Phillip Wilson

Amazingly, I survived my Life
2011-09-30 00:02:25 (UTC)

2001 REVIEW (PART TWENTY-FIVE)

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

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?

(acerca 2:22 P.M.) Again I don’t won’t to minimize what happened yesterday in New York City and Washington, D.C., but to say that the United States will be forever changed by the three terrorist attacks is nonsense: Way too much importance is being given to New York City and Washington, D.C. than they have in reality! Much more people live elsewhere than in these two cities. The invasion was more symbolic than anything. New York City may be the financial of the country and can influence other countries, just where does New York City get its money connection from? No, the country won’t be affected by terrorists from outside, but it will be “toppled” by “quick-to-shoot” low-minded people like Bill Reeves!
The elderly gentleman yesterday said he had heard that 10,000 had died in the World Trade Center alone: That’s the irresponsible act of terrorism that I am talking about, no matter when it came from!

(acerca 4:34 P.M.) I had my 1:00 P.M. interview – at 1:05 P.M. – with Social Security this afternoon via telephone. And my interviewer was none other than Kim Thompson.
Not THE Kim Thompson! you may be saying.
Yep, THE Kim Thompson.
Who is Kim Thompson, you ask: Kim Thompson is the person who signed for the certified mail–sent #1 appeal request. Over a distance of 20-25 miles we discussed whether I wanted to re-apply for disability: I replied only if the appeal required wasn’t accepted by the judge. I explained the reason for the duplication: two green applications for the initial claim and two white applications for the appeal request. I informed Ms. Thompson about the complaint I recorded on the discrimination hotline of the Department of Health and Human Services: complaints against her office (was she the female I expressed concern about her competency?). Ken Rodgers and Greg Graham were next on my list of perpetrators of discrimatory practice against me.
Kim Thompson told me that my file had been stored in a “morgue” (my term, not hers) of sorts, that it should have been available by now. I “jumped” on this revelation: This “policy” of doing business was what I was trying to avoid. I told her I would do it myself if that would insure that I would have my day in “court.” She said to call her around the 28th to make sure she had done follow-up, a call that I shouldn’t have to make in the first place. No wonder people are in panic about the terrorist attacks in New York City and Washington, D.C.: Local governments can’t do their jobs under normal conditions, and these times are far from normal!
Can you believe that Greg Graham, when I was discussing my appeal with him in his office 3 or four weeks ago, actually suggested that the government was inefficient!

(acerca 5:21 P.M.) An elderly lady at check-out yesterday afternoon – she was __ent a female friend, also elderly. The friend was to her right – said something about a train being stopped in Talladega, and searched (?). I replied that I doubt if the event was connected to the New York City/Washington, D.C. tragedy, that it was just one of those things.
The TV news have reported on the “Attack on America” every since it happened. To fill the time I have no doubt that things have been exaggerated, information embellished, and facts distorted. It’s not all the media’s fault: This “twisting of the truth” is what people buy. And this, too, this terrorists knew!

(13th, About 6:17 A.M.) Like everyone else, I was carried away by all this talk of war. Most of Tuesday I kept planning what I would do if I became involved of a special, semi-military “force” of the deaf and hard-of-hearing. Forgive me: This was before I had a chance to think the entire situation through!
Most of the day yesterday I watched history in the making via the television coverage of THAT event: Both the Family Room and my study served as arenas. However I must point out that from 8:00 P.M. to about 9:55 P.M., a higher power called me: SISTER WENDY’S AMERICAN COLLECTION (P.B.S.). Mention must also be made of the NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER (7-8:00 P.M., P.B.S.)
I can’t help thinking that things would be so different now if only I hadn’t “re-established” a relationship with Steve and Mary in the winter of 1992! I had done without communicating with them for four or five years and I enjoyed some of the better years I ever had! There is a lesson here: To get the full benefit of this “growth” period, my relationship with the Holts must be abandoned. I can’t say that I will miss them!
In case I don’t have the chance to get back with you this evening when I get home (6:10 P.M., or so), or if my attention is attract_ed elsewhere before I even go to work this morning, I will tell you now that thirty minutes out of the twenty-four hours that made up yesterday were assigned juggling duties by the gods: It was from 3:45 to 4:15 P.M.
But today is another day!

(acerca 6:48 P.M.) With just over a week to live, the best “years” of Summer are long gone: Today was a gorgeous Fall day! Already there is an autumnal nip in the air: And it “ain’t” even Month IX mid-point yet!
It’s been months since I felt like this: runny nose, head cold, the sneezes. No doubt I have access to an allegy: Thanks a lot! Who or what is doing this to me, show Your face! Fight like a man! Let me at ‘em!
Louise brought her son to work today: He is twenty-four and is named Jo or Joel. The young man seems nice enough. At lease now I won’t feel so badly about leaving: Whenever that may be! Soon I hope!
How can we go about our business as usual when things are being cancelled or postponed: N.F.L., Baseball, Hockey, car racing, etc? When the only thing on TV is war dialogue?

(14th, About 8:25 A.M.) “Good night; Sleep tight; Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” What was that bug doing in my bed anyway? Late last week as I was changing sheets there it was: multi-legged and a dull silver. How did he or she gain control of my bed? I flushed him or her down the toilet, but, just as if the U.S. does get the terrorists that destroyed the World Trade towers and damaged the Pentagon, the country won’t necessarily be safe from future terrorism, are there more “terrorists” waiting for me, ready to strike at a moment’s notice?
“To make an ‘end’ is to make a ‘beginning.’ The ‘end’ is where you start from!” Thus spoke Inspector Morse yesterday evening in a two-hour episode of MYSTERY! (9-11:00 P.M., P.B.S.), an episode that I saw less than a year ago [Morse dies in the next installment]. Who cares if “Morse” is only fictional: I am at the end of the painful first stage of my life and have started the productive second part of my earthly existence. Society may never pick up my “free agency”; society may never know what it is missing: But I will be benefitted tremendously by the “end,” make no mistake about it!
Let’s not forget to mention the contribution of the NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER (7-7:55 P.M., P.B.S.) to my fact-finding campaign of yesterday evening.

