I just made a terrible discovery. I left two black ballpoint pens and a black sharpee in the back pocket of a pair of black shorts that I just ran through my girlfriend's washer and drier. From what I understand, the sharpee did a job on her drier. I'm scared to look. Girlfriend is handling it pretty well. When I asked her if she wanted to hit me, she said yes. Then she said, "I'm not angry, but I am aggravated. Don't do it again."

For some strange reason, my girlfriend likes to do my laundry and actually gets pissed off when I do it myself at her house. I now think that I know why.

I think that spammers should have their balls cut off.

I think that spammers should have their balls cut off.

I have to pick Scout up from school an hour and a half early, today. She has an orthodondist appointment. Yesterday, she said something about, "Oh, no. I haven't been wearing my rubber bands." I don't know how this will affect her appointment, but I'm sure that we will find out in a couple of hours.

I never had to wear braces. I often got compliments on my teeth, when I was younger. They were straight and white. It is funny how some people are given some things, and other people are given other things. Scout came out of the womb with crooked teeth. Looking at pictures of her back before the braces were put on her, it is hard to imagine just how crooked her teeth was.

She is a beautiful young lady, though, in mind and appearance. God has given her those things and her father, by sweating it out at the job, is giving her straight teeth. If she is supposed to be
putting her rubber bands on, then she better be putting her rubber bands on. My dad used to tell me that he worked too hard for me to turn up my nose at what my mother cooked for us. Scout's pappa works too hard for her to not do what she needs to do with her braces.

So there.

Friday, March 30, 2007

At first, I was irritated that it was raining,
this morning. The dogs and I were ready
for a walk. I had an umbrella, but they did
not.

Then I realized that the rain would save me
from going to the car wash this evening, as
I had planned. The pollen was thick on my
vehicle. It was a new car, but it looked old
with all the yellow dust covering it.

I grabbed an umbrella from inside the car,
which is where I keep the umbrellas, and
the two dogs and I did a short walk to
the end of the street. The many trees that line
our street mostly kept the rain off of us.

The older dog was not in a mood for a long
walk. He made it clear, when we got to the
end of the street that he wanted to go back.
This old and wise dog knows that, often,
there is a bisuit waiting to be tossed to him
at the end of his walks. Perhaps this clouds his
perceptions or maybe it makes his goals clearer.

The goal of this old dog is to get back to the house
and get his biscuit.

March 20, 2007

Tomorrow is the first day of spring, but you could have fooled nature because the last day of winter is a lovely day full of sunshine and warmth.
------------------
I have been without my pills for nearly three days now. I told love that snakes were crawling through my brain and that spiders were crawling all over my testicles.

"Really?" she said.

"No," I replied.

I felt like shit, but definitely not that bad.
Moral of story: keep you medication close,
I had left mine home when I had come for
a weekend visit to the house of love.
-----------------------
The book on the table in front of him says, "Sales Closing For Dummies." Why would anyone want to force someone else into buying something?

Money.
-----------------------
I passionately read the first page of Sylvia Plath's book, "The Bell Jar," to the captive audience of my love and my daughter as we are driving to a restaurant for dinner. Excitedly, I finish reading the page.

The window had to be replaced on my son's car. He said that he would ride his skateboard to school after dropping the car off, but I offered to follow him and give him a ride to school. He accepted. I called him, a bit ago, and offered to pick him back up from school and take him to get his car with its new window. He declined the offer, saying that he was going to ride his best friend's skateboard to the window shop. Perhaps it is not fun to ride your skateboard first thing in the morning to school, but it is fun to ride it after school.That's all I can come up with. I know that he is not going to score a bag of pot or a baggie of heroin and this is a great relief to me.

I love my son and I appreciate how few problems he gives and has given me.

I haven't ridden my bicycle in awhile, and I feel guilty. I actually haven't ridden my bicycle since I got a car. Before I got the car, I rode the bicycle all the time and everywhere. I'm lazy I guess and don't care about the environment or the war effort. Isn't that sad to say? I mean I care, but am I really doing anything about it? Am I putting my money where my mouth is at all, or am I all mouth?

