Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie
Just Thinking & Rambling
DougMaynard.com
Doug Maynard

This is a journal/diary for the past few days. It’s not expected to make any sense. I’m just letting the mind flow. Bear with me, okay.

So, what do you want to talk about? This is taking some effort, but I’ll write until my hand gives out or I’ve said everything I want to say, exploring all topics of discussion and thought bubbles. Things are not good right now.

My head is constantly in a fog, and my hands don’t quite respond to my verbal commands. There is a lull that keeps me from getting into a flow or gaining any momentum. It’s hard to explain.

Today is Monday, March 30. I’m going to try it again. The past month has passed in a vague fog. Only two weeks, and I have never felt as alone and isolated as I do now. I haven’t left the house since coming home from the hospital. I’ve texted with Kenneth, but aside from that, I’ve had no human contact at all. Ma is here, of course, but she’s in denial and lives in her own bubble, so it’s not the same. It’s the cat and me, I guess. And only for him I am hanging on, in my own denial.

I can’t stand for more than a few seconds. My arms and hands are numb, but still functioning. My head is in a fog. And the thought of leaving the house, being forced to rely or depend on other people, scares the fuck out of me. This is not living. This is not a life. All these “friends” and absolutely no one has stopped by, called, or checked in to say, “How you doing? Do you need anything?” I’m not surprised. When I quit being useful, I quit existing for so many people. And thus, here we are now.

Sorry. I’m just doing the woe-is-me stuff. I just never thought it’d be this way. I just need a long, strong, real hug. It’s not going to happen, and for the rest of my time on this world, I’ll be alone. I get it. I really do. I just never thought it would be me. I think I’m going to go lie down again for a while. I don’t know what I’m trying to write here. I just needed to write something. I’ll see you later.

And now, it’s Tuesday morning. Still here. And I’m so ready to just give up, give in, and let go of my stubbornness, go to the hospital, and do whatever comes next. I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes, or even walk more than a few feet. And poor Ma, she’s oblivious. A nasty chicken sandwich meal from McDonald’s and all is good. But it’s not her fault. She’s 89 years old. I love that woman. I don’t like her sometimes, and she confuses the fuck out of me, living in her own bubble and world. And I’m here, watching, unsure of what to do or how to respond. I’m not tired, but I think I may go back to bed. I’m listening to Alice right now. It helps. It’s Raise Your Fist and Yell. A big F-U to the PMRC. Remember them? But in a polite, dignified Alice way. Coop is the man.

I sleep, and I sit here at the computer, faking interest in the nonsense and craziness that has taken over this world. The country is delusional and totally insane. No Kings? Really? TDS is real. Believe that. RIP Common Sense and actual independent thinking. All that matters is that Orange Man is the bad guy. Stupid idiots!

How did I get on that topic? I just got a call. The rehab center in Florence still has a spot available if I’m interested. My leg isn’t even gone yet, and the jackals are circling. Fuck them. I’m here, in my home, and I’ll manage until I can’t. And then, it won’t matter.

I trimmed my facial hair. Not a shave, but close enough. I still need a haircut, but the mullet is exceptional. I only look destitute, and not totally homeless. I’m going to bed. If I wake up, I’ll talk to you later. And if not, that’s quite okay too. Yeah, I’ll be back.

And now it’s Tuesday evening. I slept most of the day. I’m so damn weak, but I’m tired of being tired and lying in bed. I just had a gruesome thought. Well, more morbid than gruesome, but realistic. I don’t have life insurance. If things go dark, I hope someone can help Ma out with the expenses. Maybe a GoFundMe? Just enough for a cremation and throw the ashes into a spot at the family place in Wagram? Yeah, not a happy thought, but practical. I’d set it up myself, but it would probably be flagged and taken down. So, if anything goes south, someone please take the initiative. I don’t have many close friends left, but Ma will need help. And those things ain’t cheap.

Earwax is annoying as hell. And so is that damn dog. Sparky tries to be good. He is good. I’m just not a dog person, and his presence just puts my nerves on edge. I love him, but give me a stand-offish cat anytime. My cat is clingy as hell, but he’s my baby, so it’s ok. I need about ten more. Okay, maybe not. I love my Mouthie.

And now, it’s 3 am on Wednesday morning. I slept for a while, and now I’m up, restless. I had a weird dream about stolen paychecks, an old country store, and two strange women walking down the long, dirt road by my side. Just strange. Don’t leave money in a bag outside the store while you go inside to pee. Oy vey! I want some orange juice. The real thing. It’s not just for breakfast anymore.

I can pretend to be okay. I’m not. My mind is good. The body fails me. If I say that I’m fine, I’m not lying to you. I’m just speaking from a mental capacity. I can’t walk. I can’t write. I can barely stand. I can’t drive. For a person who thrives on self-reliance and independence, I am failing. I have failed. Is this how Jeff felt? Is this how Wakana felt? Damn, I miss that young lady. We really did let her down. I don’t know what to do.

So, is this confusing enough? I’ve written enough over several days, and it’s all over the place. Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to do anything rash or stupid. I’ll be back.

By the way. Kenneth, Theresa, Brent, my three Amigos – I love you guys.

Ubuntu!