Phillip Wilson

Amazingly, I survived my Life
2011-09-30 00:02:24 (UTC)

2001 REVIEW (PART TWENTY-FOUR)

13 February-31 December, Childersburg/Sylacauga, AL (continues)

I thought about it long and hard – for about five minutes: Joyce and granny went shopping in Sylacauga about an hour and fi If people don’t do any thing rash and don’t panic, the machinery is in place to deal with this national emergency. It will be us that tear apart the fabric of this country! Not to mimimalize what happened, the destruction of the World Trade Center Towers and the violation of the Pentagon by terrorists were only the match that lite the fuse for the possible downfall of the United States: The terrorists knew this, and was hoping for it. Surely we won’t “play” into their hands!
On the other hand, the burocracy of this country is in such bad shape, people should have panicked long before this latest outward attack! Why is a terrorist act by incompetency and inefficiency as fearsome as an attack by human terrorists? They can do much more harm to this country! Much more by far!

(acerca 11:55 A.M.) There was another accident yesterday that wasn’t reported: Without thinking I articulated with Bill – he was my ride at 7:15 P.M. – that one mustn’t judge all Islam by this small group (if indeed that small group is guilty). Before I had even said this – I means previously to my saying the above statement – Bill stated that the terrorists will have to face God. In true fundamental Christian fashion, he came up with an Islam-phobic declaration: The god worshipped by Islam is dead.
I tried desperately to change the subject, but Bill started in on this diatribe that the reason society is “going down” is due to the fact that God and prayer have been taken out of schools. I was trapped: I told Bill that I didn’t believe that way and attempted to shift the conversation to other things. But Bill wouldn’t have it: He told me that what I believe didn’t matter, that I would have to answer to God.
In other words, Bill created God in his image.
Yesterday afternoon an older white man came in the store and started talking about the terrorist attack with me. We both agreed that it may have been the second Pearle Harbor. Soon he was claiming almost as fact that Afganistan was responsible, that we should bomb that country. He was taken aback when I replied that maybe Afganistan wasn’t behind the terrorism.
I was standing near Louise by the shoes: Claudia came “running” back and asked Louise if she had a full tank of gas in her (Louise’s) car. Claudia said that all service stations would close at 4:00 P.M. When she asked why, I told her about rationing during wartime.
See what I mean by things getting out of control?
fteen minutes ago (in fact, it was granny’s shouted announcement that woke me up). A Club juggle in the back yard or a training sessions with the bean bags in my room? The former would add further insult to my shoulders and upper back; 3-ball juggling is given much more opportunities to be displayed. Any form of juggling could use the attention: So I opted for bean bags, working on a basic cascade and right-to-left circle. The 32-minute work-out was smoother on my soreness than the inconvenience it suffered yesterday, as opposed to what Clubs would have done for me.

(acerca 6:26 P.M.) I was with Anita Matlow and her kids on the east (?) side of the Woodville Highway, across from the Flea Market, on a Sunday afternoon: Anita was giving away puppies. I was club-juggling, dressed in orange overalls. A local Tv news crew came over to “shot” me. The wind was blowing slightly and I kept dropping clubs.
The tape of my juggling was to be on television that evening, I was told. It was no Big Deal to me, but Anita wanted the exposure, and involvement with a local “celebrity” thrilled her. So that evening, I went with Anita and her kids to the across-the-street neighbors (we were living at 305 Piney Road), the McDaniels, to watch television. But, alas, my piss-poor juggling was not included in the telecast.
The movie I was in – LOVE AND FATE – was made but never premiered. Anita and I had planned to rent a limo and attend the premiere as the star and his escort. But alas the film was never released.
I have no doubt that the two disappointments of above played a major role in the final break-up: Anita realized that I had nothing exceptional to offer her and/or her children. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have wasted it on her kids! This latter policy was more than Anita could take! Boy, am I glad it was! It was the only thing that saved me!

(acerca 7:58 P.M.) If not what took place on the day in 1941, I wouldn’t be here: Granny and Daddy Mac were married. No wonder this day has been, and still is, taking a beating! Hell, it should have been stricken from the records years ago!
Is this thunderstorm the result of Daddy Mac’s machination down in hell: Is he responsible, is he trying to seek rub his part in my creation in my face? Is this a reminder or a warning?
A warning: Apparently Month IX will be threatened from the beginning to not take revenge for Month VIII. But I have a feeling that Month IX has built up immunity against Storm and will be relatively free of that Beast within 4 or 5 days of Its debut!

(September- 1st, About 9:11 A.M.) My work at Bargain Town is yet another reminder of the policy under which I operated while touring with Carson and Barnes Circus: If one’s physical output is heavy, then more sleep is required. I was without a doubt the most physically active clown with Carson and Barnes Circus: The fact that I was forced to be during the time I was there doesn’t change matters. I always resisted “Chinese” and “Cherry Pie” because I wanted to focus all my energy on the clown spots. The management, I’m sure, held this against me, but the management (Geary and Barbara Byrd) knew absolutely nothing about performers.
I read an article a long time ago – a newspaper? a magazine? – concerning a male dancer that did a lot of dancing in a show (Broadway?). He was asked how he did it. In response he stated that he slept a good deal.
The point is that the physicality of this Bargain Town job is much more demanding than any of the circuses with which I toured (an irony in itself, being that I am at least ten years older); so it is only natural that I sleep more. The fact that I do doesn’t necessarily mean that Old Age is slowing me down.
The first thing that Month IX did on assuming Office at a fraction of a second past midnight was to cancell the order for Storm. Even though no more is on the way, there was way too much for Month VIII to ___ before the 12 midnight deadline: The excess was dropped “overboard” this morning, leaving the afternoon to start afresh: For I’m sure that Month IX will not follow through on Its “Campaign Pledge” of being rain-free.
WASHINGTON WEEK (9-925 P.M., P.B.S.) and the second part of LAW AND ORDER:SVU (9-10:00 P.M, N.B.C.) was all the television I could squeeze in yesterday evening, unless you want to count the DIAGNOSIS MURDER (7-8:00 P.M., C.B.S.) that I watched out in the Family Room.

(acerca 8:13 P.M.) I had a horrible thought this afternoon: What if –
dare I say it? –
I am –
damned I hate to even mention it!
-still working at –
perish the thought!
- Bargain Town next September! And the next?! And the . . .
Surely not! Surely life won’t do that to me! It would be great if I had a Second Career – “Second” my ass! I haven’t even had a “First”! – before I depart this world! But, given the way things have happened in my past, I really don’t see the future being different. By right it should be, but it looks like I will be retiring from Bargain Town at the normal retirement age. “There are no second acts!”
Month VIII had more surplus water to get rid of than I thought! A constant, gentle drizzle has been falling all day, including as I write.

