Click images for desktop size: "Haiku On Hanami" by April Joy E Jasmin My mother used to be terrified that she, being only fifteen years older than me and divorced, was going to deprive me and traumatize me. The only book, the only resource for new mothers then was Doctor Spock. She couldn't go to her mother for advice. My grandmother hadn't talked to her since my mother's divorce. So my mother fumbled around and did the best she could figure out.
Sometimes this entailed taking me to work with her. When she was working at the concession counter at the drive-in movie theater going with her was very cool. I would sit at a picnic table on a concrete slab by the projection booth, right next to a blaring metal loud speaker and float into the movies while my mom's teen co-workers inundated me with sugar-y soda, popcorn and ice cream.
It was in that state that I first saw "Godzilla". A warm California night, the sea breeze and eucalyptus scenting the air and sixty feet of city munching reptile destroying everything adults hold dear. Perhaps my still holding love affair with Japanese jidai-geki movies has more to do with remembering a mother's love than it does my fondness for giant lizards and men in rubber suits. I wouldn't know. I'm more Adlerian than Freudian.
I liked monster movies. So did my mother but she worried so her next big plan to keep me from being deprived was a subscription to The Children's Book Club.
This was some weird thing, probably from an ad in "Teen Mom's Weekly". For fifty nine cents a copy your child, meaning me, got a hard cover classic of children's literature.
They were cheaply printed things. Thing I remember most were the super ragged edges of the pages. But I liked the books. I liked the stories in them. Classics is a pretty broad term. There were Hardy Boys stories, strange science fiction and "Alice's Adventures In Wonderland". I really liked that book at age 7. I liked the pictures and I liked the horrible things that happened to the little girl.

Click images for desktop size: "Purple Vectors" by Unknown At that stage of my life torturing little girls was a major part of my entertainment. Not real torture but stuff like dropping snails down their backs, stealing the heads from their dolls. Typical stuff. The one girl who thought it was cool and fought back instead of shrieking and threatening to tell on me became a life long friend.
So I liked that all the animals yelled at Alice, picked on her and tormented her. It kept my interest up.
I read that book and re-read it then got on with surfing, torturing little girls etc. In high school someone gave me a copy of Martin Gardener's "The Annotated Alice". I don't remember who. It took me a long time before I started reading it. When I did start to get into it I was enthralled. It started my trek into Lewis Carroll fandom.
I recently got a copy of Jenny Woolf's new book, "The Mystery of Lewis Carroll". It's a bit dry but it attempts to debunk some of the more bizarre suppositions about Charles Dodgson like that he was actually Jack the Ripper. It also attempts to tackle the issue of his being a pedophile. That has always driven me crazy. I've read some persuasive arguments for it being so and I've tried to accept that he was a pedophile who never actually improperly touched or harmed a child.
That goes against my knowledge of pedophiles. When I took my training to help abused kids part of it was attending group therapy sessions and listening to child abusers. I think the plan was to get us trainees to have some compassion and empathy for the offensive
Click images for desktop size: "Audrey Hepburn" offenders.
It didn't have any such effect. I have been alone with thrill killers, reputed Mafia hitmen, drug addicts, prostitutes and movie stars. At some level I've always felt a bond of humanity. Sometimes it was tenuous and difficult but it was always still there.
Prior to my meeting the child abusers the group I felt most distant from were the hard core crack addicts. They were so lizard brained that any cloudy memory they had of being human was only called on to try and manipulate.
Child abusers, the ultimate victimizers, didn't have even that. To me they were an alien insect race that would be best served with a claw hammer and a room draped in plastic.
They have no control over their actions. They must abuse. So sordid and ingrained is their delusion that they speak often and in agreement that children are sexual seducers who lure them into the abusers horrific attacks and fantasies.
The thing is that they were all like this, all out of control. Even chemical and physical castration has not deterred child molesters from attacking children.
No matter how convincing the arguments it was hard, nearly impossible for me to put Dodgson in
Click images for desktop size: "Rise on an Angel" by Titusboy this category, this misshapen lump. I could not even accept that he was a pedophile who had somehow managed to NOT harm children.
Ms Woolf's book tries to address this issue while presenting an image of Carroll full and deep. She uses a few newly discovered letters, gets some interesting interpretations of available data from MD's and such and uses a unique and solid bit of hard evidence.
She uses forensic accounting. Recently discovered are the complete bank records for Dodgson. From the first penny he spent till the decimation of his estate at his death. Financial records.
It seems odd. But so did bringing down Al Capone's empire based on his financial records. It paints a picture of Carroll and Dodgson that I am much more in agreement with that any other previous. Meaning it jibes most closely to my own perceptions of a major part of my pantheontology.
Woolf's writing style is a bit dry and prosaic but her observations are keen, her conclusions are only pedantic when strongly supported by evidence. It makes a good read and provides at least for the fans, which I am, a nice amount of dream time considering Dodgson/Carroll. My only complaint is that a bit too many words are spent rejecting some of the more inane conclusions about Dodgson.

I went for my stress tests on Wednesday. Interesting stuff. They made the mistake of leaving me alone in a room too long. I found a remarkable plastic model of a heart. It was dumped behind some boxes in a cupboard. I coveted it and considered stealing it. I didn't. Not because of any high handed moral arguments or out of fear but because it occurred to me that it might only appear to be discarded and might be of service to some other poor slob stuck in my kind of hell.
The stress tests themselves were not all that difficult. The first one was on a treadmill. I was out fitted with all the ekg terminals and an x-ray machine was pointed at my chest.

Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Wally Wood It was hard getting my pulse over 100. Not that I'm that fit but because the treadmill didn't offer up enough resistance and I was ordered to not bend over too much to accelerate so that the x-rays would hit the right spot.
After that we went to the stair masters. Due to my chemotherapy history they eschewed x-rays. Didn't want to blast me with too much radiation in case I turned into a super hero I bet. So this time I climbed the unending staircase and was monitored by electrodes and sound waves. I could see the sonogram as I worked out. It was so incredibly cool looking at my heart beat. In motion I was trying to control it and make it do interesting things. That got me yelled at.
Don't have all the results yet but what there is is good. My heart has healed. There are abnormalities but they have to be looked for rather than appearing as distorted lines and squibbles.
My vitals are all good. they doubled my blood pressure meds. Rah. My BP was 120 over 60, but they decided they want it even lower! Part of this is due to the congestive heart failure I had with the Lyrica. Then my BP was hovering around 190 over 80 due to all the fluid in my chest compressing everything. Getting my standard BP even lower will enable me to endure a real congestive heart attack (that's what killed my grandmother when she was 98 . . .) They said I was on an extremely minmal dosage anyway and this would still have me below average.
Now I just wait for the rest of the results and the fitness and fury.
Just wanted to mention my puppy. She's continued to be wonderful. She's crazy and calm by turns. When I'm feeling more under the weather than usual she's protective. When I'm feeling better she's bossy and obnoxious, demanding her way. She's my friend.
She's been on a diet. She hates it. But we went to the pet store yesterday and she has lost nearly TWO POUNDS! Bringing her weight down to 71! Only six more pounds to go till she is her ideal weight!
She could care less about ideal weight. She'd rather have ice cream at all of her meals.

Click images for desktop size: "Fairy Tale Land" by Monica Corduneau "I've never said this to a white man before. I love you."
I don't get nervous about things being said to me like that. It was a customer as I counted out her $3,200 winnings. She didn't give me a tip.
Nowadays most people don't understand the use or the power of words. Crack, meth, liquor and TV have minimized the impact of everything but mostly words have come to mean less and less.
The sounds of words get used to mesmerize and manipulate. The clarity and evocative power of words and sentences has been lost to soundbites, which tend to be meaningless emotion grabbers without depth.
Sarah Palin, who used to faqscinate me until she quit the job she insisted she craved so that she'd be free to be greedy. She uses soundbites. She doesn't even bother with words. She makes up sounds that sound like they have portent. It seems like the grunting of a caveman in a 10 thousand dollar suit.
Frank Capra made a movie. It was called "Meet John Doe". It was one of those great populist dramas. Gary Cooper was "John Doe" a baseball pitcher who blew his arm out. In the middle of the great depression that meant he was now a hobo, riding the rails, looking for a days work. Barbara Stanwyck is a newspaper columnist who just got fired. In an act of spite Stanwyck publishes a shaggy dog story about how John Doe was mad about the state of the world. John Doe is so mad that he plans to commit a Zen Bhuddist protest and throw himself off of City Hall on Christmas Eve.
Gary Cooper gives radio speeches that barbara Stanwyck writes for him. They're populist speeches that hold a pure clean vision for America. Mainly the populist themes of the times: employment, self esteem, distrust of the decadent rich, distrust of elected politicians who forget their constituency.

Click images for desktop size: "HAL 9000" by Maurico Fernandez Rosino Gary Cooper's character becomes a national hero. Clubs, form up: "The John Doe Society". They agree with Cooper and the clubs form to collect signatures begging Cooper to not commit suicide.
The John Doe Clubs keep springing up all over America. Then Eddy Arnold comes forward. He's a rich guy and begins to bank roll The John Doe Society. He turns a grass roots organization into a powerful political third party. He spends depression millions creating the clubs, controlling the people. He plans to ride them into the White House, making himself a ruler. A ruler not with populist ideals but with fascist Stalinist principals that insure the success of white upper crust Americans while grinding the poor and the middle class into a bloody stew to grease the corporate wheels of his personal progress.
Eddy Arnold rests by building his own private army and by installing the movie world's best ever Christmas tree.
There's a lot more plot to the movie. Cooper finds out about Arnold's plans and plans to expose him. Arnold, rather than be exposed, destroys Cooper and the John Doe Society. If he can't use it. He writes it off as a loss.
It all reminds me too much of Sarah Palin and Roger Ailes. Except there's no Gary Cooper around to save us from them. And, like they say, there's a sucker born every minute.
Palin has no mystery. She's just a greed machine who couldn't even finish out her sworn term of office because she was too greedy and feared her flame flickering out before she struck true gold. She's the
Click image: "Marlyn Monroe & Jane Russell" Paris Hilton of politics.

Next night at work was the night of the crack heads. There's an armed security guard who works with me. Most of the time he just sits and plays the games, he gambles almost 8 hours straight. I don't know if he was absorbed in gambling or intimidated by the crack heads. Either's possible. There were 14 of them in 3 cars: an Escalade and two Cadillac coupes. They were the sort of scum who couldn't afford Caddies but sold enough crack to make a big enough down payment.
It didn't mean anything to me. I kept them in line. They'd get aggro but aggro and bragging don't impress me. I know tough. Been around plenty of scary people in my life. These jerks were just loud and used to scaring little old ladies. After each confrontation they'd come up to me and wanting to make friends. Like I'd want a coward for a friend.
No head cracking ensued. Mainly because taking even one of them out probably would have killed me. And mainly because I'd look at them and just feel pity. I hate the drugs. I hate the lizard brained monsters crack turns people into but I feel saddened that crack was all they have and turning them into lizard brains was the best choice for them, as they see it. Because creeps like Sarah Palin want to take away any dream of a future and leave all but their select few as despairing multitudes begging for just a little more.

Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Marek Okon The next night was worse, worse than crack heads. There seems to be a type of woman who hangs around these places. Usually they seem pretty harmless to me. They beg for gambling money.
They scam and hustle but its pretty harmless stuff to my mind. Its more their gambling addiction than purer forms of poverty. Usually they "borrow" a couple bucks in exchange for bringing the fatties money to me. As in, "Eighteen bucks on Miss Ambrose's account and two on mine," while they hand me a crumpled twenty. For many of these women the effort of standing up and walking 6 feet is worth 2 bucks. Or "loan me five and we'll be partners and split anything I win."
I don't like that stuff but it's better than robbery. I've talked to a few women about it but it doesn't seem to have any impact. It annoys most of my co-workers, these people. I don't see why. They only bug me when they get rude but most of the time they are only obnoxious to me.
There's one of this group who fairly attractive i.e. not fat. She's pretty low life. One of the security guards was hitting on her as was one of my co--workers. In the introductory conversation she always swings it around to her time in prison and how proud she is of her mother who is like Queen of the Yard.
Depressing stuff.
The girl talks but she comes off as just a tease. She's just playing things out for the money and the attention.
So Thursday she's working this dude, Ronnell. He's a tall guy, a wanna be pimp sort. Wears tiny braids and a derby hat! In 2010 a derby hat looks pretty stupid to my eyes.
So the girl hustled him for a whole five bucks. It made me nervous because I dislike this guy Ronnell and get the idea that he thinks he's suave and dangerous, in a way a guy who's never set foot out of a small town can think he's suave and dangerous. Too many movies, too much TV and very little life other than street corners.
Ronnell decided to collect on his "investment". Fortunately caught him when he led the girl outside and slammed her against a wall and pressed hard against her. Fortunately stopped him before it
Click images for desktop size: "My Home" by Unknown went any further than that. Sexual assault is slightly less disgusting than rape.
I asked the girl about calling the cops. She was startled. She was upset but nowhere near as upset as I'd expect. She hung around a couple of more hours.
The next morning my boss didn't fight me about banning the guy permanently.

I was supposed to see the neurologist on Friday. I got an email canceling the appointment and rescheduling it for April 21!!
I think I'd rather have a slightly worse doctor who was a little it more available.
I called the office and found out the guy was sick. Occupational hazard style sickness.
This Wednesday I get to see the cardiologist. I have some high hopes here. It's the stress test. I'm hoping to find out that the heat attacks have healed. I'm also hoping that the damage done by the Lyrica was only transitory.
So the weekend is nearly over and all I've done is recover physically enough to go into work tomorrow night.
It's going to be a short week. I'm taking off the night of the stress test and then the next night as well. I want to pass the stress test and be deemed healthy.

Click images for desktop size: "Hollywood" by Unknown Rain and snow here. They're not used to it. It locks the whole town into a deep panic. Strange. Two plow trucks with salt spreaders would make the whole thing pretty much a non-issue in a few hours. They do nothing despite dozens of accidents and fatalities. They do nothing and people keep driving. Except me. I keep walking.
The nasty weather makes being ordered to stay at home a bit easier to take. I saw the doc on Wednesday and got ordered to take it easy, to take off two days of work, to let my body heal.
My blood pressure is still high 144 over 80. Doc says it's because of all the fluid in my chest. She was going to give me a lecture about walking out of the hospital but stopped when I said it was mainly because of the money. the hospital said I left because I wanted to go home and feed my puppy . . . that's true but not all that's true.
She also said, "The emergency doctor doesn't understand how tough you are. Your previous doctor made notes all over the place but its hard to believe. I've been seeing you for six months and I barely believe it myself."
There's not much there for me so I let it lie. I don't much like people thinking I'm so tough I can endure all the pain.
She sent me off to get more x-rays. I'm probably going to have to go to a Pulmonary doc. The Lyrica damaged my lungs some but there seems to be some calcification already present. The doc was under the impression I'd tested positive for TB!! I told her I thought I'd remember if I had.
I was worried, In London I had to get tested for TB every six months. I worked with a group called Blue Cross. I'd go out at night with a veterinarian to the homeless enclaves and we'd treat the dogs many of the homeless men and women kept for protection and companionship. Tuberculosis runs rampant in the homeless communities of Europe so I had to get the little skin pop test and chest x-rays far too often.
It was noted in my file that I had tested positive in one of those skin pop tests. The doc checked the computer records pretty quickly and found the positive for TB notation. A few years ago I needed a chest x-ray for Canadian immigration. It seems that the radiologist couldn't think of any other reason that I would need an x-ray other than having tuberculosis so she checked a box on some
Click images for desktop size: "Ferrari" form or other.
I don't have TB. I'm pretty glad about that but resentful about spending time having to think about it.
I got my chest x-ray and picked up my prescription drug refills. I'm going to hold off on any more neuropathic medicines and just deal with the pain with ibuprofen.
I'm supposed to see the neurologist on the 19th of this month. I decided I could survive the hurt until then. I don't care for my neurologist much but he's got a pretty fantastic world class rep. He'll have to deal with the sudden breaking down of my bodies electrical system.
I have to say though, that other than taking one longish walk to the bank I've been pretty docile and being docile has gotten my leg under control. I haven't taken any ibuprofen today at all.
I've gotten to listen to a lot of music. I like that. There's four pretty special albums I've liked. All new but two are brand new and two are new collections of old stuff.
Alkaline Trios "This Addiction" is fine. So good it almost makes me forget how they are the worst group I've ever had to endure live. Nearly forget but not quite. Every song is tinged with the memory of that horrific performance.
I'm also surprised by the Rob Zombie "Hellbilly Deluxe II". Parts of it are savage and totally deluxe, like "The Devil's Rejects" and "Halloween" were brutal savage celluloid dreams of evil. The other parts are like . . . Well, there's a track, "The
Click image for desktop size: "Cyd Charisse" Man Who Laughs" which starts out great then suddenly devolves into a totally inept 5 minute drum solo! Still, what's great is very cool and what sucks can be ignored. Think "Halloween II" enacted on disc and you'd be pretty close to what the album is.
The release of The Blasters "Testament" is a surprise. Their complete Slash recordings. Slash was a music mag in LA that evolved into a record label pushing out 45's and the occasional LP. I had a lot of contact with Phil and Dave Alvin for some reason or other. I thought the Blasters were a great band and that Dave was more into Buck Owens (which was are main point of camaraderie) than Little Richard. It was Dave who wrote the songs and Phil who promoted the band.
Getting bands to work is a miserable job. It can turn you into a miserable person. But Phil could sing and front a band for sure. And there's plenty of evidence in these two CD's that The Blasters should have been the saviours of music. Maybe they were.
Finally there's the six CD collection from Buddy Holly. "Not Fade Away-The Complete Studio Recordings". Someone pointed out that Holly's "From the Original Master Tapes" was the first CD that showed what CD's were sonically capable of. Prior to that disk most CD's stuck to that insulting
Click images for desktop size: "Ancient Japanese Art" by Unknown format of just using the old RIAA eq'ed for phono cartridge or cassette master tapes. They were pretty offensive sounding. Holly has never offended my ears.
The complete recordings has all the hits, some weird little tid bits, like Holly recording different versions of "That'll Be The Day" inserting a different DJ's name. I'd heard them before but never in what I guess you'd call a prestige collection. All the hits are there and they all rock like we're all going to be young forever. There's a lot of weird country stuff, complete with Texas fiddle stylings that are only of interest because Holly's playing guitar.
My enforced vacation ends on Super Sunday. Coolness.
I've lost the picking games contest to my friend. Even if she picks the evil mechanized Colts I can't overtake her. Small victory for her which only proves she's a cheater.
I'm picking the Saints for no other reason than the beauty of it. Little Dru Brees vs the evil Payton Manning. Hey, don't believe those sweet and funny commercials. Payton Manning is evil. Would a nice guy ruthlessly carve up a defense like he has?
The Colts are boring and will probably win. That's a shame. I like the wild uncontrollable offense the Brees directs. I like the flying by the seat off their pants defense the Saints throw out there. All the Colts offer is perfection. Perfection is boring.
Who dat think they gonna beat them Saints! I'll be saying it and watching the game and hoping.
The Who for a halftime show?? Maybe 20 years ago . . .

