Memphis and since he can't run on the "I'm Black, therefore you have to vote for me or be a racist and traitor to your people" platform, (which most Black politicians do in Shelby County--even against others of their race), runs on the "I'm not Black, but I'm connected and would stop at nothing to buy your vote by any means no matter how low, dishonest, etc." "I have pull and will rain federal dollars on the 'hood and even pretend that this majority Black city, run by Blacks, is racist and you are all victims forever.
He is unbelievable. I cannot believe the people in the 'hood would vote for him. He's a snakey, sneaky, slimy creep.
Check him out. If you are a progressive even, and honest with yourself after reading his stuff and checking him out, you, too, will want to vomit and hide your sister.
the end
For some reason I am on his email list. He's a democrat out of Memphis and since he can't run on the "I'm Black, therefore you have to vote for me or be a racist and traitor to your people" platform, (which most Black politicians do in Shelby County--even against others of their race), runs on the "I'm not Black, but I'm connected and would stop at nothing to buy your vote by any means no matter how low, dishonest, etc." "I have pull and will rain federal dollars on the 'hood and even pretend that this majority Black city, run by Blacks, is racist and you are all victims forever.
He is unbelievable. I cannot believe the people in the 'hood would vote for him. He's a snakey, sneaky, slimy creep.
Check him out. If you are a progressive even, and honest with yourself after reading his stuff and checking him out, you, too, will want to vomit and hide your sister.
the end
In Demand. yay. Let me Tell You Bout HJ
So, there is a long time resident of SD county who is probably not far from my age. Old, in some books.
He fancies himself, "Harmonica John", and is a big wheel in the organizing of the yearly harp fest in La Mesa. I think la mesa. Can't always tell where El Cajon ends and other names begin.
Anyway. People who did not hang in the blues circles and such would call me Harmonica John when I first got here. I discouraged that. Since my facebook is under an alias I told them to use that name when they needed to say something in public or at a jam or whatever. I explained that 1. I would never fancy myself the only John somehow connected with stupid harmonicas, and 2. that there was cat around town calling himself that and I wanted to avoid the mix up. Besides, he was here first.
The guy is a very good player but not a ground breaker. I find him to be very good at what thousands of blues harp players try to play. Nice, but not really original. But good. And he's a pompous $%^&*head.
So, now the marine is back wanting me to play and has streamlined that band, much like I am encouraging Sande to do. Just makes sense for our likely venues and if the bass is iffy for gigs and can only practice sometimes, do without. Last gig was only the three of us, Guitar and vocal lady, viola lady, and me. It was far better than most outings.
Anyway so there are four separate acts who want me playing with them. That is great. Now, I do not hang in blues circles or harmonica circles--often the same--since I arrived. Just not into it. And not into most of the people. The ones who don't have to play 50 year old tough guy with all the usual affectations. Or any year old tough guy. It spans generations.
For some reason though, Harmonica John seems to feel threatened.
I posted an old Memphis video on FB for the benefit of the marine and his girl, because they were curious.
So, they have something nice to say and HJ immediately wants to critique, as if he is the ultimate. "Well, you are better now but blabla decent then." ??? No one asked. I found it nervy and offensive but you do not defend or you give the pompous something to feel ego fed over.
Ha. But then others jump in. Sande said I was a God. oh geez. among other nice praise. He has to answer, "Well, I wouldn't go that far..etc." Saying his idea of a god and hers were different. It is crazy. He is known in this area and I just play without promoting myself much.
Anyway, I tried to end it at the beginning by just saying WTF Friday. Zip..over the head.
So all this god stuff happened and I finally said, The men don't know but the pretty girls understand. Haha. That shut him up.
He is right, maybe. I think I am better now. Different anyway. By necessity. But no one asked. Should I say he has great tone and technical skill but lacks punch, excitement and originality? No, I should not. You didn't ask. I pretended you did.
It has taken all my life to believe that any seemingly competent person would be threatened or intimidated by me in any field or endeavor. Finally I realized that some people always think they are in competition in odd games that many people don't even play. But, even smart people can be so screwed up and egocentric that they become petty and small minded. All in an effort to be elite and superior. Problem is they freak that maybe they convince no one, or that their competition does not even care.
Maybe more playing will be good, and more of it will bring in a little bit of cash.
I need every dime and every thread I can touch. Unstable and screwy times
.
He fancies himself, "Harmonica John", and is a big wheel in the organizing of the yearly harp fest in La Mesa. I think la mesa. Can't always tell where El Cajon ends and other names begin.
Anyway. People who did not hang in the blues circles and such would call me Harmonica John when I first got here. I discouraged that. Since my facebook is under an alias I told them to use that name when they needed to say something in public or at a jam or whatever. I explained that 1. I would never fancy myself the only John somehow connected with stupid harmonicas, and 2. that there was cat around town calling himself that and I wanted to avoid the mix up. Besides, he was here first.
The guy is a very good player but not a ground breaker. I find him to be very good at what thousands of blues harp players try to play. Nice, but not really original. But good. And he's a pompous $%^&*head.
So, now the marine is back wanting me to play and has streamlined that band, much like I am encouraging Sande to do. Just makes sense for our likely venues and if the bass is iffy for gigs and can only practice sometimes, do without. Last gig was only the three of us, Guitar and vocal lady, viola lady, and me. It was far better than most outings.
Anyway so there are four separate acts who want me playing with them. That is great. Now, I do not hang in blues circles or harmonica circles--often the same--since I arrived. Just not into it. And not into most of the people. The ones who don't have to play 50 year old tough guy with all the usual affectations. Or any year old tough guy. It spans generations.
For some reason though, Harmonica John seems to feel threatened.
I posted an old Memphis video on FB for the benefit of the marine and his girl, because they were curious.
So, they have something nice to say and HJ immediately wants to critique, as if he is the ultimate. "Well, you are better now but blabla decent then." ??? No one asked. I found it nervy and offensive but you do not defend or you give the pompous something to feel ego fed over.
Ha. But then others jump in. Sande said I was a God. oh geez. among other nice praise. He has to answer, "Well, I wouldn't go that far..etc." Saying his idea of a god and hers were different. It is crazy. He is known in this area and I just play without promoting myself much.
Anyway, I tried to end it at the beginning by just saying WTF Friday. Zip..over the head.
So all this god stuff happened and I finally said, The men don't know but the pretty girls understand. Haha. That shut him up.
He is right, maybe. I think I am better now. Different anyway. By necessity. But no one asked. Should I say he has great tone and technical skill but lacks punch, excitement and originality? No, I should not. You didn't ask. I pretended you did.