(2nd, About 8:25 A.M.) The detours, which occasionally happened on the most straightforward road of my life, the ‘dead’ moments, during which I felt myself powerless and helpless, and which seemed to me, at the moment, to be the end of everything – these were not really harmful to me, but, instead, turned out to be new starting points, pauses to get my breath and collect my inner strength for each new step which would carry me to the next move in my development.
Oh, if only . . . If only the Bargain Town job was just a pause to get my breath and collect my inner strength which would carry me to the next ___ in my development”! I would give anything if such was the case, but I fear it is not.
I wonder what trials and tribulations the Russian artist Wassily Kandinsky went through that made him include the above passage in his “Autobiography”? I realize that my past lifestyle and career-damage are not unique by any means: Similar dysfunctions have been taking place for eons. Of course, knowing that `doesn’t make it easier to take, but realizing that something has and is going wrong makes one wonder if there is something broke down or if it just one of those things. Someone had to be a victim and unfortunately I was one of those “someone”! Was Kandinsky also a victim? Or was he a “wiennie” and whining at life’s simple foul-ups?

(acerca 8:5_ A.M.) Maybe this rain is more than just the surplus from Month VIII. I don’t see how anyone can have that much rain left over! Obviously Month IX has added a lot of water and is responsible for the enduring Wetness.
Once again I spent nearly the entire Seven and a-half hours yesterday – 11:30 A.M. to 8:00 P.M. – with my hands raising above my head: I found room for a good deal of the toys that had arrived by truck Wednesday morning and had been readied by Louise. My chest muscles pain me unmercifully most of the time. When such happens on the left side I become nervous: It feels like angina. Of all the job I could die with my boots on, let it not be bargain Town that ushers me from this world!

(acerca 9:34 A.M.) According to Steve Holt, I’m sure I’m not playing the game correctly: I’m suppose to need his “therapy” and “counseloring.” What went wrong? he ask himself. Is Phillip actually able to make it without my assistance? It would hurt him even more if he knew that I would rather not “renew” our so-called friendship. Why can’t Steve leave well enough alone? Can’t he see that I am much better off without him and/or Mary! And is he ready to accept that verdict?

(acerca 10:4_ A.M.) As far as television yesterday evening: Between 8:30 P.M. and 9:30 P.M., I viewed some of the ALFRED HITCHHOCK PRESENTS on Tv Land. The early-1960’s black and white series from a master film maker is a very good primer for beginning film makers and arm chair directors. I also watcher, within the confines of my room, about fifteen minutes of Animal Planet cable channel that deals exclusively with - animals. I was in bed by 10:15 P.M.

(acerca 11:45 A.M.) I guess it was one evening after the evening performance. Flip Bayl__ and I were picking up thrash on the mid-way. Flip, who was very impressed with my command of the English language,, asked me if I had studied the dictionary. To a cerebral weakling like Flip my vocabulary was exceptional, but to the Graduate Record Examination –GRE – it wasn’t even good enough to be average: “One man’s treasure is another man’s junk” as the saying goes.
Call the plumber: You have a drip! Drops of water have been dripping from a leaky pipe on the Other Side since the day began. And Month IX thought that Month VIII would leave It a well-maintained house! Yeh, right! I thought I was gullible!

(acerca 12:16 P.M.) By now there’s probably no reason to tell you the time frame of a sub-entry that concerns Flip Bayless: It would have been the late-1980’s. But in case you need reminding, it was the late-1980’s.

(acerca 7:01 P.M.) With Bill behind
the wheel.
Kayla came home
Phill.
Seventeen syllables, folks. Count them! Isn’t that a haiku?
Anyway, Kayla is here. She and Bill brought me home around 6:15 P.M. Kayla stayed, Bill returned home - to his home.
It is also drizzling outside. And, in an unrelated event: I passed thirty-three minutes this morning by juggling Bean Bags. The two are not related.

(acerca 3rd, About 8:0_ A.M.) I know what you’re thinking! You’re thinking, “You stupid bastard, that was only twelve syllables! It ain’t no haiku! And you are right: Maybe I was hoping to succeed at something – anything! – that I got carried away! If I worked on it, though, I just may make a haiku of it yet: Three lines of five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables. I’m a line too long and five syllables too short.
That’s not the only mistake I made yesterday: Not having looked at the television programming guide, I was proceeding under the policy that CHANGING STAGEs, the six-hour theatre history mini-series on public television, began “airing” at 9:00 P.M., yesterday evening. But the Alabama Public Television “ran” another program at that time. APT always experiences technical difficulties not long after a fund-raiser, so I figure that was the case yesterday evening: The signal for CHANGING STAGES couldn’t be “picked up,” or the video tape of yesterday evening’s episode somehow would not “co-operate” with the play back machine. So I got angry and watched ALFRED HITCH HOCK PRESENTS on Tv Land and a portion of the NBC 13 Local News at 10:00 P.M. that David produced. Around 10:22 P.M., I went to my room to see the status of public television. CHANGING STAGES were already in progress. So until 11:00 P.M., I had a front row seat: With the excess of information such programs overpower one with, missing twenty or so minutes is not at all crucial! In fact, if the show is structured correctly, it’s not until the second half of the program that things really get going!

(acerca 8:46 A.M.) In what has undoubtedly happened many times before, Time has me running myself “ragged” and I forgot to turn to a new week last Monday. No telling how many occasions this has happened in the past and I failed to report it! Was it out of embarrassment or stupidity? Probably the latter.

(acerca 9:23 A.M.) My dream from the early morning “shoot”: David received a contract from a television out in Texas (no, not Wichita Falls): In Dallas, I think. Anyway, somewhere around Dallas. I told him that he had better make it work this time: I doubted is Channel 13 would take him back a third time (or second time).
I dreamt yesterday morning, but I am trying to block the dream out, since they usually only tease an make fun of me.
The more I think about my departure from Carson and Barnes Circus, the more I realized that I would have been “fired” if I, without knowing of the dismissal, hadn’t quite on my own free will: And I think I was “fired” because I refused to yield “artistic” authority to Jennifer, a person that made a mockery out of the word “artistry”! Apparently, though, Barbara Byrd wanted a mouthpiece in the alley, and she knew I would never be one for her.
Ms. Byrd will never know the favor she did me! It has taken a while, but I am finally ‘leaving” the Circus, almost a decade after the Mactual severance.

