I Wonder What I’ll Call My Blog Tonight


I didn’t do it.

Remember how I was going to get up and meet y’all first thing? Well, I didn’t do it.

I did get to bed a little bit after 20:00 last night. Willie got up in the bed with me, which felt good because I was feeling pretty lonely. I’ve been feeling lonely a lot lately. I may have spent the most of that eight years looking at the back of his ugly fucking bald head in bed but at least someone was there.

Willie is a good snuggler. But I still tossed and turned a good bit before falling off to sleep. I woke up at 04:00 in the middle of a nightmare. It was a combative PTSD dream but as usual (I mean as in always) in wasn’t set in Iraq. And as usual it starred my ex and the theme was betrayal. They’re all like this. Every. Single. Time.

I got on up and thought, “Well, at least I’m up early. I’ll just get started on the day.” So I went over to my desk and did my morning pages. The dogs kind of looked at me with one eye open. It was early, even for them. I lit incense. Put the words on paper. Good start. But then I was hit with a wave of fatigue and I thought, “Look Dude, you will be staring down the barrel of a rough day if you start out this tired, this early.” So, even though I had actually already gotten eight hours, I decided to lie back down for a few minutes. I found a recording of Allen Ginsberg reading Kerouac’s On the Road and went back to sleep for four more hours. My intention was to get up the second time and attack the plan-of-the-day like I’d told y’all I wanted to last night.


8:52 PM. I’m sitting on my bed with the bedside lamp on. I’m going to sleep and I’ll try again tomorrow. Vis-à-vis my plan to meet y’all here first thing this morning and, if nothing else, commit to spending time toward the action items that will lead to the attainment of my goals in support of my prosperous vision– I failed. I hate to say it but I failed. Yes, I’m on clean sheets and I spent part of the day at the hospital with my mother who is facing some real-life health challenges, but I did fail. If I continue to do what I have been doing, on September 1, I will be no closer to attaining my goals than I was on September 1 last year. And that will not be a good thing. Some shit has got to change. I’m powerless. And I’ve been praying for help. And I’m frustrated and confused. I just do other things instead of the things I know I should do to fulfill my dreams. Usually, (as today I did today) I self-medicate my distress with food, spending, and a couple of orgasms. I let that fucked up dream start my day off wrong. I let it ruin my day. I can’t control my dreams. But I must figure out a way not to let it cash out an entire fucking day.

Maybe the troll will come by and drop a turd in the comment section. That always helps. Seriously though. I do know that would help. If I could just get my Marine mitts around his scrawny throat (the troll, not the ex–him I never want to see again) for a few– short– blissful– seconds. Watching his lights go out would make me feel oh so much better.

That’s healthy. Sorry.

All I can do is try again tomorrow.

A biopsy will give us more news on Mother’s situation. That will take between two and five days.

See y’all tomorrow.

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