The Days Are Numbered

It was a gloriously gorgeous day. Blue sky, fluffy white clouds. The sun, bright and warm, tempered by a cool breeze ruffling the hair. A day that heralded the coming of Autumn.


I am sooo not ready for this. I am not ready to face another winter. I’m not ready for the cold. The threats of snow. I’m not ready for the short days, the darkness outside and the darkness in my brain.

“Oh, but there’s plenty of time before winter comes! There will be more days like today, many more!”

That’s true. But it doesn’t seem like that to me. As a year passes, the days, weeks, and months rush by seamlessly, with the anonymity and speed of water in a fast-moving stream. Very few discrete periods stand out. When I can recall a particular day, its pictures slip and slide like a half-remembered dream. One little saying of mine is “I can’t remember what happened twenty minutes ago, so you know I can’t remember what happened [last week].” Rarely fails to get a laugh out of people. What they don’t know is that it’s true.

So for me, winter might as well come tomorrow.

My brain has been wack since 2016. I wasn’t exactly fine before then but it seems that was the year it spazzed. Every seven years, give or take a couple of months, whatever medications I’m on stop working. I don’t know why. They just do. Then the search begins for a new cocktail.… Continue reading

Happy Birthday, Lori B.!

Today would have been my sister’s 61st birthday.

Lori died in 2010. Brain cancer. I gotta tell you, cancer is some nasty shit. It was horrible, worse than horrible, to watch her die. The tumor was huge–covering almost a quarter of her brain. I saw the pictures after her surgery. It looked like the surgeon had taken an ice-cream scoop and went to work. He couldn’t get all of the tumor because some of it was too close to her brain stem for comfort. So she had to go through chemo and radiation. That’s some nasty shit, too. Still, the cancer went into remission and in the end, it bought her 2 more years. But it came back. It was a type of cancer that always comes back, no matter what you do. And when it came back, it was inoperable. So I watched Lori die, little by little, piece by piece. I cursed the cancer that was killing her. I cursed Duke University for not doing enough to cure her. I cursed a whole lot of other stuff, too. The hardest part, though, was saying goodbye. We were in her room at the hospice. I saw the DNR tag attached to the end of her bed and lost it. Lori and I had our troubles growing up and we weren’t close but there was never any doubt about our sisterly love. So we’re at the hospice and by this time she’d lost her ability to speak. We stared at… Continue reading


My Great Dane Daisy Mae is THIRTEEN today!

Happy Birthday, Daisy–you’re the BEST!!

It’s A Long Night

Anxiety attack. Crap.

Too late to pop a couple of Xanax. I’ll never wake up and I gotta be somewhere later this morning.



Is He Really Dead?

So Epstein was found dead in his cell. How fucking convenient.

It reminds me of Ken Lay, the CEO of Enron back in the day. Lay and his buddies pulled all kinds of bullshit that resulted in Enron’s spectacular crash. Employees lost their like savings because they were strongly encouraged to buy Enron stock. I remember one man who was about a year or two from retirement saying that since he’d lost everything, he’d have to work until he died. He wasn’t kidding, either. Anyway, the day Lay was to be sentenced, he dropped dead from a heart attack. Or so it was said.

Same here. Actually, it’s an even bigger deal than Enron. Epstein was most likely going to go down and if he did, a whole lot of powerful men were going to go down with him. Epstein wouldn’t have kept quiet about who took advantage of his little ring. To get maybe a reduced sentence (not much question he’d go to prison this time), he was probably going to sing like a canary. And then he dies. Or so it is said.

Seems like quite the coincidence, huh? Lay and Epstein were in deep, deep, shit and suddenly they die, just like that. I have a theory. Both men were richer than Croesus. They probably socked away huge bucks and other valuables in secret offshore accounts under assumed names (happens all the time). With all their riches backing them, it would be easy for them to fake… Continue reading

The City Of New Orleans

Good mornin’ America, how are ya?
Say, don’t you know me, I’m your native son
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

Arlo Guthrie’s The City of New Orleans came out when I was 12. For a long time, it was my favorite song. I’m not a fan of country or folk music–or even Arlo Guthrie–but this song appealed to me in a way I really can’t fathom. In fact, the only reason I probably ever heard it was because it was a bust-out crossover hit. All the pop stations were playing it. I guess the only ones that weren’t were the classical and black stations.

