REASONS

There are reasons why I'm behaving unreasonably these past few months. I have been pulverized with so many unbearable negative obstacles that I can hardly function. I'm nearly emotionally (and physically) destroyed. Depression has penetrated the root of my existence.

Writing about it has become impossible. Maybe.....maybe.....some day.

I am not exaggerating. I've become only a shadow of whom I used to be. I don't give a rat's ass about any aspect of existence. I hate the entire  world....and I envy the every day of freedom that you are blessed to enjoy.

I suspect that the kind....and courageous.....readers of my blog are weary of my  old photos that they've seen many times. In this hospital bed I only have the photos stored on my phone.

This time photos of past autumns.

It is autumn now, isn't it?

Jon 🍁 unreasonably clueless

Autumnal photography, with commentary! This should enchant you. I think I corrected the typos.

When I lived in the Missouri Ozarks, I was only two miles from Wilsons Creek - which was the site a major battle in the Civil War, August 1861. It took place in the corn field behind me sitting on the fence. Over 2,500 soldiers were killed or missing. I went there every autumn. Very haunting and atmospheric  place.

Me at Wilsons Creek. Unfortunately my best photos are filed in my laptop....at.....home

Maple tree in my back yard in the Ozarks.

Me by the same tree. The color is way off, it's a lousy Polaroid.

Every autumn I took endless walks in Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield. It is haunted. This statue marks the grave of a young woman, Melissa Turner. 24 yrs. old 1884. The statue always holds fresh flowers.

When I lived in West Texas (I lived in several towns) I had a house in a very small town on the high plains. I grew these pumpkins in my garden. Difficult to do, with dry dusty soil.  The town Floydada was about 50 miles away. They have pumpkin festivals every autumn.

My TX pumpkins in the back yard.

Taken in Texas but I didn't grow this one.

Kitzee, about four months old. I adopted her from the animal shelter in Odessa TX

IRONIC

Isn't it ironic?

When I was in room 405 I stopped blogging because I didn't have an Internet connection.

Now I'm in room 105 with a good Internet connection - - and I'm so savagely upset and deeply depressed that I don't want to blog.

Too many negative things to tell.....

Jon 💚

ECHOES OF DISTANT SUMMERS

    Note:

I re-post this at the end of every summer.
Why?
Because I like it.   Jon

 Dwelling continuously in the past is for idle dreamers. Occasionally visiting the past can be nourishment for a hungry soul.

 

There are times when I can close my eyes and make the distance of years melt away......

..... and suddenly I'm on the beach again, young and exuberant, immersed in the drowsy haze of a summer afternoon where the silver glare of sky and water mingle as one, where the soft sand burns my bare feet, and the salty scent of the ocean intoxicates my senses. The soothing, eternal roar of the waves seem to echo like the song of a shell pressed against my ear.

 I cherish those summers of distant memories, because now - - in the present purgatory of a different time and place, in the subtle shadows of my rapidly dwindling existence - - I fully appreciate their value. 

Memories often tend to assume halcyon proportions and our distant pasts sometimes seem better than they really were. Careful scrutiny of my past, however, confirms the fact that it did indeed harbor the best times of my life.

There is a fierce pang of sadness wedged in the heart of my memories, because what I miss most is the innocence and the optimism - - two precious things that I will never have again.

I was fortunate enough to have divided my youthful summers between the west coast and the east coast. 

I lived in Southern California which, in my biased opinion, was the greatest place on earth. I also spent summers on the east coast, the Jersey shore, where most of my relatives were. I was particularly partial to the Pacific Ocean, because it was my territory - - but the Atlantic had its own mesmeric powers. The Pacific - always blue, placid, inviting. The Atlantic - greenish gray, remote, moody.

 West Coast

In California, in Orange County, we lived less than five miles from the beach and it was an integral part of my life. I was well-acquainted with all the beach communities up the coast:
Laguna, Newport, Huntington, Bolsa Chica, Sunset, Seal Beach. 

(Seal Beach was my secret favorite).

Huntington Beach was the closest. Sometimes I'd ride my bike there. Occasionally I'd hitch a ride. All the kids hitched on Beach Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway.....long ago when things seemed safe.

 The Huntington Beach Pier

Long, hot summer days languishing in the sand at Huntington, absorbing the perpetual sunshine. Eating corn dogs & "strips" (fried tortilla strips with a mild hot sauce). Drinking Cactus Coolers (an orange-pineapple soft drink that I think still exists). Always swimming. Sometimes surfing. Enduring sunburns and jellyfish stings. 

Collecting shells. Sand Dollars were always the greatest treasures.