(acerca 9:18 A.M.) There was a lot of calls yesterday to Bargain Town for flags. During the afternoon I was standing on the customer side of the check-out counter when Louise – in the “cage” – received one. As soon as she hung up the phone, I corrected her: We did have flags! I hurried to a “_ide_inder” display rack by the sheets and saw that the flags were in reality Wind Socks. However I still returned with them to the check-out counter, where Louise placed the $1.00 American symbols. Within two hours all five had been sold, one elderly woman purchasing four. Once again I came to the rescue: I get the feeling that Louise was unaware that any type of American Flag was among the merchandise of the store. That five-dollar gain, therefore, was because of my actions and no one else’s.
I am not a flag-waving, all-American Boy: It’s kind of ironic that it was me that saved the day!
Monday afternoon Kayla was left here by her mother once I was home from work a little after 1:00 P.M. Around 4:30 P.M. Bill came for her: As much as I pity Kayla for having a father like Bill Reeves, I must say that I sided with Bill that time: Granny tried to prevent Bill from taking Kayla home with him by calling Joyce at work and hoping to have Leslie intervene. Bill talked with Joyce or Leslie on the telephone. The child was most likely confused. Bill won out in the end.
Later that evening, while discussing the incident with Joyce and granny, I learned that she, too, though that Bill should have been denied access to Kayla.
Fighting over the child? That will do more damage than Leslie and/or Bill could ever do to her!
It is a beautiful day: Sunny, clear, coolish. It’s how an off-from-work day should always be!

(acerca 10:36 A.M.) It was the Fall of 1994: I know because this report concerns what happened at the YMCA in Tuscaloosa, AL. I had a room there. One late afternoon the hall “monitor” or whatever he was (young, white, thin, slightly above medium height) asked me – was I in the lobby? on the steps outside the door? In the hall near my room? – if I was from England. Not ready to face-up to my speech dysfluidity, I said yes. The guy was impressed that a real Brit was living at the “Y”!
That wasn’t the first time that I had declared my genesis to be New England or non-American! If the truth had been revealed, without a doubt I would have been subjected to discrimination and charges of imbecility! Sometimes – oftentimes – honesty is not the best policy.
During the last visit (July?), Mary Holt let it be known that she and her brother Jim (who lives in Montgomery and who I had had dealing with in college), a year of two her junior, were not on close and/or speaking terms. I can well understand why this is so: I doubt if I am the only “victim” of Mary’s and Steve’s lifestyle “policy”!
Granny called about fifteen minutes ago: She and Joyce (?) were gone early this morning: Damn if it didn’t sound like granny was in the hospital! Keep in mind that I am aware of her vocal pattern under such conditions.

(acerca 12:05 P.M.) To paraphase a slogan from the Revolutionary War (I think it if from that war), “The explosion heard around the world!” is the best way to describe the World Trade Center/Pentagon attacks. As many national news people and national politicians have said, it was an attack on 2/3 or more of the world, not just on the United States.
However, let’s keep it in perspective: Terrorists dropped a pebble on the world, and the waves will ripple out from New York City and Washington, D.C. That is, that is what the terrorists want to have happen. But the rippling must not be allowed to continued too far from the site where the pebble was dropped: Cleveland, OHio, say, must not allow the wave to get beyond its borders. People may be in a rush to help the victims in New York and Washington –and by no means do I mean to minimize what a horrific situation it was and is – but we must not neglect our own backyard. For there is still suffering and many other problems that go on in spite, and at the same time as, the terrible events in New York City and Washington, D.C. It wasn’t the pebble that the terrorists had hope would take down the U.S.: They are much more interested in how we deal with the rippling effect. As of now, the terrorists are probably watching CNN someplace and laughing at our panic, but if we try real hard, we can have the last laugh.
Isn’t it ironic that the World Trade Center played such critical roles in the first years of both the administrations of President Clinton and President Bush: In February 1993, a bomb exploded in the parking lot of the World Trade Center, and in September 2001 – I don’t need to finish the sentence. The main difference is that Bill Clinton had a little over a month on-the-job training, wheras George Bush has had almost eight months of it.

(acerca 2:52 P.M.) Does Leslie think that the only type of job I can handle is stocking? Yesterday morning – she, even though I had given her written notice of it, thought that my work day was to begin at 10:30 A.M. It wasn’t until granny got in touch with Joyce at her CACC office, where Leslie and Kayla just happened to be visiting, that Leslie was informed differently. It wasn’t until 9:10 A.M. or so, ten minutes late, that Leslie got me to Bargain Town – Leslie said to me that it was too bad – Plan “C” – that I couldn’t have regular workhours like it would be if I worked for Winn Dixie. I trust Leslie’s judgement: Maybe I shouldn’t even be tormenting myself with dreams of a television “career.”
On the other hand, it was Leslie, remember, that didn’t think I would be able to cope with my past: Recall how she told me of her fears that I would kill my family! So maybe Leslie is not the best of judges after all!
A 36-37 minute session with the clubs in the back yard late this morning: Dedicated to the victims of the terrorist attack. (?) It was a good one, by was it that good?

(acerca 5:25 P.M.) The last time I saw Mary Holt – she was on the couch (south end), Steve to her right, and I was sitting in the arm chair almost directly opposite – she told me that her mother had to endure kid-dialysis: “You do know what that is? she insulted me by asking. And you wonder why I don’t care about resuming a “friendship” with Mary and Steve?
The brief visit to the library while Joyce and granny bought some “supplies” at Winn Dixie around 3:45 P.M., brought me face-to-face with an e-mail from Bobbie Camillo: Remember, I felt sure that my old Carson and Barnes buddy had disavowed me. She informed me that Carson and Barnes Circus was in bad financial shape: I wrote back that the show deserved what it was experiencing.
Somewhere out there some one is the owner of that picture Bobbie painted of me in 1984 or 1985! You know, the one of me looking to the right, a big nose, and wearing a coat (?): Bobbie “said” that she had sold it. However, she did make a photographic copy of it, and will send me a copy of that copy if I so choose. I so choose: I asked her to send me any copy of anything she had relating to my circus days.
This e-mail response to Bobbie was all I had time for, since I used ten minutes going to the convenient store on the highway and purchasing a pack of cigarettes for $1.39. Until my next visit . . .

