Goodbye, Ozzy. I'll miss you...

Their lips move, but I can't hear what they're saying...America is punctured today

6.5 months in...yikes

 Oh, wow. Such a dark, empty feeling. I'm not the only one seeing this while I sense my country is being dismantled.

Late June and July is always the toughest time for me when I think of how many friends I lost to various illnesses: sepsis from surgical mistakes, complications from diabetes, HIV/AIDS (it was a death sentence once, be thankful for pRep), heart attacks, drunk drivers, and those that had silent killers inside them that weren't discovered because they had no health insurance. They went to sleep, feeling tired for weeks or months at a time, and never woke up.

It's raining cats and dogs today, and feels more gloomy than ever. What do I do when anxiety yanks me out of bed, but then I spend a few hours up and all I want to do is sleep? Turmoil is not the word.

It is so quiet that I can almost feel something lurking, and none of it is good. Quiet is good for the moments when I have a giant epiphany that pops into my ever-rattling brain and I see the facts for what they are. I am not sugar coating anything anymore, which is beginning to make some people very nervous. The "charm" isn't working on me, and I won't be manipulated anymore. I can finally say this out loud.

Those that I found funny, beautiful, fascinating, or boisterous from various times in my life are simply loud and obnoxious now. I see some of them were playing a game. Those around them, when I find old photos or even social media posts now, have faces that read hurt, tired, angry, or "over it." I can't be alone in this. I thought of an old John Lennon song that went with this: "Gimme Some Truth."  Yes, I know the man was problematic, he was a moody Libra, what did you expect? But the music remains. 

I realize I may have to compartmentalize certain things about certain people that I knew to separate the good from the bad, the funny from the serious, and the art from the problems of the artist. It's a lot of thinking and my brain hurts. Not like your standard tylenol headache, but HURTS like: please get me a wrench for this old TV, I need to forcibly lower the volume or pull the cord to shut it off. 

I dreamed of Lilith, the first wife of Adam from biblical lore the other night, and I woke up to a dead snake on my doorway. It looked like it had little brown and gold triangles all over it, which might mean a baby cottonmouth. Those are poisonous beyond belief. My tabby stayed out in the sun yesterday morning and decided to "play with the string," I guess. Signs everywhere. I'm not even looking for them, I ask, and they appear. I don't play around with the occult or with religious anything, it just shows up. Is it a warning? Or is this telling me exactly what's going on? What is in darkness shall come to light...where did I hear that phrase again. 

It's why I jumped on here and had to write. Someone has to see it, and I haven't spoken to many of you for so long. I gave up on Fakebook (that is NOT a typo), and many accounts on IG, Threads and whatever are now abandoned. People are getting sick of social media and its effects. I joined TikTok and BlueSky and seem to be finding likeminded people who got sick of the showoff high school bullshit. People are looking for strength, hope, honesty. 

Like I just wrote: Gimme Some Truth.

July 4th is going to be strange this year. I don't feel like celebrating. It takes 250 years for an empire to fall and this country is now at 249 years in a few days. 

Makes me wonder.

New Year, New Unrest

 Whoooo boy.

New year, new uneasy feeling. I'm thinking of that old Eagles song, "Peaceful Easy Feeling." Nope, this is anything but.

Bad BAD reaction to the flu shot. Projectile vomited after a grumbling stomach all day yesterday. Body aches, headaches, and an arm that feels it was hit by a bat. Oh, this is NOT fun. Soup and toast for dinner.

I really should try and return here. Writing and music was always a balm for my scorched soul. 

Orange is back, yes he's back. Yikes.

Mr. Blackie Boo, (Dexter Part 2) has not adjusted to my kissing and squeezing him, but I will still do it. His rough patchy fur is finally soft after a few years of consistent brushing and not having to eat out of garbage cans. He will be 7 soon.

Christmas came and went, my pre-lit tree died row by row in darkness.

Thyroid is still bleah, perimenopause is here, pcos is in full swing, hair loss has begun. Oh, what fun bodily changes are.

The TikTok ban was a psy-op, you can't tell me different. I'm back on, though. Fuck FB, IG, and X. I simply don't care. I might upload to YouTube again, I think I sent something there the other night. I am using filters that match the makeup I was known for in the 80s and 90s. It makes me think of the Jetsons when they put their "faces" on when they spoke on the video phone. Star Trek and the Jetsons pretty much predicted huge chunks of the American future. It made me laugh when I was a child, but it's true now!

So weird. But, here I am. I have to try and reach out this year, but it's so hard. I have faded from so many people's lives. My illness, chunks of my energy have just been sapped, and a bit of depression, too. Maybe this is the passage of time. I haven't forgotten you, but I've just been so pulled away from focusing on other lives. 

There is also a suspected ADHD diagnosis based on things I just found out about my relatives. There is no medication available, though. I will have to stay weird and frazzled, no change there. 

Sigh. Dear God, get me thru this year.