(acerca 3:52 P.M.) How about this:
With the wife of Bill
behind the wheel Kayla was
taken away from Phill.
I getting closer: I “down” to eighteen syllables! Let me “play around” with it and see if I can come up with a real haiku.
The Muse is my shepard
I shall not want
She maketh me to lie down in
green pastures . . .
I wonder how much the Muse had to do with my circus departure? In both that case and what later would happen with the Anita Matlow incident, I was “warned” to get out. I didn’t take heed to the advice in either case and it took desperate means to remove me from where I had no place to be in the first place. Only I don’t remember “inter-acting” with the Muse in the case of the circus as I did with the Anita Matlow thing. That’s not to say it didn’t happen: Only that the Muse “took care” of the two cases differently.
What made me go into Theatre when I started my post-secondary training? I suppose it was why most people do: It is an easy, “quick” way into Show Business. Flustrated performing artists seek refuge in college drama: It is the closest these people ever get to the stage. Later in life, these people can at least claim a distant kinship to the theatre, that they used to be on stage.
The fact that, at 45 years of age, I insisted on appearing on an amateur, college television show is pathetic! I brag that I was a producer, but how did I become a producer: It was an academic project! Producer: Yeh, right!
The opening haiku was in reference to the fact that Leslie took Kayla home around 8:46 P.M.
Rain became rather energetic this morning: I was dreading truck-unloading detail. Going down the ramp hauling heavy loads would have been precarious indeed! However, by around 12:30 P.M., when the truck arrived, leakage had been temporarily stopped. Only to have water leak from me in the form of sweat.

(4th, About 6:39 A.M.) Now this is more like it: It appears that, after the en mass pissing on us yesterday evening by the gods, Month IX is apologizing with a bouquet of Nice Weather. The bouquet may be snatched out of IX’s hands before it is delivered, but for now it is on its way.
Writing 2-3 pages each day is more difficult than I thought it would be on the Eight Hours day. And today is one of those days.

(acerca 7:53 A.M.) What I said above about a Nice Day: forget it! The sky is leaking once again. Surely this can’t all be Month IX’s doings!
From 9:00 to 11:00 yesterday afternoon SCHOOL was on P.B.S. As it title implieds, the two-hours were about education, specifically public education in America. Unfortunately I was only able to watch 65-70 minutes: Need I remain you again that I am a Working Boy? However, the first hour of Part I (yes, there is a second installment this evening) dealt with the history and development of education policy in the 18th and 19th centuries, so I really saw what I really wanted to see.
For about 2 ½ hours, Joyce, granny, and I visited Kayla on her home territory yesterday evening. I could have used the time on my other projects, but Kayla is numero uno, so th_se other projects can just wait.

(acerca 7:50 P.M.) Like a Good Little Day, It was very well behaved this afternoon! It must be Month IX’s training: Phoebus appeared to be at Her every beck and call in turning back Rain and choosing this Day for the gorgeous team.
A great day to work nine hours and fifteen minutes! (?) Claudia, a fellow employee, had an ill child and was unavailable for work, though scheduled. Louise asked me if I would extend my work day until 7:30 P.M. (7:15 in actuality). So the Storm that Day avoided was transferred to my feet: They are, oh, so sore!

(5th, About 8:00 A.M.) The show on television that I saw four or five weeks ago: A lawyer show, it was Part I of a 2-parter. It involved a male teen-ager that had been sent to a school in the Carribean that was specially-designed for problem children. The lawyer had the child taken out of the harsh environment of the school, and away from the parents. Custody was given to the grandparents.
Was this episode a “cliff-hanger”: The final show of one season that entices people to “buy” the series in the fall during premiere week? Quite possibly: But I doubt if I will even “discover” the second hour of the drama. So far it hasn’t affected me: Unless you want to call my attempt at haiku-writing mental/emotional derangement!
Yesterday evening I did see the final installment of SCHOOL (9-11:00 P.M., P.B.S.), since today is not a work day (yet!). And I were really out of my league watching NOVA (8-8:53 P.M., P.B.S.): The pros and cons of the possibility of Time Travel were too esoteric and confusing for a non-scientist. But at least now I know where I stand.
The mid-70-degrees (F) is already upon us: The area is wrapped in Fog, apparently to protect the day from Rain and/or Storm and to give Heat a clear shot of us. The overnight period was hot and “si_y.”

(acerca 9:05 A.M.) There was a producer at the Center for Public Television when I were there (1994-95) named Bill. Years ago he was a member of a rock band that has achieved a degree of fame by appearing on the Dick Clark-hosted after-school Tv show WHERE THE ACTION IS (the late-1960’s). He was one of the __tures producers (as opposed to the Integrated Science and Japanese programs: I was the Production Assistant on several of his out-of-town “shoots.” He was married with, at that time, a 6-year old child. The rumor was that he only stayed with his wife because she had money. What better reason?
Around May or June in 1995, Bill quite his job with CPTV, supposively to open some kind of agency connected with the music business. The business would be based in Birmingham.
One afternoon I was sitting at a chair in Deroma’s office (Deroma was the – well, more than a secretary, more like the Executive Assistant to the Executive Producer [Tom]). Bill visited and he was “drunk as a skunk.” Maybe even “high” on drugs. He said something about an appearance with Aretha Franklin, and he asked me how to pronounce the capital of Australia (Canbera). When I said it the way I though it should be pronounced, Bill said he could find out.
Bill had earlier told Deroma and me that he would be famous again. In other words, he was drunk and “high” to escape not being famous at the moment.
Fame is too elusive to threaten It with self-destructive behavior: And It doesn’t give a damn for the welfare of the person It happens to fall on. It knows perfectly well that people need It much more than It needs people.

(acerca 10:15 A.M.) I will try to take you back in time: I will settle the debate once and for all that Time Travel is indeed possible!
The well-known British rock band, “The Rolling Stones,” recorded at a recording studio in Muscle Shoals, AL, in the early-1970’s. That session was being discussed in the mid-1990’s while in a van: Bill had produced footage for an episode of ALABAMA EXPERIENCE. The videographer was behind the wheel, I was aseated in the rear seat. Bill mentioned that it took “The Rolling Stones” thirty-nine (?) hours to finish one of the cuts on an album (I think he said 39 hours). Bill said that there was no reason for such a protracted session (my words, not his).
No comment will be included pertaining to the above comment by Bill: It seems to be a pick-on Bill day, so I just wanted to “re-enforce” what I wrote about Bill in the previous sub-entry.
If only I had been more diligent, more disciplined with my note-taking in the past! I ___ be lucky to document 30% of my previous lifestyle!