Click images for desktop size: "Fieroanimals" by Unknown J.D. Salinger is dead and I'm not.
I think he'd appreciate that. I know I do.
I keep trying to piece together the history of all this grief.
It was winter of 1999 when they told me I had lympho ballistic leukemia. The doc's were worried because I took the news too calmly. Like there's a choice.
The put me on the chemo's that didn't quite work. I mean, they did their thing. I went bald, it burned out my pancreas so I got the predicted diabetes. I dropped about 30 pounds of muscle mass. They just didn't stop the leukemia.
They didn't tell me, or maybe they did, that the second chemo, Lanvil or something close enough to that name, was laced with neuortoxins. I didn't know until they told me a couple of months ago. Same time they told me that another of the chronic symptoms of diabetes was nerve degeneration. Diabetes was one of the contributing factors to the first heart attack.
Okay.
So a couple of weeks ago I got a fire in my thigh. Started at the middle of my back and ran all the way down to above my knee. Hurt pretty bad. I took massive doses of ibuprofen and that settled it down. The doc gave me this pill Lyrica. At first I liked it. It stopped the painful burning. The pain and ache it dealt with by making the whole thigh feel numb, but not in a bad explosive way. Just sort of dead flesh numb. I could handle it even if I couldn't enjoy it.
I followed the directions carefully. One pill a day for a week then on day 7 double them up, one in the morning and one at night.

