Phillip Wilson

Amazingly, I survived my Life
2011-09-30 00:03:38 (UTC)

2002 REVIEW (PART THIRTY-EIGHT)

October- Childersburg, AL (cpntinues)

(acerca de 9:03 A.M.) Do you realize that in less than three hours, Month X will be on Its downhill slide? That less than seventy-seven days will be left to 2002?
For the second day in a roll, Sleep left me early in the morning, around 4:00 A.M. What is chasing Her away? I have a feeling the Cold is behind the pre-mature departure of Sleep! What, is Cold so much of a prude?

(acerca de 9:34 A.M.) Ronnie Harkins has been on “vacation” since Monday. So late yesterday morning, then, when I arrived at CACC for work, I made Leisa’s day for allowing her authority over me: She is a Mother Hen, after all, and when she is given permission to “boss,” she is like a kid with a new toy. Of course, Leisa is not the only Mother Hen at CACC. Or the world, for that matter! And a Mother Hen doesn’t necessarily have to be female.
Lesia basically told me to do what I want to do. Later, after having retrieved my lunch from the small refrigerator in the business office, Leisa met me in the “mini-hall” and asked me if I was finding things to do. When I told her that when the rain stopped momentarily I did things outside, Lesia then said to limit myself to indoor work, just as long as I worked, since I needed the money!
No telling what Joyce has told her about me! But the point is, Leisa grins and smiles too much when I deal with her. I have to watch her hands constantly: If either is behind her, then I know that she is only waiting for me to walk away before plunging the hidden knife in my back!
Most Mother Hens are bad parents! And lousy lovers and spouses.

(acerca de 11:42 A.M.) The “deeper” I go into history, the clearer I see reality. You might say, therefore, that research into history is therapeutic: More than anything else, it has probably been the most responsible for my dilatory maturation. Isolated facts and dates are misleading and makes the past a fantasy. But a detailed account of the past shows It for what It is. It doesn’t have the power over one then, and is unable to do damage.

(acerca de 6:44 P.M.) A lovely fresco, Mr. Mike, although I don’t know exactly what it is! Let’s see, a solid of blue with three or four Clouds around the edges. I suppose it’s some kind of statement. Was it a portrait of October 16, 2002? A welcoming to part II of Month X?
The upper-60-degrees (F), a local art critic, was among the invited guests at the unveiling early this morning. Phoebus and students were also there.
It was a work in progress: Phoeb__ was added to the mural/fresco at the last minute.
All in all, it was a gorgeous “trailer” for Autumn! I can’t wait for the featured!
Hollywood and the film/television industry are always being criticised for putting out movie and programs that are full of violence and sex. The complaint comes especially from Congress and the president. Of all people! The film and television industries exist for one purpose: To make as much money as they can. If people didn’t buy violence and sex, then either industry would not offer them for sale!
The war against Iraq will, no doubt, create a profitable business environment in the world. Assuming, that is, the U.S. “wins.” Senators and Representatives are interested in keeping their jobs. Patriotism is Big Business. How dare Congress and the president condemn Hollywood for selling artificial violence when they are willing to force the real thing on people if it means job security!
Something tells me that George W. Bush may try and launch his Gulf War II in February 2003. If you recall, February was the month that George H. W. Bush ended the Gulf war I without killing or dethroning Saddam. The son wants to take up where the father ended, either in tribute to “41,” or to show up the father. Either way, George W. Bush is using war as a personal gift or “Anything you can do I can do better!” And that is treason!

(17th, About 8:13 A.M.) I finally connected with Ronnie Harkins yesterday afternoon. After he told me that the seedlings will be in when I arrived “tomorrow,” I mentioned the split-level sidewalk in front of the Administration Building. Repairing it is Eric’s job: The latter happened to be in Leisa’s office. Ronnie led him and me out to the site of that bad area, Ronnie telling Eric that I had complained. Actually several students have, including, as I later learned, one that had su_stained injuries requiring hospital care.
Later yesterday afternoon I was sitting in Joyce’s room waiting for the homeward bound trip. I, aseated in a chair directly opposite the desk, told Joyce about my “defiance” of Eric. Joyce, who was behind the desk, told me that now Eric would “have it in” for me. When I stated that I didn’t care, Joyce declared, “You better care!” According to Joyce, Eric has a lot of influence at CACC. Whether he does or doesn’t is not the point! What is, is that Joyce just had to appear the supervisor. She has a terrible need for being the only one right. Especially after what happened Tuesday: That was when I was in the business office “mini-hall,” and Lesia told me to do what I want to. Joyce had just enterred and no doubt heard Leisa. I’m sure this entire project of getting me a job at CACC is not turning out at all the way she (Joyce) had wanted it to!
According to Joyce, Ronnie Harkins told her yesterday that the campus looked great under my care. Some things I will never be able to change, so I might as well accept them! One being, of course, that CACC gave Joyce Baxley’s younger brother, a job. The brother is emotionally/mentally challenged. Hell yeah I will use the mis-conception to the fullest of my power!

(acerca de 8:45 P.M.) You know when a character in a movie mouth words that, due to bad audio, the sound comes a half-second later? Well, that’s how it must be with performance: At least that’s how it was with me. I always was thinking ahead to the next movement: My body would be automatically executing the “current” one. It was as if my body and mind were out of sync by a fraction of a beat!
I f__ a pianist also operates like this. It was CONCERT WITH JAMES CONTON (9:30-10:00 P.M., P.B.S.) that reminded me of the trick of performance.
One afternoon Ken Holhouse came into the Big Top. I was in ring two practicing or doing something. I was not alone. If I am not mistaken, it was 1987. It was Carson and Barnes Circus, there’s no doubt about that!
Ken Holhouse is, or at least was, a member of MENSA, the organization of supposively high I.Q.’ed people. He was also a high school counselor with a Master’s degree. When he came into the tent that afternoon, he, for some reason, announced that Yo Yo Ma was a violinist. I corrected him: Ma is a cello player. I have no doubt that be topped by a clown was humiliating for him.
You see now why I watch shows like GREAT PERFORMANCES (8-9:30 P.M., P.B.S.), especially when classical music is featured! Yesterday evening was the taped “Carnegie Hall Opening Night 2002.”
I had myself an evening of music appreciation. And who said that I don’t have any friends? What better friend can you ask for than classical music? Although I don’t go as far as to call classical music the highest expression of human kind: Such a statement is too “Mathew Arnold-ish.” Classical music is just one of many “highest expressions” of humankind!

