A DREAM

 Last night, long after midnight, I had a dream. The dream - which transported me to the past - was so vivid that it was like an unexpected resurrection that extracted me from the infinite depths of the dead.

Suddenly I'm young again - - vibrant, good-looking, with a delicious inevitable limitless future before me that denies any possibility of old age or abject misery.

My friends are here, my parents, relatives, confidants and lovers. My optimism, enthusiasm, adventurous quest to indulge in the gift of life - is as bright and inspiring as the eternal kiss of the California sunshine.

My blessings are always taken for granted - the warmth of my body and soul, the abundant food that I eat, the inevitable sanctuary of shelter and every fulfillment of my greedy whims.

I can not only walk - - I can run, practice yoga, hike, climb, and swim. Every aspect of my physical capabilities are in tact. My fingers are never gnarled or cramped - - they fly effortlessly along the piano keyboard, with extreme dexterity, allowing me to perform an incredible surge of concerts and recitals.

My meaningful existence is immersed in music, art, literature, and all that is available to ignite and stimulate the senses.  I hungrily devour books and indefatigably absorb music. I indulge in concerts - opera, ballet, symphonies, museums, theater, film festivals and folk festivals.

My friends and lovers buoy my spirits and the extraordinary adventure called life nourishes my soul.

I am immersed in the indescribable luxury       of comfort and contentment.......

until suddenly.....

I'm rudely awakened by the winter wind which is recklessly howling through the naked forest of icy trees, and carelessly rattling my paper-thin windows.

And I'm shivering helplessly in bed, frantically pulling the blankets around me - cursing the unwanted fact that my furnace is dead and the evil embrace of frigid winter has expunged any remembrance of the intoxicatingly warm California sun. 

My hands are ice, my legs are cramped, my feet are numb with pain. I shudder at the thought of crawling out of bed in the morning - wondering if my injured spine will allow me to hobble into the kitchen and turn on the hopelessly small space heater.

I shudder at wondering if there is anything left in the cabinet to eat - besides a can of beans and a scrap of stale homemade bread.

I listen to the rude scratching and rustling of  raccoons and squirrels ripping the insulation out of the roof........and the insolent mice racing across the floor.

I hear a distant chorus of restless coyotes and the unearthly hoots of disgruntled owls. 
And I'm wondering if I'll ever get my errant car started again, or if I'll ever be able to summon the strength to drive it.

The sudden realization of my utter isolation and dire desolation hits me like a lethal gust of an icy winter wind.

When I finally force myself to face the horrifying fact that this is no dream - - it's the curse of my present reality.....

I sit up in the savage darkness of night and shamelessly cry.

                                   Jon

 

PSYCHOTIC SATURDAY

I've noticed that the current Blogger trend is to have weekly "theme" days, such as Flashback Friday or Sermonette Sunday. This inspires a sense of unification in the blogging community and allows bloggers to have something specific to write about.

Since I (unfortunately) don't identify with most of these saccharine blogosphere niceties, it seems only reasonable that I should incorporate specific days into my blog which reflect my own circumstances and personality.
Such as 

Manic Depressive Monday
Unbearably Worrisome Wednesday
Frantic Anxiety-Ridden Friday
and 
Suicidal Sunday.

Since my current blog readership is waning drastically, I figured I'd begin by incorporating Psychotic Saturday - just to attract readers and enchant them with the possibility of positive vibes.

Jon, you're infinitely intriguing and intolerably talented. You're presently living in the alarmingly delightful beauty of the Tennessee wilderness. You have two cats who adore you......and probably three or four blog readers who tolerate you.

What more could you possibly ask for? 

You should celebrate your charmed existence by immersing your blog with all the marvelous blessings that are bestowed upon you. 
Open up your heart and tell us how you're feeling right now.

Well, I'm feeling slightly warmer now that my furnace is finally fixed. Even though the repair costs nearly depleted my meager savings. 
Which means I'll be eating less and worrying more.

Despite the fixed furnace - - the clothes dryer still doesn't work. The microwave is broken. I'm having plumbing problems. And about three dozen other problems that I won't bother to mention.

The squirrels and 'possums are still infiltrating the roof and crawlspace of the house - - ripping everything to shreds and greatly contributing to my
unrelenting insomnia.

My brand new cell phone is completely worthless. I can make calls - but can't text!
Every time I try to text I get a No Network Coverage message.
Go figure.

I've saved the best for last.
My car won't start.
I won't reveal the multitudinous details - it would be too long and painful. But the feeling of being isolated in the wilderness with no mode of transportation or escape is slightly unnerving.
Especially at 3:00 a.m. when the wolves howl.

More about this later.

On the bright side,
I had initially planned on doing a spontaneous, free-style interpretative Irish jig in honor of St. Patrick's Day.
But then I realized that I'm not Irish....