Click images for desktop size: "Fifty Five Drops" by Unknown I started the doubling up on Friday. On Sunday I noticed my feet and ankles were swollen to about twice their normal size. Real John Merrick style freaky ugly stuff.
I'd been noticing a pain in my chest when I was walking to work. Nothing over powering, but still there. I stopped taking the pill. Didn't take my Sunday night pill before hoofing it in to work. There's a severe hill at the start of the walk. When I got to the top the pain in my chest was pretty bad. It dropped me to one knee and I vomited up about two cups of liquid. Embarrassing stuff.
I called the doc first thing Monday. She was out so I talked to the Medical Student with the same last name as mine. She told me to stop taking the pills. Told her I already had. She said check back in two days.
It was a rough two days. The pain in the thigh came back, at least the burning was pretty subdued. Work was miserable. Its hard suffering in front of people who don't care. I get no sick days. I had to work to get paid.
I walked back and forth to work. It was hard. I still got there.
I took comfort in the fact that my puppy didn't seem too concerned. I was having a harder time breathing though and she slowed down when I started to gasp too hard. She still fought me for the bed. I considered it a win if I got a third of
Click images for desktop size: "Fred & Ginger" it, about a foot.
I called the doc on Wednesday. My doc was in. She told me for me to be in that much distress it was important that I go to the emergency room. I told her I couldn't afford that, which is true.
I went to work as usual. I was getting used to vomiting at the top of the hill. I kept trying to tell myself it was getting better. I put a wedge in the bed so my feet would be higher than my heart. I did all I could.
On Friday I walked home, took care of my puppy and walked over to the Emergency Room. Something of a mistake I think.
Having chest pain rushed me to the front of the queue. Which was cool VIP stuff. They did my EKG, chest X-Ray and BP. I was freaked out. I hate hospitals now. My BP was 194 over 94. I'd never seen it that high. At home, on Thursday, my BP was 112 over 65. At the hospital it never went lower than 155 over 75.
The EMG doc came in and said that my EKG looked fine. I studied the tape with him and asked him about my two heart attacks. The last EKG I had the heart attacks were real easy to see. He looked
Click images for desktop size: "Regresa A Mo" by Titusboy harder and said, "I guess this could be them."
That was when my BP dropped. I felt pretty good. My heart was healing. Even though conventional wisdom said it wouldn't, it was. My program of acerbic self flagellation and puppy playing was working.
The next thing he was saying was that he still wanted me to stay in hospital overnight for observation. That shot my BP up again. I asked a simple question; "How much would that be?"
No body knew. It took 10 minutes to find somebody to tell me the base rate would be $3,200. I told them no thanks.
I had to sign a Discharged Against Medical Advice Form. Then they were in a big rush to get rid of me. I made the doc examine my feet and ankles. He said that he couldn't see any swelling. I'm confident that I wasn't hallucinating so I decided the EMG doc was a bigger idiot than he appeared. (And trust me, most doctors are idiots. A degree confers no wisdom.)
The blood tests came back and my enzymes showed I'd had an "incident" some days ago. They told me stay off my feet and to relax . . .
I had to stumble around to find my way out. I walked home. My puppy was distressed. She even let me lie down unmolested.
I figured that the pain would gradually fade away and that eventually I'd pass the disaster that was Lyrica out of my life.
I got a phone call Saturday morning. The X-Ray doctor was calling. She was alarmed that I wasn't in hospital. She wanted to know if I was mobile. The X-rays showed a large amount of fluid in my chest cavity. I told her I was uncomfortable but not dying. She asked me to monitor things and to return to the hospital if pain got too bad or I were to pass out or collapse. (I avoided asking how I was going to get to the hospital if I was unconscious.) She agreed to fax or messenger my x-rays to my doctor asap.
This phone call really made me angry. I couldn't believe the doc had rushed me out before they even looked at the x-ray. I told you doctors can be idiots.
And all I've gotten out of this is DO NOT EVER TAKE A DRUG THE BASTARDS ADVERTISE ON TV. Especially Lyrica. Congestive heart failure is one of their known possible side effects . . . And I love my puppy. Late at night I only have to whisper her name and she comes running happily to me. And I love my friend who puts up with me.
When I was young I thought I was twice as much man as anyone else. It sounded arrogant even to me. But I think I was right nonetheless. Because now I feel like about half a man but the funny thing is I'm still alive even if J.D. Salinger isn't.

Click images for desktop size: "Fairy Tale" by Titusboy It's been a finite week. Beginning and an end. Lots of discoveries about my body. Things I probably didn't need to know but . . .
Like, my cruddy job leaves me to tired to have anything more than scrambled thoughts. I have moments but then the fatigue toxins hit. I need to organize my thoughts each day to keep the days separate. Otherwise, like now, they all run together into a gray block that goes from paycheck to paycheck with little in between.
I've even found it hard to focus in on a movie. I either fall asleep or find myself getting impatient.
My puppy grounds me. She's still the same but she's more important to me each day. Together we have our little adventures. Together we're going to save this big old pit bull down the street. She takes care of herself and she takes care of me.
Today we walked to the pet store and weighed her. She's lost one-fifth of a pound. I was pleased.
My big fear is that I'm going to drop one of my pills and she'll pick it up, thinking its some kind of groovy treat or something. And I take a lot of pills. Too many pills.
The Lyrica hit me hard. I was waking up and walking across the room and it felt very clearly like I was walking up a steep hill. The capsule makes my chest feel heavy. I'm waking up with low blood sugars so it's not a pretty combination. It feels like theres a little slot car motor in my chest and the axle is spinning and sputtering deep inside of me rotating my organs around some mad dance.
They seem to be doing their job though. The fire bright burning from my hip to my knee has died down and gradually the pain has gotten tolerable.
Lyrica is one of those drugs you have to introduce to your body gradually. On Friday I got up to the
Click images for desktop size: "Sea Shore" by Unknown full dosage. It controlled the pain by making my thigh almost completely numb. Numb doesn't hurt much and I can deal with it. I'm still walking to work everyday and walking back after. It's a matter of will and I don't have much choice.
Work is work. It doesn't mean much. Just once I'd like to have a conversation with one of the customers that doesn't end with them trying to involve me in some scam. There's nothing there except a scant paycheck. Nothing at all.
I work, stumble in, feed my puppy, try and walk her. She has a new favorite stick that she keeps assiduous track of. She can find it under leaves in the middle of a thousand other sticks. She tries to get me to chase her for it. When I feebly try she giggles.
Then I just collapse. This week I'd wake up in pain after the pills ran out. I'd deal with that by taking more ibuprofen and then playing on the WDTV Live. I've hacked it up to where I'm almost happy with it.
In all my hacking around I did make one decision. I used to save all the movies to DVD's. Now I realize that I can do better by storing them on external hard drives. I figure I can get 400 DVD's on a 1.5 TB drive that I can get for about 80 bucks. Four hundred DVDs would cost me more than that. And the External HD has a much longer shelf life.
It goes along with my idea of keeping most of my music in lossless format instead of aac. (I haven't used MP3 for years) In blind tests I can tell an MP3 from the original better than 805 of the time. With
Click images for desktop size: "Yul Brenner" aac it was about 30% of the time. aac sounds more open to me, less compressed and many fewer artifacts. Lossless makes the whole process moot. And on the iPod it starts to sound a whole lot like life when I'm walking around out there.
The only issue is that the iPod only plays Apple Lossless files. This is a weird codec which seems based on flac but is totally proprietary. I hate proprietary codecs. But its lossless so it's no issue at all to dump them back and forth to and from flac if the need arises.
The lossless files have the airy openness and purity of joy. Of course my music collection has swollen to over 75 gigs and I can't quite fit 300 songs on the iPod, but really, how often do I need more than four hours of music at a time.