(acerca de 9:45 A.M.) Yesterday was the fortieth anniversary of the Cuban Missile Crisis. THE NEWS WITH BRIAN WILLIAMS (6-7:00 P.M., CNBC), in a special segment (one of 2-3 I watched on the ___, having seen a few minutes of THE NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER [5:30-6:30 P.M., P.B.S.]) it was “confirmed” what I long suspected. That there was indeed a quid pro quo: The United States had started the missile game by having missiles in Turkey aimed at the U.S.S.R. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, which led the Soviet Union to counter the move using its puppet, Cuba. World War III was averted only when the United States backed down and “de-missiled” Turkey.
The United States drew a line in the sand and the Soviet Union crossed it, calling the U.S.’s bluff. Once again the United States is acting the bully, wondering why things are the way they are, forgetting that things are the way they are because it “arranged” things in the first place. As with all bullys, the U.S. doesn’t want to blame itself, so it demands others pay the price. It is hard to kick oneself in the ass! It is much easier and less painful to do so to others!

(acerca de 10:43 A.M.) I’m not sure how to write this yet: I am still trying to come up with the correct words. It concerns my finally accepting the truth about Leslie: In reviewing her relationship to me and the way in which she has death with my “stuff” I wonder if her declaration in 2000 (or 2001) not to kill my family before I kill myself was a hint, a subconscious wish for me not to be around her anymore.
Maybe I wasted all those years, staying home with Leslie when she was a child instead of attention to my career! But on the other hand, that’s what a sacrifice is: Something done without any thought of the outcome. It’s that way with sacrificing for one’s art and it’s that way with child care. One doesn’t raise a child in order for that child to reward her/him with love! No: One raises a child because a child needs raising.

(acerca de 7:47 P.M.) And Polly said she wish that she had my job! Well, if she wants to swap . . .
Pansies planting isn’t going as quickly as I thought it would: I worked ‘till 6:15 P.M., this evening and I only got half of a “bed” flowered! Of course, it was almost 2:00 P.M., this afternoon when the Flower Girl dropped the load! Forty cartons of pansies, eighteen to a carton. At the most I only managed nine cartons.
It was a beautiful day for planting: Phoebus was outst__ding. The sky was cloud-free. The air carried the low-70-degrees (F).
And to think that yesterday I was bored with trying to find something to do! Today I wished for that boredom!

(18th, About 8:03 A.M.) I don’t remember having a teaching career! Hell, I only three years was formally trained as a teacher and had my first education course in the Fall of 1997! Of course I have held informal master classes in juggling, and the Mime and Clowning course at Ballet UAB in the summer of 1979. Don’t forget the teaching internship I was involved with at Tallahassee Community College during the Spring semester of 1999. But teacher’s retirement? Really now! That is what Joyce told me, as we were coming home yesterday evening: It may develop that I will be able to “sign up” for teacher’s retirement and receive benefits just by working twenty hours a week. It would mean being permanent part-time. But according to the “dream,” I need not serve more than five years.

(acerca de 8:32 A.M.) I don’t know who it was that was so “insistent” that I put my name to a form, but I can tell you this: It was a female, late-30’s. Patsy Grey, Joyce’s best friend, a cousin by marriage, and a Talent Search employee, was with her. Even Joyce showed up at the final moment.
You’re “gonna” laugh at this, but the background was very similar to the Tutwiler dormitory at the University of Alabama!
Five years is not a long time to stay put. It may well be time for such non-travel “traveling”! And it will be my first ever benefit package! The experience would be worth the hide-away in Childersburg, AL!
There are four flower beds at CACC. Forty cartons of pansies arrived yesterday. So you would think that each bed would get ten cartons! But alas, as I reported yesterday evening, I am only halfway on the first bed, and nine cartons were required to take me that far! That’s 162 plants! No wonder the former flower lay-out was so uneven! It is so true that one has to walk in a person’s shoes before one can really understand the other person: I was harshly critical of Milt for his planting style, h__ garden arrangement. Now it is all clear and I know better.
I stated to Ronnie Harkins my “ten carton a bed” theory. He “strongly” replied that the two beds by the main (south) entrance were bigger, and more than ten cartons will be required. By Ronnie’s reaction, you would think that I was personally attacking him!

(acerca de 9:12 A.M.) My way of relaxing yesterday evening was to watch BUILDING BIG (8-9:00 P.M., P.B.S.), “turning your mind on at the end of the day, instead of off,” as a Public Service Announcement on P.B.S. states. It was the show that followed – SOUTH PARK (9-9:30 P.M., Comedy Central) that represented the mind-dulling programming that we so often hear about whenever television is discussed.

(acerca de 9:48 A.M.) I’m sure you remember Donny and Marie Osmond (?). They were my “bosses” for my appearance in KENT STATE, the movie filmed at Jacksonville State University and Gadsden State Junior College back in 1980. I forgot the name of the production company that was recreating the May 1970 infamous campus riot. But now Donnie Osmond (?) is the host of – get this folks – a game show, PYRAMID. What a come down! That’s what you get for backing a movie about the Kent State riots! Of all people, Donny and Marie Osmond (?)!

(acerca de 10:42 A.M.) Over a year ago I “suggested” (remember, one never advises Joyce; unless it is her decision, it is a horrible, stupid idea) to Joyce that the cats may be throwing liter all over the bathroom floor when they do a post-toliet scathing due to the liter box being too small: Each cat seems to be “crunching up” to use the box. Joyce replied that, no, they did the overshooting even before they had access to this box.
Earlier this morning Skinny had to use Samatha’s liter box: Samatha was closed up in the restroom where Skinny’s and Fatboy’s liter box is. And lo and behold, Skinny did a fine job of after-peeing scratching! Their box (Skinny ‘s and Fatboy’s) is, as I suspected, too small!
Samatha’s liter box is a regular cat’s liter box; Skinny and Fatboy are forced to use just a normal rubber box!

(acerca de 6:30 P.M.) One day – it must have been in the early-1980’s or, less likely, the late-1970’s – I was hitch hiking to Childersburg from Birmingham. One of the rides my thumb brought forth was with a steel-worker-looking older white man. He told me that he was a mortician, that he had to wash the “pussy” and “dick” of the recent dead. He told me what a shame that beautiful women died or something gosh as that.
But he was correct about the washing of the genitals: As I understand it, the body fluids leak out the nearest orifice they can find. And the anus and genitals are the major outlets for the escape. So maybe he was speaking the truth: After all these years, what a “relief” to know!
Four hours and still there are seventy-two seedlings to get into the ground! Damn, I go as fast as I can!
It was a lovely day in Childersburg: Sunny, cloudless, mid-70-degrees (F). If only I could have been done with the pansies! Milt had the two beds by the secondary front door all planted when I arrived at CACC shortly after 2:05 P.M., although he had the assistance of the inmates and I had – by choice – no helper(s).
There won’t be enough flowers for the area of ground I must cover. And I’m sure CACC won’t buy any more. So I must cheat and space the remainder more than seven inches. But that is for Monday: The weekend will not be pansified!
The early morning and late evening require a jacket. Is this how the rest of 2002 will be?

