Here in the Painful Aftermath.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

I always thought there was more than an even chance I would make it into rehab. However, I don’t think anyone expected it to be by this route. I apologize to the reader for having been in possession of a life somewhere between Candide and The Perils of Pauline. It makes for interesting copy I suppose but it detracts from the uninterrupted production of work and fails to maintain a standard by example for the harmony we like to think is the singular elusive bird of prey in this locale; preyed upon? Preyed after? Prayed for? WDIK?

I suppose it was something over a week ago, give or take some hours, when I came tooling down the ladder of the loft and for reason that presently remain a mystery and... perhaps always will, my connection to the ladder ended and I did one of those original Die Hard endings. I know I hit the square meter of demo tile to one side of the ladder because I remember hearing it but the particulars of possible physics/geometry, whatever... escape me. Yes, I busted my left hip. Later in the day one could see that the entire left side of my face was black. Never before had I seen such a profound black eye on anyone. Here's where it gets strange. The backs of both of my hands were, until recently, swollen to twice their size and also quite black for the same reasons as the face. The fronts of my legs were cut up and several front teeth, I suspect, will soon only be accessed through a prosthetic. The front of my hands are fine.

I don't know where the count lies at this point in the number of the times I should have been dead. This is only a portion of the story and here is where it gets stranger still. At whatever point I recovered enough to crawl away from the yet to be drawn chalk mark, it became clear to me that I had broken something because I could not get up. It wasn't simply a matter of managing the pain. I just couldn't get up. I was able to get on my ass and by that means, hand and toe myself to the computer area. With great difficulty I finally was able to draw the cellphone to me, only to find that it contained a message telling me that the battery was out and it would shut down. I was able to make 3 attempted calls and none of these people were home. Getting to the charging line was apparently beyond my abilities.

Every now and again I would call out for help but there was no one where I was either and this is the first time I had ever experienced that. So... I sat there for hours. I'm guessing I must have been in shock because as evening fell I seemed to sense the arrival of the other occupant here. I managed to pull my keyboard down to me and get into my mail server. There were many complications on this as well but after sending out several incomplete appeals, the fellow who lives here made his way up and I imagine my appearance was a bit of a surprise to him.

He asked what he could do. I had been in pain for a long time. I asked him to bring me a bottle of wine and I think I surprised both of us by the speed at which I made it disappear. No bottle of wine has ever been so welcome in memory. The second one was also fine. Until then, I had no idea how cramped up and tensed up I was from what happened. Now I could talk and I explained what I remembered about what had happened. “You've been here all day?” he exclaimed. “Yes”.

It cannot be an accident that so many people usually reachable were unreachable. There are any number of odd twists to this tale. One of them is that a few days earlier the fellow had mentioned that his plans for the summer and so on had taken a big turn. This meant that for weeks he would be unavailable to assist me at what needed to be done there and the same was going to apply to people that were coming in to help. Prior to this I had been waiting on the arrival of two Poles who were to help me finally install the kitchen and bathroom. I never understood why these were not the greatest priority at the outset. None of the things we did were relevant to the needs of the season. They were going to help me carry appliances up and I would put in the support boarding and insulation on concrete for setting the tile for these areas. They didn't show up either.

Once again, as has happened so often, I began to sense that this was nothing more than some kind of mini drama taking my pulse and the pulse of others; as if we were in a fitting room of some kind and all of our vital statistics were guiding the hands of the tailors. I'd have been willing to tackle all of the various jobs, except electric, on my own. There are so many excellent videos out that you can be well guided but only some of the activities of this industry were permitted to me. I recognize, maybe for the first time in my life, that I am intentionally blinded to my circumstances for the purpose of education and demonstration at given times. Now... this should be obvious to me or anyone but when you are purposely blinded, you are blinded.

Anyhow, I said to myself, “I can't stay here.” though I fully intended to until the bitter truth of dysfunction settled its cold form around my entrails, somewhere mid fall. I stood in the center of the room and cried out, “Lord! What is your fucking point? What am I not doing and does that even matter? Get me out of here!” (hee hee) I'm sure I would like to have those words back.

Well... I'm out of there now, except for packing and pulling away. My biggest concern is my avocado tree, now over 3 years old, bouncing around in the car. It goes without saying that I am not going to be in the shape I need to be in to carry out this task which, in any case, I am sure would extend to next spring. I'm going to find a place, a place will be found for me, where I can just move in and go right to work. I'm as energized in that regard as I have ever seen myself. In fact, my next book is writing itself and already about a 6^th done since I got here. Although I had already started on my next book, this one won't wait; “The Amazing Adventures of the Legendary El Comote”. Need I mention the intense comedic aspect of the tome? No.

The pain, I thought, would diminish, once the operation took place; quite the reverse. It's always around. Not so much if I don't move but that's no kind of dependable constant. Moving is a real experience. Perhaps you could call it a 'moving experience'? Working on the book really helps to keep the mind distracted. This hospital is not like other hospitals. It's caught in a time warp. Some of the people are very nice and some of them are refugees from a Dickens novel.

A reader got in touch with me this morning and wanted to send me some things. He's 500 k away. He wanted to visit but was mostly concerned about taking up my time after the initial back and forth, once he got here. Hmmmm (heh heh). He said he'd send a few things and that was that. 20 minutes later he called back to say he had to come and so he was coming and that's that. I suppose he'll walk through the door at any moment.

I managed to get on line by using the Bluetooth wireless effect from my cellphone. Works great! Fast and so forth but probably expensive so I don't use it unless I'm using it like... right now I'm not using it (grin).

The fellow whose place it is that I have been living and working at says he will refund me what I spent on items purchased for the place. That's very good news. It means I am only out my time and expenses and my hip and a few less tangible things.

I want to thank you all for the outpouring of support of all kinds. It might be a few days (or weeks) before I can thank you individually. Right now I just want to get this up and pray that the point of so many things so far not revealed to me will be revealed to me.


Much Love,


visible-


End Transmission.......