the 17th day

 9:32 AM  Julie is home sick, having thrown up again while on her way to work. I fear it has something to do with diabetes. 

Riley barks, and I stop writing to get up and open the front door. Taking him off of the line, I decided to add this detail.

He's brought me a toy to throw, as I replace the laptop to my lap to continue. 

He barks the command again.

The television had Fox News playing all morning, but I change it to something else- "What Really Happened". It's a Casey Anthony case again.

The birds are doing great, dirty bathwater taken out and flushed down the toilet. I cannot allow them to get sick. I need to water them daily.

Focusing my time on eliminating the disorder in my control, and interest, I returned to the mystery of why I am failing with the camera and files. Julie's laptop has the card reader and the Canon app but the computer hasn't been working for her. 

After plugging it in, it finally seemed to start working but then the screen went grey and seemed like it froze. Finally, after clicking on    , it looked like it should.

The card in the card reader, and a thumb drive ready, I begin accessing the files.

A window pops up saying the drive is damaged and needs to be scanned and repaired- both drives. 

The computer pops another window up that say's it can't be repaired.

I swear, they must send us data that makes it appear as though our device isn't working, in order to force us to buy more service and devices. I'll have to spend time to go through it.

After taking a few different approaches, I finally get things right, and the files are on the chip. Now I can delete the card, and go back to studying the user's manual. I'll certainly be cataloguing how much time I spend.

Riley is pretty quick to get the idea that I am busy, and now sleeps at the foot of the bed as the televisions meet between the rooms. 

My next move is to turn off the TV, make another pot of coffee, and relocate to "The Chart Room" with all of my effects until 12:30, for my appointment. 9:53

10:15 Julie's laptop is a bit slow but it's working. It needs to be plugged in to work, mostly. 

No chick yet. Max is fighting with one of the tumblers, as they are out with me listening to a bluegrass collection on YouTube. It's very nice to have them in my environment. It's much like it would be in my little fantasy, being on my own ship.

And that's just it. Existence, right this moment, is a ship about to sink while the rare few care. And here I am, Captain on a voyage, enjoying my quarters and life on my vessel. No End port on the chart but for the occasional needs. Waiting to find a flotilla of like-minded people on my course. Like the piece I wrote about The Fleet, in a time when everyone is drowning. You never know when you are about to miss your chance- to get off of the island or plucked from the water. A message in a bottle, and your only hope. And I've got Julie on board...but not. 10:28

10:36 Facebook jabs for another hit, and the bluegrass quits playing. Elon Musk sparks my curiosity so I watch the recent 16 minute show about aliens and area 51 etc... Three pigeons are comfortably perched, watching me from the shelves nearby. And I ready myself to go through the camera studies. 10:41

3:35 Just got back from seeing Matt. Julie needed milk, and I got my food card from the insurance company worked out, so I went to Walmart. Calling her before going inside, she said she wanted peanut butter. My camera needing an HDMI cable was on my mind, and I ended up forgetting the peanut butter but I did remember coffee was almost gone. I like Folgers Black Silk the msot, which is what I bought.

The avian netting was delivered, as indicated by the message received on my phone. Yay! 

When I got home, I realized forgetting the peanut butter. 

After checking on whether the egg hatched or not, I sat down at my desk. Riley was soon at my feet barking about mom not listening to him. I let him out while understanding that his need for attention wasn't going to allow me to work downstairs. We went upstairs, where I let him out into the back yard. 

Abandoning the idea of working at my desk, I went up to the couch to still try being productive while giving him some time. All of my thoughts have to be put on hold because Julie is preoccupied... and I have no choice. The television plays Friends, and I choke down more of my pride and feelings. 3:45 I'm being barked at. And that's fine since he's always my friend. So I stew while throwing a toy for him.

3:59 Riley wanted outside again, and The Secret Life of Pets is entertaining me while I realize that the day is "over" since Julie's normally due home in 20 minutes, and the god awful Five show will be on again. I have yet to eat anything or take my pills, as usual. No real work gets done at all but for filling the crockpot with dishwater to wash dishes- still not done. 

There were so many things that I wanted to write down, like the fact that it's only been three generations of television molested families- two hard-core.

Rocky wasn't forgotten when I went out, stopping at Finatics to get him some Super Worms. I made a video of feeding him some. He just loves them, and needs the protein.

Max or Mildred, I am still learning to distinguish them apart, was pecking for food (it seemed) while sitting on the egg. Offering a handful of seeds, He just looked at it. Setting the food within easy reach, he batted my hand with a wing a couple times. No sign of the egg being hatched yet. 

