Uncategorized | Frailing Banjo

One last update before I go offline for a while.

Tomorrow I’ll be celebrating my fifty-third birthday throwing the remains of my possessions out of the second-floor window. The Katana Artist MK II amp weighs about fifty pounds, so that will have to stay until the demo crew starts. Everything else like the Laurel & Hardy marquee, computers, cameras, and recording gear go in the trash. Even my B-movie autograph collection is gone.

No big deal. It’s only stuff.

It’s been hard on pop. I don’t expect anything but crap out of life, but he tries to remain hopeful.

I still have not gotten out of town to buy clothes. I’ll be in slippers, pants three sizes too big held up with a bathrobe sash for a belt, and an old T-shirt. Can’t order online because I have lost a crazy amount of weight and don’t know my sizes.

I recently had a run of pretty serious seizures. Two pointless trips to the ER provided no medical assistance. Second time in, two fat nurses picked me up by my arthritic thumbs. It hurt so bad that I couldn’t even scream.

Being picked up by the thumbs is a form of torture in normal circumstances. With my arthritis, the damage was profound. Doing basic things is agony. Even if I had an instrument to play, I don’t know if my hands will ever work the same again.

The hilarious part of the hand injury is that Tidal Health of Maryland has made it impossible to talk to anyone about how I was injured. I guess I’m fucked. God bless America.

So, it’s over. Even if I had an instrument, I could not play it. Even if i could, my muse has left the building.

On the bright side, none of it matters. Despite my skill and achievements, even my own students didn’t care enough to click like on YouTube or give me a few plays on Spotify. So, it’s not a big loss to the world. You never cared, so no need for me to feel blue.

Well, I’m off to throw out my burned out junk. Just another Friday for me.