Route 35, Maine

truck living

They complain about my footsteps on the floor boards.

They complain about my dog barking in the driveway at noon while playing ball.

They complain that I am up at night.

They complain about the a/c dripping onto the porch roof.

They complain that I steal their heat when heat rises and I am on the third floor.

They complain about smoke in the hallway, but the workman said that he, the workman, could not smell smoke in the hallway when I asked him impromptu.

They complain about my sitting out front in the sun when the nurse told me to sit out front in the sun for vitamin D.

They complain about my dog pawing his bowl in the morning.

They complain that I like to BBQ outside when the neighbors next door have a fire pit.

They complain about the dog shit in the backyard when I pay to have it cleaned and then they take their dogs to the backyard to shit.

They complain about human feces in the driveway that somebody in CaCaLand left and I have to clean it up.

They complain and threaten to call the police when I am arguing with my wife. I tell them: "good! go ahead and call them... do you know the number? It's 911!"

They complain that I cat call women "hubba bubba" when there is a dog down the street named "Bubba" who walks with his owner every day for the past 14 years that I have lived here. All I did was yell "hey Bubba" to the dog and his owner who are acquaintances.

There are too many complaints to list and then I am told: "get out of my house with nothing but the shirt on your back" and "get the fuck off this phone, you motherfucker!"

I suppose that the only lesson here is not only do you call a woman like you call a doggie, "Hubba Bubba," but that psychiatry is quackery in that when it was reported to the doctor that I was cat calling women "Hubba Bubba:" the doctor increased the dose!?

It is a wonder that they don't string me up and crucify me.

I complain about the squirrels in the attic eaves 14 years ago: nothing is down and now all the wires have chewed so that there is no electricity in the apartment.

I complain about items stored too close to the furnaces in basement or items placed in the fire corridor.

I complain about people owning too many cars and parking them all in the driveway so I can't park.

Those three things are all that I complain about to the landlady.

Yet, I bear the onus! and live in my vehicle!?

17h55 January 3rd, 2014: Locked Out -

"Junior.  Put the dogs out and let them pee."

"I suggest putting paper down in the mud room.  It is fifty below outside."

"Is it?  Alright."

"Yes.  It is fifty below outside and it is a coastal storm.  It will be thirty above tomorrow morning with only two inches of snow."

"Oh bullshit!"

Senior clicks the mouse.  Senior calls daughter in the Midwest.

"Take the dogs out!"

"It's fifty below outside, dad.  They just said it is fifty below on the radio."

"Oh bullshit!  You're mentally ill; lunatic."  

Senior rises from his chair and hobbles with his bum knee to the door.  He forces the dogs to go out in fifty below.  My dog is too smart to go outside and stays inside.

"Come on Cleo; Katie.  Get inside," Junior states as the dog's paws are freezing to the ground after their quick pee.

Later ... 

"You know, dad, I like being around you as much as you like being around me.  But, you're an asshole!"

"This is just one of those things that happen.  Forget it!"

Junior sleeps on the floor and the next day: Senior's old man friend stops by in the morning when it is 30 above zero degrees, knocks over the laundry basket off of a chair to sit down on the chair.

"Tell him that he should be elevating his leg."

"Why should he be doing that?"

"Because that is what you do when you have a leg injury.  I got him a knee brace.  He doesn't wear it.  I saw all this on TV."

"Oh right!  I've seen that, too."

Senior sits in his chair without a budge and Junior leaves later in the day.  In latter days, mother mentions to Junior that Senior spoke with an old-timer at the diner.  The old-timer at the diner says to Senior that he has never seen weather like THAT!!!

Also on the next morning, the following conversation ensued:

"Oh!  With the wind chill, it was fifty below."

"Yes.  And, there is two inches of snow on the ground and it is thirty above now.  Just as I said..."

Cape Elizabeth beach

East End Beach

Cape Elizabeth Beach

Pond Cove

When I hung myself, I saw a light as I hung. I had a dream:

When I hung myself, I saw a light as I hung.  I had a dream:

In the dream while the nurses at the hospital all gathered round, I sauntered from a light place to a very dark place.  I stood before two turn stiles with a halogen light affixed at the top of the turn stiles on a black, wrought - iron fence that stretched as high as I could see and as long into pitch black darkness as I could see in both directions: to the right  and to the left of me.

As I stood at the two turn stiles, the turn stile on the right resembled a typical, New York City, style turn stile and the turn stile on the left was taller resembling a meat grinder of sorts.

As I was trying to determine my options and / or bearings in my dream, a midget or dwarf emerged from the darkness at my right into the halogen lit entry way of the turn stiles.  The midget wore a red and black, plaid, lumber jack shirt with black suspenders affixed to blue, denim jeans and brandished a chain saw.

The midget began to chase me around in front of the turn stiles, seemingly to me to force me through the turn stile on the left.  The turn stiles began to whirr in motion.  Suddenly, some flesh of some sort (as best as I could tell in the dream) passed through the turn stile on the left and was sliced into billions of little bits into the abyss on the other side with no hope of return, or, so it seemed in the dream.

I dodged the midget with the chainsaw, who, when I dodged him and walked out the way I had come into the foreboding turn stiles from a lit world, went back into a corner of the darkness: presumably to await another meanderer in the world of dreams.