It has taken all my life to believe that any seemingly competent person would be threatened or intimidated by me in any field or endeavor. Finally I realized that some people always think they are in competition in odd games that many people don't even play. But, even smart people can be so screwed up and egocentric that they become petty and small minded. All in an effort to be elite and superior. Problem is they freak that maybe they convince no one, or that their competition does not even care.
Maybe more playing will be good, and more of it will bring in a little bit of cash.
I need every dime and every thread I can touch. Unstable and screwy times
.
Never Say Die, (except when appropriate)
It grates on me whenever someone says something like, "never say never". They just said it!!! Twice, for cryin' out loud.
Never say die? OK. But what do I say instead?
Or the old one about, "You know when you assume, that means you make an ass out of u and me." Utter nonsense!! These words exist for a reason. You assume things all the time. You assume that bottle of water is not really hydrochloric acid, for example.
And never has its place. Just like always has its place.
Another case of people being smart enough to sort of understand, but not quite smart enough to really get it. But they think they are way ahead of the game, mentally. It happens.
It pays to know that you may not know it all.
What I am thinking now, though, has little to do with that. I have been doing some mild checking on this physical stuff and I definitely think part of the dx is erroneous, and I think another test is needed, and I have a feeling I know what it will reveal. In a way it may be more serious than the erroneous part of the present diagnosis. However, I think that it is likely to be curable with some kind of stem cell hooplah. Whether I am a candidate is another story, but I see no reason this cannot turn around.
To say anything is incurable is stupid. Maybe they do not presently know how to cure something, or maybe a particular medico is behind the curve on new therapies and cures. No true scientist or competent trouble shooter would label a problem as unsolvable. Not yet solved and impossible to solve are two different things.
It is crazy that people with conditions which leave them very fatigued are the very ones who most need to take charge and protect against lazy or incompetent, or arrogantly unconcerned physicians. But that is the name of the game. It is good to bring a level headed friend with you so you don't ransack the office or beat the doctor senseless with stethoscopes and other weapons which may be handy. That is what I do. And it has kept me from flying right over the edge a time or two.
'
But now I have a plan, and I have resources which will help guide me. Mostly a very dedicated and concerned hematologist way over in Iowa who has offered to review any lab results and such. He is one who helped in the early stage of this game.
Oh, so now it looks as if I will be playing with Chris Hamilton band some more. He's the ex Marine sniper. He and his girl Emily and Richard Resonator are playing the only place in Mt. Laguna and that is just fantastic. Super cool venue. And now they invited me to come join them.
They have figured out that it works best around here to streamline the deal. It is hard to get bass players to commit or show for practice anyway. Sande and I are running into that, as well. I think we do better just the two of us, or us plus the viola, Karen. Looks like my thinking is swaying Sande on this. Chris, Emily and Richard have figured it out too.
So, in the next couple of months I am playing with Sande and with Chris and them, and with another guy. At this rate I will be a fixture at Hard Rock Cafe. All three are booked there.
The trick now is to find some energy. I am working on it. I can hide it when I play, but if I were to actually hang around with people it would be very hard to hide the fatigue and discomfort. But the more I learn how, the better off things are. I do not have much concern about the stuff except that fatigue can prevent activity. But I always think about things as if there is no issue. Only when I get up to tackle those things and find it way more difficult than I thought. Or maybe not doable at the moment.
There is too much of what I call magic in life to "assume" the worst is a foregone conclusion. It simply is not. Especially in my case. And I have a vague plan for the best of futures, and the shortest. Bases covered. I should found an institution which teaches scientists and doctors how to be decent trouble shooters and how to leave their egos at home. And make them pay me big bucks for putting them in their place.
.
Never say die? OK. But what do I say instead?
Thank you, Powers that Be, I suppose...
Or the old one about, "You know when you assume, that means you make an ass out of u and me." Utter nonsense!! These words exist for a reason. You assume things all the time. You assume that bottle of water is not really hydrochloric acid, for example.
And never has its place. Just like always has its place.
Another case of people being smart enough to sort of understand, but not quite smart enough to really get it. But they think they are way ahead of the game, mentally. It happens.
It pays to know that you may not know it all.
What I am thinking now, though, has little to do with that. I have been doing some mild checking on this physical stuff and I definitely think part of the dx is erroneous, and I think another test is needed, and I have a feeling I know what it will reveal. In a way it may be more serious than the erroneous part of the present diagnosis. However, I think that it is likely to be curable with some kind of stem cell hooplah. Whether I am a candidate is another story, but I see no reason this cannot turn around.
To say anything is incurable is stupid. Maybe they do not presently know how to cure something, or maybe a particular medico is behind the curve on new therapies and cures. No true scientist or competent trouble shooter would label a problem as unsolvable. Not yet solved and impossible to solve are two different things.
It is crazy that people with conditions which leave them very fatigued are the very ones who most need to take charge and protect against lazy or incompetent, or arrogantly unconcerned physicians. But that is the name of the game. It is good to bring a level headed friend with you so you don't ransack the office or beat the doctor senseless with stethoscopes and other weapons which may be handy. That is what I do. And it has kept me from flying right over the edge a time or two.
'
But now I have a plan, and I have resources which will help guide me. Mostly a very dedicated and concerned hematologist way over in Iowa who has offered to review any lab results and such. He is one who helped in the early stage of this game.
Oh, so now it looks as if I will be playing with Chris Hamilton band some more. He's the ex Marine sniper. He and his girl Emily and Richard Resonator are playing the only place in Mt. Laguna and that is just fantastic. Super cool venue. And now they invited me to come join them.
They have figured out that it works best around here to streamline the deal. It is hard to get bass players to commit or show for practice anyway. Sande and I are running into that, as well. I think we do better just the two of us, or us plus the viola, Karen. Looks like my thinking is swaying Sande on this. Chris, Emily and Richard have figured it out too.
So, in the next couple of months I am playing with Sande and with Chris and them, and with another guy. At this rate I will be a fixture at Hard Rock Cafe. All three are booked there.
The trick now is to find some energy. I am working on it. I can hide it when I play, but if I were to actually hang around with people it would be very hard to hide the fatigue and discomfort. But the more I learn how, the better off things are. I do not have much concern about the stuff except that fatigue can prevent activity. But I always think about things as if there is no issue. Only when I get up to tackle those things and find it way more difficult than I thought. Or maybe not doable at the moment.
