October 12 in Scott

Birds.
A couple days ago I was late getting up and as I was in the bathroom, I heard a rush of wings and air, and both of my birds were in the bathroom. Buddy usually does not go to this part of the house, but wherever Max goes, buddy will go. It was amusing. Also he seems surprised that he was in this part of the house like, how the hell did I get here?

I have a routine of making oatmeal with other things in it in the morning and making one cup of coffee. The birds will creep out of their little bedroom thing that looks like a pup tent and I think blearily look around and try to wake up. They were both squat on a tree branch and take a giant shit on newspapers below. They will eagerly wait for me to peel a banana and share it with them. Maxi loves bananas. I can tell this by how she bobs her head. It’s a way of starting my day with humor. This morning, as I was adding cream to my coffee buddy, was a stupid ass and stuck his beak into it and jumped back, shaking his head. Poor dumb bastards scolded himself I think. When I had the oatmeal made with almond milk, he found a little pool of almond milk in the bowl and put his bacon into it for a while. Not such a dumbass. He’s had a good appetite so I think he’s doing OK. That dumbass has to put his beak into everything I try to cook. Whet I’m making a smoothie he will try to get up on the edge of the blender and eat what I am throwing into the blender while it is not running, of course. Tonight I sat watching television, and the birds were above me to the left on tree branches. I have hanging down from the wall . I was flattered touched honored when I saw a buddy looking down at me. It’s taken a few years, but he is lukewarming up to me. Tonight I told both birds that I love them and they don’t have to love me. It’s OK what’s important is that I love them. I think the only thing I ask of them is not to poop on me, but even that is forgivable.

The pain of thinking about my old workplace.

Sometimes out of curiosity, I will run a search of my former company name. Most of the images I see are from the auction they had to sell off all the equipment from that factory when it closed. I felt like a very sick man stalking an old lover. I feel that way about the old factory. I year for it. It was the central part of my life of 43 years. I forgive myself for this, wanting to touch that place inside in memories and images. I saw a machine I once operated. I can still remember the noise it made. How the letters felt and the wheels I had to turn. I tested myself by asking if I still knew how to set it up. I have a folder on an external hard drive that contains photos and videos I made of the factory. One video is of me shirtless on a very hot day and I find myself embarrassing, looking at that half naked man working his ass off. I was laughing when I watched that video a few months ago and yelled at it “hey you fat fuck put a shirt on“. Like an old lover I try to put that out of my mind and a year after the factory closed I saw and got psychiatric help. I felt better knowing that my employment ending there and the factory closing was traumatic. My views and feelings about people changed once I left it. My ex boss wanted to stay in contact on Facebook, but I felt sick to my stomach at what a fake person. I thought he was trying to be. So nice so not the sadistic bastard I had known for 40 years I knew he could not change so fast And it was strange that I felt I could not have a relationship with him as equals and I chose to not have anything any contact with him or any other former coworker. We had nothing in common and much as I try to put things to rest. There are still some nagging resentments.

I am realistic about that place. Twice in the past three years, I drove over to look at it. I decided not to ever go there again it’s just too painful. The best analogy is of an old lover. A dirty, stinking extremely cold or extremely hot place. A place that has my blood in it in some tiny crevices in the floor. Literally, my DNA is in that place, but that is the past and I know I must move on. There is a sick feeling that comes over me when I think back on that place and try to remember things or something will slap me inside my head and I will remember something for someone. Like an old lover. In a way that feels good because it’s a way of blowing a kiss to those 43 years of my life. Thank you factory. Thanks for all. It’s funny how the work I did so often of inspecting wood the work that was so tedious and all the times and felt like it was tearing my body apart. I have memories of inspecting wood, and I feel comfort remembering them. Like being with an old lover, I guess. Because I work there so long I don’t think anyone could understand how I felt. Maybe one man, but he died this summer. My former boss, I think his whole experience was of having great power over people. A little bitterness creeps out and thinking remembering he rarely used that great power for good and was often sadistic. I have felt a wonderful freedom inside now that I am not around such a toxic person. Writing about this helps. Let it go and live in the moment Scott.