#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – BARBARIANS AT THE GATES?

With less than a month to go in 2018 and reflecting back on the last several years in this country, as well as globally, it would seem that ideologically speaking, our planet is taking a pretty direct veer to the right. Rather than being aligned with the Allies, it would seem that we have more and more nation-states auditioning for parts as a member of the Axis team, which we all remember fondly from World War II. Do we remember that, or teach it to anyone anymore, and the harsh lessons that were learned there?

It would almost seem that is not the case. I remember pretty vividly comedian Jay Leno, on the “Tonight Show” in one of his “Jay-Walking” exercises asking random people who had been some of the Axis leaders. One answer stands out pretty well. Apparently, Tim Hitler led Germany into war against the world. I bet he was a fun guy!

Seriously, we seem to have forgotten the principles that make up ANY democratic, or pluralistic society. Y'know, those ones about people striving to be free? This would also encompass being equal and safe under the law, but we've pretty much thrown all of that out the window with the abrogation of our III, IV, V, VIII, IX and XIV amendments. Lest you think I'm just getting all fancy with my Roman Numerals, let me assure you that I do know some Constitutional Law and I've also spoken to some law officers who've agreed with me. They're also concerned that we've violated Writ of Habeas Corpus, as well. Shit. The only thing we lack in this fun-house are snappy uniforms and jack-boots.

I realize too that I've whined down this road before and I'm never gonna say “I told you so”, because in the end, any country gets what it deserves, when it votes stupidly. I truly believe that. I've been working as an Inspector for the Hillsborough County Supervisor of Elections and this election was remarkable, especially here in Florida.

We had three very close races that ended in recounts and manual recounts, and even ended up with Miami-Dade County's Election Supervisor resigning in disgrace (honestly, she shoulda gone long ago; that whole county is crooked as a dog's hind leg, in my opinion).

I was already mad at Senator Bill Nelson (D), because one year ago, last September, when I was calling people like mad, and other Senators, Congressmen and all kinds of people to rally the vote for Net Neutrality, I couldn't even get my own damned Senator to set up a Town Hall meeting, 'cause he was worrying about re-election. He did absolutely NOTHING for us, the men and women who spent years building and improving the internet. I set up so many Town Hall meetings for other Senators and people, but I could never get Bill Nelson to do something this important. So, when the General Election came around, I wasn't surprised that he and Rick Scott, our soon-to-be ex-Governor, who has all the charisma of a crowbar were pretty much neck-and-neck and it was RECOUNT time! Not just for the Senate race, but the Governor's race and the Secretary of Agriculture. (Rick Scott DID win for those keeping score at home.)

All of these too-close-to-call races came down to a bunch of school-yard name-calling, neener-neener-ing and the usual shenanigans that always seems to devil Florida politics, but this almost the worst yet; the worst being the year 2000, when we had no President for what seemed liked an eon; I early voted in N. C., where I then lived, went on a concert tour, moved back to Florida, after celebrating the New Year and we STILL had no goddamned President. It took the Mary Kay of Political Nonsense, Kathleen Harris to throw the vote to the GOP, after months of flap-doodle about hanging chads, bushels of ballots being thrown out of the backs of moving vans on I-95 and more chicanery than ever existed in Huey P. Long's imagination when it came to rigging politics.

Throughout our history, we've tried to burnish our political wheelings-and-dealings with a patina that it doesn't quite deserve. We may mouth plenty of good words about how we stand united and how equal we all are in the eyes of the law and flower it up a bit to make it sound really pretty, but the fact is, we've really done a pretty shoddy job here, pretty much since our inception. Our performance is patchy at best, but, in the past, we were able to fend off such icky things as tyrannies and treating our Leaders as Cult figures – although we're skating on thin ice in this area right now – because we had this remarkable capacity to sit down and discuss our differences like the rational humans we purported ourselves to be.