......and with my high blood pressure, bad back, tricky knee, sporadic vertigo, irregular heart palpitations, and monumental panic attacks .....doing spontaneous jigs of any nationality might not be a good idea.

But, just for the hell of it, I'll wear something green on St. Patrick's Day -  which ironically falls on Suicidal Sunday.
 

AN HOUR LOST IS NEVER REGAINED

 The recent damnable but inevitable clock change took me by surprise this time around. I had completely forgotten about it.

Fortunately, I was prepared. I refused to turn my clocks back an hour last fall - - so consequently I didn't have to turn them ahead this time.

Springing an hour ahead means that we lost an hour, doesn't it? Hell, if I subtracted all the precious hours I lost in my life (for one reason or another) I'd be timeless.
Ponder that for awhile. It might get profound.

I've been under such an enormous amount of stress lately (for endlessly complicated reasons that I won't go into) that I've been plagued with panic attacks and dizzy spells. Nothing new here. I've suffered from similar anxieties my entire life.

Last Friday morning, when I first got out of bed, I was seized by a combination dizzy spell and panic attack - which was compounded by the fact that I  didn't have my glasses or contact lenses, so I couldn't see a damn thing.

I unceremoniously crashed into a bookcase and everything came tumbling down: cheap Chinese vases, brass trinkets from India.....and, of course, books. A ton (or so it seemed) of dust-covered books that I hadn't read in years.

I was hit in the head with the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. 
Lying there dazed amongst the clutter, I decided that it could have been worse. I could have been clobbered by Ayn Rand or Dostoevsky.

Fortunately nothing was broken - - except my pride...and perhaps my will to live.
The three cats gathered 'round and looked surprised.

As if my poor excuse for a life wasn't tainted with enough problems, the almost-springlike weather has vanished and winter has returned with a vengeance. Howling winds, bitter cold, ice, and a semblance of snow.

I desperately needed to get to my mailbox this morning. The accumulating ice, frozen mud, impenetrable slush, and falling snow made it impossible to use the car.
So I walked. As usual. It was frigid and beyond miserable. By the time I crawled back up the mountain to my shack, I was nearly frozen and on the verge of passing out.

Safely (??) back inside, I suddenly realized that I couldn't feel my feet. I pried my muddy boots off carefully, hoping that a collection of frozen toes wouldn't tumble out.
They didn't.

In the muddled void of my shivering contemplation (whatever that means), I realized that losing an hour might not be a bad thing after all. It will bring me an hour closer to July, when hopefully the ice will thaw out.

A view this morning from my back porch.

P.S.

I'm way behind in reading blogs lately. But I'm thinking of you. 

STORMY

 Photos by Jon

I won't mention the unrelenting agony that I went through with my back recently. For four days I couldn't walk or even stand. The pain was so excruciating that I thought I'd have to call an ambulance.

I won't mention the boring details. It's a herniated disc compounded by several spinal fractures that never healed properly. I keep re-injuring old injuries. Over and over and over.....

I finally gritted my teeth, tried to get some much-needed rest, and said "The hell with everything." (I was MUCH more graphic than that, but I'm giving you the Disney version).

Yesterday I was finally able to stand on my feet and walk - not without difficulty, and not without the help of a makeshift cane and some frighteningly out-dated aspirin.

I don't like to complain. I'm not a sissy. Whining and bitching is extremely unbecoming. I clumsily plod onward-  - between frequent curses and sheer determination - knowing that if I ever drop dead out here, no one would find my body for a dozen years. At least.

But no need to worry, boys and girls. I'm here to talk about stormy weather. Several severe storms swept through the Tennessee boonies late yesterday afternoon and early evening.

Despite being crippled and unrelentingly despondent, I grabbed my El Cheapo camera and hobbled outside to document the excitement.

The following photos were taken by me on Wednesday (which, I'm assuming, was yesterday).

Actually, the day began beautifully and the sun made a rare morning appearance.

 A few of the trees are blossoming, but the wildly fluctuating temperatures haven't been helpful. It's 80 degrees one day and 40 the next. More frost is predicted tomorrow night.

 By late afternoon we were under a Tornado Watch and clouds were gathering (this is the view from the front porch).

 There was a tornadic storm to the west and it got extremely dark. Soon the first storm arrived with a torrential downpour and fierce winds.

 The first storm ended with an eerie glimpse of sun rays.

The second storm, just before sunset, was much more dramatic and beautiful. These photos don't do it justice.

 I hobbled out the back door and climbed up the steep embankment at the edge of the forest to take these pics. There was lots of lightning.

Overlooking my house.

 This looks similar to my header photo. It's a view of the same trees that were blossoming in the photos I took in the morning.

The temperature has dropped drastically (again) and today (Thursday) is raining, windy, and freezing.

I just deleted a few photos because there were too many.