I just woke up. Fell asleep in my chair . . . again.

One of the reasons for my confusion is that my bedrock is fading. There's only three games left in the season. Three NFL games and then its over until August when we get to start it up all over
Click images for desktop size: "Maria Magdalena" by Unknown again. With any luck in February the cardiologist will clear me and starting in August I'll get to start coaching again.
But now the emptiness gets to settle in.
It doesn't help that my friend has managed to jam up the computers so badly that she is beating me by NINE points for the season. My sense of justice hopes she get caught for the serious server hacking she must have been doing to change it so she was perfect last week! Of course I'm fond of her and the idea of her getting any more hassles upsets me slightly. But I'm not sure if that upsets me as much as being cheated of my natural superiority . . .

My picks in the two games are in bold.

New York Jets at Indianapolis - Yeah. I know that a Colts vs Saints SuperBowl has been in the cards since week 8 but the Jets shouldn't be even be here. They may turn out to be like John McCay's and Doug Williams' Tampa Bay team that miraculously got to the Championship game only to get easily throttled. But I'd rather believe in the dream than the reality. Payton Manning is a machine. If Tom Brady didn't exist there's no denying he'd be the greatest QB of this generation. But Rex Ryan's defense is the type that can give him fits. And Ryan is creative enough to figure out a way to take Dallas Clark away from him. Reavis will shut out Reggie Wayne and that leaves him some talented receivers but the issue is whether that front seven will even give him a chance to check down and find them. The Colts can't run the ball against the Jets, they've barely needed to run at all this season but today they need to be effective enough to use the play action. The Jets don't have to sack Manning, they just need to knock him down a few times and be in his face, they can do that. On the other side of the Ball it's the Jets solid running game and the wide eyed cockiness of Mark Sanchez, the Super Rookie who should have been taking the Trojans to the National Championship this season. Instead he decided to go to
Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Peter Tapang the Superbowl. I think there's a good chance he can do it again or else Sanchez could end up being the new generation's Doug Williams. Besides that, if the Colts ride Manning to victory it will be boring and predictable. If the Jets win it's a beautiful drama filled with laughter and tears. Always go with the dream even if it's doomed.

Minneapolis at New Orleans - The Game of the Year! This has everything you could want. The lowly Saints flying high riding a video game offense commanded by little Dru Brees. Brees makes my heart ache. He's got the swagger and the toughness wrapped up with enthusiasm and the excitement of the game. He makes his good receivers great. Reggie Bush, who has added hard nosed toughness to his ballet like runs. Jeremy SHockey playing on one leg but still blocking and still catching touch downs. The Saints line will control the Vikings pass rush and might even hold the Saints to under 40 points. Maybe. But then the Vikings; Brett Favre. Brett Favre. The ultimate gunslinger. Every time he takes his helmet off I'm shocked to see that patch of gray hair on his head. He's a force and the greatest playmaker ever in the NFL. He specializes in making the impossible routine. But he also has the record for most INT's in history. Sharper, Saints safety has a broken hand. That will save Brett at least one pick but two picks could turn this game around. Then there's the beast, Adrien Petersen. He's slowed down some, the beating of 17 games seems to have taken a toll. With a healthy Sedrick Ellis at tackle (TROJAN) the Saints nimble linebackers will find the gaps easy to shut down. Brett will find some pressure too enough for the Saints to win a shoot out. And if any team ever needed and deserved a Champion its New Orleans. Whichever team wins this game it will be exciting and fraught will the elegance and beauty of the game.

Click images for desktop size: "ctrlaltsup" by Couac The holidays were pretty good, but they already seem like a vivid dream.
My friend came down from Canada and bought the giant dog and the gentle dog with her. The giant dog was pretty much, "Oh, there you are. I want a cookie." While the gentle dog was very glad to see me and showed it.
My puppy was her usual reserved self and just wanted to play fight everybody. The rescue dog wouldn't stand for that and insisted on being the center of attention, which sort of ruined things but only a little.
We did the usual poor people Christmas stuff. And on her birthday I took my friend to a Korean Tofu Soup restaurant. I proposed and tried to make it not sound like a business deal. She said yes.
Services will be in March.
But my health keeps deteriorating. The latest is nerve damage in my leg. It hurts like a prairie fire at harvest time. It burns from just above my right hip all the way down to my right knee, the burning causes a lot of muscle cramping.
I keep examining the leg expecting to see swelling or blood but it just looks normal. I noticed my thighs are getting skinny but my calves look great!
Pain so bad went to the doctor. It was a hobbling trek. The doc pointed out that one of the first chemo's I had was full of neurotoxins, that and the diabetes meant I could look forward to a lot of neuropathic pain and damage. She prescribed this drug Lyrica, 75 mgs. I found out it's a controlled drug. First time taking it made me dopey, right now it makes me feel hungover and thick skinned. I don't know if its helping the leg pain more than ibuprofen.
The doc gave me the usual lectures. I made her laugh a lot. I went straight from work and was cotton headed from lack of sleep. For some reason I'm always acerbic and funny when I'm struggling to stay awake.

Click images for desktop size: "The Giant Orion" by Unknown They changed a few of my other drugs, mild changes.