Yes, we did live through the era of President Obama and to a fault, I never heard an African-American say “Obama's OUR President!” - I voted for him - I was thrilled that he was elected and never saw the type of behavior that has been witnessed with the election of Donald Trump. No one on “the other side” behaved as though they were some found member of a long-lost Wu-Tang Clan bandsman crossed with Jesus, nor acted with the kind of superiority one sees from the Trumpkins. By the way, I vote principles, NOT platform; put your crayons away, you haters.

Is this just the kind of ass-hattery that occurs to simpletons who find themselves on the right side of the so-called rising tide of some ill-gotten demagoguery that will most surely come to a bad end when Robert Mueller finally does subpoena Donald Trump? Trump cannot possibly think that he is going to pardon himself on these charges of malfeasance and payments and kickbacks and bribes to shut up mistresses and I could go on and on and on, but you get the point.

I rather think that Trump will resign and then paint himself as a sort of martyr, rather than ever have the bald facts surface and have the countless naifs see him (well, maybe) for who he really is. The truth is, it will be one more excuse to see the truth through the prism of their own ignorance and once again, cry “fake news!” and completely mis-read everything that has gone on in this country for the last decade or so. To say that we have just insulated ourselves within our own echo chambers, via the internet and like interests is also to say that we have truncated our own ability to discern what the real truth is.

It is completely easy and understandable to go ahead and say “nay!” to anything that is in opposition, when we have Balkanized ourselves so completely. To truly educate ourselves, we MUST reach out, must go where it is not comfortable, must expose ourselves to thoughts and ideas that expand what we think we might hold to be self-evident. There is no certainty any more and we must get used to that.

We need to face one another in this time of near-crisis; for ourselves, our planet, our future and our sanity and most importantly, for our grace. For if we do not do this thing and come to accounts with each other, we will surely perish and soon.

Rant Over!

#IWSG – DECEMBER 2018 CHECK-IN – REVVING UP THE ENGINES

After being dormant for so long, it seems there is a plethora of things and themes and subjects to write about. I want to pursue fiction, but am not sure I'm all that creative. When I was in high school, I was trying to write a piece of music and the best I could come up with was “meh”. One of our Composition teachers had an ABSOLUTELY FOOLPROOF METHOD for writing the perfect melody and we hastily got to work.

We sat side-by-side on the piano bench and blocked out some chords and then carefully picked out the notes, according to Mr. Hathaway's method. I put them all together and then added some rhythm and syncopation in the melody. It looked beautiful on paper. It rose and fell and died away and came to a beautiful conclusion. I eagerly played in on the piano and looked at Mr. Hathaway. We both looked at one another for a minute. Then, we busted up. “That's horrible!”, he said. I agreed. I'm no composer, although I can INTERPRET music beautifully and make it my own, so, using that as my guideline, I am not sure that I can create fiction.

I'm a hell of rhetorical writer and great with historical events and dissecting things and analysis, but I'm not sure that I can cobble things up out of whole cloth. I've dipped my toes into some flash fiction which is fun and I think I need to continue in that vein and then go from there.

Anyway, I see that my shambolic life has leaked into my blog. What was to have been a post just about where I had been and what I was not doing all of this time and ending with my crap-tastic fall that garnered me a broken left hip, has somehow confused the #IWSG gang. (See previous post.) THIS is the #IWSG post, ha. Oh well. I do things like this all the time. I had entered “#IWSG” in the title and of course, Blogger helpfully remembered it for me. Gah. Anyway, happy IWSG'ing everyone! I do hope you're all looking forward to the Holiday season. I certainly am!

#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – THANKSGIVING WITH EXTRA TURKEY

NOTE: This was intended to be posted on this blog on Thanksgiving Day, but because Google got really stupid and wouldn't recognize my 2-step Authenticator, I ended up posting this on my tumblr blog instead, which made me not one bit thankful or happy. I then spent the next week wrestling with Google to get them to REMOVE said 2-step authenticator, which they finally did, today. Argle. Google is really the worst when it comes to customer service. Anyway, enjoy some warmed-up turkey. At least it's not baloney!

I haven't blogged in quite some time, or barely written anything. Something I've sorely missed. I know that it took me years to develop my own “voice” and style and I should probably be flayed for letting it slide, but I've let a lot of things slide in my life lately, due to a severe case of “I don't give a shit”.