(acerca de 10:06 P.M.) This time I will listen! Muse, You want me to stay at CACC for five years, correct? That “dream” I had this morning: It was the first one that I have been able to interpret. It was also the first time that the Muse has “spoken” directly to me since – well, since Anita Matlow!
I really didn’t expect the Muse to ever “speak” to me again! It could have been much worse! Five years at CACC? Sounds reasonable.
$58.50 wasn’t bad for maintenance on my teeth! I was expecting to pay three times that.
It was from the dental office – Dr. Sligh at 9th Avenue and 2nd Street S W – that I made the foot trip to CACC. Milt asked from where I had walked. What did Leisa “___” about my dental appointment: I had called her this morning, reminding her that I would be in to work around 2:00 P.M. I called Leisa because David had called me earlier, stating that Milt and the inmates were planting flowers. Do I come across as possessive of the pansies? The greenery is in danger of dying: Even if I was possessive, I would have to sacrifice this possessiveness for the sake of the flowers!

(19th, About 8:30 A.M.) I knew what they were talking about: For once Richard Pereles wasn’t just expounding on a subject that was meant to be “hurtful” to his wife Mary, or to me. Both Richard and his mother, who was visiting from San Antonio, TX, stated that nurses will eventually find what they want. Actually, Richard claimed to be the mouthpiece for his mother; but I realized right away what he was referring to: Nurses keep an eye out on genital areas that interest them. If you think I am being too cruel on nurses, I draw your attention to my guinea pig ship of 1985-86: Most of the female nurses that attended on me would gawk at my crotch the many times that I displayed it bare (There was one, Laurie, that was particularly interested in the “thing” underneath my gown).
The woman in charge of nursing throughout the civil war – at least as “explained” by Ken Burns in THE CIVIL WAR and I tend to believe it – she would eliminate females (and males) candidates – even nuns, the documentary exclaimed- that was only interested in finding a husband or lover. And guess what: Atavistically, the size and quality of the genital area are determining factors in a mate, according to this theory.
It must have been in a book: American Indian women would wash the sick. There was a passage in the novel (?) where these women would compare the genital areas “exposed” to them.
I often wonder if Florence Nightingale was a student of comparative scrotum!
In other news: Yesterday at the dentist office, Christa Sligh, the dentist, was asking me, as she was doing the final examination on my teeth, after the hygienist had “serviced” me, if my broken tooth was painful. I told her it was for 2-3 days, but it was psychosomatic. But Dr. Sligh, who was sitting on my left, looked at the hygienist, close on my left side but standing near my feet, and both giggled. Semi-offended, I explained myself: By all rights, the tooth should be causing pain. My mind felt obliged to obey in the class book way. But physically, the pain, if indeed there was any, the tooth was not sending out any sensation. After 2-3 days, the mind gave up.
Now I ask you: Should I have been laughed at?

(acerca de 9:19 A.M.) After, according to Joyce, 3-4 months, the “split-level” sidewalk in front of the main entrance to the administration building (an extension to the door) has been fixed: Eric cemented it over yesterday: A female student had tripped and fallen at the 1” exposed “upheaval.” Or the “upheaval” that was there the day before yesterday. Is my whistle-blowing causing things to happened? That problem should have been remedied the day after the accident occurred. In fact, as I was telling Joyce in the car as we were going home (she had made a special trip for me) the entire sidewalk was improperly done.
Am I the deputy assistant Grounds director? Is it Ronnie Harkins, Leisa McGaha, Phillip Wilson, in that order? Or is it only a conscious design by Ronnie to make me think I am the number three person on grounds, so as to camoflage his patronization of me? There’s only one way to find out: And this I intend to do!

(acerca de 10:04 A.M.) October 18, 2002: Kayla was brought over around 8:20 A.M. in the morning so her mother could work. When Leslie returned for her daughter a little after 11:30 A.M., I went to town, Leslie dropping me off. I sat in the back seat, per Kayla’s request. On the way to town, Leslie mentioned the time years ago when she and I were out riding bicycles (1977). I tricked her into holding the handle bars crossed arms: The right hand on the left handle bar, the left hand grasping the right handle bar. She had a wreck, which could have been terrible. Yesterday she told me that I most likely didn’t intend for her to have an accident. But the very fact that Leslie has such a vivid memory of the prime example of my bad uncle-ship, after all these years, makes me wonder if it has been behind the seemingly anti-Phil behavior of the past 15-20 years. I deserve any and every thing she has ever done and will do to me!
I think the biking business was on the corner of 9th Avenue and 4th Street, SW. For, you see, it is also etched into my mind as a reminder of how bad it was with me!
Leslie and Kayla deposited me near The Print Shop where I left two journal volumes to be spiral-bound. My next stop was Family Dollar: From here I purchased a bottle of mouthwash for $1.00.
From the convenient store on the highway I bought a pack of cigarettes for $1.50.
After 30-40 minutes on the computer at the library, including e-mail, I went next door (south) to Dr. Sligh’s office. When I had done there, around 1:35 P.M., I headed towards CACC, stopping on the way at McDonald’s for a large chocolate shake ($2.50 plus).
Back home from work, I watched WASHINGTON WEEK (7-7:25 P.M., P.B.S.) in the evening.

