I was talking with someone…

About my history, and they said it sounded like some kind of impossible story. Between my childhood, and getting killed by the truck, and my love life, sometimes even I can’t believe it, and I lived it. If you look at my life as a book series with different writers, it starts making some sense, but seriously, my life doesn’t make any sense.

I have mentioned that I had a chaotic childhood. As an illustration of that I was registered to attend 17 schools from K-12 counting the one I graduated from and one I went to twice, 5th and the first half of 6th and the first half of 8th. And 8th was the worst, that was the year I registered for 4 schools and actually got to attend 2. Those schools were Kenitra American Jr-Sr, Decaturville Elementary, some school in Newport RI, and Middletown Middle. of those I only saw the first two and the last, because the first house we were going to rent got blacklisted after we got ready to move in for some reason after we got registered for school but before we moved in, so I never even saw the school.

Another illustration of that was I somehow was proposed to when I was either 11 or 12, the exact year escapes me at the moment. I was watching a girl not much older than me weaving a rug in Morocco, and while I was watching the loom she thought I was watching her in a romantic way. Since I hadn’t reached puberty yet I wasn’t really paying much attention to her, but I guess I was watching the loom she was working so intently she got the wrong idea. What made it worse was I didn’t speak any French or Arabic outside of knowing the swears in case I made someone angry. Someone asking me to marry them was entirely outside my vocabulary. And thinking about it this was the summer after 6th grade, so I was 12 then, still way too young to get married. This was the incident we used to establish why I was immortal in Shadowrun, I pissed off a magic user when I refused to get married so I was cursed with immortality without eternal youth so condemned to get old and messed up, but never die so eternal pain and torment. This was used to explain how in-game I survived getting hit by a pickup truck at 60 MPH. The only way I could survive that in game would to either be a dragon in human form, not allowed by the rules, or to be otherwise immortal, allowed by the rules.

I mentioned I have an interesting love life, which was apparently written as a hentai harem story, especially my 30s and 40s. Let’s just simplify it and say that period of my life did not lack for sex partners, as one put it, it wasn’t so much that I was Mr. Right as I was Mr. Right There, and I was good at making women feel good. That was something I had been doing since I was 13, so once again back to the chaotic childhood. It’s strange how it always seems to come back to that. Anywho, opened up the marriage and had lots of girlfriends and other lovers including trans people, until the body started failing and it got real hard to find girlfriends when the Pandemic hit, which coincided with Mrs. the Poet having back surgery and totally losing interest in sex for over a year because it caused her pain. So, new author who doesn’t write sex scenes for seniors and I’m celibate because I can’t find any women, because I haven’t been social since 3/2020. I literally haven’t left the house since then except to grocery shop, go to the Lab Rat Keeper and the brain doctor, or get a haircut, massage, or a pedicure since I can’t reach my toes.

And I have had my share of surgeries on my leg and to get tumors removed, nothing to say and except for the skin graft from the truck hitting me and blowing my leg open there isn’t much to show with modern methods of closing the surgical wound. Seriously I have had 3 tumors removed and I can’t even find the scars since they started using glue instead of stitches on the top closure.

And that pretty much sums everything up for today.

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Things have been hard to process

We have had multiple mass shootings including Uvalde, and others that haven’t made the mass media, and I have had other problems that can be solved with money I don’t have. Ain’t things just peachy?

Personally, my leg where I got hit is not even functional to tolerances, specification is not even in the equation. It’s to the point that I make trips from the office to the kitchen, mailbox, toilet, and bedroom for fresh underwear, and that’s pretty much it. I have reached my limits of pain and exertion for the day, and I am mentally exhausted. I have the physical energy if I need to get up and do something, but mentally? I am done. I just can’t face getting out from behind the computer and going out to the hall or anything.

I got a jar of organic nut butter for free, so I thought we could replace a jar of peanut butter with it, but as it set on the shelf waiting for the peanut butter to get eaten it separated into oil and solids, and Mrs. the Poet poured off the oil and now we have basically a jar of nut solids in paste form, AKA edible concrete. So many cashews gave their lives for Mrs. the Poet to turn them into unspreadable paste. I honestly don’t know about her anymore, her mother didn’t do things like this.

The screaming in my ears is quieter today, I still can’t understand speach in a noisy environment, but a quiet conversation with Mrs. the Poet is possible without her having to shout or me saying “Huh?” every third word. And when we got surrounded by multiple lawn crews doing their thing I was near hair-pulling frustration at the noise. But they’re gone now, and I can hear myself think. Which was part of the reason I sat down at my computer, I have the ability to compose my thoughts through the keyboard and onto the screen. I just can’t think of much to say.

I did the marathon race thing on Sunday, but exhaustion from my disrupted sleep schedule caught up to me before the Coca-Cola 600 was a third of the way done. I watched the Red Bull, Ferrari, Red Bull finish in the rain and wreck shortened Monaco Gran Prix, I saw Marcus Erikson win the Indy 500, but I caught myself nodding off at lap 133 of 400 and put myself to bed before Denny Hamlin won his first World 600 after multiple green-white-checkers in NASCAR overtime. I did watch the YouTube highlights yesterday which is how I know Hamlin won and there were overtimes, but at the time it happened I was zonked out, sawing wood, slumbering, catching Z’s. Dead to the world. Off in the arms of Morpheus. T-I-R-E-D.

Now getting back to the problems I have that can only be solved with money. I need to get an upper plate denture at a minimum so I can bite and chew, but that’s looking out of my budget. I’m supposed to call Aspen Dental and see what they can do , but my wake cycles and their office hours are not synching up so when I’m awake to call them there’s nobody there to take the call, and when they are there I’m not awake. But I’m not sure I have enough $$ to get an upper plate. That’s the problem, I can’t get a price until I come in, and when I come in I’m committed to paying the price no matter how much it costs. That’s No Bueno for me.

Also I’m having the problem of not getting any female companionship in bed, the way I want and physically can manage. I mean I have arthritis in both knees and kneeling is uncomfortable at best to unbearable. And most sex acts require at least some kneeling except for a very few that can be done with the man flat on his back, and some that have to be done standing and my hips and back are unhappy with those positions. So if the woman involved isn’t light or agile enough to be on top, I don’t have sex. And since Mrs. the Poet is using a walker these days that precludes her from being agile enough. Not that she wants to these days, we’re down to one snuggle party per year. This is another problem that can be solved with money I don’t have…