There is too much of what I call magic in life to "assume" the worst is a foregone conclusion. It simply is not. Especially in my case. And I have a vague plan for the best of futures, and the shortest. Bases covered. I should found an institution which teaches scientists and doctors how to be decent trouble shooters and how to leave their egos at home. And make them pay me big bucks for putting them in their place.
.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Yikes and stuff
It does get old finding that not too many people can follow a sentence this long. And not many can properly interpret even that basic level of complexity.
I'd say it is not their fault, but much of the time it is. That is because people refuse to step back and accept that, sometimes, what they want to be true simply is not. Greed and cowardice fuel the purposeful ignorance as much as anything. Fear of not being part of the herd, and ignoring truth as a result, is cowardice in my book. Much more so than suicide. Odd juxtaposition. But that school which calls suicide cowardly is pure ignorant BS. It annoys me.
But the refusal to see reality out of belonging to some team or because it gives you a way to be accepted is sad. But maybe it is the smart thing. Either way people freak when their treasured illusion is revealed.
I think a whole slough of people suffer that in the case of Obama, as just one example. Everyone wants to believe he is not owned by big money and is totally above board. If confronted with any duplicity on his part, they immediately shout, "but, right wing!!!! but Bush!!!! but Republican!!!", etc. It would be funny if it weren't so bizarrely scary.
They fall for the idea that you must pick one of two teams. Which of the establishment's choices do you like? Any flavor you want, as long as it is chocolate or vanilla.
I have rarely seen anything like it.
People often ignore the context and qualifiers of a statement so that they can ignorantly go off on someone. Often me. Makes me think I should have read the book by Glenn Beck, "Arguing With Idiots". I love the title, and remember seeing the cover in airport shops. The title and cover were great, no matter how one may feel about the author. I can identify with the sentiment. (I'm pretty sure it goes of on a tack which is not what I'm after here, but that is irrelevant. I like it for the pictures.)
As soon as you see yourself pulled out of context for what appears to be the pleasure of your antagonist, who obviously loves to do verbal battle for the sake of the battle itself, you know the conversation will never be more than an unpleasant waste of time.
I've known people that counter logic and proof with things like, "That's your truth, not mine", "There is no absolute truth, everyone's reality is different", etc. Or, "Oh, that's your logic. I'm more intuitive."
Great. So you learn to get along with dimwits and to avoid constant conflict, you begin to dumb yourself down. It is a mistake. Put up with the arrogant jerks who feign an air of superiority, and smash them. At least you will have a higher level of discourse and self esteem.
Or you may find some like minded people who can accept new information, even when it bursts their little bubble of preconceived belief and such. Once in awhile I wonder what I got myself into. I can almost visualize what's what, but not for long. Some false narrative runs in my mind which has always ensured my obscurity, and poverty of sorts. Much to the pleasure of some, I fear. Not that they would all admit to such sick and sneaky sadistic pleasure.
.
I'd say it is not their fault, but much of the time it is. That is because people refuse to step back and accept that, sometimes, what they want to be true simply is not. Greed and cowardice fuel the purposeful ignorance as much as anything. Fear of not being part of the herd, and ignoring truth as a result, is cowardice in my book. Much more so than suicide. Odd juxtaposition. But that school which calls suicide cowardly is pure ignorant BS. It annoys me.
But the refusal to see reality out of belonging to some team or because it gives you a way to be accepted is sad. But maybe it is the smart thing. Either way people freak when their treasured illusion is revealed.
I think a whole slough of people suffer that in the case of Obama, as just one example. Everyone wants to believe he is not owned by big money and is totally above board. If confronted with any duplicity on his part, they immediately shout, "but, right wing!!!! but Bush!!!! but Republican!!!", etc. It would be funny if it weren't so bizarrely scary.
They fall for the idea that you must pick one of two teams. Which of the establishment's choices do you like? Any flavor you want, as long as it is chocolate or vanilla.
I have rarely seen anything like it.
People often ignore the context and qualifiers of a statement so that they can ignorantly go off on someone. Often me. Makes me think I should have read the book by Glenn Beck, "Arguing With Idiots". I love the title, and remember seeing the cover in airport shops. The title and cover were great, no matter how one may feel about the author. I can identify with the sentiment. (I'm pretty sure it goes of on a tack which is not what I'm after here, but that is irrelevant. I like it for the pictures.)
As soon as you see yourself pulled out of context for what appears to be the pleasure of your antagonist, who obviously loves to do verbal battle for the sake of the battle itself, you know the conversation will never be more than an unpleasant waste of time.
I've known people that counter logic and proof with things like, "That's your truth, not mine", "There is no absolute truth, everyone's reality is different", etc. Or, "Oh, that's your logic. I'm more intuitive."
Great. So you learn to get along with dimwits and to avoid constant conflict, you begin to dumb yourself down. It is a mistake. Put up with the arrogant jerks who feign an air of superiority, and smash them. At least you will have a higher level of discourse and self esteem.
Or you may find some like minded people who can accept new information, even when it bursts their little bubble of preconceived belief and such. Once in awhile I wonder what I got myself into. I can almost visualize what's what, but not for long. Some false narrative runs in my mind which has always ensured my obscurity, and poverty of sorts. Much to the pleasure of some, I fear. Not that they would all admit to such sick and sneaky sadistic pleasure.
.
Back in the Fight, or trying to be
This serious depression issue is a nuisance, to say the least. I know it involves a lot of lies which cloud the mind, but it takes a lot not to feed and believe the destructive pronouncements which run through my mind. People deal with those things.
Life is a lot of adjust and adapt and compensate for the weaknesses. Deal with it. Just how it works. It is not a thing of being a victim really.
That brings me to my resistance to people being described as victims of hurricanes and other incidents in nature. Come on. Humans are made to find ways to steel themselves against the hostile environment in which we live. That does not make us victims. What a stupid outlook. If we are victims for living on earth then what is the alternative? Things happen. It is all physics and such and alleged scientists do not know it all. They know it some. The ego bound doctors and scientists of the world want to halt advancement right here because they are lazy, arrogant, insufferable creeps.
Really adept scientists and doctors are not fearful of what they don't know. They like to learn and convincing you of their superiority is not job 1, like it is for my hematologist. Soon, I expect to can this guy.
For awhile I was so sick of this whole semi-cancer issue that I quit looking into it and all that. But I cannot let it go because when the blood levels are left on their own, I get the itching attacks and such. With or without treatment, fatigue is the norm.