(acerca 12:46 P.M.) In one of our discussions Louise told me that her son “pitched a fit” for a book when he was a child, not for candy. Yeah, right!
Louise claims her son is an intellectual like me. Yeah, right!
Am I as she wished her son was? Is she envious of me?
On the other hand, Louise, Kathy, Angie, and Claudia may consider me a “special” person. The fact that I don’t drive, that I must depend upon rides to and from work, doesn’t help counter that attitude!
Isn’t it great: I may be able to cut grass during my temporary hiatus from Bargain Town! What a bright warm day it is!

(acerca 1:32 P.M.) I have yet to figure out why Louise didn’t take the 1 ½” binders (for school) from the loft above the bins, to the floor! If she improved upon the policies of her predecessor as much as she tells me she did why not bring out everything that was salable? If Louise is typical of Bargain Town management, no wonder that it (Varsity, the parent company) is such a Whore to work for!
I remember Mariah Skinner saying that she performed as a means of expression. It has been reported that the artist Wassily Kandinsky linked painting to “the inner need.” So what happens to emotionally-based artistic expression (clowning, music, painting, etc) after the artist is no longer dependent upon artistic expression, i.e., he or she had matured beyond the therapeutic scope of art and/or performing? Does talent just dry up, or does it proceed to the next level of incarnation and manisfestation?
No, performing for theraputic reasons should never be done! A more concrete, scientific bases must be found for the debasement of performing.

(acerca 2:33 P.M.) Phoebus has been captured and taken away: It was taking up too much room in the sky, room the Clouds wanted. Maybe I should have kept my yard work plans to myself! It seems that at about the same time that I was writing “cut grass,” or soon after, the gods gave orders to Month IX to make it so that I won’t be able to. Why, I wonder?
It is too late! Lightning, Thunder, and Rain are all contributing to the growth of the grass.

(acerca 3:49 P.M.) I have worked four days straight, I am finding it hard to cope with a non-working day. I make myself practice Keyboard: And making yourself do something is a “hint” that you are not into that particular activity. There is no passion for it, no painful urge to spend the time with it. It is the quickest way to form a hate for something! If something is done without Mr. Hyde’s approval, then that something will suffer. Don’t rely on Dr. Jekyll to get it done: He never will! Dr. Jekyll is the devil, Mr. Hyde is the Christ. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently!

(acerca 4:20 P.M.) To be able to deal with anything and do it justice, one must incorporate that particular activity into one’s life style. It must become second nature, in other words. In most cases, it’s the only way one can stand doing it.
Such has happen with my Bargain Town job: It is so degrading and humiliating experience, the only way I can survive in it is to do it non-thinking, second nature. Juggling, writing, music: They can dis-rupt my “habit,” making it tough to face a 4-8 hour shift. Dr. Jekyll has resigned himself to labor work at Bargain Town: In this case I have too much Mr. Hyde.

(acerca 7:42 P.M.) I hate to admit this – one is as old as the calender said one is, not one is as young (old) as one feels – but juggling “flags” me, even twenty minutes. A person twenty years younger: Can he or she really practice twelve hours a day? I don’t think so: The body would break down first, long before even six hours!

(6th, About 4:20 A.M.) I was complaining to Louise Tuesday morning of Kathy’s telephone usage when, later in the morning as I was shelfing something there came over the intercom, “Phillip, you have a phone call.” It was my first at work. It was granny, informing me that Helen Waldrop of Voc Rehab had called.
Contrary to what granny thought, I did not contact Ms. Waldrop at lunch break: I did not feel like wasting my work stoppage by talking on the telephone. Instead I made a ten dollars withdrawal from The Bank via the ATM.
Early yesterday morning I contacted Ms. Waldrop by telephone. Supposively a client had just walked into her office and she told me that she would call me back in about thirty minutes. This was around 9:00 A.M.
It was not until close to 2:15 P.M. that Helen Waldrop got back with me. By my calculations, although I am not good in math, there are more than thirty minutes between 9:00 A.M. and 2:15 P.M.! But I may be wrong.
According to Ms. Waldrop, my “case” was still active or supposively at least. Something tells me that my “involvement” with Social Security, and/or the fact that Helen Waldrop was one of the references that I included on the student loan consolidation application were/was (a) contributing factor(s) to Ms. Waldrop’s renewed interest in my case!

(acerca 8:26 A.M.) Ms. Waldrop just wanted to “see” how I was doing, she said. Alan Yates had told her that I was about to do Manager Training at Bargain Town. I’m sure she noticed the reluctance in my voice when I answered to the effect that if things developed such I will probably take up the challenge, but that I wasn’t pushing it. We discussed my real goal: Television. I had already told her that Bargain Town was not my first choice by any means, but at least it provided an income and a current work record. I informed her that I had sent application material to all four stations in Birmingham (I have, haven’t I?), but not Montgomery or Huntsville yet.
Is Bargain Town the “means” or the “end”? That is, will my work at Bargain Town lead to something else? Helen Waldrop said it may: On my “down” days I, however, question whether Bargain Town is the “means” or the end.
Before hanging up – almost the last c___ from her – Ms. Waldrop told me to go ahead and try for a television station in Montgomery and Huntsville (at least I think my hearing “picked” such a statement “up”).

(acerca 8:54 A.M.) Kayla was brought over here about fifteen minutes ago, so that her mother could do some business at CACC.
SISTER WENDY’S AMERICAN COLLECTION (8-9:00 P.M., P.B.S.) yesterday evening was excellent “fodder” for my current study of Art History! I will go so far as to say that I may have found a Ph.D. specialty!

(acerca 9:54 A.M.) Remember the time – 1990? 1991? – that I exposed myself to Susie Wesley and children? It was nothing short of sexual assault and child molestation. I am lucky that I wasn’t hauled away: If I think life is horrible now, just think what it would be with the title, Sex Offender, forever associated with my name!
Granny was getting her house prepared to put in the market: Stuff was in boxes scattered all around the living room.
I was spending the night at the house. The Wesley lived directly across 5th Avenue, S.W., in the former Gillam home. Naked, I stood before the big window. Susie called Joyce on the telephone and inquired about the man before the window.
The next morning, one of the Wesley daughters – 12 or 13 years of age – can over, opened the front door and yelled up the stairs, “I saw you butt naked!”
So I may deserve my lot. On the other hand, many people did much worse than I did and they were never made to “pay the piper”! Therefore, something else must be at the root of my troubles. I suppose I will never know.

