Strangely Strange Times

So, I'm the only one who knows my boss is hitting the road, and I'm covering for her while she makes her escape from the state.  For various reasons she can't risk letting the office of Mr king maker know just yet.  Back stabbing and intrigue in the Chicago office complicate the issue.

Further complication is that I think I want the job.  To push now would only hurt me and my friend, the current house manager.  So, I bide my time.

On top of that is the problem that physical issues have limited my activities, although I'm doing my best to work around that, and maybe it is improving. I'll see the doctor on tuesday to see what's up with latest blood tests.  I suspect maybe the tests will be about the same as before.  If it is just a nebulous journey into the halls of money sucking medical institutions, I will withdraw from the process and decide where to go from here.

I'm not happy with the way I always place myself in self imposed isolation wherever I go.  I will find people who find me of some benefit and do what I can there.  Being useful to others seems to put me in a better frame of mind and I forget my sadness when in the thick of such efforts.

Sun Tan Therapy

The one consistent thing that I found in researching the relief from aquagenic pruritis or cholinergic urticaria is UV rays--tanning beds, sunshine.  I'm opposed to tanning beds.  I don't like the look of them of the places where they have them, if they still do.  Maybe in California it is illegal.  No telling.

However the naked place down at the edge of the desert is legal.  All kinds of ugly people just going about their business without garb.  That could work out just dandy.  I have no problem worrying about naked people I don't know viewing me in the buff.  I'll do whatever to alleviate this issue.  Besides, I like swimming uninhibited, and they have pools and more there.  And it is cheaper than professional UV sessions.  Worth considering.

They play water volleyball too.  We'll see.

I found that I can do a little swimming safely, as long as I have access to ultra hot shower afterwards. Last week I had to spend the entire week in Obamaland where I work.  There was a project to rework much of the AC, and the house manager asked if I could be there.  I had things I wanted to do there anyway, so I did it.  At the end of the day I tried the hot tub/spa to see what would happen.

All seemed OK mostly, as long as it was at about 104 or 105F degrees, and I stayed by the jets.  Then after a few minutes in the pool, I could tell the itching wanted to begin, although it was not overly insistent or urgent.  Too long and it would have come on strong.

So this is good.  I find that I can swim again, for awhile.  I still feel messed up in my gut, right at the base of the sternum.  And I have a sudden big belly, but I can sometimes swim.  The week was OK; not creepy like other times I've been there.  Or maybe the creepy aspects didn't bother me this time because I did not care if ghosts ate me or someone shot me.  Nothing happened so why worry.

They took some more blood for testing and I talk to Mr. Doctor on the 29th.  I'm thinking I'm sick of this whole thing and how it is affecting my life.  If he has nothing earth shattering to say, or even if he does, I may make radical changes.  If I wasn't so exhausted all the time, maybe I'd do things differently.

Then again, maybe the exhaustion is only mental anguish and loneliness manifesting itself from psychosomatic causes.  Fine with me.

I wonder if laying around in the high desert in the buff will win me friends and make life beautiful.  Probably not.  At least I still don't smoke, even though I often think it would be swell.

I used to always think, "This time I really am at the end of my rope".  Now I think the rope is long gone and if I'm lucky maybe I can touch the shadow of the long gone rope that I was once at the end of.  I'm leaving the preposition at the end.  There are times when it is clearer to do so.

It Will Take Awhile

There are some things I think I'd rather let sink in before discussing.  Not about me, so nothing like that.

It was a nice night at Crest Community center.   People have a good time there.

They were surprised that I was impressed with her driving.  The women in that family can drive.  Simple as that.  Most of them, anyway.   I'll miss those two now.

Playing Crest, again

These are seriously trying times.  Those probably were too.  I tend to find most times trying.  That is the result of being too dumb to live it the way one should for all these years.

Anyway, I've been less and less interested in playing and being in the same settings I've haunted where people play over and over, Neil Young, Eagles, protest nostalgia, etc.   I never was philosophically on the same page with the 60's people.

Some of it was me, for sure, but much of it was and is not.  Just like I know the banking world is corrupt and entwined with government, but I am not in line with the Occupy crowd.

Not everyone sees the same solution, even if they do agree that certain circumstances and things constitute a problem.   Climate and weather, for example.  Even if I believe it is changing and things won't be the same or static, my idea of how to deal with it probably does not revolve around taxation and turning resource management and control over to officials and agencies.

