Sadness

I am sad. I had one patient describe the sense of  feeling ‘burnt out, exhausted, sad and helpless.’  I could relate. I’m increasingly afraid of the authorities which isn’t new but now they have outlawed freedom of association, freedom of speech and claim to care for us all while hypocritically flying about the world, doing visits to the Bahamas and going to political rallies when it suits them while banning wedding and funeral gatherings. 

I asked what the specialists thought about my patients family dying after having the vaccine. I asked about my patient who is on a resperiator who has had a vaccine. I reflected on the 60’s Kennedy missile crisis when I was 10 I think and they told us to line up along the wall in the school and kiss our asses good bye. I’d been reading. I asked what about the ‘radiation’. The young teacher ran about in a circle crying then ran out of the room only to have the principle come back to punish me, 

“Billy, how dare you upset the lady teacher’. 

 “I just asked her about radiation’.  

“Don’t ask questions. It just upsets them.”

Now I’m told that asking questions about the vaccines and about Covid may be ‘spreading misinformation and disinformation’.  

‘Don’t upset the indigenous people because they are vulnerable.” They say. 

I don’t have the ‘Jew card”, “I don’t have the ‘race card’, “I don’t have the ‘gender card’. I don’t have the ‘weath card’. I don’t have a whole lot of those cards I’m bashed with. 

When I was beaten by teachers with hammers and straps I was told “Billy, deserved it.”  When I was stabbed , “Billy was looking for trouble.”  When I was raped “you shouldn’t have been smoking dope.”  When I was raped again, “You should have known he was gay and not been drinking with him.”  When I was surrounded by a swat team, “You should have driven 5 hours at night to the police station after those men accosted you with guns and threatened you. They came in first so they’re the ones who were first served.’  ‘when the bush plane crashed you should have know he was a drunk.’ ‘When the DC3 crashed, why do you think the smart doctors didn’t work in the north, in the country, in the ghetto? “ straight A’s, high IQ, great family, but never ‘smart enough’ or ‘Billy’s way too smart’. 

When she left me ‘you should have treated her better.’  When she cuckolded me ‘if you’d been man enough she would never have gone with another man’. When you fired her for doing drugs on the job and she said you told her to ‘fuck off’, “You shouldn’t have used the ‘fuck’ word when you were asking her to leave.”  When you refused to lie for her so she could make millions of dollars in compensation, and she said you propositioned her after,  The woman doctor in charge said ,”Women don’t lie about sex.”  When your female boss asked you to come home with her and touched your crotch, you should have known she’d pay you back. You never say no to a woman.” 

When your wife said no women like oral sex and it’s vulgar for women to touch men’s cocks with their lips and you’d spent years licking her because ‘that’s the only way I can orgasm’, you should not have let the the gorgeous young bikini clad doctor in that hot tub give you a blow job when you were drunk and she said those magic words. “I love doing deep throat. I love giving a man pleasure”  

When You we’re a nice guy and heard each day how well the ‘bad guys’ get treated, all those girls telling you about their pimps and all those sons telling you about their mothers paying for them. And you always worked and they told you you should be good and when they broke the laws you defended the innocent and they punished you with them. You were held hostage and terrified. You had nightly phone calls threatening your death. You were stalked by beautiful insane schizophrenic women who stood outside your house and your wife said you should do some thing about that. The police wouldn’t do anything . She was a cross the street, in blizzard and rainstorms, a waif. The neighbours complained. They complained when you  diagnosed the gang members with alcoholism forcing them to go to treatment centre to keep their union jobs. They nightly smashed bottles on your car and dumped beer cans on your door step and the police did nothing. Your windows were shot out and it was just another day at the office. 

They were frightening. They killed your dog because you wouldn’t lie and always there was some stupid burocrats grandiosely telling you how you should have acted and he’d never had the military or hell’s angels as patients and he’d never treated geniuses or had Olympic athletes as patients or fought off a gang or reported a killer or defended a lawyer who reported a pedophilic judge. He lived small and played it safe and was smug and glad to lord it over you. An ugly runt of a troll. He was a passive aggressive little shit.  Because he lived little and so enjoyed smugly pissing on a colleague and showing who was stop dog.  God I’m tired of having  little grandiose functionary apparatchiks, these men and women ‘useful idiots’  ‘happy cabbages’ and those who live ‘lives of quiet desperation’ , those who at Nuremberg were described as the ‘banality of evil’ playing their Monday morning football critic games from their space station bunkers.

I’m tired of doing other peoples jobs because they are afraid and dirty. I’m tired of the lick and kick of the government hierarchy. I’m tired of my loss of innoscence.  I hate having people shoot at me with illegal guns laughing because they’re criminals and they don’t obey the law. I’m tired of seeing the millionaires I know who became millionaires by being criminals.  

I’ve old and sad with age. Like Leonard Cohen said <“I want a new face. The skin damage from climbing mountains , skiing backwoods slope and blue water sailing in the tropics, snowstorms in the tundra, going through ice in the skidoo, walking freezing mile to save the old man and child from dying. I sore from the motorcycle crashes and flipped ATv’s. 