One cool thing about my friend visiting was she bought along her AppleTV. The idea was that I'd either getting it working on her MacNook or I'd swap it for my WDTVLive. I got it working pretty quickly.
But I was able to compare the two. For beauty and ease of usage the AppleTV makes the WDTVLive look pretty stupid. It just works and requires nothing but intuition and curiosity.
In terms of playing media though the WDTVLive was like so much better. It really would come down to what you want to do with it. I'm running the WDTVlx Live hacked firmware from b-rad. That let me get the WDTV at least looking, not good, but not so horribly ugly. Like all Windows based machines the interface and networking are pig ugly and near hopeless. The hacked firmware improves some of that. It should be pointed out that the WDTV is one of the only media players that recognizes HTFS drives (Mac hard disks) so it gets plenty of points for that.
I like the WDTV but only after a lot of work. I'd never be comfortable with my friend or kids using it. It's fragile in its network connections, but robust in playing anything. It includes a file manager to let you delete, move or copy files right from the WDTV. Pretty stupid feature if you had kids. No way to restrict that that I can see either.

Last weeks playoffs I got perfectly. I was 0-4 . . . My friend was 3 of 4. I'm calling for a congressional investigation into game fixing.
My picks for this week are in bold.

Arizona at New Orleans - Last week against the Packers Kurt Warner looked incredible, pure Hall of Fame type play. A lot of people are saying he's ready to blow it all open again this year and carry the Cardinals to the SuperBowl. The Saint's have lost there last 3 games and are well rested. I think they'll be plenty sharp especially Dru Brees, Pierre Thomas and Reggie Bush. Sedrick Ellis should also be healed up. With him on the line the Saints line backers don't have to fight off as many blocks and become an efficient unit. I want the Saints to win. I think they can slow down the Cardinal O enough to win a shoot out.

Baltimore at Indianapolis - Its tempting to go with the Ravens. They're one of my favorite teams. I don't much like the Colts but for the reasons I don't like them (boring game plans, flawless execution, no fun or drama) is the reason they'll probably win this going away. So I'm picking the
Click images for desktop size: "Sandalwood" by Pepper Vu Colts but cheering for the Ravens.

Dallas at Minnesota - Suddenly everyone is calling for the Cowboys to get to the SuperBowl. The Cowboys stink. Their impressive wins come against the NFC East and a Saints team that had already clinched the first seed in the play offs. Brett Farve and Adrien Petersen are going to give the Cowboys more than they can handle while the front seven will destroy Tony Romo's confidence.

New York Jets 17 at San Diego 31 - We NEED to see the Chargers against the Colts in the AFC Championship game. The Jets are playing strong inelegant football. The Chargers are just flying low and winning. I'm stoked fro this one.

Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by 3D The holidays are over.
Sad. Bittersweet life.
I'm one of those guys who sees the holidays as continuing until the SuperBowl, a bit more subdued maybe but blocking and tackling and guys trying to catch balls while other guys try and stop them always fills me with a sense of wonder and peace.
Now that the Bowl season is over its time to get into the NFL playoffs. The finest athletes in the world, blocking and tackling and trying to catch a ball.
The playoffs cap off what was a pretty dire NFL season. The quality of the football was pretty high but the scheduling made it so that there were a huge amount of meaningless poorly played games. I was talking to some guys who thought the Cleveland v Lions game was the best game of the year. That's the one where the Lion's Matt Stafford won the game with a touchdown pass with no time remaining.
What I saw was a pretty poorly played game with erratic execution. That doesn't change what it means to the players and the players are always what makes any game fascinating.
As bad as the season was there were some bright glowing spots. There has to be.
The New Orleans Saints with Dru Brees cheerleading them and gut checking them to a 13-0 start was incredible. And The Cincinnati Bengals sweeping the AFC North was something that I couldn't ignore and appreciate.
As it stands that's my dream SuperBowl. Right now it's not my prediction it's just the SuperBowl I would like to see.
There's a lot of things I like about the Bengals. There's a strong USC connection, which I always like. Carson Palmer, the QB, coming back and playing like the elite QB he is. Keith Rivers and Rey
Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Robert Crumb Maleluga giving the Bengals a real playmaking defense and a dangerous front seven. And then they picked up Larry Johnson.
I knew Larry Johnson from State College High School. He was a phenomenal athlete then. I met his father and mother and his little brother Tony (who may be a better athlete but lacks Larry's hard competitive edge). I know the kid and I know he's not like the way the press has depicted him.
There are things about being an elite athlete that non-athletes never seem to get. They can't imagine what its like to prepare your body to stretch it past the possible, the mindset that's entailed in always believing you're being better than your opponent. The stresses of tuning your body and your mind create a tension. Pop stars and classical musicians are permitted to have their affectations and tantrum demands. Its expected and respected. An athlete is only "permitted" to be either sullen or at least keep his mouth shut.
There's been a lot of talk about Tom Brady being the NFL player of the decade. It would be really hard to make any arguments against that. The rings, the record and the duress and he definitely falls into the "keep your mouth shut" category in his public life. But as awe inspiring as Brady is there's a player on the Bengals who falls into a different category, The Player I Most Wished I'd Coached of the Decade. And that player would be Chad Ocho Cinco nee Johnson.
Ocho Cinco created one of the most wondrous moments in sports history. It was a week before Christmas and then Ocho Cinco scored a TD. I don't remember the score or the situation or even who the opponent was. What I remember was Ocho Cinco scoring the TD and then running to a side line marker. He tilted the marker up and pulled out a giant Christmas stocking stuffed with loot. He then ran up and down the sidelines tossing Christmas presents to the fans.
It was glorious, it was ebullient and the greatest TD celebration that ever was or will be. The NFL fined him and banned all such actions so they'd never be again. They've completely erased the moment from their history. They took something fun and made it illegal because it detracted from the seriousness of the game.
I've been coaching for 20 years. Most of it working with the social inclusion of youth. Football is a
Click images for desktop size: "Phish Food" by tpgPhotography hard vicious game that I still contend is the best and ultimate way to show young people how to work to improve themselves to be the best that they can be so that they can fit into a plan and be part of a team so that the team can go forward and accomplish unbelievable things. And all of those kids took the lessons that our game had to teach them and used those lessons to succeed in a community and society that had previously written them off as wasted youth.
And that worked because our game is fun. The hours of gym work, the hours of practice for the scant minutes of game time were all just fun.
The NFL doesn't much care about fun.
I worked with NFL Europe or the World Football League or whatever gooney name they were giving it for a while. It soon seemed to me that this league had only two purposes: For the owners to be able to take lavish European vacations that could be written off as business expense and to sell more NFL merchandise. I met about half of the NFL owners of the time and a good chunk of Paul Taglibue's staff.
It was only after Vince McMahon founded the X-Football League that anyone started to care about what they were putting on the field. Starting to use the League as a "minor" developmental league was
Click images for desktop size: "Gene Kelly" the solution but that was still secondary to expensive vacations and selling merchandise. Neither goal held any interest for me so I didn't last long in the NFL Europe offices or fields.
But those are the kind of guys who never played the game who could look at Chad Ocho Cinco, an elite receiver who rejoiced in and loved our game and instead of catching the infectious fever that Ocho Cinco brings to the field they only saw something that needed to be eliminated.
Whatever these guys do for a good time I doubt it could ever interest me.
This year Ocho Cinco, in the midst of the best season the Bengals have ever had, after a blown pass interference that wasn't called, Ocho Cinco tried to bribe the official with a dollar. It was humorous, it was fun and funny. It bought an NFL game up to a level of beauty and entertainment that I never thought it could recall.
Ocho Cinco was fined $50,000. He paid the fine and then matched the fine and made an equal donation to children's charities. To understand NFL priorities remember that a cheap shot merits as little as a $3,000 fine. That's like getting 30 days for assault and 15 years for dancing after midnight.

