Disability

I have a severe disability.  O.K.  I have several.  But the one of which I am speaking now is not physical.  Yesterday I thought to go to the cafe and write before going to my mother's house for dinner, but just as I was about to leave, a monsoon hit.  Worst rain of the year.  I had no yearning to go out in that, so I went to my desk and opened the center drawer looking for some labels.  I didn't find the labels.  What I found was an absolute mess.  I decided to clean it up.  The drawer held a hodgepodge of items.  Pens.  Lots of kinds in multiples.  Plain rollerball.  Mont Blanc knockoffs (I have two real ones somewhere else in the house--where?).  A Waterman pen.  Ink refills of all kinds.  Markers.  Highlighters.  Transfer pens (if you know what those are).  I took them all and looked for something to put them in.  A cup would have been nice.  I had one here once.  I put them in another drawer for the moment.  There were two tins of color pastel pencils and a box of #2 pencils.  I'm having a difficult time remembering everything just now.  Two staplers and several boxes of staples.  I can't remember the last time I stapled anything.  Paper clips and those binder things with the folding arms in many sizes.  Two rulers.  An architectural compass.  What?  From high school, maybe.  There were four computer motherboards or whatever those are called.  Multiple thumb drives.  Memory cards galore.  A wad of malleable eraser gum and a gum eraser.  A Bukowski article from Hustler magazine that Q sent me many, many years ago that he has asked to have back and which I have insisted I had already sent.  Some maps.  Loose photographs from long ago including the only ones I have of my dearly departed Emily.  Two picture books that were made from old photographs for my retirement.  And. . . a sapphire engagement ring from Cartier and its authentication paperwork.  

Worse than a hodgepodge, I guess.  I took everything out and placed them in piles.  Then, not knowing what to do with them, I put them back carefully back into the drawer where they are sure to become scattered again.  And there is my disability.  I cannot organize a goddamned thing.  It is not simply that drawer.  It is almost everything in life.  I have other drawers full of tax things (things?) and other essential paperwork.  You know, stocks and bonds and whatever they are called.  My hard drives are an impossible mess.  I've tried over and over to organize them and still have no real idea what is on any of them, not even when I open them for there are a thousand folders inside with labels like "02/07/22."  WTF?  And my prints?  Holy shit.  I have tubs full of them, transfers, experiments, and 4x5 or 4x6 proofs, then other tubs full of prints from 16"x24" up.  There are thousands of Polaroid photos in binders and many binders full of photographic negatives.  Thirty or so handwritten journals.  Tubs and bags full of old letters.  Oh, yea. . . I found ragtag notes from Ili in the drawer, too, some happy, some goodbyes, little scraps of paper she tore off from I don't know where.  I have old correspondence from Sky packaged in a piece of ribbon.  

I could go on forever.  I am constantly misplacing camera gear and think I have lost it forever, especially lenses of which I have perhaps fifty or so for different cameras.  Cameras ranging from tiny point and shoots to multiple 4x5s and one 8x10.  Tripods, many, some with lost mounting plates that I will find in a bag or drawer someday.  Countless tchotkes from my travels.  I can open any drawer in the house and be surprised by the wonders.  

The rain went on for hours, and eventually, I had to go out in it.  The drive to my mother's was hazardous.  Many streets had become rivers, and my car sent rooster tails well above the Xterra's height.  In some low spots I was sure the water was higher than the bottom of the doors.  But the car didn't stall and I made if for what turned out to be a very mediocre meal.  Or worse.  When I got back home, I poured a whiskey to kill anything bad I may have eaten.  

I think I will sell the engagement ring.  

Daylight now, and I am just remembering it is Labor Day.  I need to market for my Labor Day meal with mother.  We usually do hamburgers and hot dogs, but neither of us want that this year, so I will make boiled shrimp, yellow rice, and a healthy Cole slaw.  There will be beer and/or wine depending upon your taste.  Not yours, literally.  

I think I should take my camera out and record a bit of Labor Day 2024.  The images can go into a subfile on one of the many hard drives that have multiple files with titles like "digital photos 2022" or "downtown" or something equally useful.  But I probably won't.  

I've been in a real funk lately.  Maybe it is the weather.  My bones and joints are aching.  Much.  And I have felt a little ill.  Tennessee, after hanging around for a week, told me, "I don't have any energy.  I've been feeling bad since Saturday."  Thanks, champ.  I've been countering this with. . . "medicines."  I never take the same ones twice in a row, but I realize I have been taking something every night.  I have never worried because I do not have an addictive personality, but maybe I've let this shit creep up on me.  I have come upon a stash of Vicodin and so I took one last night with whiskey.  I know, I know.  Then I took a hit off the pipe.  But I slept really well.  I didn't wake in the night and I have considerably less pain this morning.  

But. . . "and if I die before I wake. . . " it wouldn't be the worst thing.  I mean, really, what better way to go?  

I'm going to have to go cold turkey, maybe.  

On the other hand, why?  What are medicines for, anyway?  I barely have an unbroken bone in my body, my joints all need to be replaced, I have massive arthritis, and my Life Coach isn't really helping.  

People tell me to get a dog.  Ha!

I know what I need.  I need a new studio.  I need someone to organize my things.  I need an assistant.  She can drive me around to make pictures.  She can inspire me.  All artists had them.  Picasso had many.  Yup.  Me and old Picasso, peas in a pod, eh?  I've yet to show you my greatest works.  You'll see.  

I was searching for the Gilberto/Getz version of this song when I ran into this.  Just heard it for the first time.  Don't look at the picture when you listen and I think you will find her version lovely.