Hiatus...Hold, Maybe Endgame

 I think we'll stop here. There doesn't seem to be much happening besides the details of the decline.

For those of you who've yet to make the decision, I talked w my friend Trini a few days ago. He did alot of the early work on Phoebe: installed her roof rack and built the custom rack that kept things handy inside near the back ceiling.

Trini was a big guy, round of stomach. He had triple by-pass surgery a year ago and said he's still recovering. As you may know, after they tried stenting and found my three arteries blocked, I chose to take meds instead of surgery. It was the right decision for me.

There're three posts that'll appear after I'm gone. The title of the first is: Relationship ist Alles.

Here's a rousing tune to go out on.

              🥕  Happy Travels! 🥕

Hospice Referral

My health has deteriorated sufficiently that my cardiologist felt she could refer me to hospice; it's the first step toward Medical Aid in Dying (MAID) which, up 'til now, I've resisted.

Over 400 satisfied customers have taken advantage of the program in the year and a half it's been available, but I don't like the requirement of picking a date & time and that a physician then, at the appointed time, comes bearing the lethal cocktail as if bestowing a sacrament.

While I hope the physician is kind and sympathetic, the protocol feels incredibly pompous and -- at least from my perspective -- obviates any possibility for spontonaity; it actually feels disgusting and abhorrent. On the other hand, gaining access to the program likely means many participants are eagerly begging, PLEADING, for release if they picked a time & date too far out. And what of the folks who *did* and now are no longer capable of drinking it down?

But the past couple of weeks things have taken a sharp turn. The syncope, the feeling of losing consciousness, has become almost continuous except when I'm lying down. Then, if I turn my head or move in the slightest, there's a wave of dizziness.

Nausea is constant with extended (10 minutes or more) of wretching every half hour or so. And today, after not having eaten in a couple of days, straining with dry heaves.

COMMENTING Disabled

No idea what they've done, but my comments on others' blogs have come back w a long note about being blocked.

Somehow I doubt, though it's certainly possible, everyone decided to block me in the same week.

In the 14 years of blogging I haven't had to even moderate comments, let alone block anyone. My yahoo email is at the bottom of my profile and my gmail email is on my "complete" profile....lest you too are being "blocked," but not by me.

Psychedelic Science 2023

Having attended conferences where the Keynote was something to "get through," I was pleasantly surprised by how interesting this one is.

I chose the custom amount of $25.00 to gain access.

Tap image to goto Home Page of Conference

https://2023.psychedelicscience.org/sessions/1532/

I was fortunate to have guidance when I began my explorations in altered states at 13 and a half and had four years of solid space-travel under my belt before I tried LSD. That "upbringing," not too dissimilar from the one that came with my small glass of wine at dinner when I was seven, included sincere words of caution.

Many sessions later, I can count on one hand the times I took it "recreationally," mainly because I often spent several hours slogging through demons and baggage. The small doses I've been taking every few months for the last several years have helped me navigate as I embraced the re-emergence of my emotions and my felt-self (kinda like dryer-lint, but different).

I had, just before leaving for Germany, begun vomiting as we walked from our classroom to the cafeteria. We, Mom, younger brother and I, were in a duplex across the street from St. Bernard Academy.

The nuns, sympathetic, let me come home for lunch. There were several I liked alot, but even in First Grade I didn't cotton to their trip. Looking back, I surmise the nausea was a sub-conscious reaction to having to suppress emotions as we, yet again, pulled up stakes.

I still encounter nausea when I'm overwhelmed, which, curiously, is happening more frequently as the debilitations increase. But I can't tell the difference between a chronic stomach upset and a psychosomatic one. More LSD, methinks.

Lilac Trees

The husband of an acquintance, delirious, went over the edge...crying for his mom and his first wife. 

I think it was Joanna who asked if my mom was depressed. At the time, I didn't think so, but years later, as I remember being rocked on her shoulder and her singing her version of this song, I think she probably was.

Tap image to goto lyrics

They were married seven or eight years before I was born. During that time they visited Paris, skiied the Alps and lived in Friede Wagner's home in Bayreuth. The last was in appreciation for his work as a double-agent.

After I was born he was away, fighting in Korea. If not depressed, I know she missed him.

The dizzyness when I sat up last night had me gagging for awhile. Fortunately, I had nothing in my stomach, and have eaten very little these past couple of weeks.

This morning, as the syncope took hold, I was able, before I fell, to lie down on the kitchen floor.

I'm comin' close to calling for her.

Allana Clarke

Is it okay to like something for its own sake? As a white man, I can relate only in the vaguest way to being Black, let alone a Black female.