Anyway, I am almost sure the dx is slightly off. I will annoy anyone reading with initials, which I hate, but I don't care. I do not think PV makes sense. We are solidly in the realm of myeloproliferative disorders. Bone marrow malfunctions. There are different ones. I just don't think it makes sense to dx a disorder which is characterized by too many red blood cells when the count is normal or low. And when anemia is a marked issue. All that is low. Other stuff is high, and I am thinking we need the bone marrow biopsy, even though I have avoided it.
But this crazy ass doctor is not who I want doing it. He doesn't even read the file, and he ignores every symptom I describe, claiming those things are "separate issues, not related" to the blood troubles. Wrong. They are directly related and something is being missed. I am almost too tired to care, but fortunately I can get enough anger going for some adrenalin to kick in.
Rational anger. The kind that is measured but is based upon logic and solutions and lack of tolerance for ego bound, pompous nincompoops whose insistence on maintaining their superiority could cost years off your life. I won't have it any more. This is why I bring my good friend the ex trauma nurse with me. Otherwise I might explode and end up in jail. Seriously.
How did the medical world turn into this? Oh well, lots of people manage to benefit. And the ones who die aren't around to complain. But, believe me, having a rare disease is very risky when you have a pompous egomaniac for a doctor. They are too closed minded not to kill you before getting it right.
Being poor, depressed and sick make it difficult to get in front of the curve, but I will. If I happen to die as a result of these creepy guys I hope their names are smeared by my friends. Right now I will say, do not go to Dr Flores, internist or Dr Saven , oncologist/hematologist. I want to punch both of them right now, or else get my money back. Maybe in another life they'd be great, but the bureaucratic mess has brought out their cowardice in the form of arrogance and disrespect. Afraid of being sued for being creepos who do not know it all.
Geez. Doctors whose number one goal is shielding themselves from responsibility get no respect from me. I've had it. But I have a plan,. so we shall see.
Life is a lot of adjust and adapt and compensate for the weaknesses. Deal with it. Just how it works. It is not a thing of being a victim really.
That brings me to my resistance to people being described as victims of hurricanes and other incidents in nature. Come on. Humans are made to find ways to steel themselves against the hostile environment in which we live. That does not make us victims. What a stupid outlook. If we are victims for living on earth then what is the alternative? Things happen. It is all physics and such and alleged scientists do not know it all. They know it some. The ego bound doctors and scientists of the world want to halt advancement right here because they are lazy, arrogant, insufferable creeps.
Really adept scientists and doctors are not fearful of what they don't know. They like to learn and convincing you of their superiority is not job 1, like it is for my hematologist. Soon, I expect to can this guy.
For awhile I was so sick of this whole semi-cancer issue that I quit looking into it and all that. But I cannot let it go because when the blood levels are left on their own, I get the itching attacks and such. With or without treatment, fatigue is the norm.
Anyway, I am almost sure the dx is slightly off. I will annoy anyone reading with initials, which I hate, but I don't care. I do not think PV makes sense. We are solidly in the realm of myeloproliferative disorders. Bone marrow malfunctions. There are different ones. I just don't think it makes sense to dx a disorder which is characterized by too many red blood cells when the count is normal or low. And when anemia is a marked issue. All that is low. Other stuff is high, and I am thinking we need the bone marrow biopsy, even though I have avoided it.
But this crazy ass doctor is not who I want doing it. He doesn't even read the file, and he ignores every symptom I describe, claiming those things are "separate issues, not related" to the blood troubles. Wrong. They are directly related and something is being missed. I am almost too tired to care, but fortunately I can get enough anger going for some adrenalin to kick in.
Rational anger. The kind that is measured but is based upon logic and solutions and lack of tolerance for ego bound, pompous nincompoops whose insistence on maintaining their superiority could cost years off your life. I won't have it any more. This is why I bring my good friend the ex trauma nurse with me. Otherwise I might explode and end up in jail. Seriously.
How did the medical world turn into this? Oh well, lots of people manage to benefit. And the ones who die aren't around to complain. But, believe me, having a rare disease is very risky when you have a pompous egomaniac for a doctor. They are too closed minded not to kill you before getting it right.
Being poor, depressed and sick make it difficult to get in front of the curve, but I will. If I happen to die as a result of these creepy guys I hope their names are smeared by my friends. Right now I will say, do not go to Dr Flores, internist or Dr Saven , oncologist/hematologist. I want to punch both of them right now, or else get my money back. Maybe in another life they'd be great, but the bureaucratic mess has brought out their cowardice in the form of arrogance and disrespect. Afraid of being sued for being creepos who do not know it all.
Geez. Doctors whose number one goal is shielding themselves from responsibility get no respect from me. I've had it. But I have a plan,. so we shall see.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Perhaps the Truth is Over Rated
It seems very depressing to consider describing my real life, so I think I should take time off---from what, I am unsure--and imagine how it would be if it were not depressing. Then I will write that instead.
I should create a fantasy life and convince myself it is real. Maybe it is possible to so convince one's self that he is living a certain life that when they come and take one away, he will never realize he has moved to a rubber room. In his mind he is on vacation with the wife, possibly visiting his wonderful grown children and, maybe, a grandchild or two.
All this can happen if he can take time away from his many obligations involving consulting with misguided governments and others regarding water and energy solutions which do not automatically glorify a retarded or intentionally poor standard of living. Not to mention the banquets of award and recognition. But, family first in this life unlived.
Time to clean house, and find that weight appropriate parasail. And perhaps the ultimate sedatives. The truth is not that great and may not be tolerable for a whole lot longer.
Fantasy is better. In reality, I do not want to see family, for a host of reasons which I hate to even list in my mind, silently. So, I won't list them here. I often think some things are of the past and not likely to ever occur again, such as Christmas with relatives and visits. I can't do it.
I know I started out with the makings of a good person. The boat was missed and I do not believe I fulfilled that potential. Not the worst one ever, but not much of a good person, in reality. Just a dunce.
And I am pretty sure they have missed much of what is making my blood so lousy I cannot even give it away. That is almost irrelevant though. The worst of all diseases is not living up to one's standards. My reasons may involve believing others knew what they were talking about or not understanding sadistic jealousy, etc. Changes nothing. I'm just another casualty of the big pretense and some other things. As a result, I hurt plenty of people, thinking they had no feelings or vulnerabilities. That was very wrong.
I should create a fantasy life and convince myself it is real. Maybe it is possible to so convince one's self that he is living a certain life that when they come and take one away, he will never realize he has moved to a rubber room. In his mind he is on vacation with the wife, possibly visiting his wonderful grown children and, maybe, a grandchild or two.
