Opportunity Knocks

 Came a knock at the door. Caught me off guard because I have a doorbell. Who wouldn't choose to use a doorbell over knocking on the door?

A gruff looking man stood there with a canvas bag dangling from his left hand.

"Can I help you?" I asked. He said "I have the answer to all of your problems." I let him into the house immediately.

"What problems do I have?" I asked. "For one thing, you are old and vulnerable", he said. "You have very little money and no options to get your hands on any. Soon, you will be sick. The expenses will ruin you. You will lose your house."

I said "Sounds about right. What's in the bag?" "Your salvation", he replied. "$250,000. All you gotta do is kill the elderly lady two doors down."

I asked "Why does she deserve to die?" He said "None of your business." I said "Show me the money."

He loosened the drawstring to reveal stacks and stacks of $100 bills. I was impressed. "How will I kill her?", I asked. "With this gun" he said as he drew it out of the back waistband of his pants. I told him I had never killed anyone before. He told me it was easy - just point and shoot.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked. "Sure", I replied. He dropped the bag on my kitchen floor, handed me the gun, turned and walked out my door.

I downed a shot of whiskey, then strolled two doors down. I knocked on the door, even though she has a doorbell. "Mrs. Storkowski, it's Joe, your neighbor." She knows me because I sometimes pick up her medications for her.

She came to the door. "Hi, Joe - how are you?" "I came here to kill you", I replied. She gasped, then began to cry as I pushed her into the living room. When she saw the gun she began to beg for her life, which really pissed me off because it was so weak. So I shot her.

The next day I was driving a new Lincoln, and sporting my new Movado. They both looked good on me.

They made me feel younger and less vulnerable.

From Me to Carol

 "I'm just a man, I ain't no superman, just a man, doin' the best I can

Love you, baby, with all my heart, and give you baby everything, everything that you want, I'm just a man, baby, just a man

I just want to be your hero, your knight in shining armor, oh, and wherever we go, baby, I would defend your honor.................

So many times I've let you down, you really need me, I should have been around, oh baby, shouldn't have had you worrying about me, oh, and I'm only flesh and blood, baby, you see I ain't made of steel, and I can't hold back a flood now, oh but my love, my love for you is real...........................

And if I could see the future, baby, nobody would ever harm you, but I'm just a man, baby, that's all I am, but I'm a good man.......................

But I'm just a man, I ain't no superman, just a man doin' the best I can, the best I can

I'm just a man, baby"

From Just A Man, by Tommy Castro

Please God, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Oh, Mama, can this really be the end, to be stuck inside of Belmont with the Austin blues again.

P.S. -  This very well could be the story they tell about me when I die:

"Grandpa died last week and now he's buried in the rocks, but everybody still talks about how badly they were shocked.

But me, I expected it to happen, I knew he'd lost control, when he built a fire on Main Street, and shot it full of holes"

From Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again, by Bob Dylan

It's Frustrating

There are 8 days left in June. At the end of the month, 2026 will be half way dead.

I have not yet earned a million dollars this year.

I have not yet won a million dollars this year.

No one has given me a million dollars.

My weekly paycheck is $47.54, of which Carol spends $47 weekly on gaudy costume jewelry.

Got myself in quite a pickle here.

You Gotta Try

When you are far enough down the road of life, and you know you gotta make a change, when you cannot survive NOT making a change - when it is a choice between breathing and suffocating, you cannot afford the luxury of one step at a time. Putting one foot in front of the other just ain't gonna cut it. It's too late, baby.

Everything you do has to be a 100 yard dash. Every change, every improvement, every adjustment - 100 yard dash. 10 seconds vs six months.

Of course, physically, that is demanding. Shit, my back hurts crawling out of the recliner. But you gotta swallow the pain. The pain of change, of changing direction, the pain of embarrassment resulting from a lifetime of procrastination tip toeing you right to the edge of your grave.

"Pain is weakness leaving the body." A stupid cliche, but I kind of like it. If you are old enough, weakness is a mountain and pain is relentless.

But, what the fuck - you gotta try.

Gone and Forgotten

Not one person cared about what he said. Not one. Ever.

It was subtle, not overtly rude, but impossible to miss. People interrupted him without hesitation, talked right over him, ignoring him when he talked over them until he just stopped talking.

It was a matter of respect. A matter of disrespect, actually. He had no gravitas, was not taken seriously as a person, someone who had something worthwhile to say. Apparently he had not earned the right.

He wasn't sure how this happened or why it happened, but it definitely happened. And it hurt.

He was lying in bed, procrastinating about getting up to begin the process of getting ready for work. It was a complicated process because it was as much psychological as it was physical. Beyond going to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face, grabbing a bowl of Wheaties and getting dressed, he had to psyche himself up to do battle with every person he was forced to deal with throughout the day.

Jesus Christ, communication was so fucking hard. Because he lacked the confidence, because people don't listen, because people are selfish, because people have agendas that don't include his personal welfare. And when you work with others you are forced to communicate. You gotta give them information, they gotta give you information, you gotta ask questions, they gotta ask questions.

His ex-wife used to joke that the perfect job for him was one where he sat in a corner by himself, a job that requires no human contact whatsoever. It wasn't really a joke.

Still, lately, this awareness of nothingness in his human interactions, the feeling that he was not recognized, appreciated or respected, had taken on a crushing weight. He felt himself slipping away.

It was an odd feeling. There was no vibrancy to his life. No excitement, nothing to look forward to. The numbness he felt was simultaneously depressing and relieving. Depressing because, what was the point of being alive? Relieving because when you are completely numb, everything bounces off you. You just don't fucking care.

Every day he felt more and more invisible. Not here, not there, just existing in a weird imitation of life devoid of feelings. Just breathing. For no apparent reason.

He thought he was dying but he knew he wasn't sick. Still, he put a little more distance between reality and whatever it was he was living, every day. Every day ended with less of him and more of a void.

He decided to get out of bed to prepare to do battle. But something was different. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something had tragically, drastically changed. Laughing to himself, he thought about those movies where people were not aware they had died. Was he dead? He didn't think so.

As he moved around the house it was strangely obvious that his cat was ignoring him. This really hurt because he loved her so much and she was ordinarily deeply affectionate with him. Instead she slept soundly on the footstool.

He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face, walked into the kitchen and realized he wasn't hungry. He loved breakfast, sometimes treating himself to omelettes that he was so good at cooking. But even Wheaties were a treat for him, especially when they got soggy. Today he felt nothing. In fact, the thought of eating repulsed him. Suddenly, it hit him.

He was gone. Not dead, just gone. He had retreated from life little by little over so many decades that he didn't notice the distance he was putting between life and him. Until right now.

He was not dead. He was just gone. He had faded away.

Nobody noticed.

Simple Question

What the fuck is it gonna take?

What the fuck is it gonna take?

What the fuck is it gonna take?