Saturday, September 9, 2017

Utterly Weary but Not Suicidal

This is my old pal Olaf the Viking Giant, in his coffin that was display'd at the Jones' Fantastic Museum in the Seattle Center, where I work'd for many years roaming around ye Center grounds in my Count Pugsly outfit. I miss those carefree days, because adulthood, as H. P. Lovecraft once wrote, is proving to be "hell". For ye moment, anyway. Actually, my life has been fairly easy and enjoyable, perhaps because I avoid humanity and stay home with my books and cats. But of late life has been not going so well  [what kind of sentence structure is that...???],and I feel the way that old Olaf looks in that photo--dead and dried-up. I seem to have a tendency to make what shou'd be simple rather difficult. Been having pain in my left foot, and so my sweet chum S. T. drove me to my medical clinic, where they had no clue as to what was wrong. The visit wasn't a total waste cos I got three vaccine shots. I was told to get my foot xrayed and have that sent to my clinic. They gave me a list of walk-in clinics, one if Bellevue and one in Kirkland.  I tried to locate the one in Bellevue but it utterly eluded me during my hour search in heavy traffic. Finally, in frustration, I gave up and returned home. I went to Harborview hospital this morning, hoping they could do this xray of my foot thing and send it to my clinic, but they said not without a reference paper from my doctor. So now I need to figure out how to get an xray of my sore foot before my next doctor's appointment on ye 14th. I guess on Monday I'm gonna return to Bellevue and try to find ye damn clinic one more time. 

Now anyone else I know cou'd do this kind of thing with no trouble; but I am so inept and become so frustrated and confused that such a task becomes next to impossible. It's like I have some severe mental deficiency that makes simple things difficult. My brain is badly wired or some such thing. Maybe this comes from not really living in the "real" world, from which I have rather isolated myself. I've never had to think about my health because, except for a mild heart attack many years ago, my health has been okay. 

So, having to "deal" with this kind of thing is frustrating and depressing and exhausting. It doesn't help that walking is so painful at ye present. Bleh. I hate having to even think about my health and going to doctors and stuff like that--I just wanna stay home, read my books and try to write some new stories. And yet my life is so easy and I have so much to be thankful for, I become embarrassed by these little episodes of "poor me, poor miserable me". I guess we all have our personal difficulties in life, and that is a part of existence. I read a lot of biographies of writers and know that I have it so much better than many of my literary heroes, as far as domestic comfort and such is concerned. So I ain't gonna end my life, because if I did I wouldn't be able to read all these cool books that I MUST READ before I die. This is an age of such Lovecraftian richness that ending existence just cos I'm depress'd or in pain wou'd be a senseless act. Books keep me going.

How strange, to want to express this stuff in public. I think I'll stop and return to my book--DAWNWARD SPIRE, LONELY HILL--THE LETTERS OF H. P. LOVECRAFT AND CLARK ASHTON SMITH.

Shalom.

(here's an old video)

4 comments:

  1. Hang in there, Wilum. I know what you mean about trying to do anything out of the ordinary routine. I went this past week to renew my driver's license. Walked in and just stood in the center of the crowded room looking for a number to take. A couple of kind souls directed me to a sign-up sheet. Then I was told by the clerk that since it was a renewal I could go to the court house and gave me a map. Finding the new location was like an unaccompanied navigation test. Finally found the court house, but not the correct room until a security guard directed me. After that though it was smooth sailing. I was assisted by a very capable and upbeat woman named Trudy. She told me she had been on the job for twenty-five years and was currently handling the "overflow."

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  2. Dear Wilum, we can none of us truly know the lives we are bearing at any moment, just know that difficult as things seem, there are always pauses of silence and peace in between where "the hurt soul, unconfin'd can breathe again, and touch a bloom unbruis'd". Your cats and books will help there. I hope you manage to get your foot x-rayed and to the doc. Please let us know how you get on today. All the best, G. ;-)=

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  3. Wilum, Having encountered you via an Amazon book review which prompted me to order a couple of Derleth titles, know that you are appreciated, for your knowledge and understanding, but also just for you being you. I'm sure if we lived closer, we would visit and chat about all things fantastical, perhaps over tea. It's hard enough being a creative soul bursting with ideas, but being in that state while suffering physical maladies (I'm in that boat too, with my feet as it happens) only makes it more frustrating. Be well, friend. -B

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