All this can happen if he can take time away from his many obligations involving consulting with misguided governments and others regarding water and energy solutions which do not automatically glorify a retarded or intentionally poor standard of living. Not to mention the banquets of award and recognition. But, family first in this life unlived.
Time to clean house, and find that weight appropriate parasail. And perhaps the ultimate sedatives. The truth is not that great and may not be tolerable for a whole lot longer.
Fantasy is better. In reality, I do not want to see family, for a host of reasons which I hate to even list in my mind, silently. So, I won't list them here. I often think some things are of the past and not likely to ever occur again, such as Christmas with relatives and visits. I can't do it.
I know I started out with the makings of a good person. The boat was missed and I do not believe I fulfilled that potential. Not the worst one ever, but not much of a good person, in reality. Just a dunce.
And I am pretty sure they have missed much of what is making my blood so lousy I cannot even give it away. That is almost irrelevant though. The worst of all diseases is not living up to one's standards. My reasons may involve believing others knew what they were talking about or not understanding sadistic jealousy, etc. Changes nothing. I'm just another casualty of the big pretense and some other things. As a result, I hurt plenty of people, thinking they had no feelings or vulnerabilities. That was very wrong.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
No Exclamation Really Fits
In that scenario it is just a quick wash as maybe you steady yourself with a hand on the parapet. But in a life gone off the tracks it can last, almost a lifetime.
Telling myself it is never too late doesn't do it anymore. When it is too late, it simply is. And it can scare the hell out of a person.
Maybe this is the cowardly aspect they talk about when those who actually have no clue try to assess suicide people as having taken "the coward's way out". I consider those who go along with the crowd, no matter what, as the true cowards, but that is another story. They run the world, or allow it to be run. Herd animals at their finest...
Last thing I would ever want is the suicide path, but I do not think everyone has a choice. You'd be surprised what your mind and body can manufacture; fear, pain, confusion, suffocating loss of hope. Those can push someone over the edge--literally. All one can do is to hope that he can be some benefit to others who deserve it, and forget what a wasted and hopeless existence he has built. Or just wandered into, like a rootless vagabond; a dead leaf blowing in the breeze come fall.
So, I am in a band with some nice and some strange people. One of the members is successful, and not such a misfit. She used to head up the arts and music for a very large school district--one of those "unified" deals. It paid big bucks I think. She has a long term marriage and, to me, has it all together.
The rest of us are weirdos. Sorry, but we are. The main person struck me as gay, but she isn't. She just likes that boyish look. I get no vibe whatsoever that she likes women in that way, but she seems to eschew feminine accouterments as well. She has a long term marriage so she has more sense than I do, I guess. Then we have an alleged woman who was apparently born male and I have not reached down to see if a surgical procedure has been performed.
People go, "Hey, that chick playing bass for you guys is a dude!" What can I say? She never told me she was not a chick. But I guess I thought the same thing. I have no desire whatsoever to even discuss the situation. The actual women in the group seem to be all sympathetic and almost over the top PC about the issue. I just find "her" a little arrogant and off-putting. Good player, in a way.
That brings me to something I have learned about playing. There are very musically educated, skilled players, and there are players who know how to play off of others, and always listen to everyone on stage. This one has the creds, Berklee music school, etc., but seems aloof, superior, and kind of isolated. That symbiotic thing is missing, although she is highly regarded in the jazz circles around here. So, maybe I am just a bigoted and mistaken soul. Probably not.
It makes for one odd looking music group. And I believe it is our downfall. Got to wonder when people say to me, "Oh, you're playing xyz next week?", and I say yes. And they say, "I wish it was just you and leave the others at home." No, please, I do not want to carry that. That hurts me more than flatters.
I guess I'd rather play with gender confused women and alleged women than the typical middle aged "I have to have just the right tattoo, the exact right hair and goatee, the bandana, and pretend to be badass" blues/rock players. What conformist nonsense. There is a conformity to it, right down to the lingo, and mindless causes. Of course, that is the natural and right look for some I guess.
But the attitude of , "I'm a rebel" is diluted a bit if you are as indistinguishable from the others as an Anonymous convention with hundreds of Guy Fawkeses.
Really. I am so over the skulls and whatever the Texas Longhorn finger thing means in a rock context.
There are a lot of people and cultures that seem more legitimate candidates for suicide than I am. So why is it so hard to get through the day? Why the paralysis? If I told you what I think, you would jeer and say I was a wimp. I believe it was the lies I was told from infancy by my borther about my lack of worth, and my parents' tacit agreement. The only people I trusted programmed me so well that I have failed to thwart it.
But like the trans whatever person in our group, if anyone else messed with the person I would be the first and fiercest in his defense. But those people whom I defend rarely know it or appreciate it. Clueless bastards, all of them.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Dear Old School Cubans in the nominally Free World
Unbelievable.
Castro, and no doubt plenty of self hating guilty liberal fools, want the US to pay them back for not trading with Cuba under Castro (after they murdered thousands, stole and nationalized American interests and property as well as Cuban interests and property)
That brings me to the thing that is the flaw of socialism enforced by the state--it relies on forced distribution of wealth and resources, according to the whims and vision of those with the guns. Legal theft and bullying. On a personal level, be as generous as you see fit. But do not put a gun to your neighbor's head forcing him to comply with your view of compassion, etc.
IDIOTA del mundo
So, a mass murdering, lying, thieving thug, who has lived well while the people he rules live in poverty, wants us to pay him. He does not want to return what he took, answer for the murder of defenseless innocents, or answer for why he misled the people who supported revolution, thinking they were getting a free constitutional republic.
Please send me in to take him out. I am fine with probably not living through it. I am the guy they need for this. Nothing to lose and I need to get out of here.
I haven't checked to see what dumbass things Kerry must be saying down there at the embassy opening. Already I sense the progressive slant is that "we" somehow did horrible stuff to Castro and his lunatics. He stole from everyone.
Our own government shut down every Cuban initiative to try to organize in S.Florida to go take their island back. It was some deal made in the early days by JFK. In order to keep them and Russia from thumbing their nose making us look bad, he threw the uprooted Cubans under the '53 Chevy.
Things I have seen from snarky internet badasses who love dictators like Fidel and the late great Hugo astound me. Obviously many of them have no idea the lengths our government went to, to prevent the Cubans from overthrowing the murdering bully rapist thug.
Why it is Hollywood chic to sidle up to thieving murdering thugs because they claim to champion the "little people" is beyond me. They ignore the blood on their heroes' hands entirely. Almost as if they tacitly relish the pain and torture inflicted by such dictators. They ignore the dissidents imprisoned and the people executed and mistreated. The seem to enjoy sharing the dais with the thugs and pretending those others had it coming.