(acerca de 11:53 A.M.) After doing my twenty minutes __ Juggling yesterday evening (7:30-7:50 P.M.) I opened the door to my room, and there was Kayla in the kitchen! Bill was standing behind her. Leslie was in the Family Room. So it was a Family Room while Bill attached a handle to the outer glass door to the kitchen. Kayla would watch her daddy while she sat and wiggled in one of the rolling, unstable kitchen table chairs.
Pretty soon Bill called for Leslie in a calm voice. Realizing that the chair that was holding Kayla had tipped backwards, spilling Kayla underneath the table, I rushed to the child’s rescue. Leslie was right behind me. Bill all this time was working on the door handle. He hadn’t even stopped to see about his daughter. If the S.O.B. has such a desperate need for re-enforcement of his “manhood,” there is something horribly wrong with him! If it had been me, I would have thrown down my tools and checked on Kayla!
I asked Bill why he wore a short-sleeve shirt on such a cool evening. I received in reply a typical “It’s not cold outside!” response from a “creature” that thinks toleration of the cold is a sign of hardiness. Richard Pereles was (is?) the same way. The ability to tolerate heat or cold with out proper dress is not – I repeat, is NOT – a sign of hardiness! It is a sign of stupidity!
There is a connection between being bastardly and seeking manliness by challenging the cold, damp weather!
Bill is 1/100 of 1/10 of one degree separate from Claude Baxley! In nearly all cases, one is drawn to what one professes to hate. Leslie has an aversion to Claude, even the mention of his name. Yet she married “Claude”! This is why “hatred” is self-destructive!
And Bill has the audacity to judge others, including me! He is another example of “Why do they hate us?”!

(acerca de 2:21 P.M.) By 2008, no telling to what heights my juggling will take me! The only problem is even a half hour practice takes a lot out of me. I can do twenty minutes at a time. But that additional ten minutes: You wouldn’t think ten minutes would be so nasty! It’s always the least expected that gets you in the end!

(acerca de 2:58 P.M.) You know what’s really different about this day as opposed to Thursday and yesterday? No, not Phoebus: It is doing Its part in establishing a gorgeous Autumn day. And it’s not air: The low-70-degrees (F) are once again on Its back. You give up? It’s the Clouds! In the formation of Cirrus, They are all over the sky. As a matter of fact, They are streaking It.
Hopefully, the abandoned Seventy-Two – or I should say 144, for there remains eight cartons of eighteen plants – won’t die on me before I – or Milt and the inmates – get to them Monday. I thought briefly of putting Them in the soil tomorrow afternoon, but damn I can’t allow Them to control my life!

(acerca de 4:10 P.M.) The Five Years demanded by the Muse at CACC will, hopefully, also improve my financial state. And here I thought that the Muse had abandoned me! I should have known better! Without a doubt, I will be much better off having accepted Her will. Imagine what would happen if I fought against it? Damn if I go through that again!

(acerca de 6:20 P.M.) There is a female at The Print Shop that spiral binds the journal volumes I have taken to her. Her name is Lisa. She is about 5’5,” brunette hair, braces on her teeth even though she is probably in her early-30’s. Joe Allen’s (the son of the founder, Lewis Allen) wife or not, I find the woman most attractive. It may be nice to go after her.
And then I saw the free-standing desk name tag by the wall opposite the front door: “Jesus,” it read. I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “Jesus Christ.” I guess I deserve such for the evil thoughts I had!
Speaking of sex: Isn’t it ironic that a lot of people reject totally out of hand that, according to the generally accepted interpretation of Darwinism and evolution (an incorrect interpretation, I might add) the notion that humans “came from apes,” and yet the behavior and lifestyle – especially their sex life – is so ___tially?

(acerca de 8:36 A.M.) It would be nice if this was the final mowing of the back yard for the year! Damn, it should be: We are on the downhill side of Month X!
If ever there was time to be a painter and/or photographer, it is now! Or at least it was earlier today. Did one of the neighborhood kids (brats) destroy it? A beautiful large mushroom was hid out in the wooded area, a few feet down the trail that goes to a residential area. It was at least two feet tall and had about a 2’ diameter “umbrella.” From the perspective of where I was standing on the trail – the mushroom was to the right going to the houses from the main trail – it would have made for a lovely picture, photographed, or painted.
I am occasionally rewarded for my forced imprisonment in Childersburg, AL, with exceptional sights and/or happenings; and that mushroom, even if it is no longer with us, more than qualifies!

(20th, About 8:18 A.M.) Why did David telephone me from CACC Friday morning informing me that Milt and the inmates were busy planting? Need I tell you: He (David) was obeying the instructions of his mother, who was trying to be my “supervisor” and arrange my work schedule. Speaking of a guilt trip! Believe it or not, Joyce thought that I was so possessive of the pansies that I would “beg” to come in then to prevent Milt and company from mis-handling MY flowers! What’s more pathetic is that she was sure that Ronnie Harkins and/or Leisa had given my exclusive property rights to the pansies, but only if I got them in the ground as soon as I can!
Yesterday evening I was discussing with Joyce (I must stop doing so!) that I will have eight cartons of flowers remaining. Ronnie Harkins’s 7” policy, though, would leave a lot of empty ground unflowered. So I won’t follow Ronnie’s planting style. As predicted, Joyce exclaimed, “You better follow what Ronnie said!” (I have nothing except CACC in common with Joyce. One afternoon last week as Joyce was taken me to work, there was an uncomfortably long silence on Forest Hills Drive, until I broke in with CACC gossip).
David and his former best friend, Scott, are going their separate ways. I told Joyce that Scott exulted an arrogance in his walk, a smart-ass in spite of his so-called all-American Boy reputation. David would be better off without Scott. However, the split may be more David’s fault than Scott’s: David allows his mother too much interference. Maybe Scott just couldn’t take the numerous times that Joyce would telephone or David calling his mother so much. About a year ago, Scott told David his mother (Joyce, not Scott’s mother) was a bitch. And we all know that Joyce is.
David will never have a “successful” marriage as long as David allows Joyce to control his life! The fact that he willingly submits to his mother’s manipulations is not at all encouraging!

(acerca de 10:03 A.M.) I just hope that being a “mama’s boy” doesn’t lead to David waking up in twenty years wondering why his life and career are in the shape they are!
Kayla was over yesterday evening (about 6:30 P.M. until around 8:13 P.M.). As a result, a THE WIGGLES video was played. Joyce commented several times about grown men jumping up and down, and acting silly. Nevermind about the ambition and drive of The Wiggles in creating a great product: I have already discussed with you that people emphasize ambition, but only in the career they choose for you! The point is: When I was an active clown, I was not degrading myself (at first) as a mature male. I was not a mature male. I doubt if I could have lived with myself i_ I had been a mature male doing what I did. Thankfully, my maturation had been put on hold. It was only when I started to curse clowning for following a grown man, in 1990, 1991, 1992, that I had no choice but to choose. My maturation outpaced Luigi.
The reason why post-50 is such a different life than I had pre-50 is that active clowning didn’t follow me across the abyss. The “on hold” maturation is trying to catch up.
On the other hand – returning to David – many “successful” men have been mama’s boys: Robert Byrd, Douglas McArthur, Frank Lloyd Wright, Jimmy Carter, etc. So Joyce just may be an access to David’s career. I very much doubt it, but stranger things have happened!

