The Lost Pedestrian

it’s Sunday. it’s drizzling. I am either half asleep or half awake. Depending upon your origins.

I notice the dog is slumbering in his crate. I never asked or even moderately hinted for him to go to his crate, but this is where goes when he wants to be alone, which seems more often of late. He lays there curled up in a little ball in the furthest corner of the crate. I cannot really tell if he half asleep or half awake. But I think I accidentally just awakened him.

I told him not to let himself be alone for too long because then it becomes a habit–and once you’re in that habit, it’s difficult to break out of it. He stares back at me incredulously, with one of those looks that say “no wonder you are home all of the time. it’s not good for you. you need to get out more.” I tell him that I DO go out a lot and ask ‘haven’t you noticed all of the hours we go out for a walk? Don’t those count as going out?”

Now he wants to tell me “I appreciate the walks, but walking me is not exactly stepping out of your comfort zone.”

And then I think, he has spent the past 2 hours curled up into a little ball in the back of a crate…. and he’s telling me to step out of MY comfort zone.

He’s such a hypocrite. A fucking hypocrite. I wonder if he even realizes that.

Today I had a meeting with my boss’s boss, convinced I would either be demoted, or terminated, or phased out (whatever that means). But it turns out I was being offered sort of a promotion.

It was the first time in a long long while where I expected really really bad to happen that ended up not happening. I say “really really” because it’s kind of a process.

1. Expecting the worst.
   • Outcome: not nearly as bad as I thought
2. Expecting the worst, but as a mental trickery, tricking my brain to pretend to expect the worst, knowing that expecting the worst is only a precursor to a positive outcome. expecting the worse as a strategy to summon the not worst.
3. Expecting that expecting the worse is the best way summon something positive, only to find that this process of expectations results in something far far worse than the original authentic expecting the worst.

Each day for the past 40 or so years, I stare at a computer screen, looking for answers, waiting for answers, and maybe the answers are there inside, but I will never know because I can never remember the questions. Or why I sat down at the computer in the first place.

I think I made this huge huge mistake almost 3 years ago when I decided it was time to get a dog. I am getting close to the age of retirement and I have no savings to retire on because it all goes to the dog. I guess it’s worth it if the dog outlives me, which is possible. As long as he has a comfortable life, I guess I have done my job.

today was a very eventful day because I cannot think of one thing that happened in it.

I thought about swimming. but didn’t

I thought about working. but didn’t

I thought about going out to hear music. but didn’t

I thought about cleaning the aquarium. but didn’t.

I thought about attempting to repair something I have no idea how to repair. but didn’t.

I thought about answering the phone when my mother called. but didn’t (that one was really wrong of me).

I thought about praying to the universe for forgiveness. but didn’t.

I thought about calling this friend or that friend. but didn’t call either of them.

I thought about throwing out the uneaten half of the tuna salad sandwich I had for lunch. but it is still sitting there. menacingly.

I thought doing my PT exercises. but didn’t.

so many things I did not do today. who has time to do so little?

Lately when I awaken, there’s this dull music playing in my head on a loop (I mean, the music. not my head) that stays with me all day. it’s not a melody I recognize, but I must have heard it from somewhere. but I don’t know where. Or why. I would say it’s kind of like a drone, but much less interesting. But I can say it drones on and on and on. I must rectify this somehow. Or extricate it. Return it to the source, whoever that was.

That was me by the way. My current voice after 4 hours of sleep last night. maybe that’s what happens. the shorter, the sleep, the duller the melody, the hoarser the voice. I’m not proud of this recording, but I feel comfortable enough with you to share it. I can’t say that about everybody. I wouldn’t share this with anyone at work. Or the dog walker. Or my dog. Or most of my friends (which won’t be difficult since most of my friends have forgotten about me). But there’s a certain comfort level between us that can only exist between people who have never met. I appreciate you.

Today was one of those good days in which no one is trying to con me into some sort of crypto scheme. Those days are becoming rarer and I am learning to take advantage of days such as this as best as I am able.

For example today I invested in a really excellent box of cereal. Gluten-free. And I still have enough money left over to pay for toothpaste.

