So, in less than two weeks I lost nearly everything and my epilepsy is out of control. Three massive seizures in less than a week. I guess the stress of constant neuropathy pain and trying to put our lives back together is a bit more than I can handle.

Last big seizure, I fell out of the car and did a face plant on the gravel driveway hard enough to jack up some of my remaining teeth. I have an appointment to start pulling what’s left and get fitted dentures anyway. It just hurts right now, and that sucks. At the ER, nurses picked me up by my thumbs. I have bad arthritis. Something went in my left hand. Can hardly move without pain.

I have a video visit with my neurologist this morning. Hopefully she can shed some light on this.

In the next few days, our insurance company will start going through what is left of the house. Once I know what I’ll get for the instruments, computers, and recording gear, I can start to make some kind of plan.

Dealing with pain without a banjo is… Interesting. For the last thirty years or so, I have used banjo and guitar practice to deal with pain and stress. It will be a challenge to find something I can practice with that level of intensity.

I have no talent, folks. That is just a word lazy people use to wave away actual hard work. Every time people use it in my direction, I want to vomit.

Replacing the banjo would be a challenge. There is nothing on the market I would recommend to a bad musician. Also, there is a sales rep who works for several banjo companies. Back when The How and the Tao of Old-Time Banjo went to print, this rat went around music stores telling shop owners not to stock my books.

This forced us to rely on Amazon. They took 55% of every sale. With printing and shipping, I never really made a dime.

The emails and phone calls from shop owners telling about this idiot representing name brands while trying to put me out of business still haunt me. The hatred I deal with every single day is making me miserable.

That I get lectures and whining from people too lazy to practice just makes things harder. Everybody is interested in what they want from me, not what the pressure and lack of support is doing to my health.

Maybe music was a mistake. My hands ain’t good for much anymore. Maybe I’ll just feed the birds in the backyard and hang out with my cats.  Art in an ugly world seems kind of hopeless. I have a lot of thinking to do.