The time I dated a Black woman, in my late thirties, I was surprised, when we went out, by how White I felt. It was kinda similar to being monolingual in Whitehorse, YT, where everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, spoke at least three languages.

The wall pieces appeal, but her statement, music, performance pieces leave me saddened. Still, I had to add her in; I like it enough to want to find it again, and this is the only way for that to happen.

Videos

https://allanaclarke.com/video-time-based-media

Cheese!

M.F.K. Fisher wrote about her travels. Her descriptions of people, places and food are exceptionally evocative.

In the 2nd-to-last paragraph of How To Cook a Wolf, published in 1942, she opines "An unnesessary peptic goad, but a very nice one now and then, is a good, soft stinky cheese, a Camenbert or Liederkranz...." 

Unfamiar with Liederkranz, I wended my way via The Web to Chalet Cheese where I ordered some plus a pound each of white Brick, both young AND aged Swiss and some Pannaro. 

It's true there's cheese made in Tucumcari. But there're some things that just aren't right and high, eastern New Mexico scrubland-made cheese is one of 'em.

Five pounds of cheese including 2-day shipping came to $17.60/pd. A deal compared with the $24.97 per pound for an attractively mottled roguefort at Smith's (Kroger). And from a fifth generation family farm where there's plenty of water.

Thank you, Ms. Mary Francis Kennedy Fisher Parrish Friede.

Here she is a week or month before her 80th birthday. At 20:35 she says, "Everything is sexual." What a woman!

Lion Sleeps

Lady Smith Black Mambazo / Mint Juleps
https://youtu.be/XJuEuRCKq1s?feature=shared

Hout Bay Music Project - André Rieu
https://youtu.be/rIIQgTIhE2w?si=TqZqpeJukXuVEsID

The Lion King 2019 - Timon & Pumbaa
https://youtu.be/zDQLvuTHLZ8?feature=shared

Young Peoples' Chorus of New York City
https://youtu.be/erCq44KSEHQ?feature=shared

London City Voices Choir
https://youtu.be/1RIqaCCr5sU?feature=shared

Ann Reburn
https://youtu.be/9RnhVDTks3g?feature=shared

Cunnilinging? - NOT

Her reaction to the three-day-growth...

"I don't want a friggin' brillo pad between my legs."

Pie

Edward's is the one. Despite having reached an all-time high in dimensionalty, my baseless confidence in the rightness of all things has me convinced I'll eventually shrink back to something less horrifying. Thus, we need not resort to extreme measures such as deprivation. Unable to go much farther than the bathroom, I requested Ms. Cook bring home "something good" for dessert.

She was able to secure the last package of key lime, a fav of us both. It comes with two slices.

The Baaaahth

My appreciation of a bath goes back decades. So well-known is this proclivity that when Michelle remodeled the bathroom she sought out a comfortable tub...even though it'd been ten years since I was here.

Note bidet controls on right side of komode

The price for indoor plumbing, a mortgage, always seemed exorbitant, not to mention there be neighbors. But, as being able to extrude a turd takes on an ever-greater feeling of accomplishment, now, particularly when the temperatures impair the relaxation of the sphincters, the wall-heater has acquired a special place in my heart.

Influenced by an early childhood in Japan, I shower before settling in for the soak. A small space, it's easy to heat and requires minimal effort to clean. Michelle's decorative embellishments (note light switch) lend a festive "air."

Tub-side towel holder

The lower right was damaged in a since-forgotten incident. Someday it'll be repaired, but we don't like to rush things.

Living Room

(Note leaf pattern)

Zach Smith

Last night one of our stories was The Worst Breakfast illustrated by Zach Smith.

Tap images to goto Amazon

One of the benefits of being an aficionado is I recognize quality when I see it. This article about Smith lists a few of the museums he's in and mentions his book We Did Porn. The article, by Ezrha Jean Black | Mar 23, 2023, in Artillery, has other tidbits and you may wanna read it first for its insights into Zach's penchants.

Reviews of We Did Porn are encouraging. The one that suggests the latter half of the book is a love letter to Candy Crushed. (adult content warning) sent me seeking. A petite young woman, she is apparently quite popular. The link above is to Pornhub, a free site.

Below's one by Zach; so far, my fav.

Sounds Of the City

The view of the Sandia Mountains, one of the city's few redeeming qualities, obliterated.

A few days ago, a friend witnessed a shootout between high-schoolers wielding automatic pistols. The story has it a girl came to fight another but her opponent was in a car so they just opened fire. Police never came; they have real murders to deal with. This, in a moderately decent neighborhood.

It's really exciting down in the war zone. 

Albuquerque: the cesspool of the Southwest.

EXIT Intn'l Thank You

It''s been a mere year and a half that Medical Aid In Dying (MAID) has been available in New Mexico. One group is revelling while another is working to have it removed.