(acerca 6:32 P.M.) For four or five seasons, I felt honored to be a part of the Circus: I felt undeserving of that honor, and the privilege of being a circus clown. However, towards the end I began to fell disguse for my association with the low-life offered by circuses . And it was embarrassing to tell people what I did for a living.
My liaison with Anita Matlow paralleled this development: Once the latter happens, then there is no hope for the relationship.
I doubt if I could ever have a long-term relationship with a woman because of this. Oh well, c’est la vie! And the latter is exactly why I can’t!
A while back, Joyce said that the Beagle that is tied behind the Mc Hafy’s next door (south) would be “put” to sleep: It is old and weak. The other dogs, in a fenced-in area at the rear of the backyard, pick on it, which is the reason the dog were segregated in the first place.
David and Anita Mc Hafy went on a cruise about two months ago: The dogs was to be put to sleep either then or as soon as David and Anita returned home, according to Joyce. Well, the dog still lives, meaning that Joyce lied or David and/or Anita had a change of heart. I suspect the former, and wonder why Joyce feels compelled to issue false report all the time.
And people call me mentally/emotionally unbalanced!

(acerca 7:38 P.M.) “Fall is in the air, everywhere I look around.” In this song by Lou Rawls (I think it was recorded by Lou Rawls) “Fall” i_ “Love”; but the message is clear: Fall is definitely ascended on this area. Could the “abrupt” take-over be the cause of my “cold”? To know that I need to review the take-over from past years. If so, that means a “cold” only once a year? Not a bad record: If only I could be as “successful” at other things!

(15th, About 6:33 P.M.) Does Deah realize that I am sorry: Yesterday afternoon, while I were resting, my right hand was wrestling with Deah. At one point I must have squeezed her loins (the back, just above where the thigh “joins” the body): She screamed. Joyce was napping and I’m sure the noise woke her. It was around 2:45 P.M., however, so Deah served as an alarm clock; but I was in horrible shape the rest of the day. Spouse abusers do violence on their partners and then become gentle, loving, and apologetic. I was seeking forgiveness in this way, and it scared me. But more than that, I began to think what a lousy owner I am! Love means you will protect something from danger: I failed to protect Deah from the kicks of Joshua Matlow in the Fall of 1998!
Does Deah understand my mental/emotional dysfunctional? Will she forgive me? “What am I living for, if not for you?”

(acerca 7:45 A.M.) There was a program on television yesterday evening – TELL ABOUT THE SOUTH (9:30-10:30 P.M., P.B.S.) – that profiled the “Southern Renaissance” and that reminded me of an incident from my past: It was late summer of 1980. I was one of the lead extras in the docu-drama KENT STATE being filmed at Gadsden State Junior College. As I was “leaving” one morning, a young African American male, clean-cut and carrying a brief case (early- or mid-30’s) began a conversation with me, obviously under the impression that I was somebody in the motion picture business. The man no doubt was an instructor of English: At one point he stated to me something like “You can’t study American literature without studying the South!”
A Fall-like coolness is in the air: Next week at this time the 2001 version of Autumn will be officially in charge. The question is, will Summer try for a Come-back?

(acerca 5:34 P.M.) Why am I the last to know? Why didn’t somebody tell me? Why was I kept in the “dark”? If I had known before maybe I could have done something about it: My mental/emotional “states,” I mean!
A gorgeous Sun stood watch over a beautiful day. Coolness was outstanding! However, it was kind of strong standing by the open door at Bargain Town this morning – and I told Louise such!
I just viewed three-fourths of the film THE GRADUATE (Turner South) after at least a thirty-year span: It was amazing how much I remembered of the movie, but depressing as to how much I had forgotten. It is worth seeing the movie several more times: There is so much meaning in the art direction, the shot composition, the secondary and tertiary movements, etc. It is not beyond my capabilities to understand the “language” at this stage.

(acerca 7:13 P.M.) You know, there may be something to it after all! I told you that I experiment with life: Or analyze what happens to me by chance.
A middle-age African American female was selling doughnuts by the box this afternoon on the “breezeway” between Bargain Town and Winn Dixie: I had just come out of the latter empty-handed when I passed the seller. When I got back to Bargain Town, I told Kathy that doughnuts would be a great snack, that if the sponsor me with my approval I would buy a box.
The sponsor did not meet with my approval: Returning shortly to the woman’s shopping cart, I discovered that the proceeds went to some Christian Academy. I do not support, #1. Organized religion or #2. private schools. Before the woman could “preach” to me, I hurriedly walked away from her.

(16th, About 8:16 A.M.) I was with Carson and Barnes Circus once again. I had been given a hand-written note, written on paper torn from somewhere. The note was signed by Kistan, the youngest daughter whose married name escapes me (Mar_ [?] it may have been in this particular case).
I was confused as to whether the note contained good information, or that my services were no longer needed. I may have asked Geary Byrd, but I recall definitely having a conversation with his wife, Barbara. She had green or orange (the same color as the ink of this pen) hair when I first started talking with her, but soon she was rearing a rather large hat, square in shape. Barbara had beautiful, creamy smooth shin; most likely due to make-up. I flirted with Barbara, telling her how great she looked.
I never did find out the meaning of the note: Undoubtedly the “dream” of early this morning focussed on Barbara Byrd and not the note from Kistan. Why am I being haunted by my circus connection: Is it because of the comment about Carson and Barnes deserving its fate that I forwarded to Barbara Camillo via e-mail? Am I unconsciously d___ a Second Chance with Carson and Barnes Circus? This latest “film” is as chock full of meaning as THE GRADUATE is! Whereas I am able to see THE GRADUATE again and again, I can never replay the dream! If only there was a camera in my mind that could capture forever these “one-night” stands! Although one has to wonder if the characters, setting, plot, etc of the dream are only created at the moment of waking up, thus rendering a camera unless?

(acerca 9:21 A.M.) And it continues – Kayla was over here for about t__ hours yesterday evening: I shouted to Kathy that the sponsor was something I didn’t support. She then came back to one of the center tables where I were standing and asked me, among other things, if I believed in the table. I started to go into the technical reasoning behind “believing” in the bible - the bible exist, so how can one not believe in it – but I was stopped by Kathy “blaming” all the discrimination done by Christians as the work of the devil.
I told Kathy I was agnostic, not atheisist: There’s a big difference, I stated to her twice. I wanted so much to tell her that her lifestyle made a mockery of Christianity, and hypocricy like her behavior was the reason I avoided organized religion. But I didn’t go there. And Kathy knew better than to go too far into how “Christianity has changed her life”!
Anyway, I felt dis-connected when I got off work yesterday afternoon: A co-incidence, or were I being left along, unsupported?
So I repeat: Maybe there is something to this god thing after all!
Summer 2001 had one last Sunday to show Its power, but It didn’t use the Sunday to Its advantage: Fall has stepped in, either because of the “hole” left by Summer, or due to Its superior power over Summer. Maybe Summer realized the futitility of a head-to-head confrontation and yielded without a fight. Or maybe the day is being shared by the Two: Phoebus representing Summer and Coolness representing Fall. An award-winning day if ever there was one!

