The gods of beer
won’t hesitate
to take a swig,
and make their play.
They don’t quibble
over a quaff,
nor hesitate to laugh
over another’s gaffe.
They’re there to spread humor
and good cheer,
because everyone knows,
life is better with a beer.
Rising
Like Phoenix rising, I will lift and soar,
mocking those who said, “Nevermore.”
They thought my time was done,
and now they’ll see that I’ve just begun.
Gaining power with every beat,
I will fly and press beyond defeat.
Yes, they may say that they think they know,
but they don’t know how far I can go.
Wednesday’s Theme Song
“That’s why you can’t hold me down. You can’t tie me down. I gotta gotta gotta get away.”
I awoke with Jimi Hendix 1967 song, “Stone Free” in my stream. (I think I was missing up choruses, though.) I think it came about from judgement calls on people like Greta Thunberg about everything except what’s she say. People were throwing superficial criticisms at her; some even suggested that she was mentally ill. Most also mocked her as a child because she’s still a teenager.
Never mind that she’s making intelligent points about the environment. Never mind that elsewhere people are quite willing to use teenagers as soldiers or proclaim them able to carry and give birth to a child, or to be married.
Thankfully, Greta is above being shamed for who she is and is proud of what she does. I only wish I had her balls.
The Purple Banana Dream
I dreamed that we were preparing for a celebration. I was in a sprawling place that seemed like restaurant and home, offering indoor and outdoor rooms. Although the rooms weren’t well lit, I could see that planning and setup was going on. My wife was present, doing some decorating, along with tall men who I didn’t know. Then three of my sisters and their husbands appeared, along with some of their children and grandchildren. My sisters were all young, too young to have grandchildren. My wife and I were young as well.
An excited feeling permeated the gathering. As it went, I saw my mother off in the distance and realized we were preparing the celebration for her. My other sister, the oldest appeared, walking through the complex. She, weirdly, looked her current age.
Setup was almost complete. I said, “I need to go shower and get ready.” I went off to find my rooms. Stopping by a bowl, I saw a purple banana amidst the yellow bananas. I thought, banana, grabbed it, peeled it, and started eating. I was surprised to find my sisters and their families behind me, like they were following me. They all seemed expectant, like they were waiting for me to do something.
I started eating the banana; its flesh was purple. I then thought that my sister had wanted the banana. I asked her, ready to offer her some of what was left. As she said, “No, that’s okay,” the banana was a yellow banana with white flesh again. I said, “I thought this was a purple banana.” When I said that, I peeled down the next part, The banana was purple again, with no evidence of yellow peel, but with some white flesh above the purple flesh.
Finishing the banana, I said, “Okay, I need to go get cleaned up.” I headed for my room, wending my way through the poorly-lit room around people and furniture. It was becoming quite noisy. Part of that was that the floor wasn’t carpeted and was wood, so all the people walking made it sound like constant, erratic drumming was underway.
Reaching the door to my room, I paused. My sisters and their families, without their husbands, were behind me. I said, “Um, you guys realize that I’m going in here to shower, shave, and change clothes, so I want privacy. You can’t come in.”
Laughing, they separated, going off in different directions.
I entered the room. They weren’t the expected rooms. I’d been in my rooms earlier, and these were different. As I walked into them, I saw stairs going down to my left. Straight ahead was another room. In there, I found a toddler in a high chair, eating from a bowl. Seeing the child, I realized that I was in my sister-in-law’s room. As I turned to retreat, she came up the stairs. Laughing, I greeted her and said, “Sorry, I’m in the wrong rooms. I thought these were my rooms, but they’re your rooms. I’m always getting lost in these rooms.”
The dream ended.
As I awoke and chuckled about the dream, thinking about how much of my family was represented (and then, my extended family, via my sister-in-law), I remembered the Prince song, which happens to be a personal favorite, “Let’s Go Crazy”.
“Let’s look for the purple banana until they put us in the truck, let’s go.”
Of course, he goes on to sing, “Let’s go crazy. Let’s go nuts.” Is that what my mind is telling me? Just let go?
I do know that I woke up feeling fantastic and energetic. I’m ready. Let’s go.
A Writing Update
Short, simple, and sweet.
My writing progress on the novel in process, April Showers 1921, has been going well. It hasn’t been easy; I sweat over details, sentence placement, sentence length, descriptions, verbs…argh. I sweat over paragraphs, pages, and chapters, and the three Cs: clarity, coherence, and continuity.
It’s not easy, but it’s satisfying and rewarding. Going back over the work the next day in preparation to begin another writing session, I’m happy with what I’ve written and the shape that the story has assumed.
I sometimes speculate on when it’ll be done. I began writing it in January, 2019. I’m on my tenth draft. That means most days are spent editing and rewriting, with new bridge material, verisimilitude added, or scenes more carefully addressed. While I hold true to the original concept, I love the expansion of thought and understanding that accompanied the writing process.
So when will I be done? Well, I often shrug and say, who knows? Who cares? It’ll be done when it’s done. I’m surprised, too, that I don’t want to explain anything to anyone. I’m happy with what I have, and that’s good enough for me.