Anyway, this song has been playing in my head lately, in an endless loop. Which means I could be in deep shit. See, it starts with a tune from my childhood, playing day and night. I go to sleep, it’s playing. I wake up, it’s playing. It’s like I can’t NOT hear it. Next comes the numbness. My emotions bottle up and nothing fazes me because nothing matters. Then I get the brain fog. It’s hard for me to think, to comprehend. It’s impossible for me to read. My ability to write is fucked, too. When that happens, I have no idea how I’m still able to do my job. And I can forget about trying to do creative work.

If I pass this point, thoughts of death arrive. The… Continue reading

Gonna Lay My Burden Down


Tired of mass shootings. Tired of your thoughts and prayers. Tired of this. Tired of that.

Just tired.

But do you know what I’m really tired of? That the assholes who go out and blow people away are said to be “mentally ill.” I resent the fuck out of that. These white men (yes, white men–you can count the number of shooters of other races on less than five fingers) aren’t crazy. It’s not like these men just casually walk up to a crowd and start blasting. They know exactly what they’re doing and why. These rampages are PLANNED. They are fulfilling their white supremacist bullshit fantasies and they know that it’s more than likely they’ll get away with it. No death penalty for them–oh, no. They’ll go to prison and hook up with more of their asshole compatriots and oh, they’ll be such big, bad men for killing all those innocent people! People who had no beef with them, who didn’t know who the fuck the asshole was before they died, and sure as hell didn’t know afterward! And if the people murdered were of color, why, that’s even better! In any event…they are not insane. They don’t hear voices telling them to go out and kill. They’re not hallucinatory–they don’t think they’re at the firing range when they’re downtown at the club. And then the politicians come and blame video games, music and whatnot. Somehow, society has “failed” these shooters. What the ever-lovin’ fuck?? They tried that… Continue reading

I Bought The T-Shirt

When I saw this on the news the other day, my depressed state flew out the window and I laughed so hard I almost shit my pants. The artist is a fuckin’ genius. He says he did it back in 2016 after 45 won the election. Guy’s a staunch Republican (voted for Dubya twice–that’s gotta tell you something) but he was so disgusted with 45 and his ilk that he switched parties. Anyway, 45 gave a public speech IN FRONT OF THIS PRESIDENTIAL SEAL. And nobody even fuckin’ noticed!!

So you know I had to get me one of those. You can get one too, at:

Says it all, doesn’t it?

Ghost Hunters Extraordinaire

I’ve been watching these ghost hunter videos on YouTube and some of them are pretty funny. I mean really–you’re supposed to be a big, bad ghost hunter and when you hear or see a door slam all by itself you shit your pants? One of my favorite videos was made by this guy in Saudi Arabia exploring this abandoned house (I think) that’s supposed to be haunted. So this guy is wandering through the house with his camera. Doors start slamming all over the place, swinging back and forth and whatnot while he’s recording so you see all this madness going on. The whole time, he’s breathing like a spent racehorse and screaming prayers. Hilarious. There are lots more like that. I look at these clips and wonder why the hell do they do it if they’re just going to crap their pants the minute the lights start flickering? I dunno–maybe they’re just thrill junkies.

A bunch of posts back, I said I believed in the paranormal. I do. But I also think a lot of what’s labeled as paranormal have more prosaic explanations. Still, it makes me wonder if there really are houses haunted by spirits out there. Like, the house I pass by when on my way to my parents’ place. It’s a beautiful brick house, probably 4-5 bedrooms, nice sized yard. Right now it needs a paint job but that’s neither here nor there. A murder occurred in that house. It was all over the local papers… Continue reading

Moving Along

So I’m hard at work with this author thing. Took a rest from editing The Underground manuscript. I finished editing, but I want to go over the 1st 10 chapters or so to make sure I’m happy with the text. For the last go-round, I was working off the formatted copy where I’d highlighted changes I wanted to make, but around 10 I saw I needed to make changes that weren’t highlighted–i.e., the ones I missed. On the formatted draft, if I didn’t see yellow highlights, I passed over the corresponding text on the Word doc. Got to make sure it’s fine and dandy because I ain’t doing this again. Yes, the nice thing about self-publishing is that if you see something funky, you can pull the book and re-work it but it’s best not to fuck up in the first place. I cut myself some slack because there’s been a long learning curve, but I’m far along enough now that I know what NOT to do.

While I’ve been resting from editing, I’ve been working to build my author platform. I’m concentrating on Twitter at the moment, interacting with people, letting folks know I’m out there. It’s working. Still, I have some concerns. It seems that most of my new followers are also authors. Nothing wrong with that in and of itself but I don’t want to be author-heavy. What I want are people who are potential or actual readers to follow me. My fellow authors are not the… Continue reading