(acerca 10:29 A.M.) In the e-mail message she sent me Bobbie Camillo “said” that she had sent letters to my mother’s address but they came back. ALERT! I must be extremely caustious that I don’t get involved with yet another patronizing, g__ nowhere project! On the other hand, I must not assume that Bobbie will “knife me in the back,” just because everyone else has! She may propose a legitimate business partnership and I must not, under any circumstances, allow others to control me! They would have won if I do!
“What the world needs now, is love, sweet love . . .”: For the longest of time I have denied and rejected the existence of love: The liaison with Anita Matlow was the result. “Love” is without a doubt the most talked about subject there is! It may be the “most talked about” subject, but I doubt if ___ one-hundred of one percent even know what love actually is: I would admit I don’t. But I do know what love isn’t: It is not the self-love of “I love pizza!” or “I love France!” Nor is it “I love my kids!” when “my” is the bases of the love: Again, selfish love. “Love” is a painful condition to be in, one that, fight though you may, It controls you. By the very nature of “love,” It can’t be controlled. It comes when It shouldn’t, and stays around when least wanted. It defies description! So I won’t try anymore. But I will be making remarks about It now and then.

(acerca 6:55 P.M.) As incredible as it may be, I was a star on Carson and Barnes Circus during the late-1980’s and early-1990’s! One day Pepe (Jose Caldron) stated to me that I didn’t know how to be a star. If he meant by that that I had failed to use the special circumstances of my artistic status, he was absolutely correct! Maybe if I had better managed my “success,” things would be a lot different now! It is probably best to not dwell on what could have been: I’m not the only one to have ever “blown” opportunities!
The top of the day never met the 80-degrees (F) today: Coolness has “clocked-in” with Evening as a Guest Worker. Or I should say applicant: Most likely It will be hired.
Kayla came home with me, curtsey of Joyce, when I was released from work shortly after 6:15 P.M. She is here as I write.

(acerca 7:34 P.M.) Remember in the Fall of 1994 I was photographed practicing the flute while sitting on a bench in Linn Park in Birmingham and the picture was published in one of the Birmingham newspapers? And a cut-out copy of the photo was “hung” on the bulletin board at the Center for Public Television in Tuscaloosa where I was working? Several weeks later I was “shot” practicing clubs-juggling behind the station by a “Crimson and White” (student newspaper of the University of Alabama) – I was sans shirt – photographer, a picture that was featured on the front page of the paper. One of the videographers – and maybe others – told me I should get an agent since my image was being made public so often: And he later wondered why no more photographs of me were appearing in print. Maybe I should have taken his adviced: No telling where I would be now if I had!

(17th, About 6:23 A.M.) The only thing I remember about the latest dream is “seraphim.” Which is ironic: Seraphims are ephemeral also. So could Somebody be hinting something about a short life?
The long-term effects of the terrorist attack will be much worse than what is undoubtedly a horrible crime! I don’t want to sound as if I am minimizing it, but the after-effects – the shock waves if you will – will be the real calimity. The country are already experiencing them: Continental Airlines have laid off more than 12,000 workers due to a shortened flight schedule. So imagine when all the claims for life, death, and burial insurance are presented: We can expect law suits, with insurance companies saying they are not financially able to pay. And health insurance . . . It will soon be seen how patriotic people are, how quick to demand war people are! And when, as the old anti-Vietnam War song goes, “Hey mothers, be the first on the block, to have you kids come home in a box!”

(acerca 7:27 A.M.) It must have been horrible! Realizing that you were fixing to die in a plane crash, and there was nothing you could do, is bad enough, but knowing that you would be taking a lot of people with you, and again there was nothing you could do to stop the slaughter, must have been a few seconds of living hell! Perversely, though, what a feeling of complete control – the “completest” you have ever had – you finally attain. The price you must pay: Your life. Speaking of a Faustian deal! It was ultimate power for the very few.
Before the afternoon work session, I was “employed” by the three good bean bags to exercise them. And so for a half-hour I did, to the sounds of Baroque music emanating from WBHM public radio in Birmingham.

(acerca 1:45 P.M.) Because Kayla was in residence until about 8:20 P.M. (Joyce and I brought her over here around 6:20 P.M.) I were late viewing AFRICA (8:00-9:00 P.M., P.B.S.). However I was able to see all of MYSTERIES OF THE PYRAMIDS (9-10:00 P.M., Discovery Channel). The latter program – a mini-series – was from the focus of the humanities: Either by accident or design. The episode yesterday evening – Part II of six – as the entire mini-series no doubt will, “discusses” how ancient traditions are integrated with modern life to form the culture of the many divers peoples. I look forward to the four episodes remaining.

(acerca 2:07 P.M.) The joke is not important. However, in order that you will understand the significance of what I am about to tell you, I will tell you some key elements of the joke: It involves a piccolo player at church, someone yelling “The piccolo player’s a mother fucker!”, the preacher asking the congregation who called his piccolo player a mother fucker, and ending by a person stating “ who called that mother fucker a piccolo player?”
Jo Clifton’s father was a minister (I have forgotten which Christian demonination, but I imagine Jo’s upbringing prompted her to become a Baha’i). The year was 1977, the place: the Clifton Home in Homewood, AL. Robert, her husband, had revealed the joke to us. One day (I lived with and visited the Cliftons a lot) after hearing the joke repeated, I asked Jo how her father would (or would have) reacted to the joke, that I could just see his stating “mother fucker from the pulpit. Jo didn’t respond in any way.
Another time Jo was lying with her head on Robert’s lap: Robert was sitting on the east end of the couch, Jo was horizontal on the couch facing me (I was aseated on the settee). Robert was reading from a book of folk poems and retelling of standards. One was, “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick; Jack jumped over the candle stick. But Jack wasn’t nimble and Jack wasn’t quick: He’s in the hospital with a french-fried Dick!” This was also in 1977 in Homewood, AL.