(acerca 3:28 P.M.) The above near-life ending experience must have taken place in the winter: It was between seasons of Carson and Barnes Circus. What would you say if I told you I was only “getting in character” for the upcoming tour? Nonsense, right?
According to Kathy Keith, the pay checks didn’t arrive today: Labor Day was blamed, for the checks travel by post. The fourth of July – also a Monday – didn’t slow down delivery of the pay! It’s bad enough even working at Bargain Town, and then something like this happens! It’s adding injury to insult!
Of course, it could be Kathy trying to get even for “convincing” Louise to post (again) rules against personal calls: Monday morning I complained about Kathy sitting down most of Saturday and talking on the phone. And I’m sure Louise informed her that I was the “snitch.” In the first place, Raleigh shouldn’t rely on the mail to get the paychecks to us: We all know how unreliable the U.S. Postal Service is!
Upon leaving the store, I told Kathy that I would take legal action against Raleigh if I have to. Although the threat was for Kathy’s ears: I don’t trust the woman! I even informed her that I had suits pending.
I will try again tomorrow: Depending on the outcome of the try, I will take appropriate action.
I can’t seem to rise above circus-level employment, no matter what I do!

(acerca 4:24 P.M.) I am tired. And this is how it happened: I made the trip to Bargain Town and downtown with Leslie and Kayla around 11:35 A.M. After the unsuccessful attempt at pay day, Leslie “carried” me to the post office, where I left the car for the day (I was dropped off, not the car! Let us be clear about this!). The second application for disability insurance and/or SSI was forwarded to Talladega: I should have two of these applications and two request for an appeal applications in my file.
I sent a resume and cover letter to Jean Ziebert of TV Alabama, Inc, for consideration as a camera operator at ABC 33/40: 56 cents (?) postage and 70 cents for printing (I had to print the cover letter a second time due to a “typo,” i.e. carelessness on my part). I also sent an e-mail to WCOV in Montgomery (?), asking to be informed of Production Assistant positions.
Remember that dream I had – was it last week? – that concerned a clowning engagement with Carson and Barnes Circus, and that I said the dream most likely related to an offer by Big Apple Circus? Well, it happened – sort of: I was invited to submit a detailed resume for future consideration. All the stage crew positions had been taken for the upcoming tour. I will do this marketing the next time I am before a computer: And I hope it won’t be nearly two weeks like it was this time and the previous session! Hell, I damn near forgot how to send an e-mail: I had to seek assistance of Barbara Rich, the librarian! The oversight was so simple it was embarrassing: The subject goes on the subject line, not C.C. That was the reason the e-mail was rejected!
The walk home was hot! A “herd” of Humidity landed on my shirt and hair! If it was the low-90-degrees (F), no doubt the Heat Index forced the day to go all the way” with the low-90-degrees (F)!
I collected a medium bag of cans and plastic bottles. And that has happened in more than two weeks!

(7th, About 8:29 A.M.) The topic for today, boys and girls, is Organized Religion. As an example of Par Excellent in Marketing: It seems that people have an urgent, desperate need for Eternal Life. A lot of people fulfil this need by having children (although children are the result of another powerful inborn urge, the need to create.). Since Show Business locks most people out no matter how hard he or she tries, the alternative, besides children, is achieving fame through a criminal lifestyle. Joyce was correct: The kids that went on a shooting spree at Columbine High School before shooting themselves, in addition to avenging bullying, had embarked on a campaign of going down in history.
Organized religion, be it Judais, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, or Buddhism, “sell” Eternal Life. To an extent that is what they all have in common. If a religion attempts only to upgrade the here and now and lets the future take care of itself, it is quickly shunned and condemmed.
Please don’t get the idea that I am excluding myself from the seekers of Eternal life: Most of the trouble in my past was due to the fact that I felt entitled to Eternal life. I didn’t attempt to earn it. In fact I really didn’t know how to go about earning it! For some reason, I was under the mistaken impression that talent had a right to Eternal life. And didn’t I have talent?
That, my friends, is the basic tenet of organized religion: If a person “buys” into that product, it will guarantee Eternal life without effort on the customer’s part.
It seems that the grass has Eternal life: I had to mow it yesterday early evening. If you have kept abreast of developments in this journal, the grass has been rising from the dead all summer!

(acerca 9:56 A.M.) A bottle of mouthwash for $1.00 from Bill’s Dollar Store; a birthday card for 34 cents (?), also from Bill’s; a pack of cigarettes for $1.39 from the convenient store on the highway: These purchases were in addition to the postage and printing of yesterday.
It seems to me that the only way one can really distinguish between a tragedy and a comedy is the external, literary weight of the elements of each in a play. The most important definition of tragedy, of course, is “Poetics” by Aristotle: Elements of tragedy, according to Mr. Aristotle, include the play taken place within twenty-four hours, a dramatic depiction of a “heroic” action, etc. However, a lot of the plays we call Comedy contains these elements: Whether a play is a tragedy or a comedy, it seems to me, depends on whether these elements predominate or are overshadowed.
Wouldn’t Stuart Baker, my Tragedy professor at F.S.U., be so proud of me?! Or maybe disqusted at me.
Concerning the circus: As long as it is a collection of social misfits and losers, the Mud Show (circus) will survive. But somehow make social misfits and losers things of the past. Mud Shows are doomed. If the existence of the Mud Show depends on exploiting the social handicap, then it deserves to die. A slow, agonizing death, if I had my way!
In my notes I have it written that Richard Pereles articulated out loud that, as a drummer, he was “lucky to be working.” This was in reference to his drumming for the 1987 Carson and Barnes Circus band. But was this where he had stated it? And to whom? All I can recall definitely is Richard Pereles saying the reality of the music business. If I am more detailed, I would be fictionizing the episode!

(acerca 11:47 A.M.) In May 1995 I was living in Tuscaloosa, AL. However, I came to Childersburg (by bus?) for David’s high school graduation (have I told you this story?).

(acerca 12:01 P.M.) It isn’t what went on during the ceremony that I want to relate (David was valedictorian [?], received a scholarship for Performing Arts in Broadcasting) but what went on afterwards: While leaving the stadium, I hurried ahead and walked by Joyce, leaving granny ten or so feet behind. When Joyce reminded me of granny’s presence, granny said to us something like, “Don’t worry about me: I am always being left behind!” It was back during the time that I made a show of caring for granny: Now I don’t even do that. I have finally left her behind!

(acerca 1:02 P.M.) A half-hour of juggling: Juggling is the “end” and not the “means to the end.” For as I told Steve Holt, I juggle because I can. What better reason is there?
The mid-80-degrees (F) is being re-enforced by the celestial Fireball, making it a clear, warm, bright late summer day.