(acerca de 10:48 A.M.) I “attended” two history “lectures” yesterday evening. The first was A HISTORY OF BRITAIN (9-10:00 P.M., The History Channel). As the name implies, it is first and foremost a history of Britain, not the history of Britain: The program is the interpretation and arrangement of boring details – in the case of A HISTORY OF BRITAIN the storyteller is a Simon Sch___ [?] – into an exciting tale. The episode yesterday evening – mainly about Oliver Cromwell and the Restoration – was especially made interesting with the filmed re-enactment (or was CNN there live?) and vocal music. The camera movement was from the perspective of a fellow conspirator at one point.
The downside to the “lecture” is the ___ of how much is made up in history and, by extension, biography. I told Joyce this one evening on the way home, when she had stated that she felt the personal lifestyle (gossip) of an artist influences her/his output, and therefore should be made public.
I recall criticizing such Freudian analysis during a discussion of Ramakrishna during Modern Hindu class at F.S.U. (Ramakrishna was a follower of the Hindu goddess Kali and was sexually active, particularly with the same sex).
Immediately following the “lecture” on England was an examination of the Vietnam war via BATTLEFIELD (10-midnight, P.B.S.). It wasn’t that long ago that I saw this program about the fall of Saigon in 1975, but an information-packed show such as it is can never be viewed too many times: With each viewing two or three details are added to your repertoire of Vietnam war facts. And the program had an ample supply of “two and three details”!

(acerca de 12:12 P.M.) I was hoping that I would be able to put the remaining 144 pansies in the ground before Rain entered this Sunday! It had been issuing challenges since early morning: Actually my “intelligence” informed me yesterday afternoon that Rain would be launching an attack (see report for yesterday if you don’t believe me). I had planned to go to CACC when Joyce goes this afternoon for class. But I didn’t make it by a couple of hours. Oh well, at least the flowers I did ground will live another day! At least Rain handles my watering chores!
In five years, I will have a work-history. And what else is CACC good for?

(acerca de 1:23 P.M.) George W. Bush takes the United States from several treaties. But when other countries, including Iraq and North Korea, pull from treaty coverage, Bush calls it a violation of international law ahd a breach of contract. The president has no one to blame but himself for what North Korea is doing: Working on a nuclear bomb. If the United States is the numéro uno country in the world it must be a role model. It cannot be “Do as we say, not do!”. If Saddam is indeed defying a treaty by not allowing unrestricted weapons inspection, then where did he learn it from?
Rain is determine that I don’t poke any more holes in Its Lover, Earth! Not to tomorrow, at least. Did I hurt You, Earth? Humans do that all the time, sometimes not meaning to!

(acerca de 3:32 P.M.) Very few people can say that their life style and their career were as closely tied together as mine were. Was I a “born clown”? I now think that maybe I was. Former tuba and bass player Bob Sterett once told me that I had the exact physicality for clowning: There were no muscle on my body that shouldn’t be there.
To declare that I was emotionally and/or mentally restricted (although I, like most people, may well have been) is to misuse the term “focus”! Why did I need a conscious focus when I involuntarily already had one?
“When I was a child, I spake as a child . . .”: There may be something to the Christian Bible!
You win, Rain: I am staying at home and won’t hurt the Earth! In return, as You are doing, You will water the greenery and nearly-planted flowers, right?
It is a sloppy mess outside! Not only is the Drainage from above doing damage to the day’s reputation, the low-70-degrees (F) aren’t helping!
Deah smells good, at least: I put her in the tub and pour a libation of water over her this morning.
But this “ain’t” no “Sun”-day!

(acerca de 4:17 P.M.) “You”ll search, you’ll search/But you’ll never find . . .” “Happy in the Chapel” is talking about – you know; but I’ll appropriate it: I retraced my steps a dozen times at CACC, but I was unable to find the round case of hearing aid batteries that I misplaced last week (?), being under the impression that the case of two hearing aid batteries much have somehow been “pushed” from my right pocket. But all along, it was here at home: Granny just handed it to me, saying that she found it in the washing machine after having washed my clothes (or was it the dryer?). She had no idea what it was! But I did! And, boy, was I happy to see it! It may be only two batteries, but at over $1.50 a battery, I can use all the help I can get!
Now, if only I can find juggling ball #4! I have the feeling, though, that the ball bounced into my trash (plastic) bag, and was put in the trash can and collected by the trash collectors.
“Leave them alone/and they’re will come home;/waging their tails behind them” I find that in the vast majority of the times, mis-placed items will show up on their own accord when they get good and ready!

(acerca de 5:19 P.M.) David had the local news from Chicago via Superstation WGN on television one day – actually in the evening – when he was here. The weather man for the late news is Tom Skettet (?): He has been the weather reporter for over twenty years at WGN. All his on-air job requires him to do is to vocalize what’s already on the charts and maps. You would think a television weather job would be great work! But I couldn’t – and can’t – help feeling sorry for the man! Doing what he does seems to be so degrading! Surely he has other duties at the station that are more in line with a man of his experience, like a top management position? And why, by the way, does he refuse to let go of his on-air job? Is he afraid that if he gives it up he is giving up his youth?

(21st, About 7:43 A.M.) Channel 13 honored David with a party. I was in attendance and was generally accepted. Generally: One or two females aimed questioning looks – “Who in the hell are you?” – at me.
I recall exiting the station through the basement door. A dream? Of course: Surely you don’t think it was real! Channel 13 honor David with a going-away party? At this “late date”? Yeah right! And I suppose my presence at the party made sense! And I thought I was in bad shape!
Speaking of Bad Shape: Yesterday evening, while using the toilet, I reviewed the journal volume for August 19, 1978 to March 14, 1979. It – the volume – was in bad shape: There was times – too many of them – when I only reported every 3-4 days! And more often than not, when I did submit an entry, it was, at most, a half page!
However, my life was even worse! I can’t believe that a living, breathing 28-29 year-old man could have lived like that! It is amazing that I am able to write about it this morning. That I am still around doesn’t say a lot for the Preserver!

