saturday 15.07

friday 14.07

When I spoke the other day of firing the weatherman, I never thought that some one might here a literal voice and hence, take away the power of the pump, the air conditioner pump. The house started to get uncomfortable yesterday afternoon and this morning, it is on the edge of miserable and as we wait for a repair man, we are all on the edge of miserable too. The only thing that is directing attitudes is the fact that the man says he is on his way, although his way has been just short of one hour at which point the temperature has risen three degrees with no end in sight.

borrowing time

However grateful I am to have a roof over my head, moving home and living with my parents, with out any privacy, has been a bitter pill to swallow and possibly may be a more difficult adjustment for me than living with a terminal illness.

The thousands of days and time spent with friends and acquaintances are now set to a clock that is conducive to my mother's want, I need a ride, as well as those who I go to see that may not feel like driving an hour one way to pick me up.

It is compromise and the matter of fact truth, it is not the desire for a compromise to be made and thus I sit at home, more often than not, idling time away and watching relationships built, distance not out of want, but out of the sheer logistics of not being able to have that one on one, I live close to you and can visit often, relationship.

The sadness is the quality of persons I am being forbidden, in a sense, from seeing for no good reason, just traffic which is something that is not wished for nor appreciated by anyone, my mother included. So when I walk around the house and have nothing to say as my book is finished and my thoughts are complete, I do not not talk out of disgust or anger. I do not talk as I have nothing to say. My freedom has been stripped and I watch my dignity carefully, ever so carefully and make plans to keep it in tact as long as I am able.

Today it is not getting to go see friends. Yesterday was the passport office. Next week I will stop asking for the word of anger is too much for me to listen to in my present physical and mental state. I need to meet more people in this immediate area that could take me on their journey. Allow my spirit to rise...

hand out

I find myself wanting to sit at a busy Dallas street corner for no other reason than to people watch and while I am watching people of a variety of ethnicities, shapes and dialects I put my hand out and see what is offered and taken.

It could be lint from a jeans pocket, a worn quarter from the year 2004 or a chewed piece of gum forgotten from yesterday or the day before. I extend my hand out not because I want something although something I know I would receive. I stick my hand out to give something and that which I give is myself for those willing to take and understand I want nothing in return except the ability to keep my dignity and self respect in tact. And should I be spit upon I shall just smile and speak no words, for a smile, a simple smile, is a reward I offer to most takers accepting my hand out.

wednesday 12.07

I am starting or continue for that matter to dabble in relationships, friendship and otherwise, thinking often about what they mean and how, if at all, they fit into my existence as I sit here now. I look upon friendship as a relationship and I find that more often than not I play the role of a psycho-therapist making sure the next one is comfortable or at least semi-knowledgeable of the journey I embark on, the path I walk. And this I must say makes for some interesting thought and more than one sleepless hour as I toss and turn and often toss again is wonderment.

I wonder about what another thinks, what another is trying to convey to me. The comfort or lack thereof, the feeling of temporary loss while I am still here and the whole time I remember my feelings from afar and days ago when I too was posed with the questions regarding terminal and I, unlike many I have met, accepted the role as the care giver but more importantly, was not afraid to enter into a relationship knowing that each day mattered greatly, there was no time or little time for a cheap courting and the truth was essence in my understanding and ability to do for another what I would want done for myself.

So as I sit here and think and the thoughts go back and forth. reappearing when I want and then sometimes when I least expect it, I think and know that I too am just a little frightened but am so willing to take the risk, for the risk is all I know and the relationship meaningful as my spirit gathers strength and support from another and my spirit provides support and strength to another. I refuse to not participate and this I know is good for my mental although taxing on my sometimes made up and unrealistic emotions.

tuesday 11.07

I believe and have heard that old people talk about the weather and although I do not feel old I must say that the idea of typing, even indoor is painful as the heat penetrates through my fingertips. The heat has been building and it is my humble opinion that the weatherman needs to be fired. Now unlike the frigid of the winter where you can layer clothing, I simply have nothing else to 'take off' and the indexes or ambient temperature has climbed passed the century mark for the past two days with no end in sight.

This melts my chocolate, bothers my mood and changes the complexion of the full moon. Simply put, it is a Texas scorcher, to hell with a hot tin roof and along with numb fingers is a fried brain. Speaking of frying, any hotter later in the week and I will try to fry an egg on the side walk. I always heard it could be done in Arizona and the way I figure it, if it does not work I can deny ever trying it and blame it on a moron from down the street...

monday 10.07

The year of my knowing something serious, not how or what, but something completely odd was taking place in my body is reaching three hundred and sixty-five days and although I am not awaiting the year date, I am subconsciously aware that the date is coming. I have been asked often what I was doing a year ago and I have to say that what I was doing and what I was thinking are completely different from what I thought I would be doing and thinking as I sit here today and write my thoughts.

I started to get healthy for my own self preservation, knowing that I was staring forty down the barrel of a loaded gun, was raising a pup and still mentored for the disabled, dabbled in art and writing and reading and like today, dabbled in people. I was free and a spirit, but certainly not the free spirit I see in the mirror today. Those that have stuck next to me and followed me on this journey are probably best to comment on what they have seen but I know a metamorphosis started and continues to this day.

As I sit here, I remain terminal but live life like there is no tomorrow, deny myself less, am more conscious of thought and the actions associated with the thought and strive for more days knowing I do not have the hundreds or thousand I once thought about, but the time I do have worth more and the giving continues. I pay attention to my body no less than I did, however; today I act on what I envision instead of it being a pipe dream from afar.

My aroma is therapy, my words and pictures solace and peace and my life nearing a point of me feeling complete and with this, I rejuvenate for another day. And even when I feel real bad and am afraid or unable to walk a straight line from the pain that reminds me not to think to far into the future, I can say with conviction and complete truth I would not change a thing. And this and to all I am grateful for becomes a continuous thought that raises a brown brow and puts a deep wrinkles smile, everlasting, upon my person. Inward and outward and onward.

sunday 09.07

My spirit dances as I wait sometimes patiently to join Scott and Lynn in Northern California the last week of July. Our bond blossoms, filled with heart as we are finished testing the waters of friendship, swimming non-competitively together hand in hand as we embark on memories with the family and other extended ones. The self feels contained and although occasionally my aura needs a tune up from the cast of characters I am meeting in Dallas the thoughts and the truth, pure truth, of another California journey centers me, grounds me and certainly makes me more than happy.

I am well to go and so conscious of my every move, methodical as to not hinder a stability I feel physically, one I have not felt since my departure from Santa Barbara in mid April. One the Rainey family allows me to feed off of and grow. The excitement is contagious and the words of honest feelings shared, humbling and accepted as truth.