I bought cloth grocery bags, today, at the grocery store. Yesterday I read that San Francisco was making plastic bags illegal. The fact that the bags choke marine animals to death really hit me. I mean it sucks. With just a little effort on my part, I don't have to be part of that. I'm not down with PETA, because I consider them to be militant and fascist, but I am down with me doing what I can when I can for animals and for the environment. Al Gore is not my fearless leader in all this.

In two months, we have to be out of this apartment. I bought boxes, today, at the big store. The boxes cost three dollars apiece. Moving is not cheap. In the old days, I used to go to the grocery store and beg the guy stocking apples for banana boxes. I may have to do that this time, also.

I'm not proud; banana boxes are fine, though they can be a bit sticky and yucky. I'm boxing my second level books, today. These are books that I'm not intimate with, but don't want to get rid of for one reason or another. One reason is that my hope is that my daughter may want to read some of these titles that I grew up on. So far, she has demonstrated no interest in the books on my bookshelves, but she is a voracious reader. She likes new books from the bookstore, so far. I am happy that she is a reader. I guess this is because I am a writer. My daughter claims to have enjoyed the little bits of my writing that I have fed to her over the years, but, really, what can she do but offer me praise.

"Father, your writing sucks. Please don't bother me; I'm reading a great book, right now," just wouldn't cut, now would it?!

I like really sappy music. Don't get scared; I like really cool music, also.
I was thinking this as I wound up on an internet radio station by accident
and then I stayed there, on purpose, listening to all these songs that I was
familiar with from the radio over the past twenty five years. Most of it, I
wouldn't and haven't bought, but there is some real comfort in listening to
it. These sappy songs are my friends. I grew up with them; or rather I've
grown old with them and I guess I'll die with them.

It's funny: my son has given mention to not going of to either Chicago or San Francisco for college. He aired the thought that maybe he would stay in Atlanta for a year, get a job and save some money. I told him that at the kind of jobs he would be able to get, he, most likely, wouldn't be able to save any money.

When he announced that he was applying to art schools in far off lands, I was abhorred. We can't afford it was the first thought, and the second thought was that I did not want this young man who I have been around, hugged. laughed with, scolded and molded into what he is today to go off and leave me.

Now, my thought is that he should go off and leave me, especially since he has gotten into one of the best art schools in the country. There is still that "we can't afford it issue" to be dealt with, though.

I just took the first sip of my first cup of coffee, today. It was an excellent sip. It is an excellent day. I would like to thank my higher power for allowing me to breath the air of a new day, see the new day.

Scout will not be with me, this afternoon. She will be attending Mammaw's funeral. Mammaw was her great grandmother. Mammaw was a great woman. Yesterday, Scout and her father went to the viewing. I made the comment to her father that viewings are awful. He said that it wasn't.

I'm not sure where to go with this now. I don' t feel that it is an appropriate time to get into my feelings on viewings and funerals, the whole process of burying that is the norm in this country and, I guess, throughout the world. I just want to offer up prayers for Mammaw, Scout and her beautiful father on this solemn day, but beautiful day.

May God's love be with all of them.

"My attitude is that murderers are murderers and they ought to be brought to justice."--George W. Bush

Thank God; the man from maintenance is here right now fixing the light switch that connects to the lights over my desk. El dice que no hable ingles muy buen pero el habla ingles muy bien! The cat just jumped out the window. I guess he doesn't like strangers.

An Art School in California offered my son $24,000 worth of financial aid, today, to go to their school. Only $7,000 of it was loans that he would have to pay back; the rest was scholarships and loans. I said to my son, "That is great. If you can go to a good art school in California and only borrow seven grand a year, you might should go. It would probably be an incredible experience."

My son left the abode in search of a sandwich for dinner. He's eighteen, now, an adult, which means that I no longer have to cook for him. I give him gift cards to the grocery store. He can buy what he wants; cook what he wants. He usually buys sub sandwiches or sushi. The grocery stores here in Atlanta have nice delis.