I've gotten to a certain age, where benchmarks and things that define us normally as people, are fewer and fewer in my future, with the exception of death, and that is just a stark, and bleak outlook, one I need to shed myself of, but seem hell-bent on hanging onto, never mind the fact that I am only 62 years old. Rather than looking for new things to do, I've been worrying over this fact like a dog chewing on a huge Brontosaurus bone that has no ending and I've found myself unable to get out of it.

Thus, the only way to do so, is just to DO something. Do ANYTHING. I think I had a bit of a wake up call too, when I broke my hip recently. On October 2, 2018, I was walking to the bus stop to take the bus up to Hillsborough Avenue and then walk the ½ mile to my doctor's office. For those who've been playing along at home, and may not know, I'm legally blind and I had a run-in on my way to the bus stop with one of our local hobos. He just irritates the shit out of me and has been trespassed from every little business in town. I had just chased him off and was agitated, and I really wasn't paying attention. I was nearing the corner of Floribraska Avenue, and Nebraska Avenue, and my cane that I carry, letting people know I'm legally blind, hit the part of the curb that is elevated for wheel-chair users, while I was down in the trench where the actual wheel-chairs ride to cross the street; this effectively creates a mini-ramp for them, but it's an obstacle for all visually-impaired people, because the curbs are not painted in a bright color to bring awareness to the height difference.

It doesn't help that the infrastructure is crumbling and uneven in this part of town, but there are many visually-impaired people here. "Legally blind" generally means there is SOME vision. Had there been bright coloring on the berm, I would have seen it. Tampa needs to fix this shit.

It was at this corner where I fell; I was up on the portion nearest the light pole and my cane had gradually gone down into the ramp. I have no depth perception and couldn't feel the difference, as I was moving quickly, the way I normally do.

Now, being visually-impaired, I'm used to falling and I know how to check myself, but this was different. I tripped so quickly and fell and fell like a tree that had been felled in a forest; hard and swift, and I fell directly onto my left hip, and knee. I had on a sun dress and I heard a crunch. I was able to pull my head to the right and keep my head from hitting the cement, which would have been disastrous; my neck ached for weeks afterward. But I did fall so hard, that my brain seemed to re-boot. Reality just kind of changed for a minute; colors were different, everything was muted and everyone moved so slowly. I just lay there on my side. I knew I was badly hurt.

Two people; a man and a woman, came running from somewhere, I didn't see where and helped me up. I could put no weight on my left leg and I sure had one hell of a strawberry on my left knee. Idiotically, what went through my head first, was a nick-name my dad had for me when I was a kid “Red-Knees Wallace”. I was certainly living up to that name now! The second thing I knew was that I was in extreme PAIN and I have an extremely high pain threshold. I was in the hospital once over a domestic, and I went an entire week with a broken right hand, before it dawned on me that that nagging pain wasn't going away; I had two smashed knuckles. My current pain was much, much worse than that.

The two people asked if I wanted an ambulance; I said “no”; I needed to see my doctor on this particular date. So they helped me hobble to the bus stop, but as I sat there waiting on the bus, I realized that there was no way I could walk the ½ mile from where the bus was going to let me off to the doctor's office, so I called a cab. The cab took me to my doc's office and we got our business done and I took a cab home, where I somehow thought I was going to “gut” this out.

The “gutting” out lasted about six hours. Every move I made; trying to go to the bathroom, trying to cook something, trying to lie down was just excruciating. I even just took my normal night meds and lay there for about ½ an hour and said “screw it; this isn't going to work”, before I got up, hobbled around and packed up a few things and then hobbled out to my porch. I apparently left every light on the house on, including the porch, as Alex told me later – he came over and very thoughtfully turned them all off.

