I'm so disconnected now, I don't even know what day it is.
I have to constantly check the calendar.
Same thing with time - it's so totally fluid now - so the phenomena even applies to TMR:
I actually had to check my own friggin' blog to see what's up with it.
You'd think I'd know, wouldn't you?
Nah, not right now.
I got something going on that supersedes everything else - starting with my friend/roommate/landlord falling down, getting confused, and then having to finally be committed to a long-term facility.
The doctors now think there was a loss of oxygen to the brain, which means I'm caring for a guy whose personality is basically unchanged, though some cognitive abilities, like sense of location, are completely shot. Plus he's delusional, which I'd think would allow him to fit right in, but no.
Putting it all together, I'm living in the home (and handling the affairs) of my close friend who A) now lives nearby, and B) I enthusiastically greet - like for the very first time - on several occasions per visit. Mind you, he knows who I am, but not where we are, or how we came to be BFFs, and - thank you very much - he kind of doesn't care. As far as he's concerned, he "just got back from a skiing trip last night" and I'm his old buddy visiting him (somewhere on Earth) in what he originally said was a Navy ship, but has since upgraded to a hotel with, what I gather is, barely three star service.
I let him have that. I don't argue with his take on it.
It's good practice for my engagement with the rest of the world.
Fortunately, my friend's daughter (who has power of attorney) and I are more comfortable with accepting his new mental condition - and our new living situation that's resulted from it - than his other friends. To our fascination, and frustration, these fine folks have adopted a seemingly uniform position that A) the guy just needs "a swift kick in the butt" to get his mojo working again, and B) I should never have been allowed to move into his larger master bedroom until said "kick" has been applied to their satisfaction.
They're, all, either wealthy or health and environment nuts from out of state.
But, like I said, nobody's listening.
So, I'm now sleeping on a King-sized mattress again, in a gigantic bedroom, and - after I return from a visit to California in a week or so - I'll not only have a new recording studio assembled in one of it's corners but, after seven long years, that'll put me back on the road to prosperity again.
Not there yet, though. Let's get this blog puppy back on track.
Here's The Macho Response Mumbo Jumbo Update:
The NewAge End Of The World resulted in their/our/this Year Zero having a "13" stuck on it - 2013 - which, if you think about it, is "spiritually" significant (snark). Bad Luck. Year Of The Snake.
So, if you believe, then The Force is against you - not just on a quantum level but on a totally sex-at-Woodstock cosmic one - and it's growing. Long story-short, there may be a lack of funds, because they're idiots, but there's still more than enough reality left to go around.
The folks everybody thinks are crazy, completely lost in time, will be driving the so-called sane mad with our almost blissful contentment at the sight of their world dissolving.
Left? Right? Doesn't matter. Political goal posts - though still insisted on - haven't been moved,...but were never a prominent feature of the Western playing field to begin with. I've told you:
This was always about cult(ure).
And, no matter where I sit, the prevailing one's lost,…