(acerca 4:1_ P.M.) For sixty hours, I was paid, after giving up more than ten percent, $277.42: And I am still only making $5.15 an hour! So I was “hit” by Variety Wholesalers, Inc, in two ways: Not only was the checks delayed one day because Variety refuses to get the check to us by any method except the U.S. Postal Service (assuming that that was the actual reason for the delay), but my pay raise of 15 cents is being delayed – if indeed it will ever come about. If an automatic “uping” of my hourly wage comes after a ninty-day probation period, and Variety is not following through on the “promise,” than you damn right I will persue legal channel! Keep in mind: I am not a team player! I had rather sacrifice myself than to accept such an “oversight” by Raleigh!
$250.42 went in my checking account. However, $79 came back out for dental services this afternoon. Dr. Sligh took prosession of it once my teeth were cleaned and polished.
But now I can start again with the payment of bills! It’s a never-ending, no-win situation that would happen whether I had a source of incoming cash or not. Don’t tell anyone, but I rather like paying what I owe!

(acerca 6:55 P.M.) An insufficient diet? Bad sleep? Too much vitamin “C” via apple juice? Whatever it is, I am suffering from a terrible case of a low blood count! I feel like hell! My appearance and demeanor at the dentist’s office, I’m sure, was cause for concern. I had a hard time concentrating on conversation while my teeth were being cleaned (not unusual, I guess)! How blah I am! It was the same way during the interview for a job with that Florida environmental group – both times – in Tallahassee in 1998. It’s not my speech pattern; it’s not my Old Man appearance: The reason for my unemployability is due to my metabolism! I suppose this means I must “pig out before attempting the nine hours at Bargain Town tomorrow!

(acerca 9:25 P.M.) One more thing before I put away this purple-ink pen for a few days: Yesterday evening, both in the Family Room and in my “study,” I watched COLUMBO (8-10:00 P.M., A and E). Other shows “eyed” included NBC 13 LOCAL NEWS (10:00), THE TONIGHT SHOW WITH JAY LENO (NBC), DAVID LETTERMAN (CBS). But now a work day approaches, so bye!

(8th, About 7:_9 A.M.) I sent Leslie an e-mail birthday card on Thursday afternoon. During the “party” (cake) around the kitchen table yesterday evening around 8:00 P.M., Leslie told me she had received it. If you recall I had sent Joyce an e-mail birthday card earlier last month: According to her she never saw it. However, a Sent Confirmation from the Greeting Card company came back to me in about a week. So either was lying to cover up her on technology ignorance, lying to intimidate and/or patronize me somehow, or the birthday card really didn’t make it to her e-mail account. Is there such a thing as an electronic dead letter office?
Kayla was over here from around 4:20 P.M. to the departure of her parent at the end of the “party” around 8:40 P.M.
Previous to Leslie and Bill coming over around 8:00 P.M., THE WEAKEST LINK (7-8:00 P.M., PAX) had emanated from the television set in the Family Room. I also remember SUPERMARKET SWEEP (5-5:30 P.M., 6-6:30 P.M., PAX) and SHOP TILL YOU DROP (5:30-6:00 P.M., PAX) At 9:00 P.M. I retired to my room to view the twenty-five minutes of WASHINGTON WEEK on public television.
Storm is threatening the morning: The sky has been taken over and the “soldiers” made to surrender all hopes of a Clear Sunny Day. The Campaign started yesterday with the surprise visit of Drops and Mist, preparing the way for the main force: And it looks as if that main force will hit today.
About the sty on my eye: If I had been applying hot compresses to it for the past two weeks or so, I doubt if it would still be around. But since I have basically neglected it, Joyce, the dental hygienist, and others have commented on my right eye. Am I doing the proper thing by just letting the eye be?

(acerca 8:50 A.M.) Phoebus to the rescue! The day is once again under the watchful eye of the Heavenly Orb: The only “rain” that falls is globs of yellow.
Hail, mid-70-degrees ()! For we are Its people and the sheep of Its pasture!
Think back to the first week that I started this Bargain Town tragedy (May 14, 2001, was the first day): Joyce would take Deah out for a walk around the house when she got home shortly before 5:00 P.M. At least she did so for 4-5 days: Then she stopped. Sure Deah has a doggy smell. She is a dog for heaven’s sake! What do you expect? However, I think there was more behind the stoppage than the aroma of my room: I believe with all my heart that there was a type of sisterly patronization responsible. And when it became a job, Joyce didn’t like it anymore. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am in this case.

(acerca 9:30 P.M.) A 21-minute dose of juggling this morning before I put in my normal hours today: What a way to end the work week!
At 7:50 P.M. the store shut downs operation on Saturday evening at 8:00 P.M. – I invited an African American (young) couple into the unlocked exit door: They were trying to get store via the locked entrance. The male asked for a white golf shirt for his son, a shirt that could be used as a school uniform. The trouble was, the son was a big as the father (5’11”, 168 lbs [?])!
What the customer wanted is unimportant and is not the reason I am including in this report. It is that Angie became very angry with me and wouldn’t even speak to me upon departure from the store after she had talleyed up the monetary “take.” And she didn’t wait for Joyce at the bank (night-depository deposit of the income for the day).
So I should have refused and blocked the entrance of customers at 7:50 P.M.? Shortly before that Angie had complained about no customers in the last thirty minutes or so. Of course, that African American couple didn’t buy anything, but I had no way of knowing that. Besides, the sign says “Close at 8:00 P.M.,” not “Close at 7:50 P.M.”!
It wasn’t as hot this afternoon as I expected, the morning being like it was! I don’t think it ever got above the mid-80-degrees (F)!

(7th, About 8:34 A.M.) I have no idea what went on in Dreamland early this morning, but whatever it was triggered nervous anxiety! Sleep was chased away.
For one thing, even with the vent closed, the Cold was a rude awakening. And my dinner yesterday evening consisted of French fries, a cheese sandwich, and two _oney muffins. Why would Joyce and granny be so concerned about my eating when I am away from here when my diet is neglected at “home”?
I was also bothered by the fact that Angie overreacted to the dilatory customers yesterday evening. It only goes to prove that she has been patronizing me and pretending to be kind to me! I have a feeling that Louise “ordered” her, along with Kathy, “to take it easy” on me since I was a mentally “slow” person: She forgot to “take it easy” on me when I failed to play by her rules.
According to Louise, Raleigh was closed Monday for the holiday, and the checks weren’t mailed until Tuesday. Sounds reasonable, but I still wonder why – was it Memorial Day or the 4th of July? – this temporary interruption in Variety’s operation schedule didn’t occur before now.