(acerca 5:49 P.M.) Why what I am fixing to tell you made such a major impression on me I can’t for the life of me tell you! To this day I retain a vivid image of the event that I will relate: It was the 1968-69 academic year at the University of Alabama. I was a Freshman. It was at a party/dance at, I think, Tutwiller Hall, a girl’s residence. As usual, I was dateless. It was very dim lighting, of course. The music was being presented by a band made up of males from Childersburg: Rod Lee Bowling on vocals, Ricky Stephens on drums, and 2 or 3 others whose name I have forgotten (Was Sammy Miller one?). I was, I guess, thirty or so feet from the floor-level “stage.” The song I remember after more than thirty years is “Stay,” the Maurice William’ hit. I can still hear the “falsetto,” high voice of Rod Lee, who could sing very well. I recall being filled with pride that the band members – most of them – had been my school mates.
Now why would I keep this scene in my mind? Was I really envious?
Previous to work, the bean bags called upon me: It seems they wanted thrown around. So for a half-hour I did just that!
There is no question that Fall is in control of the weather: Cool, crisp, sunny, clear. Great weather for truck-unloading!

(18th, About 6:17 A.M.) From Homewood the Cliftons moved to Pierson, IA, than Orangeburg, S.C. In 1982 (?) I visited them at their house trailer. It happened to be the summer (?) that England and Argentina fought over the Faulkland Islands (Maldives). It was Robert on the end of the couch (his left elbows resting on the vertical arm rest, as opposed to it being his right during “Jack be nimble . . .”), Jo to his right, and I was on Jo’s right. We were watching a special report on the situation on television. For some reason I think I was supporting the home rule of Argentina. Robert though that England was right. Robert and I had vocal “spats” over the incident: They were For Real, no pretend. I have a feeling that the fact that I was there angered Robert: Jo was a trained social worker and I were her “case.” For some reason Robert felt threatened by my presence. If the roles had been reversed, I wouldn’t have wanted some “loser” hanging around my wife!
ECHOS FROM THE WHITE HOUSE (9-10:00 P.M., P.B.S.), a “dose” of American history, provided my nightly “fodder” of intellectual stimulation. Law and Order (8-9:00 P.M., A and E), watched in the living room with Joyce, David, and granny, filled the time between Kayla’s departure around 7:50 P.M., and the privately-viewed ECHOS.
Once again, the grass in the scene of a major gathering of dew: For the past three or four days such have resulted in great days. May the connection continue!

(acerca 7:55 A.M.) One morning when I shared a house trailer with Dave Hubbert in Adamsville, AL – oh, I suppose it was the Spring of 1971 (the Fall of 1970?) – Dave was spawled on the couch (against the end wall) when I appeared naked and started washing dishes. I meant nothing by it; however Dave told me to put some clothes on. I suppose Dave thought that it was a homosexual “assault”!
Kayla came home wih me yesterday afternoon when I got off at 1:00 P.M. So she was over here more than six hours.

(acerca 8:17 P.M.) Rain tried to sneak in: Drops got through but were soon rounded up. Phoebus gave the victory speech this afternoon.
Claudia’s speech was gone: Early this afternoon she spoke silently to me – I were in the stock room – asking if I would work until 7:30 P.M. (7:15 P.M.). Nine and a half hours today! Boy am I “tarred”!
_o you know that I can understand Claudia when she only mouth words instead of the high-pitched voice she has? She speak in the range that I have difficulty “picking up.”

(acerca 8:48 P.M.) What will I remember most, ten years from now, about the terrorist attack? It will be the image of four males carrying the body of Father Michael Judge: Father Judge was a chaplain for the Fire Department of New York, and died, ironically, while giving last rites to a dying person. I will always remember how the body was facing the camera, the bearers walking towards the camera, and the dead Father “Mike” in a sitting-leaning position, slumped towards the right (his upper body).
One of the videos that arrived by truck yesterday was THE THREE LITTLE PIGS. This afternoon I was near the video rack up front near the check-out counter (to the right as you exit the store) as Louis stocked it: “THE THREE LITTLE PIGS is a folk tale: How relevant it is now!” And it is: We all know who the wolf is. The pigs are Sharon of Isreal, President Bush, and I have yet to figure out Number three pig! A house of straw, a house of sticks, and a house of bricks: Which house was “blown over” last Tuesday. Remember how the nursery rhyme ends: The wolf, after tying unsuccessfully to destroy the house of bricks, climbs down the chimney, only to be met by a pot of hot water. A Ph.D dissertation? It would be a good one!

(19th, About 8:51 A.M.) I’m assuming you know that the reason I spend so much time analyzing what went wrong with the liaison with Anita Matlow, and how I mismanaged horribly my clowning “career” is in case I find myself confronted with either. I’d rather not re-do a relationship with a female – if it would be anything like the relationship with Anita Matlow, it would be too "draining" – although the later may be something that I may won’t to do again. I say “may,” because it might be the best thing to just leave it alone and just let those years of “stardom” to stand unmolested by what very well could be a failed Second Attempt.
Phoebus is alert and hard-working this morning! And Coolness has eased up quite a lot!
There is really no Tv yesterday evening to report, although I tried several shows (P.B.S, TNN, Discovery, TLC, etc) but didn’t find them to my liking.

(acerca 9:22 A.M.) If the president was really the leader of the country, he would see to it that the “inner” structure of the United States was strengthened: The burocratic inefficiencies corrected, intelligence-gathering “gaps” filled, laws applied “across the board” equally, etc. Not only will anti-Arab-American and Islamphobia levy terrorism against this country, but both are Devils that allow the others Devils, i.e. foreign terrorism, in as sexual partners. All George Bush seems to be doing is inciting people, people that will do anything to escape their dreary lives, to war and revenge. And then he can’t understand why so-called patriotic Americans are lashing out against the people of Arab descent and Muslims, and think of war with John Wayne bravado! It is much easier to p__ a person – any person, these people don’t give a damn about civil liberties! – than it is to, first, admit that you have a weakness that made it possible in the first place for something bad to happen, and second, to go about fixing the problem.
I will go so far as to say that many, many people were secretly hoping for something like last Tuesday’s attack! And no doubt George Bush will benefit politically from it!

