A Message to My Angels

To all my generous Angels:

I hope none of you take this personally, but, wow, there are really a ton of crowdfunding sites: gofundme, kickstarter, indiegogo. Seems like everyone is hooked up and (I guess) they are perfectly legit. Of course, there are assholes. (There’s a site called gofraudme.com that digs down and finds the ripoffs, hustles and scams.)  Everything decent eventually becomes corrupted, but I won’t judge. It’s too easy. How did people get money from others before the Internet came along? Work? Sure, yes, we work, but suppose I need dough for a medical emergency? What if I can’t work? Like now? Really, I can’t work. Out of the question.

Every time someone dies friends and family set up a funding page to cover “expenses”. Burial expenses? That stuff costs, sure, but consider cremation; it’s cheap and efficient.

Literally thousands of families seek decent housing. (Check it out.) They have bad luck (who hasn’t?) and need a safe and healthy place for their six kids to grow up. And the kids need iPads. Please give. My suggestion would be to cut down on the breeding, but, again, trying not to judge. So far so good.

Plenty of young men and women have sure-fire ideas and solicit capital to jumpstart a company, provide a service, build an app. Great; good luck, but I can’t donate to your modeling career or help to promote your crappy rap CD.

Many of these petitions are somewhat successful, no matter how ridiculous. A certain kind of person asks and certain others feel inclined to give. Ask for $10,000 for stuff we all do (pay bills, get out from under all that debt, take a much-needed vacation, buy Christmas presents) and chances are that you’ll get a few grand, at least. It’s a start.

My Angels: I’m in need of a vintage 1969 Mercedes-Benz 300SEL 6.3 Liter Sedan. My current vehicle is not dependable, needs servicing, and I require reliable transportation in the probable event that I may someday have to travel for complicated medical treatments. The stress of not having this particular Mercedes-Benz has been generating inflammation that is deteriorating my overall health. The cumin and lime cleanses are no longer effective and I’ve had bad experiences with high colonics (!). Anxiety is increasing and I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. I fear the worst.

If you can find it in your heart to donate to my upcoming gofundme page, I will offer prayers, love, light, hugs, and good thoughts forever. If you can’t give, I will try to understand. It will be difficult to avoid judging you, but I’ll try. You are all my sweet Angels. God Bless, Namaste, Abundance, Divine Love.

Lower Standards -- Part 8

I’ve gotten to the point where, if another driver uses turn signals (which are on every frigging vehicle, right there on the steering column, within easy reach, flick, right, left, no brain, automatic and helpful and required by law) I think, “Well, that must be a decent human being. Probably a nice person. Caring, generous, compassionate, self sufficient, clear headed and able to see how their actions affect others.” Then I think, “Fuck me, I’m acting as if someone who does the bare minimum, who engages in basic human decency, who makes the least effort, who is simply awake and borderline responsive, that person is now a superstar, a phenomenon, a mastermind.”

My goddamn standards have dropped so low that I’m grateful and overcome with emotion when somebody isn’t overtly hostile and offers the slightest hint of awareness. Holy shit. Doomed.

Mom's Guide to Health and Fitness

I was at the doctor’s office today. I was pretty sure I had Zika but it was only a cough, sore throat. I got the usual: Antibiotics that probably won’t do anything and some prescription cough suppressant that will definitely do “something”. Plus it helps with a cough.

While sitting in that petri dish they call a waiting room, I thought about my mother. Agnes De Patta. She died three years ago this week. She was a lifelong hardcore liberal Democrat, took no shit and had a dark side that I appreciated. She was 96.

Each day I try to get in a workout. Most days I’m OK, but if I skip a few then I’m off my schedule and feel like a slacker, fat, old, soon to die. I eat well but I binge once a week. Or twice. So, guilt and self-loathing, overweight, blood sugar, cholesterol and all the attendant morbid effects of debauchery.

I know debauchery. Well.

I try to take care of myself, I don’t smoke and haven’t had a drink in over 20 years, stopped the weed and the pills and the coke and staying out late and sneaking down dark alleys.

But there is something missing.

Looking back, I try to remember what my mom did to stay fit and healthy for over 90 years.

Weight: She was always about 40 pounds overweight. Five feet four and 180 lbs. give or take a few inches and a few pounds.

Smoking: Started smoking at 16 and stopped at 76. She had a heart attack a few months after she quit and thought that was ironic. Still, 60 years of smoking and she lived another 20.

Alcohol: Not a heavy drinker.  I think I only saw her rough a couple of times. She liked a drink around 5 p.m., sometimes a couple. No big.

Diet: Anything that didn’t bite back. She liked butter and loved sugary desserts.

Exercise: You’re kidding, right? She hated walking from her room to the front door when I visited her. Hated it and said so. She walked from her room to her car; that was the longest trip on foot. She drove until she was 95 and didn’t kill anyone that we know of.

She was smart and articulate until the end. Didn’t mind a good argument. Enjoyed provoking the old conservatives at the residence.

 I’m may adopt her program. It worked for 96 years and I consider that successful.

Respect.

The Citrine Doorway to Excellent Posture

The Citrine Doorway to Excellent Posture

 Send $34.99 to:

The Vagrant Cantos

PO Box 1159

Taos, NM

87571

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(Note: If patient becomes incoherent and loses consciousness discontinue and call 911.)

Sorry, no refunds.

Namaste.