It is October 22 2017, 2 weeks from my last post.  I’m still 60 and I’ve had a pain in my lower left abdomen for about a month.  It started as a very faint dull ache, turning into, for these past 2 weeks, a very tender spot.  It drags you down and takes your energy away and makes you worry.  I looked it up online and it could be several things … diverticulitis, crones disease, an abdominal infection, colitis… and of course in the back of my mind, the more serious possibilities.                                                    My wife.                                                                                                                                          I had my wife in front of me and she was pointing out to me all my shortcomings, I basically hadn’t gone outside for weeks, and although I was collecting the garbage around the apartment, I hadn’t brought it down.  I hadn’t said anything to her about the pain because i knew how she would react.  But I had to have her stop, i couldn’t take it anymore so I told her and she reacted worse than I thought.  It worked, but it worked too well and she got down and worried and I felt like shit for bringing her down and have her worry.  I’m supposed to be leading the way into living a positive life.  And now her worrying got me actually afraid, so now I’m totally scared, and it’s Sunday, and I’m hurting someone I love by not taking care of myself.  I should have been to the doctors months ago and there are garbage bags piled up and the whole apartment needs a quick brush up and even before today she was getting depressed because of the dirty place and my lack of enthusiasm to live.                                              One lucky break.                                                                                                                             There was nothing on tv I was really interested in.  The Yankees lost last night, Aaron Rodgers was out with a terrible injury, no great movie or game I had to see… so I was able to break away from the TV set.  I put on her sneakers and my filthy robe, and took down the 3 lawn extra large and strength garbage bags downstairs to the garbage room.  On the way down and up I scared a little girl into soundless staring.  At this point I’m looking like one of those Harry Potter characters with a big white beard and large 330 pounds of filthy black robe.  I could have had a torch or sword in my hand and i’d fit right in.  I smiled forgetting I had two missing teeth in the front.  And big black glasses.  I made it back up and proceeded to cut up our stacked cardboard boxes that our groceries come in and put them in another black large lawn bag which is sitting near the door right now.  We also have 2 medium white kitchen bags filled with more recent smaller throw away stuff from today.  How 2 people can create so much junk I don’t know.  So now my wife started to calm down which made me calm down and I started to skate around the apartment on paper towels under my feet soaking up the urine I drip out unto the floor ( our brand new laminate ) when I have to go to the bathroom.  Oh yeah, I piss around the house because my big fat stomach sits on my bladder and when I walk i drip.  I have not worn any underwear because it holds in the pee unto my penis and it makes my penis smell, and i just like to walk around naked anyway.  I just got a cardboard box full of Depends and Depends like stuff which I had to cut up to calm my wife down, the cardboard box, not the Depends.  So I’m trying not to depress my wife further so we all can have a happy ending.  It’s late now and I ordered food, more garbage to throw out.  And I need to take a shower and go to a walk in intensive care place and see a doctor tomorrow.  Monday.  I’m scared.   Does it sound like I’m a very old baby and my wife is a saint?  It should.  oh baby i love you’re way … Peter Frampton,

I am writing this on October 8th 2017.  I am 60 years old today.  I was born in 1957 in Sicily.  I came over to a New York City port located on the West Side docks around 50th street with my parents in 1959. The name of the boat was the Saturnia and I was 16 months old.  This date has always held something special for me.  It is the beginning of the Fall and Autumn, Don Larson threw the only perfect game in World Series history on October 8th, 1956, I am a lifelong Yankee fan, I know I am beautiful, I am a child of the greatest era in Western music, from The Beatles to The Clash.  I love old films and TCM, I thank Robert Osborne for saving my life, because of modern communications and media we all know more about more people than any other generation that ever existed and now it seems more people we know are dying all at once because we know of more people, it’s great to know that Keith Moon was the greatest rock drummer ever and we can still enjoy his work, but it sad that he died, and Bowie and Lou Reed, Tom Petty a couple of days ago… the old and the young… done, done, done.