(acerca 10:09 A.M.) I guess it was Monday’s edition of the “Daily Home” that the article appeared by Jerry Falwell blaming the terrorist attack on liberal tendencies and the lack of religion in this country. It was in bad taste. Kayla was here when I read it: I told Joyce I would show it to her later. And so I do, after she asked to see it. But when she read the “headlines,” she quickly abandoned the paper without reading any more of the article. So should I take it that she believes as Rev. Falwell does? Or was she only attempting to avoid discussing a topic with me that we are miles apart on?
If you noticed, I still “flutter” from subject to subject, not staying with one and specializing in it. I try – really I do! – but when I start thinking about what all there is out there and how intellectually weak I still am, I return to my old ways. The pantological approach to learning is flustrating me! I don’t doubt if that flustration is not at the bottom of my mood swing!

(acerca 1:36 P.M.) If you have been a religious reader of this journal – especially the latter part – you are aware that I have harsh criticism for those people that are control freaks – which are most people. I have been and continue to be hard on those that use their work as the vehicle of control that is denied them in their domestic life. And then I turn around and do it, too: The entire day I have been anxiously (?) awaiting the 3:30-7:15 shift at Bargain Town. For I am something at work, whereas I am nothing here. Louise has indirectly allowed me a certain degree of control and independence: To an extent I am my own man, something life has taken away from me. When a low-quality, low-level job at Bargain Town gives one the sense of importance that life doesn’t or won’t, something is terribly wrong!

(acerca 1:52 P.M.) A large part of people’s reaction to the terrorist attack in New York City last week was the fact that someone destroyed or invaded their dream: Citizens of ”po-dunk” towns across the United States – towns like Childersburg, AL – live flustrated, desperate lives, and the “excitement” of New York City is their fantasy. I haven’t been immuned to this transference: Seeing scenes of Central Park and New York City on SESAME STREET hurts. Is New York City, as is commonly believed, the bastion of success? Years ago someone (a male?) told me that a person should only live in New York City if one had a job up there to begin with, the implication being that one shouldn’t move there and then hunt for work. And I have no doubt that the reality of New York City make that a good policy. But is New York City the only success: That’s what the common person think. How dare anybody attack his or her illusion! The only way to keep the dream alive for these people is to fight: a war even! And be damned with his or her neighbor!
Zephyr is stirring up Summer it seems: Why lay down and die this final week? Fight for what’s rightfully Yours! If it takes Storm to light a fire under Summer’s ass, then Storm will do it! Storm “ain’t” afraid of Fall!

(acerca 9:51 P.M.) When I were in high school, a semester course in communism was required in the 12th grade. Capitalism – the United States – and communism – the Soviet Union – were compared. The symbol for Capitalism: Bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate. Communism was depicted as producing a decaying society. Steve Holt and I would later laugh about the comparison.
With all this pseudo-patriotism on the rise due to the terrorist attack of last week, I am reminded of how the popular opinion “pushed” by the media is that countries under dictatorships conduct forced gatherings of patriotic feelings, whereas the demonstrations of love of country is guinine in the U. S. I refer specifically to Cuba: During the Elian Gonzales (?) fight, television news would show how people gathered to support Cuba’s claim, in Havana: It was said that Fidel Castro made people attend the rallys and cheer for Cuba. Just because many see Castro as a S.O.B., doesn’t mean that these same people can’t love their country! Hell, many in this country see George Bush – even Bill Clinton – as a S.O.B., yet still honor America. If it can happen here, it can happen anywh

(20th, About 8:03 A.M.) It was more ammonition for Bob Bones to resent my presence: The circus festival in Sarasota, FL, in the Winter – January, I believe – of 1990. Bob Bones and Mariah Skinner had invited me to travel with them. I stay with them in their trailer. The trip and the Sarasota residency of January 1990 has been documented: But most likely the following was not included in any of the reports: Both Bob and Mariah were at home in the trailer, as were I. I took a bath in the tub (left side of the end-of-trailer bathroom as one enters). I kept the door open on purpose: Mariah did see me naked. Of course Bob, her husband, made a comment. And rightly so: I may have been one of Mariah’s “special projects,” but the “therapy” was going beyond what was right and decent!
In an unrelated event: I have no idea when this was, but one day, not being at all serious, I shouted at granny, “Where have you been?!” as soon as she and Joyce came back home (the 5th Avenue, S.W., house). Granny started crying: It was as if she was my wife and not my mother. Actually I could have cared less where she had been: And maybe this is the reason for the tears. Granny probably knew even then (12-15 years ago) instinctively that I really didn’t care for her any more!
A gloomy, dreary morning, just the kind of day that Storm loves. Not today, Storm: Not when the grass needs getting rid of!
Yesterday evening I watched the third and final installment of SISTER WENDY’S AMERICAN COLLECTION (8-9:51 P.M., P.B.S.). If only 20% of the information (of all three parts) stays with me down through the ages, I will always have an excellent storehouse of knowledge about Art History!
Thirty minutes to juggling, thirty minutes to piano-player: Why allow only work to absorb the twenty-four of yesterday: I must be very careful that I don’t let Bargain Town assume complete control of my day and determine how I spend each day!

(acerca 9:25 A.M.) Leslie’s car is out of operation, so it was arranged that Joyce would take off work and provide transportation so that I may be at Bargain Town. Yesterday morning she called from CACC telling me to be ready by 3:15 P.M. - as if I wouldn’t! – for she would be by for me at that time.
I was standing by the kitchen sink waiting for her. 3:15 P.M. came and went: It was my belief that she had forgotten about me. I called Joyce at 3:30 P.M. and sure enough, she had forgotten, but using the excuse that she had been away from a time piece.
When I walked in the door of Bargain Town around 3:50 P.M., Louise and Kathy were in the front of the store – the “cage.” Louise told me to come up there (I was hurrying to the stockroom). I just knew I was about to get reprimanded about being late! Instead, Louise asked me, “Guess what you will miss tomorrow?”: A truck load of toys came, or is coming, this morning. I have a feeling that Louise was hinting for me to come in to help unload the truck, but I didn’t “bite” the “bait”: Mainly because of the transportation situation.
I have no choice: I must at least buy a motor scooter, even if it will cost over $1500! There’s no way I can make any kind of life without my own mode of transportation. I’ve tried, but even a person like Steve Kilbury (my nephew) was wondering why I was car-less (this was ten or so years ago; he visited here in Childersburg).
The Wind is scurrying around; Phoebus is out: I guess Storm will have to wait for awhile!