I looked at another page in the package that came to my son from this art school in California. This page said that the annual cost for this school is $49,000. If my math is correct, that leaves my son $25,000 short on cash for attendance.

My advice to him will be to not borrow $32,000, if it is possible to go to this school. Owing $148,000 to get an art degree in sunny California doesn't seem feasible to me. Warhol didn't go there and I can assure you that the school is not assuring its students of high paying art jobs once they graduate. The school is assuring its students of being saddled with huge debt in a lousy job market, while the school grows stronger and stronger gobbling up all that federally backed loan money that is making some millionaire banker in New Jersey into a billionaire.

The Big Art school in Chicago sent some paperwork, recently, also. They are trying to find out if I am as broke as I said I was in filling out the last round of papers regarding finances in the home that they sent us.

I am. I really am.

After filling in the numbers that the form required there was a space that said, "On the back side of this form, please explain how you and/or your family lived on little or no resources in 2006?"

I wanted to laugh.


Dear Big Art School:

There are a lot of people in the United States of America living on little or no resources. Do you not admit them to your art school? Is the ticket to becoming an artist at your art school having lots of money?

Something like that.

Anyway, I wrote them a basically nice letter telling them how my son and I have lived for the last year on less than $13,000.

Do you think that the Big Art School in Chicago will be any different than the Art School in California.

I don't.

I guess poor people can't go to art school. Maybe my son should just get a job at Mc Donald's, at the grocery store he goes to buy subs, or some pizza joint and give up the idea of a formal art education.

-----------------------

There was not a lot of father and son interaction, tonight. He called a few hours ago and asked if it would be ok if he stayed out for a bit more. It's a school night. I said, "I've told you the deal. I want you to enjoy your senior year of high school and I want you to bring home the Hope Scholarship to me, whether you wind up using it or not."

The Hope Scholarship is this thing that the state of Georgia has where all those broke ass people that clog the line in front of you at the "convenience" store are doing, when you want to pay nine dollars a gallon for gas. It's been called a tax on the poor. I call it a game for suckers. In Georgia, so far, its been paying the tuition and books for Georgia high school students to go to Georgia colleges, if they make the grades in high school that are necessary.

Mammaw just died. She was ninety three. Mammaw was my children's great-grandmother. She was a great great-grandmother. She was a great grandmother. She was a great mother.

"And the sign said..."
by Mikel K

I wanted to take the dogs down by a river. I knew that there would be one that girlfriend would know about up here in the country. We drove down long, quiet roads. On one of them, we took a left. Large, newer, expensive houses dotted this country road. We got to a place where you could see the river. Girlfriend said, "awww fooey."

There was a sign that said "members only." The "members" had claimed the only place along the river where you could look at it, where you could walk down and stand next to it, the only place where you could touch it.

"We used to come here when we were kids," said girlfriend. "You didn't have to be a member then."

She undid the backdoor to the vehicle and let the two dogs out. The three of them headed onto members only turf. I followed with a couple of tennis balls. I threw the balls to the dogs, while girlfriend acted like she was a kid again. She splashed in the water. She picked up a pinecone and a flat rock. "Look, look," she said, "I'm swinging!!" She had found an old kudzu vine to grab ahold of and play with.

As we were leaving, the older dog wouldn't come right away. He sauntered to about mid-members only turf, squatted down and lay down the biggest turd of his life. I looked at girlfriend and she looked at me. We left the turd for the members.

I usually detest metal; as in music, but there is a homegrown band with international reach that I dig: Mastodon. Somehow, this is metal that makes sense. It is intelligent metal. If Bob Dylan had been making metal early in his career, this is how it would have sounded. I'm still not sure what the Mastodon singer(s) are saying, but the fucking drumming is incredible as are the guitar(s.)?