In reality, Rodman going over to hang out with Kim Jong Un is no more stupid and crazy than Sean Penn with Hugo Chavez and others with Castro. It is purely the bigotry of the self hating wing of the progressive movement that draws a distinction; hispanic is currently cool and badass, bad haircut Korean is not cool. They are racists.
Anyway, I would be more comfortable being dropped into Cuba to do mischief than Korea, although N Korea is in greater need. I am bigoted too. People in that part of the world scare me. They eat bird's nests and cats-boiled alive.
So punish me for my bigotry and send me in to do something stupid with no chance I won't get shot.
I'll never change anyone's mind. The homespun, populist, "common sense" BS holds too much appeal for people. Usually because it justifies theft, vengeance and power over others in a homespun, feel-good, middle-of-the-crowd sense of safety and belonging.
*******
“Hemingway hailed Castro’s revolution as ‘very pure and beautiful,'” Fontova said. “He was also a guest of honor at many of Che Guevara’s firing squad massacres. Hemingway loved to watch Che’s firing squads murder hundreds of Cubans. Hemingway would watch the massacres from a picnic chair while sipping Daiquiris.”
Fontova’s source for this troubling detail of Hemingway’s life is a former employee of late Paris Review editor George Plimpton who says his traumatized boss once told him how Hemingway took him to one such fire squad social gathering.
Never heard this assertion refuted. Many talented artists, and even some brilliant intellectuals are philosophically bankrupt and otherwise, total idiots.
Castro, and no doubt plenty of self hating guilty liberal fools, want the US to pay them back for not trading with Cuba under Castro (after they murdered thousands, stole and nationalized American interests and property as well as Cuban interests and property)
That brings me to the thing that is the flaw of socialism enforced by the state--it relies on forced distribution of wealth and resources, according to the whims and vision of those with the guns. Legal theft and bullying. On a personal level, be as generous as you see fit. But do not put a gun to your neighbor's head forcing him to comply with your view of compassion, etc.
IDIOTA del mundo
Really. Every time I see it I want to say it again: IDIOT!!
But I have noticed, even in my little nobody, nothing, corner of the music world, that there is often this assumption that you support mob action and whatever, just because. There is no real thought goes into it. But disagree and you are looked upon as worthy of the firing squad. Even if they have no real case in their favor beyond the intimidation of peer pressure.
So, a mass murdering, lying, thieving thug, who has lived well while the people he rules live in poverty, wants us to pay him. He does not want to return what he took, answer for the murder of defenseless innocents, or answer for why he misled the people who supported revolution, thinking they were getting a free constitutional republic.
this, I believe is Raul Castro--(the one standing)
Please send me in to take him out. I am fine with probably not living through it. I am the guy they need for this. Nothing to lose and I need to get out of here.
I haven't checked to see what dumbass things Kerry must be saying down there at the embassy opening. Already I sense the progressive slant is that "we" somehow did horrible stuff to Castro and his lunatics. He stole from everyone.
Our own government shut down every Cuban initiative to try to organize in S.Florida to go take their island back. It was some deal made in the early days by JFK. In order to keep them and Russia from thumbing their nose making us look bad, he threw the uprooted Cubans under the '53 Chevy.
Things I have seen from snarky internet badasses who love dictators like Fidel and the late great Hugo astound me. Obviously many of them have no idea the lengths our government went to, to prevent the Cubans from overthrowing the murdering bully rapist thug.
Why it is Hollywood chic to sidle up to thieving murdering thugs because they claim to champion the "little people" is beyond me. They ignore the blood on their heroes' hands entirely. Almost as if they tacitly relish the pain and torture inflicted by such dictators. They ignore the dissidents imprisoned and the people executed and mistreated. The seem to enjoy sharing the dais with the thugs and pretending those others had it coming.
One of my favs: Fidel discussing the finer points of agriculture with a local farmer along the way to Havana
In reality, Rodman going over to hang out with Kim Jong Un is no more stupid and crazy than Sean Penn with Hugo Chavez and others with Castro. It is purely the bigotry of the self hating wing of the progressive movement that draws a distinction; hispanic is currently cool and badass, bad haircut Korean is not cool. They are racists.
Anyway, I would be more comfortable being dropped into Cuba to do mischief than Korea, although N Korea is in greater need. I am bigoted too. People in that part of the world scare me. They eat bird's nests and cats-boiled alive.
So punish me for my bigotry and send me in to do something stupid with no chance I won't get shot.
I'll never change anyone's mind. The homespun, populist, "common sense" BS holds too much appeal for people. Usually because it justifies theft, vengeance and power over others in a homespun, feel-good, middle-of-the-crowd sense of safety and belonging.
*******
“Hemingway hailed Castro’s revolution as ‘very pure and beautiful,'” Fontova said. “He was also a guest of honor at many of Che Guevara’s firing squad massacres. Hemingway loved to watch Che’s firing squads murder hundreds of Cubans. Hemingway would watch the massacres from a picnic chair while sipping Daiquiris.”
Fontova’s source for this troubling detail of Hemingway’s life is a former employee of late Paris Review editor George Plimpton who says his traumatized boss once told him how Hemingway took him to one such fire squad social gathering.
Never heard this assertion refuted. Many talented artists, and even some brilliant intellectuals are philosophically bankrupt and otherwise, total idiots.
Life Is a Little Rich for My Blood
This woman (married) with whom I play music says, "Oh I feel so bad for Bob X, he is really hurting being alone". Me--What?
"He really wants someone in his life again. I feel sorry for him."
Me: No shit!! So poor Bob is to be pitied for being alone? He ran his wife off, and you are expressing pity for him, to me, of all people? WTF? Like I am going to commiserate with you about poor Bob.
Do you have a clue as to how much my life sucks? How it really, really sucks? I made it this way, so I don't deserve or want pity. Pity is an insult. But poor Bob, he couldn't keep the old broad around and she hit the road. She has one story and he has another.
Made me want to scream from the rooftops, "F*** YOU ALL! I QUIT! I CANNOT DO IT ANY MORE! I have no hope that I will ever make it right."
Maybe the mutation happened because my body wanted to distract me from my real woes. If there had not been any positive result on the JAK2 mutant thing, I would be sure I created all this. I still think so.
I also think they have a close but incorrect diagnosis. Obviously there is bone marrow disorder because the cells are screwy, even when the numbers are right. Poor quality red blood cells.
But polycythemia is overabundance of red blood cells, and I have yet to see that. I have too many white ones and platelets, left to my own devices. They were sure I was bleeding out somewhere inside which kept the red ones from being too high. I doubt it.