The EMTs took me to TGH and they took x-rays which were inconclusive, so they dumped me in Observation for a while, which is a tomb-like area in the bowels of the hospital. After two days of trying to get comfortable and being miserable, they came back and took some more x-rays and said “Okay, you're now PRN, and we're gonna operate. You got 2 options. One is we put 3 screws in the side of your hip, but at your age, you're gonna have to deal with arthritis and more surgeries later on. Two, is we replace the hip and you have a bit more rehab, but no more surgeries or arthritis, and blah blah blah”. I had quit listening after “no more surgeries or arthritis”; I can rehab like a mo-fo.

They thought I was gonna ride around in this here wheelchair? I decided I'd be better off pushing the chair, since they wouldn't let me have a walker quite yet. Silly hospital; they kept me in a monitored bed, which meant bedpan, and I don't know if you've experienced the new "slenderized" version, which just lets everything run out the sides and onto the bed. It's terrific! Said no one ever.

So, that evening after the surgery, I was up and in a wheel-chair, and then I got up out of the wheel-chair, and pushed it around my room for a bit. I hate wheel-chairs. I was discharged to an inpatient rehab place for another 10 days after my surgery, because I live alone and there was some fear that I might fall again, plus, I don't live in the safest place in the world. While in rehab, I did my job.

I rehabbed like a mo-fo, and was up and walking all over the place and it just continued when I got home. I was hearing all of these horror stories about people who were still in wheel-chairs four years after their surgeries and I'm not about that. I'm agile and mobile and here we are six weeks after my fall; I walked a mile yesterday. I exercise and work this body, so I need to work my mind and heart as well.

I need to share the gifts I cultivated with my blogging friends and participate with the people I love and care about. It's difficult living alone, but it's no excuse to shut myself off from people who care about me and whom I love dearly. For doing so, I'm heartily sorry. Nebraska Avenue craziness and my own craziness is still happening and I need to share it with you all. To everyone, a Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

#IWSG JULY 2018 CHECK-IN – WHAT AN AIRHEAD

It wasn't until about the middle of June that I realized I'd missed that month's #IWSG check-in. I've been living alone for so long, that it's easy to lose track of days and apparently, months. So, as I was shuffling around trying to figure out what it was that I had missed, it finally came to me in the middle of the month; AHA! I missed June's check in. Blargle. I've been trying to get back into the habit of writing again, but with one thing and another, stuff with finances and all, it just is hard for me to get back in the rhythm. Poor Alex Cavanaugh must wonder if I'm coming or going.

Never mind goals and such; I just need to re-develop that habit of sitting down every day and writing. I'm trying to find part-time work and have focused quite a bit on that, but I still should be able to manage writing with that; provided I ever get hired.

This is really no excuse, but one of just pure empty-headedness and my inability to focus at times. I think I'm too easily distracted by shiny things or things that move. I don't understand why other adults can manage this all fairly well, yet I'm a mess on two legs. Oh well, I have to occupy some space on the number line of humanity. It's not quite 0, but closer to a 3 or 4 at times. I then wonder, if I'm getting too damned old to learn new tricks, but I don't really believe that. I think I'll start leaving post-it notes on the ones I pasted up on the wall last May. Well, maybe I should take those down first! Happy #IWSG-ing!

#IWSG MAY 2018 CHECK-IN – ON WHY I WAS ABSENT IN APRIL, AND NEVER AGAIN

I realize that life is a river and a journey and all of those lovely things that people love to tell us when we're traversing this mortal coil, but these last several years have been very difficult for me, and I think it culminated in a horrendous break-up in late March, early April of this year. I was basically gas-lighted, made promises to and let up a primrose path for almost three years, by someone I put my trust in and I should have known better and passed on what I passed on approximately 20 years ago, but I am a trusting soul and that is hard to change.

Anyway, because I have essential tremor and because the stress takes such an enormous physical toll on people who have that disorder, I was pretty well out of it for a while and spent my time hiding and crying; basically mourning for someone who never existed in the first place. Silly me.

As you can tell by the tenor of this post, I've snapped back, and I actually feel better than I've felt in ages, at least since this person has been in my life and since the death of Jim. Rationality and my old logical sense have returned and I pity the next person, the individual about whom I am writing falls prey to his spell. I passed on the option to be “one of his two best friends”, since he had married his last “one of two best friends” and did nothing but bitch about her. He can now feel free to bitch about me and I'm fine with it. At least I don't have to hear it. There's something wrong with someone who does nothing but complain about EVERYONE in their lives and I suspect we're looking at a rampant case of narcissism. But that's not my concern.