I just bought the band's most recent cd, Blood Mountain. This is my first exposure to the band. I doubt that I will head out to their live gigs, but I will seek out past cds. If you hate metal. If you think it is cliched, mostly boring and repetitive with very little creativity in the delivery of lyrics, then check out Mastodon. You might just bang your head to this band, even if you've never been a head banger before.

go hear to listen to mastodon: http://www.myspace.com/mastodon

The most irritating thing that my older dog does is lick his paws. He just doesn't lick his paws, he licks them with a ferociousness and an intensity that is mind boggling; it is also a pain in my ass. My girlfriend has this little dripping fountain in her office. It drives me nuts. Drip. Drip. Drip, it goes. And suck, suck, suck goes my dog. (He follows me into the office and camps out there while I write.) Sometimes, I turn on music to drown out the sound of these two things, but sometimes I just don't feel like listening to music. My girlfriend suggested that I put tabasco sauce on the dog's feet. I think that she was joking. I hope so, anyway. That would be cruel. They must have something at the pet store that will alleviate this problem. I must check into it. Soon.

I skipped the diabetes support group meeting to go out to dinner with my love and my daughter. I ate an outrageous desert, which is very unusual for me these days. Several weeks ago, I went to a two day diabetes class where I learned a lot about how to live as a diabetic. Longevity for a diabetic is primarily keyed to two things: diet and exercise.

"You, blew me off, yesterday, so I'm going to blow you off, today." That is how the conversation went in my head.

I was going to get even. Girlfriend had taken a day off from me, yesterday, and had not come into town to visit, so my feelings were hurt. And when my feelings get hurt, I get pissed off. Some counselor along the way told me that men don't like to have hurt feelings; it's not masculine, so they get angry, which is supposed to be macho. Getting angry landed me in jail, sober, once. I can't afford to be macho.

Girlfriend was supposed to come in town, today, also. I figured that she would blow me off again, so I sulked. I didn't answer two phone calls from her in the morning. I didn't open the email that she sent me. Around three pm, she called three times. I didn't pick up the phone.

The voicemail ringer sounded on my cell phone. I figured that I would dial in and find her screaming at me. Wrong. The first message from her was a weak and loving, "call me, please." The second one said that she was about ten minutes from my abode, but wouldn't show up, if I didn't call her back. This is one of her pet peeves: she won't just show up at the apartment. I figure that, in the past, she caught one or several lovers with their pants down. I don't plan on having my pants down with anyone but her, but I can understand where she is coming from and sort of understand her position. I mean, she is not saying cheat, but she is saving herself from that sort of sad, embarrassing and demoralizing experience. Maybe. I mean, I'm not really sure why she does this, why she just won't show up at my door.


Maybe I'll ask her, when she gets here. I just called her. All is cool. She is on her way over. She is not blowing me off, today. I love this woman; I really do.

Al Gore pisses me off. He wants you and me to use less energy, but he is unwilling to sign a piece of paper that says that he will use no more energy than you or I. Al Gore is special. He's a millionaire. He was born into money. Why is it that people with a lot of money are always going around trying to tell people without a lot of money how they should live? A lot of these peole with money who want to tell us how to live are called politicians. These people with money make "our" laws.

In whose favor do you think that these laws are made?
Don't worry about it. The Super Bowl will come around,
again, soon.

The lady who lives across the driveway from me has a problem with her pit bulls; they like to jump out of the bedroom window of her apartment. The property managers don t much like this, because the dogs break either the window or the screen to do this. I don't much like this, because I don't like unattended pit bulls; I'm scared that one will sink their teeth into one of my dogs' neck and possibly end a great relationship that I have. Living in an apartment complex is a trip. Complete strangers lives randomly inmpinge upon yours. Some people try to take advantage of the situation. They try to get all cozy with you and act like you and they are supposed to be all buddy buddy because we happen to have somewhat collided beacause the rent here is all that either of us can afford. Aspiring buddy buddy neighbors are usually saddling up to you to get something.

I would never put a welcome mat in front of my house.

