Should I Ask You To Have Lunch

One ought to be smart enough to know not to blog when they are so angry they are willing to say/do anything.

Because if one were to do so he might say it would be good to wake up and discover a bloated, blustery, bullshit artist had an aneurysm while manically sending out tweets while seated upon his golden throne.

It wouldn’t be as fitting as hearing the bloated bullshit artist lost control of his bowels, slipped in his own waste and broke his neck and was of course, discovered lying in his own, aforementioned waste.

Should I Ask You To Have Lunch

I cannot confirm nor deny having sat in a car like this issuing 10,000 pleas to Our Patron Saint Of Getting Lucky to answer my request to have a moment with a 5’7 brunette or six foot blonde.

Cannot confirm nor deny having said I was choking without my air, said submit or made any other comments involving two hands, the Midwest, rivers, or names like Norb, Tim and Willie.

That would be like my saying I wonder why the last week is a blur or responding to someone who asked how things are going by saying should I have to ask you to lunch to get a “hey I am sorry” out of you.

Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to mention such things again but something brought that up and sucked it out of me and not in any sort of way that would make me smile.

Something poked the bull and instead of going full Ferdinand he whirled with his horns down ready to gore and trample.

*****

Today almost felt normal…almost.

I spent the bulk of the day at a thing in Irving a few blocks away from where a parking structure collapsed.

Well, it wasn’t the whole structure, it was just part and I wasn’t worried about it happening to me.

If I was going to die before 50 it would have already happened. That is not my fate.

The day started with one hell of a jolt  because of the memory of something that happened a few years back.

Because this moment bore a strong resemblance to something hard.

Let me tell you that if you are going to have a challenging day the best way to start is by getting kicked in the balls because it can only go up from there or so you hope.

Anyhoo, I suspect the almost feeling normal thing is part of why I am amped up now.

One is because nothing feels quite right or normal. I expected this and am not surprised by it but what I wasn’t expecting is to have the memories unroll and unravel the way they have.

The ten days or so before dad died are/were a blur. So much happened in a short time it was impossible to keep up.

But now that I have had time to sit down and process the memories are beginning to unroll and unravel.

I am seeing some of it happen again and recognizing what went on.

That doesn’t mean I wasn’t a conscious participant in it before because I was, but it is different now. In retrospect it is not exactly a surprise to have this happen but it is not a whole lot of fun either.

So I am hanging out with Neil thinking about the last month.

There was a moment during the first trip in July where dad looked me and asked what was happening to him.

It was a rough moment for both of us.

He was completely lucid but aware that he would fall asleep mid sentence and wake up moments later momentarily disoriented.

We talked about how just a few months before he was walking and driving–able and capable.

When I left LA on July 11 I knew that dad had ample arm strength in both arms. He might not have been as strong as he was in his twenties, but he was probably as strong as the dopey male CNAs who helped him.

Well, in the arms he was, the legs… not so much.

But he was working on it.

I saw him stand as time or two and smiled when he told me he planned on going back to Texas and New Jersey again.

I thought the goal was good for him and that it would help drive him.

I’m just beginning to see
Now I’m on my way