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Foley Memories
I’ve had two Foley catheters installed in me in 2019. The Foley has a long tube that’s snaked up your urethra and into your bladder. A balloon filled with fluid in the bladder keeps it anchored in place. Meanwhile, the catheter extends from the tip of my penis to a clip on my leg that holds the catheter in place. Another tube is connected to the catheter’s exposed end. That tube is attached to a collection bag. The installed Foley let me pee, so the bag is emptied when it fills. In essence, I was just about always peeing when the Foley was in, which amused me. I liked to drink a beer and say, “Look, I’m multi-tasking. I’m drinking and peeing.” I thought it was hilarious. Nobody else did.
As background, I had the first Foley installed because I couldn’t pee. My prostrate gland had enlarged (BHP), blocking my urethra’s access to my bladder. That meant that I couldn’t urinate. The result was a medical emergency.
The second Foley was installed after a cystourethroscopy and direct vision internal uerthrotomy. Essentially, scar tissue from the first emergency was blocking about ninety percent of my urethra. While I was still peeing, because I’m now on Flomax (Tamsulosin), the cysturethroscopy was a proactive measure to prevent another medical emergency. It has a fifty/fifty chance of working. We’ll know more in a few months.
While I was conscious during the first time a Foley was installed, I was unconscious under deep conscious sedation for the second. That was mostly because the cystourethroscopy required them to delicately cut the scar tissue in my urethra until they reach healthy tissue. There would be pain.
The procedure went great. After fasting, reporting in, being prepped, and waiting, I was wheeled into the OR, given the anesthetic, and was gone. I woke up a second later, it seemed like, and it was all over, except the aftermath. That’s where the Foley came in.
Like the first time, I had two bag options for the Foley. One is a bag that attached to my leg. That let me walk around more freely. It’s not a big bag, and had to be emptied several times a day. It also couldn’t be worn at night. The leg bag had to be worn below the knee, which meant I had to loop the tube around the leg but leave it loose enough that it didn’t pop free of the catheter, and had enough give to move.
The larger bag, which hangs separate from my body, must be worn at night. It also must be dragged around. That makes it inconvenient. I kept it in a clean plastic garbage bag and hung it inside a small waste basket. No, we didn’t put any trash in with it. It was only used to hold my urine collection bag.
I did need to discourage the cats from investigating. They were always walking up to the waste basket and trying to look into the bag with a “What the hell is this?” attitude.
I appreciated the smaller bag and the flexibility it allowed, because it freed me up. I admit, though, walking around with felt like someone was using a saw on my pecker’s tip. Every once in a while, too, a little blood could be felt squirting out. I monitored the blood levels through the days, watching as it decreased. The first day’s blood, after the surgery, was about a quarter cup. Ruined my underwear, but I was wearing old underwear which really should’ve already been tossed. By the last day, it was very light spotting.
Opiates had been prescribed for me for pain management after the surgery, but I just shrugged the pain off. It was mostly mild discomfort, at first, like someone was trying to pull something up out of my pecker. Sometimes, there was also light stinging. Not of it was a bad as a bee sting for me, though.
I sometimes fantasized about having a longer tube attached to the big bag. Although the big bag meant that I was tethered in location, the leg bag wasn’t that comfortable. If I was wearing the big bag with a longer tube, say twenty feet, I could leave it hanging in the waste basket in a central location while I walked around. I also speculated about putting wheels on the waste basket or putting it on something wheeled, but it was only five days, and I’m lazy. Walking around with the big bag meant picking it up every time that I moved more than three feet. Oh, the inconvenience.
Each morning and night meant a routine of cleaning off blood, showering, and then switching bags before dressing for day, or getting into my sleep clothes. The first time that I had a Foley, I went into the hospital and a nurse deflated the ball and ripped it out. The second time, I did it myself, per their instructions. Just grab hold and yank, right?
But first ensure you deflate the ball holding it in place, right?
Right.
All went well, and I thank the doctors and nurses who took care of me. All were friendly and professional. Sometimes, the system works as designed. I’m one of the fortunate ones, because it did.
An Alanis Morissette Moment
Thursday afternoon, under warm sunshine, Handley parked his car and dashed across the street.
Returning from the cafe with his purchases scant minutes later, the man beside him was opening his door. A box was on the ground beside him.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Door unlocked, being opened, hot food starting to cool, Handley paused, eyebrows up in expectation. “Yes?”
“Do you have jumper cables?”
Handley nodded. “I do. You need a jump?”
Smiling, the man popped his hood and picked up the box. “No, I just bought a charger. I’d been waiting for an hour. Nobody had cables. I figured that the first person I saw in the parking lot after I went out and bought this would have cables.
“And here you are.”
Handley commiserated. “Isn’t it ironic?”
Net Effect
I read it on the net
you know you better bet
that it’s the greatest most outrageous and incredible thing
ever
I saw it on the net
you know I won’t regret
believing everything that I’m seeing
and hearing
It was spread across the net
so you better be set
to know this is the truth and won’t go away
it’s out there for-
ever
So just put it on the net
with a link for them to select
and you know you’ll have them reading writing raging and de-
bating
Floofaneer
Floofaneer (floofinition) – Any of the freefloofers preying on unsuspecting households by sneaking in and eating other pets’ food and treats.
In use: “A sleek black cat, Pearl was soon known around the neighborhood as a floofaneer, fearlessly ferreting out petdoors and boldly entering other homes.”
Michael Seidel, writer 