(acerca de 8:15 A.M.) The entry for September 24, 1978, is relevant to what I have been saying of late: I discuss the fact that Joyce and granny won’t tolerate differing opinions. It’s there way or one is a stupid asshole.
One day when David was here he again stated, “That’s mighty white of you!” I strongly suspect that he picked the declaration up from Joyce and/or granny. I also have a feeling that Scott could not take anymore of this kind of sub-human outbursts!
Within the pages of the aforementioned journal volume is an entry refering to a Plymouth owned by Jo Clifton but loaned to me as I presented street mime in several Birmingham parks. Reading that entry again triggered memories: That day was sunny and warm. The Plymouth was gray. I stopped for gasoline at a station located on 8th Avenue (the street that is between the then Wilson [now Lynn] Park and Boutwell Auditorium) and 21st or 22nd Street, N.
Maybe it better that my reporting was so sporadic during the August 19, 1978 to March 14, 1979 period: The available reports are shocking enough; knowing anymore would be too overwhelming!
“The Forssyti Saga” is what professional film making is all about! But I can’t help thinking that the character of Sommes Forsyte is too one-sided, too much of a caricature of evil. If I had one criticism of the mini-series on MASTERPIECE THEATRE (9-10:00 P.M., P.B.S.), i_ would be that John Galsworth (?), the author of the novel on which the series is based, did not develop his characters enough. Although a portion of each character’s personality may have been “with held” in the transfer from page to film.
There is a scene where Irene Forsyte climbs a stair only to be confronted by her husband Sommes. There is “cinematic counterpoint” on Irene: A camera zooms or trucks in on her while the background ___ independently. Might this not be an indication that the “ground fell out from under her feet” at the moment Irene, returning from a tryst with her lover, comes face-to-face with her husband?
A couple of times I was disturbed by the editing, most notably when the uncle/father/grandfather is first in his home, then all of a sudden he is whisked to a settee outside his son’s country home, trying to make amends for his former estrangement. The elderly gentleman is facing his son and daughter-in-law, who are both seated.
There is still a long way to go until the masterpiece of film-making ends: Yesterday evening was only Part III. Digging deeply into each episode for “errors” is proving extremely helpful: De-construction provides a valuable lesson on how a truly great film should be handled.

(acerca de 10:07 A.M.) In waiting for THE MCLAUGHLIN GROUP (3-3:30 P.M., P.B.S.), yesterday afternoon, boredom had me channel-surfing at around 2:10 P.M. I came upon Allison Kraus, a Bluegrass singer, before a microphone on Bravo. But it wasn’t an Allison Kraus concert: Even though Country music is an oxymoron in my view, I very much like Bluegrass. And to be crass, I recognized Allison Kraus by her breasts! They are small and inviting.
ABC NEWS, NBC NEWS, the C-Span re-broadcast of the presidential radio address, the democratic response, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC PRESENTS: These are just some of the programs I came upon.
As it was yesterday, it appears to be another nasty day. Rain has cleared out Its desk: But will It return later with avengence?

(acerca de 10:55 A.M.) Getting a job with a film production company is probably easy. However, as I know from seeking employment with Big Apple Circus, one would have to work at base-level, demeaning tasks for low pay. The entertainment business is the entertainment business, no matter if it’s circus, film, or stage! Eighty percent of the jobs in “Show Business” are jobs that doesn’t appear “show business-ish” but that are necessary. For “show business” is really just another line of work, not all that different than working in a factory or selling shoes.

(acerca de 6:29 P.M.) “Can you count?!” . I knew then that when Ronnie Harkins became angry and/or frustrated, he becomes cruel!
It all started with Milt Wilson: As I predicted there was more ground than there was flowers to cover it. As I was coming from my rest area – by the generator – Milt stopped the pick-up he was driving and informed me that some one must have stolen six cartons of flowers. He had used seventeen Friday at the two beds by the aurillery door. I reported such to Ronnie. ‘Damn!” he said as he buried his face in his two hands. He was thinking that the nursery didn’t leave forty cartons last Thursday. I explained that I hadn’t counted them. That’s when he shot the “You can’t count?!” at me. I didn’t take him seriously: I figured Ronnie was just letting off stream.
720 seedlings: I told that to Leisa when she came back to Ronnie’s office. Ronnie called Milt on the cell phone inter-com and verified the report. He even went out to the flowers beds I had finished.
I climbed into the dumpster in the rear of the campus: I knew good and well that I had ___ed more than seventeen cartons! Why, I had eight this afternoon and eight Friday! I know I did more than one carton Thursday! Sure enough, after counting at least four times, I determined that I had gone through twenty-three cartons. If Milt was correct that he had planted 17 cartons of pansies, twenty-three plus seventeen is forty. I hurried back to Ronnie and told him that no theft had occurred. Earlier I had stated that if some one had stolen six cartons, the person would have taken Ronnie’s garden rake that he had brought from home.
I realize that Milt didn’t really know how much I had planted Thursday afternoon: As he told me, he wasn’t even aware until recently that the pansies had arrived Thursday. But how did he come up with 34? If he had used seventeen and my beds were larger, surely even he could figure it out that I planted more than what he did!

(acerca de 8:01 P.M.) Well, anyway, all the pansies are inside Earth! What a “fucking” job! (Get it: Inside Earth; “fucking” job. Don’t you get it?). Now it’s back to my regular confrontation with boredom every afternoon that I am at CACC! Ronnie said he would get some more flowers tomorrow, but I “ain’t” holding my breath! And I advise you not to either!
With Autumn gobbling up more and more of day’s light as It (Autumn) “matures,” I only was able to mow half of the front yard. If Rain stays away tomorrow, I will finish up.
Rain made faces at us all afternoon: Phoebus would get on to It, but, as soon as Phoebus was gone, Rain would make another face!
The White-Blue relationship in the sky this afternoon: It was as if Someone had dipped a wide brush in a pot of white paint and just “ran” the brush across the Blue in a disorderly way! Or perhaps it was the blue that had been scrapped away sloppily. Whichever way it happened, the sky was loaded with Cirrus, almost to the point of being top-heavy!

(acerca de 8.51 P.M.) I almost let you get away without letting you know the most important part of this day: The mid-70-degrees (F) were in town for a few hours this afternoon. They were almost caught with Sun going down, but They hurriedly left before Phoebus did.

(22nd, About 8:00 A.M.) It was as if unconsciously I didn’t feel life was good enough to record it. Another journal volume from 1979 was even worse than most earlier ones: There were lapses of more than five days many times! Way too many times!
My next big project with my journal after maintenance is to make a computer copy of it. Only then will I see the full extent of the damage.
In coming home yesterday, I was telling Joyce that Ronnie Harkins’ daughter was too attractive for someone like him to have produced. But it was “explained” that Judy Moore (Gerdy’s [Joyce’s friend] daughter) was the mother. Judy and Ronnie are no longer married. Currently Ronnie is linked up with a woman named Debbie. She is an attorney. She is forty-eight when she married Ronnie. It was her first marriage. Joyce was wondering how someone that has made it to forty-eight years of age without marrying would want to do it.
It’s a question I ask myself almost every day: For I was forty-eight!
Joyce is harshly critical of Ronnie having been married 3-4 times. Should somebody remind her of how many times she has been married? What hypocrisy!

