Sometimes, all you really need … Is a beautiful day!

The kind of a day where everything falls into place as though orchestrated by some Divinity …
The weather is perfect. A 70 degree, kind of day, in Chicago, a gathering of friends, young and old, each living their lives (some, better than others) and who put the pain and sorrow on the shelf, listen to music, breath the cool, nighttime air, a fire in the corner, and a sweet musician, singing in the air. 

Sometimes that’s all you need. 

Wearing the Underpants of the Mental Health Care System

Ok. So it hadn’t been my intention to end up in a Psych Hospital when I left home that morning. I had packed my computer, essential Art supplies, and was ready to do some serious thinking and painting. 

But first I had a follow-up appointment with my Internist regarding the exasperation of my COPD symptoms and physical exhaustion because a shady organization, posing as a nonprofit, refused to allow me to use an air conditioner with a dehumidifier, despite being fully aware of the medical consequences that had on my system, my body! 

The doctor had faxed them a letter on that Monday, stating that it was essential that I be in an environment with stable and cool temperatures since this would exacerbate my COPD – aside from the psychiatric symptoms that made it impossible for me to sleep or eat for the past 11 days, and, the physical consequences of that on my organism. – 

Cause at this stage in The Odyssey of Invisibility you are lucky to even be referred to as an organism, cause they are blinded by the allure of Diagnostic Codes and other codes that give them to right to not provide adequate and safe environments in such a case …

Why, exactly?

Because a Baltimore doesn’t hold landlords accountable for this crises situations. So.  Instead, they choose to let people die than relieve their suffering. 

Hiding behind the arms of Christian charity whilst sharpening their knives, pocketing easy cash.  

The astronomical temperatures and Humidity in Baltimore had taxed all Emergency services in the City of Baltimore. How?  

Well, if you tried calling 911, you reached a recording. Repeatedly. They did what was humanely possible. But they also illustrated and provided an excellent taste for Stupidity.  

But what really convinced me we were in a serious crisis was when the Medical Director of Baltimore, addressed the heat crisis. 

It is the responsibility of the Police and Fire Department to handle this crisis. 

Did I hear her correctly?  I did!  The Stupidity of The Rulers who are totally fucked-up political appointments. 

THE worst example for what NOT to do in a crisis. Mayor Daley would’ve flunked you if he were your teacher. 

(I exaggerate)
This, of course, further overwhelmed me. My system was already taxed to the limit. 

Here’s a glimpse from the Kitchen Window.  


The Edge Of LinkedIn: Ron Scubadiver’s Wild Life. An Amazing Photographer!

Scubadiver’s the best!
I love his stuff.


The Other Eye: The Dream I Had Last Night

An actual dream.


As I left the shop, I turned the corner and headed east on Addison Street. It had begun to snow heavily – Lake Effect Snow – and I looked westward to see if there was a bus in sight, but there wasn’t, so I began to walk. I was thinking about food, where to get some good food, as there are so many options in Chicago, and ways to get there easily and economically, even though you may have to cover vast distances. I reached into my pocket and played with the coins and a dollar folded into a tiny square. It was firm and hard, like a rock. I was headed toward the Addison Street “El” station, a walkable distance from where I was. That would connect me to several possible routes in search of food – something that would satisfy my palette. As I headed eastward, the weather changed abruptly, from snow to heat and a bright sun. I walked on the right side of Addison Street, as I was headed eastward. The west side of the street was barren. And then, to my left and in a narrow space, my encounter with others began. First, an elderly but fit and mad Greek man, holding a sheet of paper, and reciting loudly in two languages. I tried to catch what I could of his words and picked out some Greek words and marveled at his madness. What would Plato think? I wondered. Just beyond him, to my right was a common fence, made of steel, and on the other side of it, near its edge, I spotted three Black men who appeared to have been crucified on three young trees, not much taller than them, but with sufficient branches to hang from. As I approached them, I realized that they were not nailed to the trees, but hanging on them in a last attempt to find the strength they no longer possessed, but still remain alive. Thus, one arm was raised and hanging from the limb of the tree – hanging on, but the rest of the body had no more strength and hung, the head slumped to the right, the legs, loose and bent at the knee. As I slowly walked past them, I wondered if I would ever be able to paint what I had seen.