Others look at it differently.  If they have a family and and spouse, why would they look at it at all???  Unless they are dishonest crooks and con artists who thrive on such things.  But there is not much else worthwhile beyond raising a family and doing what you can for them.  One who finds none of that in his life very well realize all else is insanely empty.  And that leaves little.  Like you were never there at all.

they often have tables, chairs, and people in here

Had to do screenshot off the Crest newspaper site to get these.  Don't think the site is working optimally 

Tonight we play, but not too much.  Three acts rotating every 15 minutes, approximately.  I'm only pumped because it forces me to be somewhere and not alone.  I'm walking that edge again.  Or maybe not.  I still try to tell myself that I have not always felt like this, so much of the information streaming in my mind is either false narrative or hyperbole.

Maybe playing will be OK.  Lately I've found it difficult, so I have to fake it and mask my failings as they arise.  It is not always much fun.  It does keep me busy for minutes at a time.

I have nothing to say about much.  Ever get a glimpse of your life and wonder, in horror, why you are in it?   I'm trying everything, believe me.
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Oh yea, I have been asked to dwell at the resort house from tomorrow, Sunday, until Friday.  Sounds good but is a big inconvenience.  I'll not be getting paid every hour but I'll get paid.    Projects going on and someone needs to be there early, late, and sometimes in-between.  Plus I have some projects.

Don't Work Too Hard, Señor

 At my job, where I do what illegals undocumented guests of our compassionate nation rarely are willing to do, the lady who could be called my boss was concerned I might work too hard.   The prospect that I could become "overheated" seemed to be a scenario she was dreading.

I guess the others told her what it was like when I had the attack of madness a week or two ago.  But I have been so excited that the usual issues have gone dormant that I do extra things just because I can.  I promised the thin air that if I'm really getting better then I'll be good from now on.  That is easy because I always be good. Soy un buenito dos zapatos---I'm a goody two shoes, if I ever saw one.

Something is up still, but I'm thinking it will all fade away and I will expect an official announcement celebrating the miracle.  I'd like to assume the post of saint, with all the rights and privileges the office commands.  I'm guessing a nice little pension-- nothing pretentious but enough to get by.  Maybe a little saint's cottage somewhere in the country, and whatnot.

We'll work out details later.  First we have to go through the tedium of healing, then days of being humble yet vocal for PR purposes, and finally, I'll hire Jay Carney--I need someone who can say anything in any context, and no matter what it is, do it with a straight face and sincere demeanor.

It is weird to feel such of the same stuff that preceded or was present during an attack to still be wandering around inside, yet no itch burn insane discomfort.

One day this cabin will be the talk of a tourist tour.  "Here is where the miracle began..."

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Can I Be Canonized?

Probably not.   I'm not Catholic, but it is a miracle that I've had at least 4 days in a row with no attacks.  I've even been able to do the regular work plus help a friend redo the outside of part of his house; cement, lath, this and that.  I was able to get hot enough to sweat without going into big trouble.  That hasn't happened in months.

It may be a giant miracle and the whole crazy episode, which was not much fun, will fade into oblivion and peace.  I've already bargained: "If this is cured and I never have to deal with it, I'll be good for the rest of my life."

Good my be a subjective term, but I think I've shown plenty of patience and good will, so maybe any deities in the vicinity will see what a great deal it is and fix me up without further delay.

It was fun playing Friday.  I did what I could so I'd have no trouble playing.  It wasn't overly easy.  I did enjoy it and so I guess that's something.

Practice Makes Practice

So, even though Cliff and the sit in for the gig bass player felt another practice would be inconvenient, K, L, and I went over harmonies, and several songs.  Best time I've had in many days, and we sounded pretty damned good, if you ask me.  Which you did not but you should have.

This is becoming interesting.  No one in a group enjoys feeling that other members of that group, even if it is just for one gig, either aren't interested or think they are too good for the ensemble.  I know what is what, and I am quite confident that none of the disinterested are too good.  Maybe just off in other directions. I always think that, it seems.  But there is a synergy here that is pure heaven when it works.

It doesn't always work but we do our best.  We did tonight anyway.  I think we'll be much more confident Friday.  No telling how that will work with the others.  This is why so any people just play alone.  Always someone or their manipulative significant other throwing a wrench in the works.

My thing will be getting through in one piece. This madness also hits me with waves of shortness of breath, so I'll be faking it, phoning it in, and employing every trick I learned to use in practice when that happened.  

Oh well.  Wrong week to quit sniffing glue, or something like that.  It would be way worse if I still smoked.  I'm so amazed that I am still not smoking.  I can't even begin to imagine the trouble if I were drinking.  Some are just not made for that.  I'm one of those.  But cigarettes don't render you senseless all at once so they are tricky, and highly, ultra addictive.  But no smokes still.  I think my teeth are whiter and that the physical trouble is not a direct result of quitting.  The timing is coincidental, not a result of stopping the cigarette habit. again.  