Though a step in the right direction, the hospice nurse I recently spoke with  said I had to pick a date and time so a physician could hand me the lethal cocktail. This is a ridiculous requirement.

Here is a Thank You letter from a daughter whose parents were able to assert their right of "body autonomy." A human right, it is, sadly, only recognized in Switzerland. 

https://www.exitinternational.net/thank-you-for-the-information-help-you-gave-both-my-parents/?utm_source=mailpoet&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=exit%40euthanasia.net

Information is available in the Peaceful Pill Handbook at:

https://www.peacefulpillhandbook.com/

Lion's Head - Hat Shop

We went to the Old Town Hat Shop to select a new chappeau for me. Michelle ordered a couple of items. On our way to get them today (I'm up, out of bed!) we passed this embellishment.

The Hat

A Good Day

Today was a good day. After the preceding weeks almost anything would be an improvement. Last night the nausea compelled me to take another of my hoarded, three-year-old Ondansetron. This morning I awoke hungry & able to drink. Breakfast was a few delicious bits of ham w cheese shreds on half a tortilla "waved" for 35 seconds.

If it weren't for the nausea, I'd be suicidal from the boredom, but I've had some interesting literature: Airline: Style at 30,000 Feet is a bizzare reminiscence of the heyday of flight when stewardesses had to have fifteen inch waists and know how to endure Trump-esque misogyny with a smile.

After the section on clothes came food, followed by interiors. In those days people dressed up to travel and business & first-class came with interesting food creatively presented and  complimentary champaign. Still, it felt a bit like dredging the barrel.

After weeks abed, I was sore and, arising from my labors, took myself off to the Chinese Massage place. Last time my hip had been acting out and after some prelim on my legs I directed her to the area of concern. She was amazingly strong and her ministrations lasted the better part of a month, but this past stint had me aching again. I was a tad apprehensive about returning as when I left last time I had the feeling she was annoyed at my not having requested a happy ending.

This time, as she did my legs, she came even closer to my groin. I endured. When I finally forced a look at the clock and saw there was only ten minutes left and she was working my left foot again, I interrupted her and said, "Back" and rolled onto my side. 

At $60/hr with a $10 processing fee for using a credit card plus a $20.00 tip, I can only afford it once a month, if that. Her touch is wonderful and I'm afraid I'm gonna have to succumb to the tantalization. That'll add at least another half hour. If anyone feels my pain, Phoebe's maintenance fund is in the upper right of the desktop view.

On the way back from Michelle's catsit I was able to go into Trader Joe's where, as I approached the entrance, a comely young Security Guard complimented me on my overalls. She followed her opener with an extemporanious singsong advert: "Overalls feel good over all." 

That was more than enough for me and we commenced. Over the following fifteen minutes I got to admire her Shirley Temple curls, sparkling eyes and delightfully full figure; learned she'd trained as an auto tech and taken some courses in animation. She enjoys working on vehicles but security pays better. Despite my assurance I've only nine readers, she declined to be videoed saying, "I don't wanna go viral."

Now, at nearly midnight, the angina is nagging, but the nausea is still absent.

A good day.

Lair

Quality of life. Measured in a variety of ways.

Name Change

I'm not big on appropriating other cultures' traditions, but there're (there are, not there's) a number that have name-changes.

It appears my nomadic days are at an end; likely all travel. Thus, "nomad" in the blog's title gets changed to "fixed," "settled."

Wahnfried is the name of Richard Wagner's (the composer) home in Bayreuth; it means "madness free;" being nomadic freed me from the madness. Now trapped, I'm (fortunately) losing my hearing; I augment it with earplugs.

Bedridden much of the past month, I saw the full moon for a few minutes, but otherwise have gone out -- amidst the perpendiculars of pavement -- only to do errands.

I feel good about managing, with phone calls and a brief personal appearance, to set up a new Death Café at the Holiday Park Community Center. There'll only be two meetings, in April & May until the Fall as the facility is tied to the school semester. They'll resume in September. Convenient for dwellers of the "Heights," Jane Westbrook will host.

Someone who's had it rough.

Update 7.Mar.24

Jane decided not to do the Death Cafés.

Baker's Cyst

After extensive badgering, Michelle's primary care provider (PCP) condescended to a doppler ultrasound. It was the possibility of a life-threatening Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) that inspired her. 😠

Fortunately, it's a Baker's Cyst.

Baker's cyst MRI Image courtesy S Bhimji MD

Read all about it in this Continuing Education article in the National Library of Medicine.

The exciting part of aging is the discovery of the myriad things that can be "problematic."

Cat-sitter Extraordinaire!

And they say it just gets worse (more exciting!).