(acerca 9:34 A.M.) The tune from THE WIZARD OF OZ to the songs “If I only had a Brain!” and “If I only had a Heart”: I, by all rights, should be able to formulate a ditty, “If I only had a Car!” to the same melody. For my “reputation” would be enhanced greatly if I let it be known that, indeed, I am capable of driving! As it now is, Louise, Kathy, Angie, and Claudia have their misconceptions of me confirmed, or so they think so. They have a need – to justify their own pathetic lives – to think the worse of me. They are not the only ones, either! Not by a long shot!

(acerca 10:44 A.M.) Rosie (Laurie), my niece, did have a child; She does live in Carson City, Nevada: So goes the birth notice that she sent Joyce. As for a round-about way of asking for money: The woman (33 years old?) may have just wanted to strengthen familial bonds with us, since her relationship with her mother (Jane) is not very good.
Joyce married young to get away from granny; Leslie married to escape her mother and grandmother. That “policy” needs to stop: Maybe Kayla won’t become a victim to it! I’m sure granny married Daddy Mack to get free of her home life. And looked what happened to her! To Joyce! Bill was not the ideal person for Leslie to seek refuge from her domestic situation! Don’t pick up this habit, Kayla!

(acerca 11:53 A.M.) Most of the time there are advantages to being hard-of-hearing: Most of the ignorant crap that is articulated can be avoided. But every once in a while the negative side of hard-of-hearing hits home: And it happened yesterday at work. Hard-of-hearing usually forces one to talk louder than “normal” in order for one to hear oneself. I was trying to open a cardboard box of merchandise (by the soaps, toothpaste, etc. aisle) so I could shelf it; the box refused to yield to my struggle, so I said, “Come on, mother fucker!” Soon an elderly gentleman appeared from an aisle to my right and replied something like, “Say something for me!” I don’t know how much he heard, but there is no doubt that I must be more patient with the boxes and their reluctance to reveal themselves to me. My “damnit!”’s were heard by customers a few weeks back as I was hanging signs from the ceiling. Although she said nothing, Louise quickly relieved me of the task.
Back in the spring or summer of 1977, as I was traveling with Steve and Mary in Missouri for 2-3 weeks, Mary had told me that my voice carried: I must have made some embarrassing remark. This event was on the “bank” of some river, or body of water. I was near or in the water, Mary (and Steve) to my left.
I have no doubt that Mary didn’t want me on that trip! But I suppose Steve thought it would be good “therapy” for me!

(acerca 3:46 P.M.) My juggling habit was satisfied late this morning with a 26-minute club outing: Having bathed Deah earlier, I had “reserved” Phoebus to help dry her. I was very well pleased with how I handled the non-balls: If I had started twenty years before I did, who knows if I might have had a “career.” After all, I was told to be a juggler in 1996 (or was it the fall of 1995?) when I was messing around before the carnival opened (I was an operator for a Kiddie ride for the Tallahassee, FL, engagement of Roth___[?] Shows).
Juggling, as with all my other numerous talents and knowledge, failed to come through for me, while those with far lesser “genius” are right up there on top! “And I say to myself, what a wonderful world!”
By the way, if I hadn’t mention Tv for yesterday evening, I came home to late for any.

(acerca 6:41 P.M.) If I knew then what I know now . . . !” How many times have you heard this, especially from this writer? But keep in mind that “there are no second acts,” even though the “play” (society) would be so much better if there was one.
Yardwork – mowing the front yard, weed-eating – composed my late Sunday afternoon, a beautiful warm period.
It was thirty-five years ago today – well, it will be in forty-five or so minutes – that Leslie Hannah Woods Reeves joined the ranks of the living. By co-incidence it was these same 35 years that was my coming-of-age period. More than half my life! Equal time should be given to the post-coming-of-age period, but that would means I would have to live to be 86! And that is something – at the moment, anyway; I may change my mind later – I had rather not happen to me. 35 to 15: If I can have fifteen good years, I will gladly give up the other twenty. Deal?

(10th, About 6:21 A.M.) Once again Sleep left my bed after only four hours or so: Is my mattress flea-infested, thanks to Deah? I’m just glad that it is only a Four Hour work day, and that there is only 154 pieces to unload from the truck.
AFRICA (8-8:53 P.M., P.B.S.), CHANGING STAGES (9-10:51 P.M.P.B.S.), and the final 7-8 minutes of DISCOVERING ALABAMA (7:30-7:56 P.M., P.B.S.) made up my electronic research yesterday evening. How great it would be if I could retain even a fourth of what I learned!

(acerca 6:34 A.M.) For the first time in years, I itch between my buttocks! I guess my diet is really poor: An itch in that location is usually a sign of constipation, which is, in turn, a sign of an inadequate supply of food. Could it be that most of the money and food Joyce gets goes for David’s career? I’m willing to sacrifice myself up to a point so that David can have the career I never had, but isn’t Joyce taking it all a little overboard? Hell, part of the reason Sleep found my bed so inhospitable is because of the heat: In spite of the fact that the vent was opened to my room, the air conditioning, which cost a lot of money to operate, was give the night off.
One or both parents buying a career from one or more of their children is not a modern trend: It, in fact, use to be done more openly. Just because I never had the backing of my parents – not even emotionally – doesn’t mean that I am jealous of it! Hell, my mother still refuse to provide filial support (emotional)!

(acerca 7:57 A.M.) It is impossible for some women to relate to a man as a marital partner: Joyce and granny are but two example (It goes without saying that Anita Matlow also make the Top Five list!). So what do these women do! They produce children, people that have no say-so in whether they want to be with those kinds of women or not. With very few exceptions – I’ll be damn if I can think of any, though! – this type of woman ia a horrible mother: She is manipulative, controlling, etc. Unfortunately, there are way too many in the world. No wonder the world is as messed up as it is!
At this writing the sky looks like I feel: tired, _ouchy, capable of anything. The question is: Will It be that way when I next get back to you?

(acerca 2:02 P.M.) Kayla is napping on the couch as I write: Leslie and she came for me at thr – I mean 1:00 P.M, but “one” doesn’t rhyme with “she” and “me.” Anyway, Kayla and I remained at the house; Leslie went on to work at CACC.
Phoebus spotlighted me as I unloaded the truck, which came around 10:30 A.M. However, Phoebus’ light was dimmed by Clouds when I left Bargain Town, only to be a full power once again.

(acerca 6:48 P.M.) The sky belched; Nimbus is taking command of the heavens. No doubt Rain will be caressing Evening.

(acerca 6:48 P.M.) Why would a fifteen-minute juggle practice affect my entire body? Surely I “ain’t” that old! Maybe the late afternoon toss-up only added layers to an already exhausted body!
If the day can get by the next seven hours and about seven minutes, It will be able to attack Itself – at least the incarnation of the Day in this area – to the dry colume.

