June 11, 2013 – Got The Broke-Down Dreary Taxi Dog Blues

I’m back!! From a couple of hellish weeks of non-life threatening, but very ugly, illness, tax audits, family difficulties, and friends in distress. And even more. Nothing that your ordinary, death defying taxi dog doesn’t soak up like a dry sponge in the Gobi Desert after a decades long drought. But this time its gotten the best of me.

Apparently, I’m very much attatched to my self-concept as a survivor. “He takes a lickin’; but the keeps on ticking”. Oh, how I love that image!! So, when I can’t keep up with my image, I stop writing. What am I suppose to do? Discuss all my 70 year old’s aches and pains? Would you read that shit?

I wouldn’t.

So; slowly I turn. Step by step. Inch by inch. What do you guys [and guy-ettes] do when you’re in a piss poor mood? When I was younger, many, many years ago, I had the luxury of blaming others. My wife and I used to do our “Virginia Woolf” act in summer stock for years. “On Golden Pond” is better theater. And a more satisfactory role to play. Still, its only human nature to look for scapegoats.

I have this discussion with myself every once in awhile. Bitch and whine? Or take control of myself. I’m embarrassed to say I don’t always live up to my press releases.

I can’t tell you my greatest fears. I don’t know all of them yet. Death isn’t one of them. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have them. So here I am, literally alone and in the dark, at 2:07 AM. Sharing. Questioning. Wondering.

That’s all I know for now. Tomorrow, if it comes, will be another day.

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