I was trembling a lot, especially in my hands, which is especially frustrating for a fellow who spends many hours of each day with his hands on a keyboard typing; so I went to the Doctor: she said that it was probably the lithium and that I should go see my Shrink. I have seen my shrink once or twice since that first day that he shook my hand and profusely welcomed me to his practice, which is fine because I see a counselor, a therapist within his practice and she has turned out to be a God send.

I made an appointment to talk to my therapist about my trembling hands and she asked me if I had lost weight. I said why yes and thank you for noticing! She said that I might have too much lithium in me now that I had dropped some pounds and that I needed to go get a lithium level check done. I did and, after looking at the results, she called and said to cut back from six little pink pills before bedtime to five. I did this and some weeks later I'm scared that I have lost some of the insulation that the sixth pill provides. I am not snappy. I am not much externally angry, but, inside, most everything and everyone is pissing me off.

It's no way to live and I will have to do something about it.

Love sometimes feels like shit; but it is not love's fault. It is the fault of the head that I live in. If I focus on love, instead of staying busy, when love has deserted me(taken a break for her own reasons) I will wallow in self-pity and misery. Wah. Wah. Wah....she doesn t love me. Wah. Wah. Wah...she doesn t care. She is not out to get me. She is working on her head, which is a good thing. We should all work on our heads.

John Edwards has lost me. He strikes me as a bit of a weasal, which would, I presume, account for his past success as a trial lawyer. He paraded his cancer-stricken wife in front of the cameras, yesterday; anything to get a vote it would appear. This would be a private time for me. Wouldn't this be a private time for you?

Edwards really lost me when he went down to New Orleans to announce that he would run for president in 2008. Aren't there plenty of poor folks in his home state of North Carolina? New Orleans is the big cause celebre. What did Edwards actually do when he got to New Orleans to announce his run for president, besides use it as a backdrop for his televisions appearances? What is he doing for New Orleans now? What is he doing for anybody, besides trying to get John Edwards elected?

A few years ago, John Edwards seemed like he might be a good candidate. Funny how some people look better the more you look at them and some don t. John Edwards doesn't.

The kid woke me with a hug, as he always does, before he went out the door and on his way to school. The upstairs neighbor's dog started barking, as he always does, about a half hour later. The dog barked for twenty minutes. What a way to start your day. The little pest, upstairs, is worse than an alarm clock. Mostly he (or she) starts barking around 4 or 5 am. I guess that I was lucky this morning. Sometimes luck feels really strange.

I have a girlfriend, but she has sort of disappeared on me. Mentally balanced women do not seem to come to me from the internet.

I feel negative, this morning. I have a crush on this possibly imbalanced woman from the internet. I'm imbalanced, also. This lady and I celebrate a year together in about a month. If we were celebrating today, I'd be celebrating alone.

I am scared to show her what I write, right now. Is this good or bad?

Eventually
all that is
to occur
will occur

so why worry
while you wait?

There is nothing to do
and I don t want to do
anything,

but maybe go back to sleep.

I am empty like some sort of carton
rolling down the street in the wind
someone drank the liquid inside and
then discarded the container.

Whatever It Takes To Keep From Feeling Blue
by Mikel K

I don t feel prolific
this morning
A slight depression
is trying to sink into
my brain
I won t let it
I will pray
start my day over
Go back to bed

Whatever it takes
to keep from feeling
blue.

i m suppressed
better get undressed
take a shower
start the day over.

my toe is bothering me
from the cold of the ac
that i just turned on

the dog is bothering
me he never shuts up
just pants and pants
more and more

as he gets older

my neighbor is bothering
me he says there is nothing
that he can do about his dog
waking me up with his barking
at four thirty am every morning

my girlfriend is bothering me
i won t get into it but but but.

if you are asked to say you love her
enough times
will you begin to believe it
just like a skinny kid in basic training
one day comes to believe
that he is a marine?

your crazy bi-polar boyfriend
by mikel k

your crazy
bi-polar boyfriend
might not
always be
the best thing
for you.

your crazy
bi-polar boyfriend
might cause you
to do things
that you really
don t want to do.

you re crazy about
your crazy bi-polar
boyfriend.