(11th, About 6:54 A.M.) It was the Spring or Summer of 1998, or maybe the Fall of 1997 (although I lean towards the former). I took Anita Matlow and her children to the snack bar of Florida State University. After ordering, maybe, chicken sandwiches and waffle fries f__ the kids, especially Justin, would return again and again for coke refills.
Within a day or two a sign appeared on the soft drink and tea dispensers, “No free refills.” I don’t know if the Matlow children had taken too mush advantage of the snack bar’s generous_ty, or if others had caused the soft drink-tea budget to go broke, but the timing may have been a warning to me, a warning that I fail to heed.
Around the same time – three or four weeks later – Anita Matlow and I had a “date” at the FSU snackbar. In re___ting a small personal pizza from the display shelf of Pizza Hut (center of food counter) Anita opened one box, looked at it, and started to place it back on the shelf. I grabbed it (I was on Anita’s left, slightly in front [between her and the door]) before she had put it back. I purchased it.
Anita nagged at me all the way home: According to her, I had embarrassed and humiliated her. That she had done so to me she didn’t care! The top was down on the white convertible that she had purchased for $2000 from Student Loan (she was supposively a student at Tallahassee Community College): Anita’s continued to nag me as we drove away. At one point she even knocked the pizza out of my hand and it “flew” from the car.
In a few days Pizza Hut had a sign before the display shelves: “Do not open boxes.” Doing so I’m sure was a common practice by way too many people, but the fact that the sign became posted only after an unre__tioned peek into a box by Anita Matlow – what sort of warning would I pay attention to, I’m sure the Muse was asking? What is wrong with this guy?
There are numerous other incidents that any normal person would have say, “Enough is enough!” and gotten far away from Anita Matlow and her children as possible. I will relate more (mis) adventures later so you can judge for yourself the desperate “pleading” of the Muse.

(acerca 8:20 A.M.) Tv yesterday evening: That will require some explaining. I watched about twenty minutes of NEWHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER on P.B.S. before turning it to the Discovery Channel to see NIGEL’S WILD, WILD WORLD.
The final words in this composition book: Sunny and warm.

(I purchased This composition book at CVS Pharmacy in Childersburg, AL, on The morning {9:48 A.M.] of Monday, September 10, 2001, for #4.31.]

(12th, About 12:02 A.M.) The eleventh day of the ninth month: 9/11. 911: Emergency. Either Peter Jennings of ABC News or Tom Brokaw of NBC News said that he had heard the day – yesterday – so called.
This morning when I got in the car and we were backing out of the driveway, Leslie asked me if I had seen the news on television. I said I hadn’t. Then she told me something like “The World Trade Center Towers are no more!” I thought it was a joke for a few seconds until I heard it with my own ears on the car radio: Three different planes had crashed into both towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, and the Pentagon, outside Washington, D.C. I was in a dazed all day at work. Why would an unpatriotic guy like me be so shook up over what may be the beginning of the end for the United States of America? Maybe it’s because it now feel, like other Americans, vulnerable: Citizens of African countries are vulnerable every day of their lives due to the constant change of power in the government. It is something new for us over here.
Several times today I climbed the stairs to the office in the stock room area and watched the Tv that Louise had set up: I had Louise’s blessing for such a non-work activity.
Somehow, filling a shelf with cookies seemed unimportant, considering the world was going to hell in a handbasket!
From about 7:50 P.M. until around 11:25 P.M., I have watched A.B.C., N.B.C. and C.N.N.: It was the Pearle Harbor of this (and mine) generation.
The area was not spared: Around 4:30 P.M., Bombs fell on us. Though it wasn’t a terrorist attack: At least not a human terrorist. The Blitz didn’t last long. However, It came back around 9:00 P.M. with re-enforcements: Thunder and Lightning.
911: A day that will live in infamy!

(acerca 8:27 A.M.) This is probably the closet I will get to a “regular” Record Book! The fact that it is college ruled, as opposed to “high school” lines, and that the cover is more plastic than cardboard are major pluses: I will be able to write more on each page.
So let me mention some data from yesterday that I was unable to bring up due to running out of “space”:
Monday evening, the television set in my room was switched between Discovery Channel’s VALLEY OF THE T-REX and CNN at 8:00 P.M. When 9:00 P.M. made Its entrance for It daily inspection, ALLOSARURUS: A WALKING WITH DINOSAURS Special on the Discovery Channel shared the hour with CNN.
More than twenty-five hours ago a movie “unfolded” before my eyes: The “star” was a young lady (early-20’s) that was walking a High Wire. I’m sure the dream was much more complicated than I have reported, but even yesterday morning I found that only a basic outline of the plot remained on file: I wrote it down as a note just to make sure this “drama” wasn’t altered in a dilatory retelling.
Anita Matlow was behind the wheel of the white convertible; I was a passenger. I think it was the Fall of 1998: It may have been out final act together.
We were driving from the 2_4 N. Dellview house in Tallahassee to City Hall on Adams Street (?): Believe it or not, I was stupid enough to use over six hundred dollars of my student loan for payment of an overdue power bill! However that isn’t the “writable” part of the story: During the trip from the north side of Tallahassee to downtown – the top was down on the car – I angrily told Anita that I would never go into business with her and that her kids wouldn’t either. Finally wising up, I reached the point where I knew a relationship with Anita Matlow would be the worse thing I could do! Hell, the worse and last thing I would ever do!

(acerca 10:22 A.M.) It was evening – whatever time it was, darkness has taken over Tallahassee, FL. I still lived with the Matlows at 305 Piney Road. Anita and I had stopped the car in front of the H & R Block office on South Monroe/Woodville Highway, to the right of Piggly Wiggly (right as the customer left the store). Anita was wanting her tax refund early, a tax refund that wasn’t due her. I have forgotten all the details off this incident, even the initial reason for visiting H & R Block. But I do recall walking, and Anita almost hitting me with the car, in the parking lot. She came at full speed from my right and to my rear.
There occurred a vocal shouting match; I was left to walk home, a mile or so passed the fairgrounds. All because I wouldn’t or couldn’t spend heavily on her kids! And they were slimy scrum balls!
If people don’t do any thing rash and don’t panic, the machinery is in place to deal with this national emergency. It will be us that tear apart the fabric of this country! Not to mimimalize what happened, the destruction of the World Trade Center Towers and the violation of the Pentagon by terrorists were only the match that lite the fuse for the possible downfall of the United States: The terrorists knew this, and was hoping for it. Surely we won’t “play” into their hands! (continued)




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