(acerca de 8:49 A.M.) If you expect, as I did yesterday evening, that C.S.I.: MIAMI (9-10:00 P.M., C.B.S.) would be a “clone” of the parent C.S.I., you will be sorely disappointed. I was for a while, then the camera movement took over my attention. The show, obviously, has to make use of “manufactured” microscopic vistas of bullets doing inner-body damage and similar forensic “science.” Such “science” fit into the rhythum of C.S.I. However, these segments don’t play in C.S.I.: MIAMI, either because these types of “scenes” can’t be “handed” down from parent to offspring: The latter must find her/his own way, which it has in superb camera action. It is as if C.S.I.: MIAMI is obligated to incorporate these histological contrivances into its story line. And maybe it does. But if not for the secondary movement, C.S.I.: MIAMI would be no more than an ersatz “branch store” of C.S.I., a “branch” that, even though it carries the same name as the original, is vastly inferior in quality!
I had a “perferred section” seat for CIRQUE DU SOLIEL: NOVELLE EXPERIENCE (7-8:00 P.M., Bravo) yesterday evening. And I didn’t even pay special for it, unlike the perferred seating at a Carson and Barnes Circus performance! The clowning was not bad, but I have a feeling that each performer – especially the clowns (are clowns in the circus, performers? I remember this discussion when I was active) – does double-duty, either administratively or technically. So, no, the show wasn’t “painful” to watch! It doesn’t make me “homesick” for the road!

(acerca de 11:29 A.M.) My first impression was that I was on a hill looking down on a village, thousands of years ago (More like a mountain than a hill).
Is this how earth’s cities look from outer space? A Moundville?
The backyard is crowed by ant mounds, as we humans once crowded an area with our mounds. So I wonder: Will the ant be the dominant creature in ten thousand years? Is ant society a reflection on our own (homo sapien) past? We can only wish. If indeed ants are next in line to “rule the world,” maybe they will do better than we humans have. They are already, and if they are what we were and will become what we now are, all indications are that they will be better suited as “rulers” than we are!
When I saw myself as Mr. Justice (a former neighbor and grocery store owner on 5th Avenue, S.W.) on home video, I realize that time had finally come for me to put a stop to active clowning. Although I did see the resemblance to Lou Jacobs. And since Mr. Jacobs was such a moving force in clowning up into his seventies, maybe I shouldn’t have given up so prematurely.

(acerca de 8:2_ P.M.) “Why work until you are fifty?” This I asked Joyce coming home late this afternoon after she “confirmed” what I had heard while working at the fairgrounds in Louisville, KY (I think it was the retired African American janitor that told me originally): The Social Security Administration only uses the final ten years when it comes to calculating one’s retirement pension. So I’m just in time: I was 51 when I began working at Bargain Town. As sporadic as my working life has been since then, it no way compares to what it was like in the past! For once my timing is right: If I work until 2012 without long inter-ruptions, I can retire at sixty-two. Five years at CACC and five years some place else. Hell, I may even be able to tolerate CACC for ten years!
So where does the money that one pays into the Social Security (F. I. D._.[?]) the other years go? It’s true, I guess, that one works for retirees during that time!
The Cumulus Family arrived early this afternoon. They were lining the walls of the conference room when the Cirruses (Cirri[?]) got there. In order to be admitted so early, though, Day had a caveat: Each member was stamped, just as is done at parties so the person can come and go as s/he pleases.
I was overdressed for work. The T-shirt wasn’t needed as an undershirt. I could have easily managed the upper-70-degrees (F) without it.
Month X must have changed the Light Bulb from when the old one went out a couple of days ago (yesterday?). And the new Bulb was too bright!

(23rd, About 8:43 A.M.) Rain lurked just outside the door early this morning. In fact, It is still here, albeit in a “weakened” state. I suppose my “partnership” with Sleep was just too much for It. For I had one of the better sessions with Sleep that I had in several days.
Kayla was still wide awake around 10:30 P.M. She and Nana (Joyce) had gone to bed shortly before 8:30 P.M., in order to prevent such from happening.
I guess you figured out that there was a fourth human in the house overnight and that I was not the youngest. Joyce and Leslie, when Kayla was temporarily out of the room (Family Room) had via telephone decided that an overnight visit was not appropriate for this time. However, both soon gave in to the child’s whining and st_ting that “her mama said ‘no,’ so she couldn’t spend the night ever again!” Although “kinda” young, she is keeping the guilt-trip tradition from her great-grandmother alive and well!
As soon as I got home yesterday evening, I mowed the second half of the front yard, sensing that Phoebus was under an early curfew that evening. And I was right! The gobbling of the grass didn’t take but about fifteen minutes. I then joined Joyce, Kayla, and granny at the kitchen table, where they were near completion of dinner. Phoebus, as I had predicted, was locked away while I was eating.

(acerca de 9:12 A.M.) I hate to admit it, but maybe Steve Holt was correct: Since Social Security is based only on the final ten years of employment, why the rush to grow up?
THE RISE AND FALL OF JIM CROW (9-10:00 P.M., P.B.S.) yesterday evening wound up the series of Black History “lectures.” It goes without saying that I want very much to attend these “lectures” again: They were immensely valuable and I transfered a lot of data to my memory “room.” But there is much, much more to transfer!

(acerca de 10:00 A.M.) Did I shout out early this morning while asleep? If I did, it was not only disturbing to others in the house, but also to me: I woke myself up! I don’t remember exactly what inspired the shout: Was I escaping for somebody or something? Was I being attack?
Or did I only dream that I had shouted out because of a dream? When I start to have dreams of myself dreaming, something is wrong somewhere!
The morning has been unable so far to untie the Gordian Knot/Misty Weather from the day. If anyone can untie the knot, it will be Alexander the Great/Afternoon!

(acerca de 10:45 A.M.) Isn’t it strange: In stage shows, film, cartoons, and books of the 19th- and early-20th centuries, African Americans were depicted as a generic stereotype, i.e. lazy, sex maniacs, etc. The Black Minstrel character Jim Crow presented this image to the White audience: Not so much out of racial bigotry from the producers as for box office “success.” As concerns the profit-motive, the world hasn’t changed.
The Black Community raised a protest – and rightly so – that African Americans should and must be shown for what they are: Multi-sided personalities, just like anyone else. African Americans are individuals, believe it or not (which most white people didn’t believe back then; what is so awful is that the “back then” wasn’t all that long ago, even in Leslie’s and David’s lifetime)!
However, that individuality is not welcome by the so-called Black leaders: All African Americans are to think and believe alike. A stereotype is expected. And if that stereotype is broken, the African American is accused of having sold out; by his own “leaders” no less!

