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Saturday, July 1, 2017


I’m becoming a hermit. Not intentionally by any means, it’s just happening. I've nailed down a couple reasons:
  1. I’m in the midst of the anniversary week of The Amazing Bob's death. This is the week, last year, when all Hell broke loose. This morning, last July first, I wrote: Looks like we're in for a long, winding road but "long" is relative and who knows? I was bracing for a marathon – maybe similar to the one we lived through when the love of my life had his quad bypass surgery. Being in hospital for so long was hard. Stressful. Draining. We’d come out of it though. This time we didn’t.
  2. The news. With the Republicans – handmaidens of the insurance, Big Pharma, oil industries and Wall Street – and their mentally ill, incompetent and disgusting leader, the Obese Orange Id, making every damn effort to take away our (MY!) health insurance, I’m in a near constant state of fear and rage. When I’m angry, I generally don’t feel powerless or without hope. When afraid? The meteor is headed straight for me – my death is at hand. I see it coming and it ain't pretty.
So then, I’ve got two mega substantial reasons for being in the sub-sub-basement level of the Sad Hotel.  Why, though, have I gone all reclusive lone wolfie?

While I'm rockin' this bitterly cheerless, sorrow filled state, being out there, amongst people, is stressful.
We live in America,' he said. 'Everyone who speaks English understands you. How they interpret you is something else.”
~ Carrie Fisher, Postcards from the Edge
Part of the stressfulness is because I no longer have a native tongue. The only language I’m solidly fluent in is the written word. Lipreading ain't easy or a 100% happening thing. Workarounds can be found but aren't foolproof. Every exchange, even leaving aside the whole “interpretation” issue, is an effort. A day filled with enough of them is utterly exhausting. Generally though I’m all fine and dandy and up for the challenges. It can even be fun (Yes, rilly) but not right now.

As for number two on my list of hermit sparks, while I live in blue, BLUE Massachusetts, we do have gun toting, Trump voting, low impulse control, Fox/NRA manipulated, mentally unstable, reality resistant, dimwitted, right wing snowflakes too. With the NRAs latest call to violence, to uncivil war, I’m nervous. I totally know that the pants shittingly whacko right is the minority but it only takes one lunatic with a weapon to snuff out a life, to end lives.

I know that my anxiety will be reduced if I do get outta the house for more than just Y time and cat fud runs. I need to dial down this hopped up, jitterbugging unease. Most people, even a lot of Trump voters, aren’t dangerous (beyond how they voted, that is).

Perhaps I'll wait until after the 4rth, after the day and time of my beloved's last breath.


  1. That's some dark stuff, made more dark by such a happy concluding photo.

    I can be a recluse myself. I really have to shake myself out of it when it happens. Not dwelling too long on the situaiton in DC, which I have no control over, helps.

    1. Yes, it's a dark time. That's my fave of my faves of me and TAB. Christ, he was a beauty inside and out.

  2. Texas "cowboy" comes up to the Oregon High Desert, stops into the French Glen Hotel to have himself a cold can of Oly. Puffs himself up and loudly proclaims "on my ranch in Texas I can get in my truck before the sun comes up and still be in my truck when the sun goes down!" Old Eastern Oregon Baquero drops his boots to the floor, pushes his chapeau back across his forward, takes a long pull off of his Deschutes Mirror Pond Pale Ale and say's "EYup, I used to have a truck like that."

    Hang in there, kiddo.