Wearing Down

Whatever "this" is, it is not working very well.  I'm at a point of finding it hard to care.  Not much new there I guess.  But I know that is wrong.  Life is supposed to have drive and a hard core survival instinct.  Oh well, things get warped.  Otherwise we wouldn't be pretending it makes sense for people to loot stores as a reaction to a thug getting shot, while ignoring the stats on who shoots whom and all that.

And we wouldn't have the mess we have over in the mid east.   Seriously, whose notion is it that you can reason with people who will kill over cartoons, who are fascinated with dismemberment and brutalizing others to the point that they dream up excuses to stick women in the ground up their shoulder or waist, then stone them to death to please their mentally ill deity?

I'll give them one thing, they do seem passionate in their insanity.  I'm not feeling the passion too much.

Things are just that way.  I thought maybe I was healed because I had some great days of being able to move around, and sweat without dire consequences.  Then I had a couple of days which weren't so free.  I'm discovering that lots of people are constantly dealing with issues which curse their daily activities.  I'm not sure I'd find it worth doing.  I'd just quit because survival merely for its own sake hold no appeal for me.

Maybe I should go get some sun.  Just eating vitamin D appears ineffectual. I wonder why, and how that works.  Straight sunlight feels right.  It is something I can like, even if without real passion or zeal.

All the Robin Williams speculation made me angry.  People should shut up when they are clueless.  People do not check themselves out because of the stock market or movie roles, etc.  It is because it seems the thing to do at the time.  Rightly or wrongly, sometimes you see no where else to go.  If you've never been there, forget understanding.

Typical news people find ways to report suicide that somehow glamorize and promote it, while pretending the opposite.  The government's sales force, and the sales force for everything chaotic inhumane and self destructive.

Jesse is on the march.  Charlatan field day in Missouri.  It is interesting how one iffy shooting is always picked out as fuel for racial hatred.  Of all the murders of people by police and others, odd that so many really bizarre unquestionable attacks on innocence are ignored.

Of course the best way to make peace is to block traffic, loot and vandalize things.  And do a lot of screaming and yelling, and making up facts and stories.

Should I Be Worried?

People seem to really get off on high heels, especially the ones with foot long spikes for heels.  I seriously have to say, super high heels, and a lot of make up, and a garment of no so soft material holds no appeal for me.  The heels look lethal, not to mention highly uncomfortable.

Maybe this is my trouble.   

Talk about your war on women.  How do designers get away with it?  And why do women encourage the pain and trouble foisted upon them by fads and fashion?  

I bet there's something wrong with me, and that would make sense.  Even so, I can't reconcile myself to the norms of large segments of the society in which I live and atrophy.

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Out of Body Experience

There are times when I lose myself playing music with people, and I reach a space where I just go off into another world.  I don't do it when I am supposed to not be stepping on people.  Besides, I can get to that place just adding accent and texture to what's happening.

Sometimes, like tonight, I show up at a place, like that bar that was in the TV show Renegade, and I let loose a little.  That was the show with Whathisname Lamas, I think.  Lorenzo.

Anyway, there's a bar in that show that is still around on the edge of Lakeside, with a big horse on top, reared up[ on its back legs, doing that horse thing.  It is a big country place but is empty on Sunday evening except for the free musicians.   Tonight was good enough.

This is a secret, but I really like compliments in these settings.  Tonight I was called a monster, best around, and a real pro.  And by people I think should be making their living off of playing.  They are skilled and somewhat unique.

I needed the boost.  I'm pretty sure I'll not last as long as I hoped before going the next step in medical land.  I'm not sure if it is intentional but some fields, like medicine, law, even math, and just about all sciences, play the game of linguistically complicating and obfuscating the matters with which they deal in order to keep the customer in the dark.

Make no mistake, you are a customer of government supported science, even though you may not get much.  You pay and they convince you, in totally uncertain, foreign language terms, that you need whatever it is they offer.

Good medical doctors should be rich.  They are not omniscient or super natural, though.  And try as they may, they rarely cure anything.  They do very well at knocking down symptoms so that people can live.  Often they just fill you with pills and see if anything actually works.  But there is that tacit attitude of all knowing medical people.  It is something cultivated in society and by the profession itself.

Just try researching hard facts on the internet and you'll realize that they have managed to roadblock much of what could be more helpful.  The symptom calculators are pretty weak.  I'd think by now if you have enough info, a computer could easily narrow down your issue, even if a rare case.

There is one that is better than others, symptomchecker.isabelhealthcare.com.   But still, I don't know what's up.   Not for sure.

Who is the harp player on the Renegade theme?  Maybe Terry McMillan?  I thought maybe Tommy Morgan--who is a safe bet for any tv show or movie theme--he's the Rockford guy.  It is good.   And so the nearby club was in some of the Renegade shows but went by another name.  In life, it is the Renegade and has about a hundred or so bras hanging from the ceiling above the bar.  Maybe on the nights when they are crowded with a country band they sponsor some kind of liberation ritual.  It is a little weird.