It is some other issue.
I'm sick of the arrogant elitist oncologist/hematologist. I dread whenever the next appointment is. Last time I described some symptoms and he says, "Oh that has nothing to do with this--meaning blood results and chemo to keep too many of various types of cells from being produced.
The fact is those symptoms had everything to do with "this"; blood values and drug reaction. What a pansy. He said that because he only wants to look at blood numbers, has zero empathy, and assumes he is far smarter and "better" than his patients.
I did some looking and it appears he's from South Africa. From the French speaking part, I think. I worked with a guy like that. That have a class system instilled which an old fashioned American can't comprehend.
That is before bears became people too, and a number of other pretenses gained purchase.
I would not have known to take this stuff I was prescribed, hydrea, but I would have know to put the dose where we are now. And I would not have let it go three months and discounted the calls I mede after six weeks describing symptoms which I now see were clear indicators to cut the dose.
It was to a point where I was considering growing a beard, which I did not want to do, because every time I shaved I would later bleed from little dots on my face. Just too little clotting capability because the pill had depleted things to a very risky level.
I go by what I think from now on, and just one more arrogant remark from this jerk and I let him have it and either stop the medical treatment altogether or find another person. Everything relates and he tries to say everything I bring up is a separate issue. Purely afraid of engaging and doing anything besides ordering labs and hiding from the patient. As mad as I am becoming, that may a good plan for him.
I am going broke. Really goddamed broke.
I will somehow get that hang glider/parasail, some highly potent pain and/or sleeping pills and find the highest launch point I can, and that is that. I can't live on the street because this condition is like torture when you cannot escape the elements, heat, etc. And I do not want to live that way.
But the rope is at the end again. Only this time I think it really is.
I am angry at how I have botched a perfectly good life. Even though I am angry at relatives who I think secretly hate me for being a failure and a waste, I hate myself for it, too. But I'd never be such a prick to others about it. But that is a good part of how it came about anyway--had to be there.
What a waste. I should not be this way. Too late to fix it. That sucks. Playing some high school reunion thing on sunday afternoon. Outdoors. We are getting friggin 90 and 100 degree days., That is sure to be crazy. I suspect they will do an abbreviated version of what they have planned and that will be that. I am not even getting paid. I can't afford this any more.
And I am too under the cement slab of me to be able to think or do the work to find paying gigs.
It's always darkest after I open my eyes, before the dawn or no.
"He really wants someone in his life again. I feel sorry for him."
Me: No shit!! So poor Bob is to be pitied for being alone? He ran his wife off, and you are expressing pity for him, to me, of all people? WTF? Like I am going to commiserate with you about poor Bob.
Do you have a clue as to how much my life sucks? How it really, really sucks? I made it this way, so I don't deserve or want pity. Pity is an insult. But poor Bob, he couldn't keep the old broad around and she hit the road. She has one story and he has another.
Made me want to scream from the rooftops, "F*** YOU ALL! I QUIT! I CANNOT DO IT ANY MORE! I have no hope that I will ever make it right."
Maybe the mutation happened because my body wanted to distract me from my real woes. If there had not been any positive result on the JAK2 mutant thing, I would be sure I created all this. I still think so.
I also think they have a close but incorrect diagnosis. Obviously there is bone marrow disorder because the cells are screwy, even when the numbers are right. Poor quality red blood cells.
But polycythemia is overabundance of red blood cells, and I have yet to see that. I have too many white ones and platelets, left to my own devices. They were sure I was bleeding out somewhere inside which kept the red ones from being too high. I doubt it.
It is some other issue.
I'm sick of the arrogant elitist oncologist/hematologist. I dread whenever the next appointment is. Last time I described some symptoms and he says, "Oh that has nothing to do with this--meaning blood results and chemo to keep too many of various types of cells from being produced.
The fact is those symptoms had everything to do with "this"; blood values and drug reaction. What a pansy. He said that because he only wants to look at blood numbers, has zero empathy, and assumes he is far smarter and "better" than his patients.
I did some looking and it appears he's from South Africa. From the French speaking part, I think. I worked with a guy like that. That have a class system instilled which an old fashioned American can't comprehend.
That is before bears became people too, and a number of other pretenses gained purchase.
I would not have known to take this stuff I was prescribed, hydrea, but I would have know to put the dose where we are now. And I would not have let it go three months and discounted the calls I mede after six weeks describing symptoms which I now see were clear indicators to cut the dose.
It was to a point where I was considering growing a beard, which I did not want to do, because every time I shaved I would later bleed from little dots on my face. Just too little clotting capability because the pill had depleted things to a very risky level.
I go by what I think from now on, and just one more arrogant remark from this jerk and I let him have it and either stop the medical treatment altogether or find another person. Everything relates and he tries to say everything I bring up is a separate issue. Purely afraid of engaging and doing anything besides ordering labs and hiding from the patient. As mad as I am becoming, that may a good plan for him.
I am going broke. Really goddamed broke.
I will somehow get that hang glider/parasail, some highly potent pain and/or sleeping pills and find the highest launch point I can, and that is that. I can't live on the street because this condition is like torture when you cannot escape the elements, heat, etc. And I do not want to live that way.
But the rope is at the end again. Only this time I think it really is.
I am angry at how I have botched a perfectly good life. Even though I am angry at relatives who I think secretly hate me for being a failure and a waste, I hate myself for it, too. But I'd never be such a prick to others about it. But that is a good part of how it came about anyway--had to be there.
What a waste. I should not be this way. Too late to fix it. That sucks. Playing some high school reunion thing on sunday afternoon. Outdoors. We are getting friggin 90 and 100 degree days., That is sure to be crazy. I suspect they will do an abbreviated version of what they have planned and that will be that. I am not even getting paid. I can't afford this any more.
And I am too under the cement slab of me to be able to think or do the work to find paying gigs.
It's always darkest after I open my eyes, before the dawn or no.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Several Steps Removed From Human
It just struck me; I really like the people I met through my blogging in days gone by. Even the chick that shook me down in the southern hemisphere. But, really, I have connected with very cool people through the blog.
Some I never met face to face, but I did collaborate on a piece of music with a Canadian. If I ever get up there, we'll meet, and it will be cool.
On FB however. I have yet to actually make a real friend as a result of facebook. That may be because you can only aggregate links and other people's posts, but nothing too lengthy. This paragraph is pushing it on length, in faceland.