(acerca 3:22 P.M.) Some people wave the flag to show patriotism: I gather cans and bottles for re-cycling. Some people practice patriotism only during a “crisis”: I try to practice it at all times. Flag-waving is the easy way out: Even traitors can “fly” the flag. But do traitors live patriotism “24-7”?
It was around 10:01 A.M., this morning when I started walking to town: According to the clock at the convenient store downtown, where I purchased a pack of cigarettes for $1.45, the time at that point was 11:00 A.M. An hour for the hike: I should be able to do better than that!
After resting and smoking at a picnic table near Bill’s Dollar Store, I went to the library. Vic Camillo by way of e-mail still wants to be friends. And he wishes for me to continue the life of an artist. If only he knew what such entails!
Come noon I departed the library, and headed towards Bargain Town: A check for $250.13 was waiting for me. I deposit $225.13 into my checking account.
Before I could get away from Bargain Town, Louise went out to the sidewalk with me (to the left as one leaves the store): She handed me a small card with a toll-free telephone number to call if I witness Kathy or Angie stealing. Now, we all know I dearly love to “whistle blow.” But on the $5.15 I am paid an hour? I don’t think so! Besides, I have a sneaky feeling that racism is behind all of this: I have no doubt that Louise doesn’t like African American. And this Mr. Lancaster, Variety’s (Bargain Town’s parent company) the Loss Prevention Auditor: I don’t know the man but he could very well be anti-Black. Damn if I am used or his or Louise’s unpatriotic purposes! I am not a terrorist!
When I was at Bargain Town around 12:15 P.M., the truck had yet to come: Was one scheduled, or is Louise playing jokes now?
I was home by 1:45 P.M.: As was three small bags of cans and plastic bottles. I also brought home a shirt full of sweat: In spite of Zephyr and Fall, the walk was rather hot.
It just “hit” me: There is almost $350 in my Cash Cache! Woe is me, what will I ever do with all that money!

(21st, About 8:16 A.M.) If I wrote non-stop for a year I would never be able to recount all the incidences that happened to me. At the time they happened, they seemed insignificant. However I can now kick myself in the ass for not telling about the incident the day it occurred, instead of relying on a fuzzy memory from 6-20 years!
And I still can’t believe that there are so many days that are unrecorded! It is as if nothing happened on those days! We know that to be untrue, don’t we: If nothing else, there was the weather.
At best the majority of my reports from the twentieth century was only rough sketches, the barest of outlines: They seem to lack personality. The chances that I told you about the following are almost non-existence. But I can still recall most of the details (I said most, because I don’t remember what I, or the other party, were wearing): It must have been the Winter or Spring of 1995. I was a returning student at the University of Alabama. On this particular afternoon I were in the office of Jonathon Michaelson (top floor of the Speech and Hearing Building), the “theatrical consultant” for THE FALL, that video project I did at the Center for Public Television. Jonathon was early-30’s (?) and a smart-ass.
The meeting had been convened for the purpose of discussing Samuel Becket and “Act Without Words (I),” the author and foundation of THE FALL. Of course at the time THE FALL had not been devised as a title: Only after I realized how my version of “Act” differed from Beckett’s original conception of the mime, and, more importantly, not being able to receive the rights to the play did the name change come about.
Anyway, it must have been as I were leaving: There was a photograph of a young man – early-20’s (?) – in a stand-up frame on a desk in the corner near the door. I asked Jonathon if that was his son. He replied that the young man was (if I remember correctly) one of his students, that “I am not that bad off yet!”, referring to being old enough to have a kid that age. It was also an acknowledgement of my advance age and a round-about way of saying that I had no business doing what I was doing at the age I appeared (probably early-60’s!)! Actually, he was partly right: I had no business doing the academic drama thing having been a “star” in another medium.
As one walked to the right after ascending the center section of stairs, Mr. Michaelson’s office was on the right as one headed to the end of the building. The practice room was almost directly across the hall.
It was people like Jonathon Michaelson that give collegiate Theatre such a bad name! If these people were half as talented as they think they are, why are they only at the College level? As flustrated pros, they use the academic stage as their own personal performing vehicle.

(acerca 9:28 A.M.) As I told you, Leslie’s car is “under the weather.” Wednesday evening Bill came for me in his car (the child’s seat had been transferred to Leslie’s car while the automobile was being “examined” by a team of “specialist.”). I don’t remember exactly what triggered the outburst, but Bill stated – twice – that “I hate American cars!” Given his previous Islamophobia and jingoistic lifestyle, such un-American – nay! anti-American! – display was shocking. But then I got to thinking: Such wavering of patriotism is not unusual by any means! If inconvenience results from “Buy America first!” or any other chauvinistic displays, than such shows of patriotism is quickly eliminated from that person’s life. I agree with Bill: A Toyota or Honda is the best car for the money, but I don’t “swear” by this country.
On the other hand, American companies move their factories overseas and exploit local labor: “Buy America First” means buying inports. One never knows in what country “Made in America” come from. Or just because a product is labelled, “Made in China” doesn’t mean that an American factory didn’t put it out. Now don’t get me wrong: I think this international “Made in America is great, although it’s not the American way to put people in slavery. And then people have the audacity to criticise what is on the surface un American groups!?

(acerca 10:26 A.M.) I went the extra mile for juggling yesterday: Totally exhausted from walking 6-7 miles, after a short rest I devoted thirty-three minutes to cascade and right-to-left fountain displays. For what reason: For no other than that I can, and I want to do each better, just because each deserves to be improved. I no longer follow the illusion of a Come Back: Juggling is a good hobby for my mature years!
From 8 to 9:00 P.M., I watched President Bush address a joint session of Congress concerning the terrorist attacks. And I must admit – and I could kick myself for saying this! – that the speech was delivered very well. Mr. Bush’s performance was most impressive: Without a doubt it validated the questionable way he became president of the United Sates last Fall! It also made up for his bad “judgement call” on the tax refund! 2001 definitely belongs to George Bush. But I have a feeling that it won’t last. Just wait until 2002!
It was P.B.S. that was the venue for the speech-watching yesterday evening: It was also P.B.S. that held my attention from 9-10:51 P.M. as I witnessed the final case and death of Chief Inspector Morse (the second time I was a witness to it, the first only 6-7 months ago) on MYSTERY! It wasn’t until yesterday evening that I connected a requiem that was being practiced in a church with the death of Morse! Maybe 8 or 9 more viewings and I will finally “see” the program!