Midnight bonfires, moonlit walks on the beach when the Grunion were running. Haunting the deserted pier at Seal Beach after midnight. Sailing with friends at Newport Beach on languid, carefree afternoons. Visiting Balboa Island and Catalina Island.

Later, when I had wheels, I'd drive to the beach or go with friends. Day or night, it was my most sacred refuge. 


Sudden flashback:
Driving with my best friend Mike in his red convertible Mustang along Pacific Coast Highway at sunset on the 4th of July. Stereo blaring, the evening alive with magic. Dazzling explosions of fireworks igniting every mile of the shore. The air warm and salty, heavy with the pungent sulfuric smell of  smoke.

  Years later I was best man at Mike's wedding. Marriage inevitably has a way of severing friendships and expunging the exuberance of youth. We lost contact long ago. The carefree days linger like taunting ghosts at the edge of our memories....

The Jersey Shore

East Coast

The east coast was always a blessed escape from unrelenting family problems and my father's insane violence.

I loved the colorful, comforting chaos of being alone in New York City: walking barefooted in Central Park, discovering museums, visiting Lincoln Center. Getting drunk in a sleazy Staten Island bar with my cousin Nancy and her husband Jim. Drinking was a new novelty to me then ( Nancy wasn't fond of drinking, but Jim and I got smashed).

Now, Nancy is a widow.......Jim is gone.......

Horseback riding with my cousin Nancy on early August evenings in the balmy New Jersey countryside. Boating along the Jersey coast and into New York Harbor (several of my relatives had boats). Watching the moon rise from the water in a sultry surrealistic haze. Long walks on the beach at Sandy Hook. Exploring the boardwalks at Asbury Park and Seaside Heights.

Asbury Park, New Jersey
 

Our once-large family has now dwindled drastically. The relatives are all deceased, except for my cousins. Friends have vanished. And lovers. All those whom I truly cherished only remain in faded ghost memories, where distant voices still echo with warmth and laughter......

....and those golden summers linger tenderly in the recesses of my mind:  carefree times when the invincibility of youth deceived us into believing that life is eternal - -

- - where distant memories echo like the taunting pulse of a delicate whisper in a seashell pressed to my ear.

Jon V.        2018

WICKEDLY TIMELESS

Okay, every one - - let's all hold hands and think negative thoughts.....which, if we succeed, might expunge the positive thoughts I offered in my previous post.

After all, nobody wants to hear anything optimistic that might have occurred in my dreadfully drastic existence.

As a start, I will consider removing the photo of the Jeep (where the hell did I get that vehicle, anyway?).

I'm talking nonsense.

I might be wounding you with sarcasm.

My enigmatical blog posts often leave recipients speechless. Other more courageous recipients kindly take time to read between lines - desperately trying extract a semblance of logic and reason.

Logic? Reason?

Only I know what and why I write.

Taking detours far away from tedious, depressing, joyless, foul, endless medical updates would be a unique break.....a  breath of fresh (?) air....

he assumes......

I still brashly (and erroneously) believe that I'm the most interesting person I know.

With several exceptions.

AND NOW

I'll give you what you're waiting for.

A DELICIOUS MEDICAL UPDATE!

Last Friday (August 14th) my followup dr. appt.

I was nervous beyond belief, as to what the ctscan would reveal. My recent petscan yielded so many dire and dismal things, that even  Doctor Johnson was speechless.

On Friday, I was so scared waiting for the doctor that I nearly passed out. The nurse took my blood pressure and said it was completely normal.

The results for my scans were not as bad as expected. I was positive that bone cancer was in my right arm. The pain is INTENSE. The dr. said it is coming from nerve pain. It seems to be bursitis. I'll get treatments for that.

The doctor's biggest concern is my liver and left lung. Since he only deals with radiation, I was transferred to a new oncologist who specializes in chemo, Dr. Penny Heinrich.

I got an appt. with her on Sept 1st.

I had seven weeks of chemo and radiation three years ago.

.....and so it goes....

If this post annoys you, I would gladly put you in my shoes and let you go through the absolute medical HELL that I endured these past three years. Every minute was agony. I held up incredibly well - -

During the past few weeks I'm completely losing strength and sanity. I never knew a depression could be so ravaging. I'm bearly hanging on to a very thin thread.

Jon

UNWORTHY?

The rumor that I defected from the Army is a gross exaggeration.

There is truth of the long-standing story that my maternal great-grandfather was of Hungarian nobility.

Janos Gurdon (Gurdonyi)

John Gordon (1863- 1936).

