I live as many of the isolated old men do. I have a routine. I get up shower wash what I wore yesterday hang it to dry.

Then I write or read for some hours perhaps a short walk for exercise,...though I'm not able much now. What with a fucking plague raging. Going to market even is hard now. Even when there's anything there to buy. 
I go online for mostly lectures. History the arts, and sciences. 
I think I've earned another utterly useless liberal arts degree by this.

I get almost no personal calls from family or friends. What I do get is the hospital the landlord the electric company, and wrong numbers. 
This is why I leave my phone mostly off.

I used to visit with old friends from my broadcast career maybe a few times a year. Now not at all thanks to Lockdown. We used to see each other everyday all day. 
When we did meet or a few times a year I could see us aging together.

Sleep.

Much sleep. I'm weaker now than I've ever been.  I'm staring 70 in the face. Just a few weeks off now. Fuck it I'm alive. I used to spend time doing art. A lot of crafts projects see below. It had a meditative effect. 

Cute Huh?

I made Queer pieces too, but this post or

this whole site might be deleted

if I put them up. ...swell.

It passed the time like basket weaving did for an earlier generation of the unwanted. I don't do any of that anymore. No point.
I never see anyone. Well except for doctors or Social Service visitors making sure I'm still alive. 

I do converse intermittently on Facebook with people around the world. Well more like messages in a bottle than active conversing.
This might be my main connection with humanity. 

Oh the 21st century.

I remember reading that in the 60's through the 90's old folks made up relationships with characters on TV shows. This became their social network of phantoms. My Facebook community are also phantoms. I care for them, but will never see or really know them.

I had an actual breathing friend that owned the market. He was about my age, and we chatted about the old daze. I went the other day. His nephew said he'd passed away. 

Just like that.

Right,...so. Life goes on. 

I see few do little. The Docs, and assorted professionals I tell this all recommend the same noise. Old folks community crap. Geriatric rubber rooms. I've seen them places, and people. 

While in hospital was wheeled into the walking dead section. They thought I'd like to be with old folks about to be fertilizer as I was.

Well...

A limited menu of types. Lifeless staring as in Alzheimer's shells of souls. Also religious nuts, neo-Nazis, and straight murderous homophobes. Did I mention old ladies that wanted to make out with me? 

...no thanks. 

I actually wheeled myself back to my suite. The interesting people in my life all died of AIDS or overdoses. I nearly imploded via overdose several times. Looking back a pity I didn't. 

Where was I?

Right late afternoon I make my meals or meal,...I eat generally once a day. Even when I was middle class this was my habit. I have to eat four times a day now or I'll go into diabetic shock,...swell. I tried that once. It was like force feeding a prisoner. 

...fuck it.

I have meds for Hypoglycemic attacks if they come,...they do, but not often. So I eat nap read go online sleep look out the window watch the seasons change, and wait for my turn. Getting laughs where I can along the way.

They'll know I'm gone when they smell me. 
Like many elders if I think my time is coming. I leave my door unlocked so the EMT guys won't have to break in to scrape or shovel me up off the floor bed or toilet.

That's the only thing I'm careful of,...I don't want to exit while taking a dump like Elvis. 
Otherwise besides assorted little details. Everything is swell,...just fucking ass peachy.
I figure I gots five six good years maybe. I'm surviving. I sleep eat listen to lectures watch dust motes write paragraph long time travel stories, and wait.

I'm fine.