My best friend told the police I beat her. They came to confiscate my guns. I loved her. I took care of her when she fell in the parking lot of the East street coffee shop and broke her wrist. I told them I had a BB gun. They left papers which she wrote and signed that I threw her down the stairs. She left in the Chevy Cruize I had co-signed a loan on. It took three months , lots of money and a Good Lawyer to rectify the situation. I loved her.
My mother was was going to die in the hospital. My brothers were their when she pointed at me and said in a scary voice, you are a liar. She said it three times. It creeped me out I said I hadn’t lied and I was not a liar. Then she sat up ,threw up, and said I was a big fat liar. I left the room, she was very worn down and out of her mind. I never watched a horror movie called The Exorcist again . It had been one of my favorites
This year I am going to act my age. I am going to be kind and generous, all the time. I am only going to eat lean meats, fruits,and vegetables. I am going to be proud of who I am, and forget what my family thinks of me. I’m going to break a sweat more often. I am going to stop looking at women as sex objects. I’m going to take all my meds, legal and illegal. I’m going to do all these things. This Year.
I am grateful for my dog. He gives me unconditional love like no other.
I am grateful for my car. Without it I might have to call Uber.
I am grateful for my food. Nothing has provided more satisfaction in my life than food.
I am grateful for Netflix. Since quitting pot, Netflix has helped me escape reality.
I am grateful to be alive. Passing away and going to my eternal rest is not yet appealing.
At fifty-seven sometimes I am mature, but these days I’m more like a frightened young man. I am happy sometimes, but like the weather, things have gotten pretty dreary. I jogged in the light rain for fifteen minutes around the parking lot circle. My mother used to march through the downstairs rooms to big band music playing on NPR until Dad said she was wearing a track into the carpet.
Now I’m taking my good friend for a frozen coffee at Frederick Coffee Shop–not much conversation, but I am comfortable with her in silence. It will be a quiet Christmas this year, and that’s OK with me.
I used to have to keep a close eye on my dog, Louie. Whenever he got out without his leash on, he’d run out of sight and wouldn’t come back. I’d have to grab some treats and drive after him, and there’s something I hate about driving at a crawl down the street yelling “Louuuuuuie” over and over.
Then my new roommate moved in with her dog Daisy. Since Daisy moved in, I don’t have to worry about Louie straying too far from home anymore. He stays right by her side.
It’s good to know that the roommate situation has worked out for the both of us.
Hello mother, hello father,
I’m writing you from, Camp Granada.
The girls are cute here.
I like the food here.
I am happy, my mood is good here.
Hello mother, Hello father,
I”m missing you from, Camp Granada
I can swim here
I can grin here.
If they ask me to go home I’ll tell them no, dear.