This is where he was born, near Borzavar. He was disinherited for marrying a peasant girl. They eventually had twelve children (it could have been a shotgun wedding).

This blog post is much ado about nothing. Random thoughts.

I used to brashly claim that I'm the most interesting person I know. Could be true.

It may be hard to believe, but I always had an incredibly low self esteem. I give thanks to my father, who ruthlessly cut me down to the quick. I was used to being called "you stupid jackass", or "you crazy SOB". It never surprised me when he'd take off his belt and beat the jeeters out of me.

One time when I was twelve, we were planning a summer vacation to go back east in New Jersey. Daddy Dearest scrutinized my scrawny looks, how pale I was.

"I'd never let our relatives see you. You look like a goddamn ghost!"

Our vacation was scrapped.

Let's reverse a few years. When we moved to California I was sick and had alarming physical symptoms. Two prominent L.A. doctors pronounced that I had Leukemia. One told my parents I wouldn't live to be twelve.

Was probably acute anemia.

For the next six years I had an unconventional doctor who believed in alternative methods and medications. Too long to detail.

My father's cutting words never left me. In my late teens I exercized, lifted weights, ate anything possible to gain weight. Let my hair grow, got tan at the beach, got contact lenses.

The transformation was a sort of success, I suppose.

This was me in my 40s in West Texas. And yes, that's my real hair bleached from the TX sun.

I'm remembering that ghastly monumental day when I was 18 and we had the worst physical encounter ever. Said he'd kill me....and meant every word. He choked me 'till I was unconcious  and that is NO exaggeration.

That's when I got his loaded revolver, pointed it to his head when he was sleeping. Then..... I cowardly back out.

You long-time readers heard all this before. There is much more than I described.

Raging hatred for him. Ruthless hate for myself.

Do you know how much booze, pills, drugs I ingested to forget my low self esteem?? I learned to use my youth and desirability as a weapon. Indulged in  diabolical delights that I never dreamed of.

The things I'm going to mention happened over a span of years. A reckless dichotomy of good and evil, saint and sinner.

YIKES!

There was that extraodinary adventure - - my great escape from.....some one.....

I was twenty-four. Dyed my hair brown. Got  rip-roaring drunk on a sail boat, with a friend. We eventually sailed to Catalina.

But you don't want to hear about that near-deadly dangerous fiasco, do you? Maybe some other time.

There's hope. I accomplished a few good things

I wrote nearly 100 compositions for piano and/or chamber orchestra - - including twenty-four preludes in every key for piano.

Many still exist, others are lost.

In my romantic mode I wrote over 100 poems, most were published in anthologies and literary magazines.

Years later I compiled them into a book.

 

And several books for children

In my Hollywood years, I published many articles for popular movie magazines and other magazines.

Some of my pen & inks were published.

Opera composer

Giacomo Puccini

My first oil painting, done when I was eleven years old. The frame covers my signature (lower right).

This haphazard post is too long.

Jon, 🩵 annoying sometimes

I don't care if I'm unworthy of blogging. Too tired to give a damn, too frustrated to apologize.

I spent half my life apologizing for being alive.....to people who weren't fit to wipe my.....

Boots

My favorite opera is Turandot

Puccini

SHORT UPDATE

In my old room I didn't have an Internet connection for nearly a month, which explains my long absence. Today I requested to be moved to another room. It's a shabby room - but at least I FINALLY have Internet. I'll write a new post ASAP.

Jon     (new room #105)

It was difficult to get another room, I had to wait several weeks.

NIGHTMARE IN SLO MO

 That's exactly how to describe it. My existence. A nightmare in slow motion. 

A never-ending surrealistic dream - - unfolding like the haunting backdrops of the 1920 German film, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari".

Expressionism supreme.

More about that later.

I had my appointment last Tuesday. My oncologist Dr. Johnson in Cookeville Medical Center.

It went exactly as I thought - - nothing new to tell, a vast waste of time. I don't like my new oncologist. Dr. Sydris (now retired) always strived to get things done.

Dr. Johnson gives the attitude that he doesn't give a crap. He listens to my major concerns. Then says I'll need further tests ( he already has my recent horrifying PETscan). He has no appointment schedule. A nurse said it will be "weeks, not sure when."

So......I'll waste precious time, waiting forever. I know I need treatments right now. I'm holding back on this blog post, not telling everything. I don't want to be an alarmist.

Things are worse than can be imagined.

Rainy day on my appointment. I loved seeing the dramatic sky, with occasional sunlight. My only connection to the outside world.

Here, in Signature, it is my prison. I'm existing on nothing but faded memories. Lifeless. Seriously dejected.