Riley barks to come in. 4:07 He goes right for the Hotdog costume from halloween, for me to throw so he can catch and thrash it. Julie glides out to sit on my lap, peck me on the cheek, and then queried about my watching the cartoon. The dog barks for me to throw the toy while I try to type. 

"Why's the plunger in the trash?"

"Because I laid it there to drip after using it on the sink," the toy at my feet again, with an insistent bark.

The car still needs the puke cleaned off of the drivers side, and trash needs to be removed.

Frustrated, I throw the toy again while capping my arguments and anger. At least at 5 I can go back down to the birds and try to accomplish something at my desk- giving in to time being wasted. Ending the day with sex is the only conselation I get. 4:17

4:25 The smoke detector goes off because Julie put something in the oven. Shutting off the alarm, I see that it's just chicken nuggets, and that nothing else is in there to melt even though I already made a pot of bean soup... A pinch of wintergreen longhorn will help me keep my mouth closed, as the credits roll from the show I was watching. 

Never having company means accepting the house isn't how I like it but no one is friends and family with anyone anymore, so I need to just get over it. And, the next comic book plays on the screen. The Pacifier rolls the introductory credits. It's another Hero story, in a world where there are no Heroes. 4:33 

Walking down the alcohol aisle at Walmart- the valley of death, plays back through my mind. Having been where I've been, I remind myself how big of a feat getting sober really was and is. It's another moment in the day, where I think myself through for a pep-talk I need to reassert myself and my consciousness. It's the highest understanding of fatherhood and servitude that you can have- when you become aware of the consciousness speaking to you. That is the ultimate moment, when you hear the voice speak to you. It is something you cannot deny or forget. Like when you are handpicked for a job and your death is your refusal. And to feel helpless when you can't find time to care for yourself. 4:40

Julie asks if the egg hatched yet, as she goes to the kitchen for the nuggets. 

"Moments ago, it hadn't yet hatched but I'll go back down and check again".

The flock is all relaxed as I gently get in their space. No chick yet, and I go back to the couch.

It's such a waste to heat up the oven for a handful of nuggets but the spit in my mouth keeps it closed while thinking of the masses.

Keeping my log helps keep my focus and perspective, all the while understanding that no one might get to see it, namely my kids. Remembering what happened when Lillian passed away makes me realize the probable truth even more.

My mother and her siblings went through Lil's condo, throwing things into a big trash bag too quickly. They were dividing up the possessions as they wished, despite the timing to be too early as specified in the will.

"Everything you ever gave me, you can have back," was what Lil said.

They never appreciated her.

At some point in my being their hostage from the rest of the family, they offered me to dig through the trash for an inheritance item. I had been in the yard next to a bush that smelled like urine, craving alcohol. My intentions were to spend the moments practicing so that I could play a song at her funeral.

Sick in my heart, I dug through the trash, finding a pair of scissors and her journal! 

Flipping through the pages, I came to the day she and I spoke on the phone. Having called her because my conscience told me she was to die soon, she answered. We spoke for a few minutes, where I explained to her that I wanted her to know she was my maternal grandmother, and that my mother kept it from her all of these years. Grandma hung up the phone after telling me she didn't feel well. She was upset, I am sure.

The day was January 14th, and there it was, "Zeke has problems."

It was most likely that my writings would all become neglected, and I sadly accept that.

They wouldn't let me speak or play at the funeral, which really upset me since I am the oldest grandchild. 

My spirit was on fire, and I spoke anyway after shooting up from my seat when the preacher stopped talking. Amanda, my youngest sister, sat next to me. She was yanking on my clothes to sit me down but I delivered an earth shaking speech anyway.

Afterwards, I walked outside where several of her friends came up to me thanking me while saying that they could hear her in that room when I spoke. It was a great feeling.

Once at the gravesite, I was allowed to play my guitar while they all took turns putting dirt on her coffin.

And it's partly because of her that I insist on trying so hard. 5:03

5:15 Bean soup cools on my piano bench coffee table. Grabbing a pepsi from the fridge, a tub of macaroni salad sits in the back of the lower shelf. The date on it, and I see more money and waste. 

Riley smells food, so I get a scoop of kibble in his bowl. He's on his back feet, excited. We always eat together, and I'll scoop some soup in it for him in a minute, after I take my Metformin and some Viagra.

"The Judge's" voice, from The Five, clearly heard with her barking like she does all of the time.

And here I sit watching the fireflys cookie sale scene when the boy scouts attacked them. 5:21

5:41 The director of the play quit. The baby-sitter/bodygaurd gives the kid a bond building pep-talk, and then steps in to take over directing the play especially to help support the boy. Yes, he steps in to save the day. The Hero in the story. 

Riley lays next to me, satisfied with his dinner, and having just had his face washed in the sink. He enjoys the little primping that I give him but he never lets me brush him out very well. His double coat is very high maintenance, and cutting his hair takes weeks to get through because he won't sit still yet. He's only 2 this March.

