Friday. Been home a week and a day. Still subject to bits of instability. I loose my balance at the drop of a hat. The eating thing is a trip. I eat whatever Jackie puts in front of me. It's got to be a God thing that's taken away my gag reflex with the things I'm no used to eating. In the hospital, when the started feeding me, a couple/three or four days after I got in, I remember stabbing some vegie with my fork and raising my eyes to God. There was a lot in that gesture. There was who I've been with food. I thought of myself as having an eating disorder stemming from childhood.. I pretty much gagged on things I normally didn't eat. I had mad some progress with Jackie's help but it was minimal. Looking up I was acknowledging the circumstance before God and my inability to overcome it. There was also the knowledge that God can do what He likes and He is good. Kierkegaard says there are two steps in a leap of faith. The first is acknowledgement what you want to happen is imposable. The second is moving ahead on what he calls "the strength of the absurd," the foolish notion that through God, anything is possible. I did not make a bargain with God. I acknowledged the circumstances as I stood before God, put the vegie in my mouth and started chewing in an attitude of submission toward God doing whatever he was going to do.

I don't have an eating disorder, It's gone. The only answerer I have is God took it away.

Morning. Previously about now I would be heading out to my truck with tools to drive into work, Now I can't carry the tools. Now I'm sitting here in front of the fire with coffee in my sweats with the morning before me, sitting in front of this word processor with all the time I want to write, like I've been dreaming of and praying for that some day I'd get. So hear it is. It wasn't quite the way I had in mind. I guess I really didn't have any way in mind, just dreaming and praying of some vague and mysterious time when I could write and my novel would be finished, rough and final draft I suddenly I wold be an author and published and living on a chuck of land outside of Chattanooga working in my Norm Abrams wood shop and summering with Jackie on the Isle of Capri and agreeing with Dickens that the Almaffie Coast is one of the most beautiful places on earth.

However it's morning and I'm not in Capri or Chattanooga, and I have a lot of work to do to finish the novel and I here writing in my blog so I can get used to Writing anything again, get used to banging the keys to see what will come out, to see if I haven't lost my chops, to shake the rust out of the old noggin, to, now that I've had a stroke, to get over it and get on with the rest of my life.

Well well well, It's Wednesday. It's been a month. Seems a lot longer.

It's hard to starting after so long a hiatus. It's been years. I almost don't remember what it feels like. It would be different if I was going to write something small, but it's the write for the next six month, or from now on that I find daunting. That's a lot of writing, a lot to say. Maybe I'll try one of my old writing exercises.

Soap castle nitroglycerin aim toothpaste whiplash, soldier fan;tan blemish saddle clock backslide needle focsul camera filter slip float pierce camshaft fleece anchor Watusi cloak libertine antsy majorette flimsy lubricate humus sojourn click liquor fox bed sight list tingle plod airport fizzle lambaste action hint speed flap lantern military hum fickle bliss bobber silkscreen ampule tick slot baggage industry hammer antidote

Well, I got a nice image of a fishing bobber going down, that quick little jerk sending out ripples. It was two bites, one right after the other, the second set of ripples riding over the other. If I back track follow the line out of the water and back to the pole, I come to the hand holding it I go up the arm and the fisherman n is turning to the other person it the boat. "I'm getting a bite." he says. Then the bobber really goes down and he jerks the pole and says this time, "I got 'im," and he begins to work the real. keeping a strain on the hook. Then the tip of the rod gives way and he knows he lost the fish. "Shit, Through me another beer,"

Why I'm back

So I'm back. Ha!
I plan on using this to get the writing juices flowing, prime the pump, so you're liable to get anything here, from the profound to the absurd. Oh and I starting my campaign for the prez now, too. Same platform, No BS, Or at least the bs will be obvious so you know what is is up front. Sort of like campaign rhetoric. Say I promise to put a Harley in every driveway. You pretty much can know I'm only talking about my drive way. On the ot6her hand I will be serious too.
I hope that will be self evident too. Like if I say thank God I've got a good attitude having had a stroke, I'm being serious. I think I'd be pretty miserable without Him. I'll occasionally comment on currant events, like a news paper columnist. I have a secret urge to be Mike Royko, not that I want to be mugged or dead or anything; I just think there's a lot of shit going on that I like to comment on. There's also this stroke thing. I'll be using this too figure out who I am now, I mean I know I'm still me, but I'm a different me now. Me plus stroke. I'm in the middle of it, or actually I haven't Reached the middle of it. I'm Kind of excited to see how I'll be on the other side of it, say a tear from now?

Stroke me, stroke me, add guitar riff here

I had a stroke. I may be wobbly but I have time to do a blog again I try not to make any typos but my fingers are a little spastic. That and I have to pay attention or I fall over. I'm also on a new diet. Pre-stroke I was what is known as a finicky eater, more precisely, a carnivore. Now I intend to eat healthy, rather my wife intends that I eat healthy and I've agreed to go along.

Apparently, I'm doing a lot of other new things, making new connections, bypassing the dead part of my brain where the old connections were.

I'm back

I'm back.

Keeping On keeping On

More to follow.