It sounds like my dog is having a nightmare. He’s in deep sleep and making sort of a whimpering sound. And now I’m starting whimper. There was a rabies scare at his doggy daycare center and at first I thought he may have been infected. And that I might then get infected. But now that so many days have passed, my rabies fears have subsided–and both my dog and I find ourselves whimpering more than usual.

According to AI:

whimpering by itself is not a reliable sign of rabies in either dogs or humans.

In humans, whimpering or crying is not considered a symptom of rabies.

I am reassured.

I’m having hearing issues. I mean, robotic hearing issues. My “AI-powered” hearing aids started randomly turning on and off. Since I also have attention or lack of attention issues, I wonder if this is another situation where the AI is tapping into my brain and turning on and off in sync with my attention span. I guess that is possible.

And then there’s my shoulder issues that are also related to my attention issues. I’m not sure if I mentioned this or not (you can tell me if I did) … what was I saying? Oh yeah. I was walking on walkway alongside my apartment building. Looking at my phone at the same time (probably a dating site), when I stumbled upon a buckle in the pavement, breaking the fall with my right arm and shoulder. Resulting in what the MRI called a ‘massive’ rotator cuff tear. Which was really dumb because now I will probably need surgery, possibly even a shoulder replacement.

One by one, parts of my body are being replaced. Hip, shoulder, neck, so far. Perhaps this will lead to immortality since my entire body might be replaced by indestructible materials. Problem is, I only have savings for maybe 2-3 years of living, tops. I would call this a dilemma.

I don’t even know how I got on this subject.

I’m in LA. Perpetual rain for the past 5 days. On the eve of 2026.

It’s 2026 and I am still waiting for my life to begin. Maybe that could be my New Year’s resolution:

Begin your life.

I’m not sure how it would start.

Maybe it would be akin to walking into a movie theater, 30 minutes late. And the movie has a very complicated plot line you can never quite catch up to before it ends.

And then you walk out of the theater in a befuddled daze.

And you can’t remember where you parked.

You can’t even remember whether you drove or not. Because if you did drive, you should not have. Because your vehicle registration expired over a month ago. Sometime back in 2025.

Which begs the question:

How does one begin a life if it arrives too late?

Sheepishly

Defiantly

Sleepily

Obliviously

Habitually

Hungrily

Waifishly

Nakedly

To be continued.

At some point.

But don’t wait too long.

atrophied. that’s me. that’s me as a writer. as a creator. it’s so apparent to everyone who is me. there’s no hiding it.

I had this fleeing, but not fleeting idea to put together a compilation of writing to publish as a book, some of this writing which I can’t even recall ever writing. or which I would rather not recall ever writing. some of which should never have seen the light of day or night. how did my pride in it morph into finding it repellent?

I must find a way to recalibrate my consciousness. Somehow.

I must offer my sincere apologies to anyone who endures reading this.

I am so sorry.

At the risk of sounding clichéd, which is a huge huge risk for someone like me, I am struggling to keep track of all of the things I have forgotten. I have not only forgotten what I was going to type, but I have forgotten how to type. I don’t even think about typing anymore. It feels like a lost art.

When I look back on the days when my typing was at it’s best, when I was in a typing groove, when I was even pretty well known for my typing skills, when I was even a much sought after typist, it feels like another person. Maybe someone I’ve never even met. I wonder if that person would even like me. Who knows?

It’s really funny (not ha-ha funny) how the presence of certain people on a bus can be so absorbing. Like certain people want the attention of all of the uncertain people on the bus. Maybe they are more lonely than I. I am tempted to ask them, but that would only reinforce their need for attention. So my not telling them about my loneliness or anything else I might be feeling or thinking is probably good for them. My not saying anything might be sort of a gift.

I like to think of myself as the kind of person who always keeps their promises in spite of all evidence to the contrary. I cannot think of a single promise I have ever kept in my entire life. Not to you. Not to me. Not to anyone. The kinds of promises I make are not tethered to anything material or immaterial. I would not even consider them to be promises. Maybe they are intentions, but if they are intentions, I had no intention of making them. They were unintended intentions that never blossomed into promises. That does not mean I am an ingenuous person. Or is it a disingenuous person? Hmmm. I’m not sure which is which. Maybe if I neither ingenuous or disingenuous, maybe this means I am not anything. And if I am not anything, is there any value, any worth to any of my promises?