There were hints of this last fall and even before. But only hints, not full blown trouble I couldn't ignore.  The difference between one of those little bicycle bells and a full on deafening commercial fire alarm.

Life, she does not change the rhythm until you learn to dance
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Maybe Friday Will Be OK

7PM should be a cooler time of day,and that ought to help.  If I a nice to everyone, including children an animals, and think only pure and holy thoughts, perhaps I not be plagued mid-set.  I'm almost certain that most people think I am crazy and just make this up.  Maybe so.  Or maybe there is an internal discrepancy which is not going away.

We have much more material than we need, so some things are being cut out.  I'm a little disappointed that Cliff and the guy sitting in on bass seem to be not too enthused.  Or something.  Maybe because K and L don't do that circuit they hit five times a week or more.  I hit that circuit once or twice  week, I guess, but I'm fading out of it.

I guess it doesn't matter.  I have to hold back and try my best not to sweat or let my body think it is heating up.  Once it starts it becomes an internal blast furnace, thinking it is under attack, releasing what knows what, driving me to the brink.   I have to figure a way for a rapid exit if need be.  I can pretty much phone in the harp parts and no one but me knows the difference.  But an hour.  Outside, but maybe in shade.

Next week  guess I'll call medicland and see what is next.

I can't believe HarpDepot.com absorbed coast2coastmusic.com.  Coast was my favorite source of microphones and harmonicas, although I've dealt with both over the last ten years or so.  It isn't quite as good now, but they are still good people.

Bummer. My low D harp is unlikely to make it by friday.  Life. She is.  It is the problem of expectations that make one think life is tough.  Life is reality, and some of the constructs place there by Atilla, FDR, and numerous kings and self-styled holy men, not to mention TMZ and facebook, have queered the deal fro time to time.

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Wrong twice

I seem to have read the result of the blood test incorrectly. What I thought was low is normal.  And before I thought it was low, I thought it was high.  I have no explanation.  It is what is inside those cells that is screwed up.  And something to do with the size consistency.  But other cells are high, and blablabla.

The meaning of all of it and the cure elude me.  Why the attack and reaction I experience are tied to funky blood tests, I do not know.  Probably just a courtesy of some kind.  Maybe a signal that was worked out without my knowledge.  "If your internal factories go on strike or the quality control dept. goes on strike, we'll torture the hell out of you at the most inconvenient times."  Thanks.  What a bargain.

So, I was wrong twice.  Quantity normal, quality not so good.  And you have tons of the white ones, and plenty of some other items.

This is completely running my life.  I hope it won't get in the way of our winery gig this friday.  I'll use my best strategy for keeping things going right.  It's just that this seems somewhat progressive so I have to adapt strategy accordingly.

I'm angry, and at a number of things not clearly stated here, but related, in a way.  I wish I hadn't let them all get away.  At the same time who wants anyone who cannot get past my"it" that, apparently, people have to get past if they are to see any value here?    Screw it and screw them and screw the cowgirl who's likely going to end up with the wine guy and likes to drink too much anyway.

I know.  Childish.  Not spiritual, etc.  Maybe.  I'm temporarily angry at myself and I blame myself for falling apart alone.  Inside, even knowing it is nuts, I think if I were a better human being I would not be experiencing this physical problem.  Everyone has their things.  Some are fatal, some annoying or heartbreaking or trivial.  I think my woes are trivially fatal.  And annoying because I know I'm angry

What a Joke that is on Me. Oh, you meant low, not high

OK.  When the Dr's first language is not Inglés,  misunderstandings can ensue.   A certain item on the lab tests that he claimed was high over the phone, is actually low.

All the stuff was mailed to me, as promised, with the highs and lows and other abnormalities circled in red.  Now it all makes sense.  I'm sure I can fix this now.  Why it results in crazy itch and burn, I do not know, but it is not important.  I am sure I know why I've fared better over the last few days.

This is really great news.  I'll bet that by the time new tests are supposed to be done, I'll have corrected almost all the trouble.  If not, then not.  I'm almost sure I'll be back in the water without consequence before the end of summer.  It will be nice to quit the madness and improve the energy.

Then I'll deal with the depressive sadness that is once again trying to freeze me in my tracks.  No time for that while I consciously launch my plan of attack on the stupid malady causing trouble.  I have faith in my trouble shooting abilities, and I am pretty sure I have it nailed down.

I prefer not to go into detail here, but I'll record it here when the experiment yields the good result that I expect.