I’m thankful for all the experiences and now each day my back hurts and I can’t  say if it’s the plane crashes or the reckless driver who hit my car causing it to do pitch poles and rolls down the hill or the fellow who didn’t fix the brakes on the camper so it did donuts around the truck and pulled us into the ditch flipping off the freeway. All I could think was how much worse this could be. 

 I think my back is the chair I’m sitting in and the desk. I think it’s the couch.  I think it could be the dangerously insane patient I wrestled off the nurse, all those many times i saved others lives and didn’t have time to stretch and prepare myself for an effete work out.  It’s amazing how fast a psychotic murderer moves from catatonic to high speed and how seconds are critical to saving the lives of little nurses who only then actually thank the men who are on the ward while all the rest of the time they’re saying ‘men are as useful to women as bicycles are to fish.’

I don’t have a ‘nurse car’ or a ‘psychologist’. ‘I’d rather see a psychologist but they’re expensive and you are free’. All day long now someone wants me to do legal or administration work. I need you to write this letter. I can’t pay you for it. My lawyer and the advocates are costing me all my money.

‘They said I had to see you befor I can get free heroin’

‘You make more money doing abortions’

‘We can pay you more if you help our MAid program.

The war is coming. China Sea and Iran in the Middle East. I’m supposed to feel safe because the women are going to protect me.  The girls who are offended by everything and all they can do is criticize and complain and bitch on Huffington Post. They look pretty , choose Trudeau and Singh as our commanders in chief. They both have pretty hair. The girls  claim they changed their minds. The enemy will serve them as easily as their own. The  mothers don’t seem to be like they once were.

 I miss my mom. She ‘d kill for me and at the same time tell me ‘you want something to cry about.’ If i was dead she’d say ‘walk it off’.  I miss my grandmothers , unstoppable women, who had such faith in God.

Monty Pytho, “Always look on the bright side of life.’   That was my grandparents. If God closes a door he opens a window and it’s your job to find it.

I feel used.

And we all laugh and say ‘get down off the cross, we can use the wood.’

I want to suck on the tit of self pity. I want to dance with despair. I want to lie in my bed all day and cry and let someone else take care of me. I want a legion of government paid services for complaining.  But no I’ll just get up and work so a fat cat administrator can get rich off our gruelling labour and then  ‘dress us down’.  These little boys and girls are so big when they Grind us down demanding perfection while fucking up daily. What losers. What hopelessly impossible pathetic sick freaks.  Elliott called them “hollow men’.  Yes.

I heard a girl make beautiful music yesterday. She and her friends wrote songs and they were reminiscent of Steely Dan and Dolby Brothers. Some thing beautiful and new coming into the world. My phone began playing Handel in the background as a man complained about the despair of lockdowns and fear of Covid. I know Heisenberg and Schoerdinger Cat. Holy Spirit come. I want to know god.  “My sweet lord!”  I want to be uplifted on eagles wings.  Jesus waid ‘do not be afraid’.  Be here now.  Be present.  This too shall pass. She says she’ll see me when it’s convenient.  

I’ve done all I can do. I’ve given houses and years and it’s never enough.  Hedonism and neediness. Dependency.  Entitlement.  Narcissism.  Projection and gaslighting.

“Forgive them for they know not what they do.’

If you say that you are tired, they say they are more tired.  If you say that you are poor they argue they are more poor. They insist on the child role. They insiste on being taken care of and if you don’t let them fuck you they will fuck you over.  I’m afraid.

Jesus said ‘Do not be afraid.’

The friends have children.

I have a dog.  I say to myself I have to live because I have a dog.  He needs me. Everyone else just uses me.  He’s my idiot. HE has the ‘dog card’.  

Master.

The disciples and I am little different from my dog. Yesterday he tore up my comforter. Stuffing all over the bed. Today it was stuffing from a toy. He smiles. He is so proud of himself and I like this companion. He’s reliable and true. He doesn’t lie.

My friends are in the ICU and others are wondering if they will lose a leg or if their knee will be okay for walking. Some have cancer. I’m doing pretty good by comparison. I’m feeling okay really. One cup short in terms of coffee. Needing a shower and getting dressed for work. I m pretty blessed. It’s sunny day. I’ve walked the dog.  I loved the fresh air by the river. It’s beautiful here.  My mind is unreliable. It slips so easily into ‘restless, irritable, and discontent’. I have to do so much to keep on the god channel. I fight catastrophising and self pity all day. I reassure and uplift and advise and help and answer endless questions. I prescribe. It’s my fault they don’t work never the manufacturer or the pot or alcohol or lack of exercise or the hours of tv and social media. It’s my job to make them happy.  

I’m sad and weary and suffering the chronic despair of daily misery.  I struggle to turn on the screen and lift up the phone. It’s another day of political lockdowns and persecution of God and totalitarianism.  I can’t kill myself. The dog needs me. If it wasn’t the dog, it would be a cat or a mouse. Or maybe a spider or an ant.  You need me God as I need you.