It is starting to get hot here again in Tampa. It had been cool for sooo long and that was nice. I've been able to open up my house. A new cat has adopted me, and she's a riot. There's no petting allowed, but she's terribly happy to come in, eat my vittles and hang out. I, of course, forget she's here until she startles me and I either reach for a lamp (see “The Great House Invasion of 2016), or jump out of my skin. Either way, she'll get used to me. She stares at me like an owl, and I came up with an unusually shitty name for her: “Who”, until my friend, Jeremy pointed out, we could do the “Who's on First?” routine, and my other friend Josh, concocted this mental image of me out in my yard, yelling “Whoooo! Time to come in!” Gah. Just terrible. So, she's "no-name" for now. Anyway, happy IWSG'ing for everyone, and I wish you all well! I'm getting back into my writing routine as well, too and that feels wonderful!

#IWSG - MARCH 2018 CHECK-IN - MUSINGS AND NO PROMPTS

Apropos of nothing and with no prompt, this month's check-in is basically, a half-baked melange of what I've been attempting to work on, in terms of fiction writing. As I think a lot of writers do, I try to incorporate real-life events around me into whatever I think will make my writing a bit more exciting.

It did, however, get a wee bit too exciting around here in October and November of 2017 when, along with the usual drug-runners, brain-dead meth-heads tearing around loose with guns and knives, we had a real serial killer pop up in our midst along my bus route. He approached and killed his victims in the one way I would never be able to defend myself against. From behind, and he'd put a bullet in the back of his victims' heads.

I'm not physically afraid of anyone or anything; I've fought off two muggers and chased two idiots out of my house who had the audacity to interrupt my sleep during a wind storm, when my stupid door blew open. A crime of opportunity became a humbling lesson indeed for two young men who didn't think that someone smaller than they were, could be so bat-shit crazy or ferocious. My only reaction to the invasion was one of pissed-offed-ness, as I have trouble sleeping.

But this scenario truly scared me. The TPD had grainy photos of some guy, who could or could not be the shooter, but who knew. That was when I started ordering food online and having it delivered for a short-time. I could think of no way to counter an assassin like that, short of developing eyes in the back of my head, and I'm not going to be around enough eons for that development. We did start pairing up and people were no longer walking alone; always a good thing around here, but I'm also used to my freedom and I hated this.

He quickly took three victims, beginning October 9th, and then, went to earth for about three weeks. Then, one night, in early November, an older man was crossing Nebraska Ave., about a mile north of me, and the shooter got him. The older man was meeting his Pastor to discuss the food kitchen they ran in that sector, and the police nearly caught the shooter, but he got away. The older man died and once again, another part of our community died.

This is what happens in any situation where a life is just wantonly taken. It's not only the man's family or his relatives and friends, but there were others in the kitchen who depended on him to deliver supplies, help prepare the food and serve the homeless. The damage is immeasurable and, while it can be replaced, it's never the same. The person is gone.

Two days following the fourth killing, the shooter, who was working at a McDonald's in Ybor City, handed a bag to his manager and said “Don't look in this bag”. Well, of course, she looked in the bag and saw a .9mm Glock handgun. She called TPD detectives and the shooter was taken into custody. Apparently, there had been some kidding between one of the detectives and the manager that the composite looked like this kid who worked for her who in fact, did turn out to be the killer.

Our Mayor, Bob Buckhorn has been hot about this from the start. He's a good Mayor and a good man. He's determined to see this man go to Starke, which is where our prisoners are put to death in Florida. Mayor Buckhorn was angry from the beginning, as the first victim was a young autistic boy, who had gotten on the wrong bus and was confused. I understand the Mayor's anger in this. Once again, the weak are preyed upon.