But, don't be fooled, California rednecks take a back seat to no one.  A fact that surprised me when I moved here.

Oh well.  I ran out of air when playing.  Some crazy thing is going on that tricks me sometimes.  I know my lungs are actually clearer.  I can feel it, and I don't have all that junk in there floating around just waiting to be coughed up.  7 months, no smoke.  Still this other stuff is shorting me sometimes.  But I bet I get through this and I'll be monster healthy for my age and political views.

I have to admit, since one of the better known players in bluesharp circles in SoCal has been playing where I play, I've stepped up the game a little.  It makes me do better.  He's very good, just different.  Even so, I always am pushed a bit when a good player shows up because I wonder if I can be on that level.  Apparently so.  The guy is really good though and has a very nice tone.  The better the interloper, the better I like it.  To a point...

Just Hanging On; or trying not to be my characteristically stupid self

So,  I work at a place, the manager of which has blown town.  I know.  She knows.  You know.  No one else knows.

She's soon to fill in the blanks to the owner, and then the scramble will begin.  It seems two people who are in the Chicago office, and regularly interact with the owner, are after her job.  They've taken to subtle sabotage and the usual cheap tricks that the sociopathic work ethic which now characterizes most businesses spawns.

I think, in many ways, I'm the best suited person for the job.  I am the one who could most use the salary, as if that is a qualification.  I know what is going on, and am just a good choice.  The manager thinks there is no hope of getting the job over the ones in the Chicago office.  I'm thinking maybe they'll knife one another, leaving me to swoop in like a white knight who is above the fray.

I've worked there for quite some time but only been on the books since April.  I've had not more than 2 minutes face-time with the owner, cumulative, if that.   And they may end up displeased with the manager who hired me, due to her exit strategy.  She has her reasons and I understand them, but that makes a good reference from her of questionable use.

She may yet pull it off amicably, and I think she's in better stead with them than she thinks.  At least I know she'll give me a glowing recommendation as she already suggested I look into a job like hers and volunteered the part about the good reference.  This part is good because I did not have to bring up the topic.  That helps keep us on the same page.  I'm holding to a confidence, and secrecy.  I gave her my promise so I am keeping it.  Besides, in reality, I do not know what she and the company have discussed.

We do what we can.

It would be a better job in light of my physical madness.   More responsibility, and more problem solving of varying types.  Also nothing is ever the same or consistent.  I do best in that environment.  Already I am beginning to treat things differently, as if I already was running the show here.  I can't seem to help it.

It is clear that some people are very adept at not letting others know very much about their job, and manage to keep others unnecessarily dependent upon them for whatever they can hold to themselves. My manager is one of those people.  Things you'd think I have the inside line on, I don't.  That is now changing because I am the guy who has to talk to various service outfits and vendors now.  Or at least the operation is trending toward that.

I almost never get jobs that I really want and that I am suited to do.  This one I'll either get quickly when the time comes, or I won't.   I kind of think they should restructure the process just a bit so that maybe I'm the main person but the housekeeper also has more responsibility.   Overall, we know what's what, and she is very resourceful and smart.  It will be a mystery and trouble if they pull in one of the Chicago crowd.  I finally have connections so that many things which have proven difficult in the past with contractors and vendors would be better with my choices.

We'll see.  If it doesn't happen, I will have to rethink my existence and what to do next.  Maybe even have to move.  Going above board may be the dumbest thing I've done.  I don't think I can afford to feed and house myself, and feed California too.  Why such a nice state lets itself be run by such money grubbing creeps I do not know.

The best way to live here is to either be on every social welfare program, and know how to play the system, or be at least a multi-millionaire with good cash flow.   If you are just getting by, you're getting kicked in the nads by this nanny state government from hell at every turn.  If you're lucky the police might shoot you while chasing a fugitive who looks nothing like you but has the same color car.  

And you wonder why I question the wisdom of progressive democrats who pretend they comprehend social justice.  They're killing us, really.  I'm not the only one in my situation.  I honestly attribute it to lack of character.  People cannot resist the power to screw some while pretending to help others.  Mostly they are just feeding their own egos.  And with egos that large, it takes lots of feed.

Time will tell, I guess.

Blood test did not show improvement, for the most part.  Some values went further the wrong way, some much further the wrong way.  Some went from OK to not quite OK.  If I keep finding my vision acuity to be decreasing, I may accelerate the process.  We were "buying time" to see how tests would look in a month or two.  Maybe it is all just some sort of punishment for being depressed and sad and regretful about ever letting certain person or persons go out of life in the past.  Next to getting divorced and becoming a drunk, that is the dumbest decision ever.

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.
...

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.