June 18, 2011 Tuscon, AZ
I am becoming a laggard blogger. TIME IS A WIZARD. Not a bad title for a short story.
I put this collage together in late January of 2010. We were west of Baton Rouge, Louisiana at a rest stop. The nights were cold.
I had gone right by New Orleans, just missed every turnoff, and came upon a visitor center at the edge of Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge/Bayou on Route 10. We spent more time than I thought because Abra chose that night to go hunting and didn't come back until morning. So I sat in the Visitor Center building and played with pictures. Finally, Abra returned unscathed, and we trundled on.
We actually drove past Houston and spent the night in a parking lot in a town called Katy. Then I decided it was simply too cold to go through Texas with about thirty dollars in cash - I knew I'd just get sick having to sleep in the car. So I turned around and went back to Florida, staying several nights in the southeast corner of New Orleans, due to the generosity of an unusual woman of impeccable taste named Ida. She is the reason I ended up in Tucson. I had no idea I'd still be here this long. We have had some good fortune here. Bad fortune, also but for me, that's a given. I've had two different shrinks tell me I have the worst luck of anyone they had ever met.
I met with a psychologist a few days ago, to discuss how insane I might in fact be and if it was enough to merit becoming a recipient of federal disability. She said she would diagnose me as a major depressive. I don't know that I am really all that depressed at this point. The word that comes to mind is tired, just bone tired. I continue to hope for the best in regards to achieving some comfortable level of financial stability. All of these physical problems are just plain tiring. One would think that after twenty-five years of chronic pain, I'd be so used to it that it would become negligible.
I put this collage together in late January of 2010. We were west of Baton Rouge, Louisiana at a rest stop. The nights were cold.
I had gone right by New Orleans, just missed every turnoff, and came upon a visitor center at the edge of Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge/Bayou on Route 10. We spent more time than I thought because Abra chose that night to go hunting and didn't come back until morning. So I sat in the Visitor Center building and played with pictures. Finally, Abra returned unscathed, and we trundled on.
We actually drove past Houston and spent the night in a parking lot in a town called Katy. Then I decided it was simply too cold to go through Texas with about thirty dollars in cash - I knew I'd just get sick having to sleep in the car. So I turned around and went back to Florida, staying several nights in the southeast corner of New Orleans, due to the generosity of an unusual woman of impeccable taste named Ida. She is the reason I ended up in Tucson. I had no idea I'd still be here this long. We have had some good fortune here. Bad fortune, also but for me, that's a given. I've had two different shrinks tell me I have the worst luck of anyone they had ever met.
I met with a psychologist a few days ago, to discuss how insane I might in fact be and if it was enough to merit becoming a recipient of federal disability. She said she would diagnose me as a major depressive. I don't know that I am really all that depressed at this point. The word that comes to mind is tired, just bone tired. I continue to hope for the best in regards to achieving some comfortable level of financial stability. All of these physical problems are just plain tiring. One would think that after twenty-five years of chronic pain, I'd be so used to it that it would become negligible.
But here is something nice. I had a note from a man who wrote on my Facebook page.
"I'm not prone to flowery allocades, but you do wonderful work. All art forms require both a good eye and sensitivity....you have both, and the added ability to translate what you feel and see into something the rest of us wish we could. For that, I thank you."
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