Julie passes from the bedroom, taking her bowl to the kitchen where she placed it on the counter. 

"Did you eat any chicken nuggets," she asks.

"There's a few left," I tell her but she's full. I'll force myself to eat them in a bit.

Exhaling a breath of defeat, I think about sex later- the end of the day. 5:50

5:55 UPS just delivered a package, with a knock on the door. It's a Fitbit but I don't know why. It's from my insurance company- United Healthcare/Medicaire. Another surveillance device... 

I open the package and plug it in to charge. They want me to download the app, and all of that crap.

Fitbit doesn't come to mind, from when they called me about covid tests but maybe they mentioned it. The tests they called about was to register me for delivery of 8 covid tests. Yes, selling tests to my policy- same as the Fitbit, I'm sure. What is going on with our Medicaire? The companies all offering these different plans every year?  What kind of middleman embezzlement scheme is going on? We are in a lot of trouble. 6:02

6:29 Van Deisel saves the day again, and then they do the Sound of Music play. Julie comes out of the bedroom and I joke with her, "Coming out to inspect your penis, you know- take inventory to make sure that I'm here?"

She laughs and says, "yes" as the twentieth century fox theme plays into the next feature of entertainment. I see that it's "Spy" as the tobacco spit in my mouth grows in volume. Soon, I'll give in to retiring to the bedroom but not before I go see the pigeons again. 6:33

6:38 A drone strikes, and the spy gets away in a hot-wired boat. And Riley's face still smells like a dishrag, as he noses close into my face when I returned to the couch. 

The pigeons are all content, and still no chick.

It looks like it's time to give in, taking my boots off for the day. This is the part where I climb into bed, offering myself as a dish getting cold until the final moment of the day when the power gets shut off on everything. And the part where I try to recalibrate my heart and soul. 6:42

7:00 Gathering up my effects, I make the announcement to Julie that I am bringing my penis to bed. She laughs and says, "Uh oh" as Riley starts demanding to play the game of throwing what he puts on the bed.

House is on, and Julie is reading something on her iPad. The rawhide toy is placed near my feet again.

Making an effort to establish communication, I start showing Julie the Fitbit and features. After going through it with her, I point out that the heartrate is working after putting it on. 

"If you see me look at my watch during sex, it's to see where my heart's at, " I tell her, in another effort to draw her attention awat from the device.  She chuckles again, and I try to stave off feelings of wasted existence and boredom with where reality is. 

Anxious with the draining of the sands of time, I focus my thoughts on writing these words, and decide to smoke a little pot with my vaporizer to slow my mind down. 7:12

7:34 148 heartrate. It's heavy breathing and endorphins flooding my senses. Now I can relax.

Two sleep aides and a cigarette, and the hope that tomorrow will be better. And then the phone starts making the bouncing sound- Julie's daughter calling with some petty problem with a code, and accessing one of her digital media accounts. The call is short, and Julie goes back to her iPad. I'm soon forgotten, fiddling around while I wait for sleep to hit me. It's Groundhog Day, and all I can do is keep my log book to help myself stay grounded. 7:42

8:01 House ends with Wilson singing The Chorus Line until House sells the ugly couch. Pigeons are perched, and put to bed. Riley goes back to bringing me the rawhide to throw, and Julie stops with the iPad long enough to change the show to Broke Girls without saying a word. Same shit but a really good rogering tonight. The show is so dumb but she likes it. It's only 8, and I think how I could get a lot done in three hours but she would think it's rude of me to not be with her, at this point in the day, when she's got to work in the morning. It's a vicious cycle between us to which I always yield, and yearn for a reasonable understanding that will never happen. It's always myself that has to understand, as mentioned regarding servitude and the essence of fatherhood- to always know how to keep control of the volcano from exploding... Diplomacy, some call it but I don't know if it can be written off so simply. 8:11

8:18 Mom is a big star at the meeting, and everyone loves her. Riley demands the throw, and I find a bit of comfort in just resting here in the bed. The draft from the window blows across my arm, and a ten inch barrelled black powder 44 revolver stretches its length across the top of my end table. It's a beautiful glass display cabinet that I found in the trash last fall. All it needed was a few shelf clips, and a pane of glass for one of the doors. Mom is having dinner with the girl from the meeting. It's a scene about another lost soul with no guidance, searching for a mentor in life. 8;26

Maybe the show is not so dumb. I'm just sick of time being robbed traded and wasted, when a life is so short but for enduring the suffering. Besides, the sooner I fall asleep, the sooner I'll get to be with my pigeons. And, hopefully we'll see a new chick tomorrow. 8:29