Here's what I don't get; this is such a mystery to me and there are so many questions. The shooter bought the gun in his own name, and waited the mandatory 3-day waiting period before picking up the .9mm Glock. Three days later, he committed his first murder. Shortly after that, he committed two more and then stopped. Apparently, the heat wasn't hot enough, so he shot the fourth victim, then two days later, gave the bag to his Mickey D's manager with the admonition “Don't look in this bag!” Who among us, wouldn't look in the bag? We're all curious. This whole murder scenario from gun purchase to arrest is like a connect-the-dots, and I take NOTHING away from the fine TPD. They work their tails off, put up with asses like me – I yelled at one of the officers for having his back to an open door, like I was his mother – and they work under a constrained budget. PLUS, they get out and they know us. I can't think of a finer force of men and women in this job and I'm so grateful for them, but just what was the killer after here?

The shooter was a recent graduate of UVA, in Sports Administration and he was not working in his field. He had been working at UMA at their call center and did so for two months, when he was fired for absenteeism. He then applied for and worked at McDonald's. He had grown up in Tampa, and recently re-located back to this area, after graduating from UVA, but claimed not to “know it very well”, yet as a killer, he appeared to know it very well. He also lived with his parents. For him to commit these types of crimes in Florida seems so reckless (it does anywhere), but, he HAD to know that this is a Death State and the death penalty will be sought. I cannot see him getting out of this by “temporary insanity”.

So, is this an elaborate new way to commit suicide by Fiat? By justice? I really don't understand. What about his parents? Maybe I cannot relate and as a parent, if I KNEW my kid was running around killing people willy-nilly, and saw someone who looked and walked an awful lot like him, wouldn't I be curious? Would I not say something? Or would I, as lots of parents would, instinctively want to protect my child? So, I cannot put too much blame on them. They seem truly, truly shocked and hurt by this. Their son did not even look like himself, at the time of his arrest, so maybe there is a physical reason; a brain tumor, as in the case of Charles Whitman in the Tower of Texas A and M University, in 1964.

I was looking for a way to work this into my “Nebraska Creepers” series, but it is way too soon. People are too raw and skittish. If I do, it will have to be through some miraculous prose-y legerdemain that I do not yet possess to pull it off. But, that's what's been going on in my world. I have deliberately left names and place names out of this post; it's lurid enough, without dredging up more pain for the victims' families. My health is continuing to improve and I have another rent-a-kitty. This one's a mooch. She comes in the house, sits on my furniture, eats my chicken and leaves. All in all, pretty funny cat! Anyway, I hope you all have a productive #IWSG!

#IWSG CHECK IN FEBRUARY 2018 - WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN?

Good question. I've mostly been depressed and when I wasn't depressed, I was sick, or in the hospital. This finally culminated with what (I swear) is going to my last hospitalization for quite a while in early January, due to mis-calibrated medication, which resulted in pancreatitis, followed by a nasty case of this flu that has been going around in Florida, two days after my hospital discharge. I also had a flu shot, so the three weeks I spent in bed with the flu was a best-case outcome. People younger and healthier than me, are dying of this in Florida and in several other states and the flu has not peaked yet. It's pretty frightening really. It also helped me to appreciate that fact that I'm really in relatively good health and reminded me that I need to start being grateful for that and get my head out of my own ass. 

So, it's back to the orchestra and back to writing. This month's question is a good one, and when I write fiction, which I write very little of, but am trying to remedy THAT situation, I tend to write in a science fiction-fantasy type mode, as Alex J. Cavanaugh would say, and for many of the same reasons. 

I think, too, that writing speculatively also helps to relieve some of the stresses of the modern world's problems and that thinking in an alternate universe kind of way, is another way to approach solutions to things that may not seem so solvable. People seem to be so intransigent now, but I think they're just really scared over nothing. It would be so great if we could just all put our differences aside and think rationally about the really grave problems that we're all facing in this world. Writing speculatively is one way to get through that, I think. 

Anyway, that's my take. It's really good to be back on my feet after such a prolonged bunch of craziness and misery, but I'm here for the long haul. Thanks, everyone for a great #IWSG experience.