A nightmare in slow motion.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

A masterpiece of German horror/expressionism, 1920. Directed by Robert Wiene. 

Starring Conrad Veidt (remember him in "Casablanca" ?)

I won't go into the twisted plot. The sinister Caligari, and the somnambulist Cesare who predicts and commits murders.

When I was ten years old, I had a horror magazine that had photos from the 1920 Caligari film. I was mesmerized by the photos, but knew very little about the film.

When I was 20 years old, I finally saw the film in a silent movie theater in L.A.

The informative years when I explored everything.

This post didn't interest you, and I certainly don't blame you. It's crap.

I have absolutely NO desire to write, but I currently have an Internet connection. So I forced myself.

Jon, 💚

wondering if I'm still.... alive

P.S.

The Silent Movie Theater still exists on Fairfax in Los Angeles. It opened in 1942 and through the years had different names (The Old Time Movie Theater, The Movie Theater) and different owners.

In 1997, owner Lawrence Austin was murdered in the theater when there was a robbery.

I'VE READ ALL YOUR COMMENTS BUT DIDN'T REPLY BECAUSE I KEEP LOSING MY CONNECTION.

HEART OF THE LOST

 

By some technological miracle, I have an Internet connection so I'm writing a new post. Nothing interesting nor important. Just confirming the fact of my existence. Probably typos, because my right arm hurts so much that I can hardly type.

Before I go into updates, I want to turn back the clock - to the 1st of June, 2023. Now, over three years ago. That was the horrible day when my long medical journey began. I knew at least a year previously that I was seriously ill. A tumor on my pelvis, directly on the main artery, which caused massive hemorrhages. At the time I didn't have medical insurance and was too frightened to get help.

The things I went through were so terrifying that I wouldn't want to describe it on this (public) blog.

Incredibly, during that time I still managed to blog - but my posts were strange, disjointed, depressing. Nobody knew how I was suffering. I hinted....but hints mean nothing.

During this time, I made the video "Heart of the Lost" (the title is from the music, written by Ean Grimm). I posted the video...and no one knew what it meant.

I never revealed my desperate plan. I went into the forest by my house. A final walk. I found a perfect spot nestled in the busom of the trees. I sat there for hours, clutching the ample bottle of pills. 

I yearned for the final sleep, which would come gently....... soon the wild, free spirit of a white wolf would roam forever freely in the peaceful place I loved.

It was as simple as that.

I didn't go through my plan. It was night when I got home.

The 1st of June

I had lost so much blood that I started having mild heart attacks. I could no longer walk. I stumbled to the front porch, called 911, and passed out on the porch.

A long journey....the doctors at Centennial in Nashville told me there was no hope. I was sent back to Cookeville, where I had seven weeks of chemo and radiation.

A guardian angel had mercy.

That's the past. What about now?

Medically, I'm having more problems. I don't want to exhaust myself (or you) with tedious details. After six long weeks, I finally have an appointment with my oncologist in Cookeville (July 14th). Good news.....but I'm apprehensive.

I wish it could have been sooner.

I wish this post wasn't so gloomy. I'm exhausted mentally and physically. My sense of humor has vanished.

Jon ❤️ valiently...hanging.....on

I'll try to post more often, if I still have an Internet connection. Thanks for being there. I know you are.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

 After nearly two weeks without an Internet connection, I finally got a connection this morning. Miracle! I'll try to write this post quickly, in case the Gods of Technology heard me and take it away.

Also, I have such severe pain in my right arm that I can hardly type. I don't want to give a medical update, because it is dismal and my depression is profound. No need for alarm. I'm hanging on by a thin thread, but I'll be damned if I let go.

I'm still at Signature in Jamestown.

Well, with Internet I can order some food from Walmart this week. The highlite (light?) of my dreary existence.

I have a lot to say, but I'll drastically condense. July has arrived. It's in the 90s here, between endless thunderstorms. There was a tornado warning and power outage a few nights ago. No damage.

I hope everyone has a joyous holiday weekend. Be thankful for the positive things you have. They are precious.

I had this doggie for many years. He had an outfit for every month. When I moved to Tennessee, the outfits were there...but the dog was missing.

Jon, patriotic in Texas

Another piano video. These are 

my variations on "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". The photos are not AI, they're original from the Civil War.

Lousy audio  but it's an old tape.

Jon  💙

Just received some bad news from insurance....just what I need to destroy my weekend.

P.S.It's Friday night and another severe storm is here. So much lightning, no need for fireworks.

P.S AGAIN

I think I finally have a much-needed appt. with my oncologist  next week (after nearly two months).