Yet people will argue and raise all kinds of hell about nothing. Or who knows what. Shallow things are addictive. As long as I understand that, I can better understand why I am spending my time stating opinions and reading about stuff that is irrelevant, yet emotional.
The days of journalspace really were quite different. I feel different. Some of that is not really a good thing.
All of a sudden I have an idea forming. It is related to all this. There are things that were cool then but a duplicate is not in order now. But I think I see a trend and a way to flow with it. I better remember to think this through some more when I have the chance and the energy.
Has to do with delivery I think.
Some I never met face to face, but I did collaborate on a piece of music with a Canadian. If I ever get up there, we'll meet, and it will be cool.
On FB however. I have yet to actually make a real friend as a result of facebook. That may be because you can only aggregate links and other people's posts, but nothing too lengthy. This paragraph is pushing it on length, in faceland.
Yet people will argue and raise all kinds of hell about nothing. Or who knows what. Shallow things are addictive. As long as I understand that, I can better understand why I am spending my time stating opinions and reading about stuff that is irrelevant, yet emotional.
The days of journalspace really were quite different. I feel different. Some of that is not really a good thing.
All of a sudden I have an idea forming. It is related to all this. There are things that were cool then but a duplicate is not in order now. But I think I see a trend and a way to flow with it. I better remember to think this through some more when I have the chance and the energy.
Has to do with delivery I think.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
They're Back!!
It was the day of the spark plugs, yesterday. Though a demon of sadness was trying to have its way with me, once I got rolling I noticed more energy as the day progressed. More than I've had in awhile.
Ifigue being off the poison pill for a week and various values would improve. I think maybe some improved more than enough. Today at work I discovered that, once again, just barely break a sweat and the attack is on and the body's thermostat takes a hike. It's like random nerve endings being hit from the inside with a tiny hot torch than never stops moving, and in an unpredictable pattern.
Fortunately no one else was at work. Many times I said "ouch" out loud followed by expletives and prayers and curses. Just like the old days.
This is why everything should be available over the counter. And easier access to lab procedures would be nice. I would have done a cbc a month ago and avoided this over correcting form of trial and error. If 30 days cut the number almost in half, what do you think another 90 is going to do?
I cannot believe the attitude. My theory is that he wanted to see how far down in would go. For his own curiosity. Not my well being. It is important to watch these people. Not to be rude to them or argumentative, but just to get it right. They really do not know.
If I could get what I want over the counter, I'd start back on the poison pill but half the dose or less. And I would get muscle relaxer for other things. Because I had to get the stuff from friends and it is all that stopped esophageal spasms. That or pain pills.
Drac won't admit anything is at all related to his field except blood values. Forget dealing with the ramifications of those values. He ain't prescribing anything to help you work with convulsions, shooting pain, etc.
Anyway, Dr. Chickenman. Dracula is a CYA sissy. But like designing the schedule so that I was sure to end up critically low on platelet value, I sometimes thing my discomfort pleases him. He may get the blood balanced, but I think the fact he pretend no discomfort is related pleases him in some perverse way. He's a good blood doctor, I guess. He's published many scholarly papers on various types of cells etc.. But I sense he is a sadist who likes to watch you squirm while he pretends he can't help. Maybe I am too harsh. I am not so sure.
My opinion of the medical world is complicated. The equipment and the most sane of the people are awesome. But there is the extreme bureaucracy and incompetence on some levels, in some places. The industry is rife with extremes, and they are weighted toward extremely insane and/or incompetent, or just plain cold and cruel.
Up to me I would have cut the dose a moth or more ago. I did mention it in a phone call about weird bruising. Oh no, don't change the dose. Not only are doctors not God, half the time they are not even cognizant of the information in your folder, which they hold in their hand during a visit. Maybe they can't read. Or don't like to. More fun to look at the patient and guess.
These attacks take it out of me. Fortunately I was able to use a very hot shower on site.
That works for some reason. Normall I could not tolerate such hot water. It is a weird thing.
Ifigue being off the poison pill for a week and various values would improve. I think maybe some improved more than enough. Today at work I discovered that, once again, just barely break a sweat and the attack is on and the body's thermostat takes a hike. It's like random nerve endings being hit from the inside with a tiny hot torch than never stops moving, and in an unpredictable pattern.
Fortunately no one else was at work. Many times I said "ouch" out loud followed by expletives and prayers and curses. Just like the old days.
This is why everything should be available over the counter. And easier access to lab procedures would be nice. I would have done a cbc a month ago and avoided this over correcting form of trial and error. If 30 days cut the number almost in half, what do you think another 90 is going to do?
I cannot believe the attitude. My theory is that he wanted to see how far down in would go. For his own curiosity. Not my well being. It is important to watch these people. Not to be rude to them or argumentative, but just to get it right. They really do not know.
If I could get what I want over the counter, I'd start back on the poison pill but half the dose or less. And I would get muscle relaxer for other things. Because I had to get the stuff from friends and it is all that stopped esophageal spasms. That or pain pills.
Drac won't admit anything is at all related to his field except blood values. Forget dealing with the ramifications of those values. He ain't prescribing anything to help you work with convulsions, shooting pain, etc.
Anyway, Dr. Chickenman. Dracula is a CYA sissy. But like designing the schedule so that I was sure to end up critically low on platelet value, I sometimes thing my discomfort pleases him. He may get the blood balanced, but I think the fact he pretend no discomfort is related pleases him in some perverse way. He's a good blood doctor, I guess. He's published many scholarly papers on various types of cells etc.. But I sense he is a sadist who likes to watch you squirm while he pretends he can't help. Maybe I am too harsh. I am not so sure.
My opinion of the medical world is complicated. The equipment and the most sane of the people are awesome. But there is the extreme bureaucracy and incompetence on some levels, in some places. The industry is rife with extremes, and they are weighted toward extremely insane and/or incompetent, or just plain cold and cruel.
Up to me I would have cut the dose a moth or more ago. I did mention it in a phone call about weird bruising. Oh no, don't change the dose. Not only are doctors not God, half the time they are not even cognizant of the information in your folder, which they hold in their hand during a visit. Maybe they can't read. Or don't like to. More fun to look at the patient and guess.
These attacks take it out of me. Fortunately I was able to use a very hot shower on site.
That works for some reason. Normall I could not tolerate such hot water. It is a weird thing.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Fuquits of the World Unite!!!
Oh, never mind. They already have.
Believe me, the California redneck is a different animal altogether.
I'm so depressed. I think I will move back east in another year.
Believe me, the California redneck is a different animal altogether.
I'm so depressed. I think I will move back east in another year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
About Me
- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