Click images for desktop size: "The Pull of Maybe" by Blurburger Chad Henry, the other Bengals elite receiver died tragically this season in a shocking way. Ocho Cinco wanted to wear his jersey the weekend of Henry's death. The NFL said no tributes to the dead unless they're straight ahead white guys I figure. Ocho CInco stood his ground and the NFL promised him the heaviest fine it could levy. The Player's Union actually stepped forward and said it would pay the fine on Ocho Cinco's behalf. The NFL refused. Their intent was to punish Ocho Cinco if he dared to pay a tribute to his friend and teammate, a touching tribute that would have touched my heart and the heart's of millions to see.
They took the joy and beauty out of the moment and Ocho Cinco sadly, if prudently, denied himself the simple Eulogy to his friend.
There's a long list of things Ocho Cinco has done that appeal to me. When he had no receptions against Reavis in the season finale he gave Reavis credit for being great and never blamed his injured knee. He had one season where he went public with his despair at playing for loosing teams and then came back and apologized for it and on and on.
Chad Ocho Cinco is a player that I think can be held up as an example to other young men. He works incredibly hard. He's super fit. He runs excellent routes, helps his QB, is a good blocker. His game is constantly improving. And he has fun playing this sport at its highest level. He laughs and enjoys his status as a rich celebrity. HE cares for the children of his community in ways great and small. He's turned the iPhone and the smart phone community into his own special place to reach out to fans and other players.
Chad Ocho Cinco is what I dreamed each of my players, my kids, might become. And I think he's special and I hope to see him play in the SuperBowl catching a TD pass somersaulting out of the back of the end zone with the ball still in his hands.

At the end of the regular season I am leading my friend by one point. This is a testament to the genius and clear headed thinking I gave all my picks as well as a testament to the depths of feminine cheating and lucky guessing . . . Well, it is.
Due to some insightful scheduling 3 of this weeks 4 games are rematches from last week . . . That sure spells excitement not to mention a weird sense of deja vu.
My picks are in bold.

New York Jets at Cincinnati - The Jets won last week in a game that meant everything to them and nothing to the Bengals. The only thing that makes me nervous about this game is that the Bengals still won't have Ray Maleluga. Their D needs his high rev motor back there. He's a disruptive force who fits in well to the Bengals team. I also think Ocho Cinco will burn Reavis for one long TD.

Philadelphia at Dallas - Its hard for me to pick a team with Michael Vick. He has not held to his
Click images for desktop size: "Midstream Encounter" by Unknown promises as far as I'm concerned. I was a supporter but he's done minimal work with kids or on behalf of animals. Carson Palmer appears at his local animal shelter on Pet Adoption day for nothing but the joy of it. Where was Vick on that day? I think that was the condition for his release and for his reinstatement. It's the NFL and only tickets and merchandise sales really matter.But I like the Cowboys D well enough but think their O is wreckless and erratic. The Eagles are even more erratic, remember they got bombed by the Raiders not that long ago. McNabb is too good a QB and too intense a leader to permit a replay of last weeks dismal performance.

Baltimore at New England - Game of the Week if only because it's not a replay like the others. I like the Ravens and think they match up well with the Patriots. Brady has a broken finger to match his three broken ribs so it should be close.

Green Bay 28 at Arizona 21 - The packers blew the Cardinals out last week in a game that meant nothing to the Cards. The Packers should keep the swagger and Clay Matthews should delight in chasing down immobile Kurt Warner.