November 3 in Scott

This morning, I got a strange message on my phone about somebody had found a lost bird. I did not recognize the number and asked who it was. It was my former boss and I’m sure he was a little upset because I did not recognize the number. I have tried to shut out 43 years of people from that factory and memories of it. A psychologist I had seen for a while had told me that that place and people had given me post traumatic stress disorder. Due to the emotionally oppressive atmosphere there. My former boss was a moody fucker. I often wished I had a mood ring to point out him to see what he was feeling if it was safe to go near the guy. After the factory closed, he acted like a really nice guy, but I felt it was all a lie because he had been such a bully to me. When we get distance on situations and people, we often have a much better view more clear. I’ve realized that it was depressing when the factory closed but liberating because now for now nobody is treating me like shit. What a wonderful feeling it is to not be treated like shit. If my birds shit on me, I just wash it off and laugh it off. If a human does it to you emotionally that’s kind of hard to wash off. It takes time.

There is a feeling a sense that I am living a very weird dream with millions of others. In my gut, I believe Harris will win the election, but if she does not, I believe all hell will break loose on this world because of an idiot and his enablers. I voted. I did all that I could. Now I just have to stay away from the news for a few days.

I watched a film set in the 60s USA tonight. It looked like everybody was smoking cigarettes. It brought memories back of that time in which people did smoke an insane amount. I have been watching what I think is a good television series Chicago fire. At times I laugh because the characters often go to a bar and alcohol is such a big part of their lives. It reminded me of myself maybe 20 years ago. I recently saw photos of myself in this house with beer and shot glasses getting hammered. Getting fucked up like that was just part of life. At times I long for itI long for the bliss of getting blitzed and not feeling a damn thing except a mild concerned about that hangover that would kick my ass later. Even that seemed to be a manly thing to brag about. To go into work, looking like shit and brag about the drinking I’d done. These days I am so very sober and the idea of getting drunk sounds like a wonderful thing to do for oblivion to be oblivious for a while. Modern me think of my liver and other organs. My brain. What alcohol does to the body. It is insane to me that I would sit and drink beer after beer and think nothing of it. Like my parents with their cigarettes. It was just part of life something we did.

These days when I see some unease in myself. I pause in life to recognize it. Find what it is and face it. It helps.