(acerca de 6:25 P.M.) I wish the gods were that nice everytime! But hey, I “ain’t” complaining! I’ll take whatever I can get! So thanks, guys!
After putting ninty pansies to bed, Drizzle came and read them a story. It was – and is, for Rain has been given the keys to the evening, also – as if the gods had waited for me to finish planting, and then They took charge of the watering. They wanted pansies growing but didn’t have the hands to plant them!
Last week I had asked Ronnie if there was a fine mist nozzle available. He said “no,” but I could put my thumb over the flow of water from a “hose pipe” and have the fine mist I needed. Well, I tried that last Friday. The gods didn’t like what my thumb did to the flowers, so They took over watering: A fine mist falls from the heavens.
There is a line in “King Lear” about humans being like flies to the gods. If I ever had any doubt, this afternoon proved that indeed, I am nothing but a fly!
We were shielded from Phoebus the entire day, since yesterday was almost a burn-out! Don’t try to make up for a day or two of not having access to us, in one sitting! This is what happens!
It was a cool day: Not much beyond the upper-60-degrees (F). It was not one of Fall’s better days, although “perfect” for pansies. And that‘s all the gods care about, anyway! They (the pansies) were the cynosure of the day.

(24th, About 7:55 A.M.) You could have knocked me over with a feather, as “they” say!
Early yesterday afternoon while headed to work, Joyce asked my advice on child-rearing, stating “You may know this!” It concerned Kayla and her realization that Steve, her imaginary friend, was not real. This acknowledgement caused her to cry pitifully.
As far as I am concerned, children are just little people with special needs: “. . . not things to molds but people to unfold!” Long ago I was told otherwise, but whoever it was that told me used children as a substitute for her/his own life.
It must be apparent – I’m sure it is – to all who knows my history that my childhood lasted much longer than it should have. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow I was a child at the same time I was a “man”! One side of me, therefore, was watching the other side develop. I had a very rare perspective into human development. I am able to identify with children. Very few people have that gift, even though the price I paid for it was high. But I’m past 50 now, so I am safe from childhood. I still – thank God – retain memories of how painful maturation can be, though.

(acerca de 8:2_ A.M.) I was reviewing the first volume of this journal yesterday evening. I’m still confused as to my dating system: December 2, 1975, came before November 25, 1975. However such came about, I was delighted to see a listing of television programs that was associated with my 25-year old life: What valuable anthropological records I can offer to anthropologists of the future!
I don’t know if I mentioned THE TWILIGHT ZONE when that show was original; but yesterday watched the first or second remake on UPN/68 from 8:00 P.M. to 9:00 P.M. If this version of THE TWILIGHT ZONE doesn’t seem as good as the original, I take all the blame: “You can’t go home again.”
To be honest, I can’t recall much about the original, except that it was in black and white. The one episode that I have memories of is a character played by Donna Douglass being operated on, her face covered with bandages. The doctors and nurses were trying to make her look “normal.” When the bandages were removed, the Douglass character was a blond bombshell like she has always been. The camera never showed the doctors and nurses. Only their voices were heard. They were bemoaning the failure of the operation: The final shot revealed the doctors and nurses with pig snouts. That, for them, was “normal.”
I’m really in no position to compare the new and the old. But the “new” is good enough for my repeat business.
Why not SOUTH PARK (9-9:30 P.M., Comedy Central)? It is a silly, puerile program, but remember: It wasn’t that long ago that I was silly and puerile!
The rain chased me off campus shortly after 5:15 P.M. Because of this I was able to catch two-thirds of THE NEWSHOUR WITH JIM LEHRER (5:30-6:30 P.M., P.B.S.). I started that the NEWSHOUR was my one dose of reality yesterday, but then I remember that television news – P.B.S. or not – is television first and then news.

(acerca de 10:04 A.M.) We are still under wraps. The morning is gone: I doubt if the next hour and fifty-four minutes will see a change. The weather is for pansies, that for sure!

(acerca de 6:30 P.M.) I thought You said that You sent October 24th to Nice Day School, 2002? Well, something went wrong! Phoebus came around 11:40 A.M., this morning to give 24th a private lesson, and still It (24th) failed! What is wrong?
Rain damn near came from the Clouds, They were so jammed together! Nice Day couldn’t have gotten through, anyway, no matter what twenty-fourth would have done! War games prepare one for just that: War games. Nothing can prepare one for the real thing! The same with Nice Day School: There are just too many external factors with which to contend. As __th is with every field, one basically has to train on the job, even if one has a Ph.D. in the subject!
Being as late as it is in the year, it should come as no surprise to you that the upper-60-degrees (F) were the best Twenty-Fourth could handle.
I didn’t articulate this to Joyce for obvious reasons, but I find Leslie’s extreme dislike of fantasy hypocritical: She worships a fantasy.
Leslie was a big fan of the novel “Watership Down.” In fact, she even corresponded with the author in Florida (This was years ago; whoever wrote “Watership Down” lived in Florida at the time). Not long afterwards I purchased a hard-back copy of the novel at a thrift store (?). Unbeknownst to me, by this time Leslie had disavowed fantasy. How was I to have known?

(acerca de 9:15 P.M.) It’s funny to me that a person can criticize a country like the former Soviet Union for being secular, calling it “Godless.” That same person will then turn around and call any country that is an Islamic theocracy bad names. Obviously it is an “Islamophobic” thing! According to these people, if it was anything but Islam. Or Hindu. Or Buddhism. Or Judaism. Or – well, you get the picture.
I walked the short distance to Allen’s Food Mart and purchased a pack of cigarettes for $2.15. That’s 65 more cents than I usually pay! I had better watch those sixty-five cents: They add up, you know!
Question: How many 65 cents does it take to buy a car?
Answer: ?

(25th, About 8:26 A.M.) My lower-back is registering high barometric pressure this morning: I can hardly move! The pain awaken me around 5:00 A.M., this morning, and wouldn’t let me get back to my regular business for the longest of times!
It was apparent there was something going on in the atmosphere yesterday: Pain took up residence in my lower back. Is it the Second Amendment that states something about the quartering of troops? Here’s hoping that it is a very brief war! (continued)



















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