(acerca 11:46 A.M.) Imagine for a moment if I had landed a job while in Tallahassee: I would be financially supporting a woman and her kids that would made my life intolerable, more than it is now! Hell, a large chunk of my student loan was diverted for that purpose! Wages from the modelling and the carnival work were “stolen” from me! It only goes to prove that unemployment can be a blessing at times. And the liaison with Anita Matlow was definitely one of those times!

(acerca 6:30 P.M.) Let it be known that, as the morning of the twenty-“oneth” of September 2001, I made a telephone inquiry to the Social Security Administration (the toll-free number) in regards to the re-activation of my original claim for disability and/or SSI. I had a hard time making myself clear over the phone: The female customer service representative didn’t speak all that loudly, so I also had a difficult time hearing. Hopefully all the telephone communication difficulty will work in my favor!
I was told that, indeed, my file had been requested: Kim Thompson did her job, either out of fear of a complaint I would make, or because she is one of the few competent people at the Talladega office. But it will most likely be next year, if then, before my case is heard, if at all.
Damn Greg Graham! Just my luck to get a totally incompetent attorney! I should have followed my initial impulse: I was reluctant to become involved with a lawyer to begin with! Instead of being of assistance, he had completely “botched” the appeal! Damn Greg Graham!
Summer 2001 had Its final day today. And what a final day it was: Coolishly warm, clear, a pleasing arrangement of Clouds in the sky, and just the right amount of Shine. A fitting end to a glorious three-month reign!

(22nd, About 7:41 A.M.) I don’t have much time – it will be a nine-hour work day – so let’s get right to it.
The entire lawn has been attacked with a lawn mower; It was my gift to Fall, which took over the weather duties this morning. With the pronounced Coolness, there’s no mistaken who’s at the controls!
When I turned on the television in my room to see WASHINGTON WEEK, the telethon for the victims of the 9/11 attack – especially the rescue workers – was claiming the air ways of P.B.S. Not that I don’t care, but I chose not to watched. Instead I discovered that A and E was re-broadcasting THE HISTORY OF GOD: It had been unannounced by the TV listing in the “Daily Home,” so I only saw the final sixty-five minutes or so out of the 2-hour program.
Yesterday my diet was most inadequate: The official dinner wasn’t until David arrived home a little before 8:00 P.M. I don’t begrudge special attention given to David or his Career. But when I remember all the time that granny would asked me over the phone, when I lived away from here, if I was eating o’kay, and then to have her complain if I eat too much and/or often while circumstances force me to live in close proximity to her only confirms what Kind of hypocritical, two-face ignorant bitch she is that is never pleased. Not only did Fate Curse me with horrible speech, I was also placed in the charge of a woman totally unfit for the duty!
Kayla was over here for four hours yesterday afternoon and early evening. Unfortunately, hunger prevented me from fully enjoying the visit!
A note for George Bush: You may be riding high in the polls now, less than forty-eight hours after a superb speech, but if any “war” fails to meet the expectations of the public, it will quickly turn on you. And it will be a vicious attack!

(acerca 8:27 A.M.) Where were you and what were you doing in the Winter of 1991 as the United States were preparing for the Gulf War? I was here in Childersburg, in the back yard of the house on 5th Avenue, S.W., listening to the Senate debate on radio (the radio was just outside the basement door; it and I were, therefore, on the north side of the house), and practicing juggling (Clubs? 4-ball?). It was early January or maybe December 1990. It was between Circus seasons and 3-4 weeks before I made the European trip.

(acerca 9:14 A.M.) I also “caught” most of the NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER (7-8:00 P.M., P.B.S.) foregoing the report on the financial health of the country, being I know next to nothing about economics. However, I am aware that the United States is sucking badly on the money front, and things will get worse before they get better. Before 9/11 people would have been “up in arms,” damning Bush. But now: Whatever it takes to win this war!

(23rd, About 7:09 A.M.) Steve and Mary Holt; Sexual re-allignment; Boz Scaggs: I told Steve that I had heard that name, but I could not recall any of the song he sung. And as always, Steve listed the songs, intimidating me in the process and coming across as the arrogant ___ he is.
But this was my first dream for Y2K 1’s Fall. The second of the Double Feature was a library/computer center, I being unable to find a computer in the center, spot lighted cluster of computers that carried the internet. When I asked the male, balding, late-30’s librarian about internet connection, he informed me that there was no internet service. I then saw the stage-left group of broken-down machines, and the cluster was in the dark, no light of any sort on it.
Referring back to Steve Holt: During the last visit here, Steve told me that when the city of Birmingham operated the zoo – he was a zoo keeper – he would only have to work four or five hours a day, the rest of the 8-hour day being “down-time” when personal things could be attended to. But when a private company took over operation, the zookeepers were to work the full 8 hours (as they should have been all along). So Steve quite: It is one thing to realize the physicality was too much for a 52-year old man, and quite a different matter to quite because you were required to work and not waste time! At the risk of sounding negative, this “work-a-phobia” fits Steve’s personality profile.

(acerca 9:03 A.M.) For the past 3-4 evenings, the wad of toilet paper that wiped my rear end after a bowel movement has been bloody. My rectum is not leaking and the seat of my clothes are not stained, but is the strain of my Bargain Town job “overloading” my hemorrhoids? Does red mean stop? Or is the toilet paper dec_ration only temporary? Was the Rear End Job that I had in Tallahassee during the summer of 1997 only good for five years? Is it time to be making arrangements for another one?
Phoebus is lending a Helping Hand to Autumn on Its first full day. Coolness is demonstration what air condition is expected! The Coolness has set the thermostat where It wants it to remain. Fall, no doubt, is pretending to be subservient and obedient, but something tells me that won’t last long, that Fall will soon assert Its Independence. I totally support It, although life will get rather uncomfortable. (continued)




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