Hummm, I thought I could be angry, and tough, over this latest event in my pathetic life. I was wrong, I just feel broken, again. You get out of life what you give, and I haven't given enough obviously.
It's pretty fucked up that I let my depression rule my life. Shelby called and asked if I wanted Zinny and the new dog to hang out here for the afternoon. I said no, because I was working on this.
So fuck it, I'm going to Vegas.
I grabbed this cool shot of the scrapes on my elbow today, I call it Bacon and Egg. I honestly don't think it's going to kill me, but I'm treating it.
The current roommate situation here has almost totally dissolved. I think it's a case where someone has adopted two adorable little dogs, made them the center of everything, and uses them to achieve control over those that fall for them.
Very sad really, I see the look in their eyes and they don't know what to do. Anyway, just keeping my cool as much as I can, as the month comes to an end, and I will never see them again.
I'm really liking this hi-res square format. Here's my latest creation about getting my head scanned. It may not fill your screen like a movie, but the detail is amazing.
The medical system down here is less flexible and more expensive compared to Tennessee. I had a little walk-in clinic a minute away that took great care of me over the years. Sometimes I'd buy the staff fresh donuts from the best pastry shop in town.
They charged me a $10 copay, with Blue Cross/ Blue Shield insurance, and down here it's a consistent $45 bucks per visit.
I had a brain scan a while back, with a bunch of probes taped to my brain and a tech taking notes. When I saw the neurologist this last time, he was busy so they sent the PA in. I asked about the brain scan results and she glanced at her paperwork, and said You're fine. I was charged $45 bucks for that and they wanted me to do an EEG soon.
So I just had one done. No appointment has been made yet, so they can tell me I'm fine again, but I did get a $45 bill.
But now I really miss the Fast Pace clinic in Lawrenceburg, TN. I scraped my right elbow the other day, and I just can't get it to heal, and it's infected.
I've looked around and there ain't no walk in clinics that I can find. So I'm treating it myself and hopefully my arm won't fall off. I've got a Primary Care doctor here, who's probably weeks out from an appointement, but it's just not the same.
And I know my brain is fine, otherwise I wouldn't be able to write this brilliant drivel.
Here's a 3200x3200 video test. I've been experimenting with a large square format, getting away from Full HD: 1920 × 1080 pixels, 16:9 aspect ratio distortion. I like it, the detail is great.
It's pretty interesting down here in Pensacola, FL. It looks like my life extension will continue a couple more months if the new guy moves in, at the end of this month. Thank you Shelby.
The interaction with my latest roommate, has dropped into one of non-communication. I said to her this evening in the kitchen, after she walked the dogs that have been locked up all afternoon, Hey, SpaceX got those two astronauts back on Earth today!
She had no idea what I was talking about... Damn, living with a stranger is really tough sometimes.
But it's almost over, a couple of weeks left. I'm on my best roommate behavior, but we don't share meals, barely talk, and occasionally I get to tell the dogs I love them, until I can't...
Before I almost killed them, I would work with the dogs about barking at every human they see. They just want attention, to be recognized, to be loved.
I was making progress, either from walks or sitting with them on the front porch chair.
Now I sit under them, while they bark at everyone from the deck above, and I often get looks that say Why aren't the dogs down there with you?
Doesn't bother me, I just stick two middle fingers in the air and scream Fuck You! as loud as I can. When you're walking on the sidewalk, it's hard to hear me over the barking.
One day, a few months after turning seventeen, I was sitting in a high school class in Paradise, CA. Somebody spoke over the intercom and said President Kennedy had been assassinated, school was canceled, and to go home.
I could not describe anything now, about what was going on around me at the time, but I remember that walk home, along the railroad tracks.
I was already very damned confused about life. No direction, no goals, and certainly no political position.
But fuck man, our President had just been killed. I think that was the most defining moment of my life, and I've had a few.
I love and respect the flood of young Americans that joined the military to avenge 911, that was their defining moment.
Not me, I just wanted to get the most out of life while I could and keep my libido happy, because who knew what was going to happen next.
I ended up as a far right Republican, politically. Hanging out in a mancave garage in Pensacola, FL. with my big TV on Fox.
The two little dogs that entered my life recently, and I've grown to love, are locked away in an upstairs bedroom all day, except at lunchtime, because apparently I am a danger to them.
Shelby just brought by a new roommate for a couple months, a young guy that I got a good vibe from.
Hey, I'm just trying to stay alive as long as I can. I'll take all the help I can get.
Here's a collage of my current feelings about the dogs in my life, who shortly won't be.
I put on my favorite old orange flower shirt that has been in my life for decades, and walked to downtown Pensacola yesterday.
Turned out the Market that never bails on the weekend, freaked out over the tornado warning last night, which was a dud, and bailed anyway.
Along the way I spotted a Dodge Challenger, took a photo and texted with Riley about the vintage. He said around 2020.
I liked the look and did a deep dive into this cars history, and then created some AI images and a video, of me behind the wheel, of the 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170.
Engine: 6.2L Supercharged V8, delivering 1,025 horsepower at 6,500 rpm and 945 lb-ft of torque at 4,200 rpm.
Performance: It can go from 0-60 mph in just 1.66 seconds, making it the world's quickest production car in this category.
Quarter-Mile Time: Certified at 8.91 seconds with a top speed of 151.17 mph.
Design: Features a widebody design, drag mode suspension, and optional carbon fiber wheels.
Production: Limited to 3,300 units, with a starting price of $96,666.
And the only way I'm driving it, is here.
I'm enjoying our human efforts and achievements in Space lately. But how lame they must seem to the aliens that destroyed my brothers life back in the fifties.
Neil Armstrong first set foot on the Moon during the quiet Sunday evening of July 20, 1969, when I was a young college student in the SF Bay Area.
It was three days before my 23rd birthday. I had been playing tennis with friends up in Berkeley, and decided to hitch into town, from Grove St.
A beautiful black woman picked me up and we spent the afternoon hooking up with her radical amazing girl friends, talking about how black men we're becoming pussies.
Ha! She was pursuing a law degree from UC Berkeley, and I was her white boy toy for the night. We ended up back at her place, and I remember laying my head on this woman's lovely thigh, surrounded by hot passion, watching this Armstrong guy step on to the fucking moon.
I think the truth is, we've all been played. But who cares, I got well laid!
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