THE SUN AIN'T SHININ' TODAY

Caution: a few delicate souls might take offense at some of my words. 

Let me be blunt (as if I never was.....) -
Living alone in the wilderness isn't exactly as wonderful as I make it sound. Don't be duped by my photos of the beautiful forest and the adorable 'possums eating bread. That's the Disney version. The reality version is a cross between Tobacco Road and Deliverance.

I won't mention the minor annoyances - like having to drive 500 miles (slight exaggeration) on a perilous road to get to town, or having to trek 10 miles (very slight exaggeration) to get to my damn mailbox....

.......or the fact that there's no trash pickup and no radio reception. I won't mention the wild animals that are nesting under the house and scrambling on the roof - - or the mice in the walls....

.....or the intense dampness that renders everything into a soggy mush, or the millions of summer insects that descend like the plagues of Egypt - or the coyotes that surround the house and practice their death howls at 3:00 am.....

....or the relentless rain that pours incessantly with an enthusiasm of Biblical proportions.
So, how wet is it in Tennessee?
It's wetter than Chris Christie's armpits. 
It's wetter than the Sport's Illustrated Swimsuit issue.

Don't groan. I never claimed to be a comedian.

When I lived in West Texas it was the wind. I had to plan my entire agenda around windstorms. I only ventured out on days when the wind was under 65 MPH.

Here in Daniel Boone country, it's the rain. My entire life revolves around rainstorms and the minuscule hope that a ray of sunshine might appear.

I had planned on going to town today. Naturally, severe storms were predicted. I hoped against hope that the forecast would be wrong.

I got dressed at dawn - with the insane assumption that if I went early I'd beat the bad weather. I piled big bags of trash in the car (to take to the dump).

Then I turned on the radio to hear the weather. I can only get two stations out here in the boonies, and one is from Kentucky. The Kentucky announcer (who has an annoyingly whiny voice and sounds like he's twelve years old) read the obituaries for 40 long minutes.

What the hell is the deal with all the deaths in Hillbillyland? There are more friggin' stiffs here than in Bangladesh.

I was finally able to zero in on the local station. We were under a Severe Storm Warning......and a Tornado Watch. 

That put the kibosh on my trip to town. I have to be heavily sedated when I drive to town on a sunny day. There's no way in hell I'm going in a hurricane.

I need supplies desperately, but it'll have to wait. I'm out of milk, bread, eggs, cat litter, and toilet paper.
Warning:
Ladies  and all sensitive people, please hold your ears.

I can't live without toilet paper.
Did you ever try to wipe your  ***  with a paper towel? 

Also -
my cell phone isn't working (again) - just when I might need it.

Even though it was starting to rain, I decided to drive to the mailbox - because every time it rains the contents get soaked.

When I got to the box, it was wide open. An envelope that I put in there five days ago (to be picked up by the mail carrier) was still there - completely drenched. It contained a very important check that was due yesterday.

As I drove back to the house I was uttering curse words that would make Madonna blush.

I know, this post is getting damn long - but I'm on a roll. A lousy roll - - but a roll nevertheless.

Let me explain that the weeds on my property are now the size of trees. I was a jackass to assume that the cold weather would kill them.

While I'm plowing through the weed trees, wishing I had a tractor (or a bulldozer) I suddenly got stuck in the mud. The wheels spin, the engine stalls, and the torrential downpour is accompanied by fierce, screaming winds and sharp lightning.

My house is uphill and I'm still very far from it. I get out and sink to my knees in mud. In seconds, I'm completely soaked.

Just to enhance the extent of my misery, I'll mention that I still have excruciating back pain from some spinal fractures that never properly healed.

I try to scrape some of the caked mud off the tires. I crawl back into the car and attempt to get the engine started - as it makes extremely alarming noises. I crawl back out to open the hood of the car, and in the process somehow manage to slam my right index finger in the car door.

And I'm thinking:
If there is a God, he probably fell off his throne laughing at me.

I'll never know how I finally managed to get the car back to the house, but it took a helluva long time and superhuman effort.

After I limped to the house, I literally had to peel my drenched, mud-covered clothes off on the back porch. When I opened the door to go in, the three cats gleefully darted out.

Picture this:
I'm stalking through a maze of tree-sized weeds, in a tumultuous downpour, wearing nothing but my skimpy Fruit of the Looms and a  mismatched pair of socks - - covered in mud and dripping wet, limping from my broken back, with a bloody and swollen index finger - while trying to round up three wayward cats.

Scratch and Bosco went back inside quickly. Scruffy - as usual - got under the back porch and I had to crawl in the mud to remove one of the panels so she could get out.

These were some of the highlights of my day.
It's presently near dusk and still extremely windy.
I'm gonna have a beer and go to bed.

If you happen to be flying by, drop me a few rolls of toilet paper.....and a couple bottles of Jim Beam.