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How do I write about my happiness today? I'm happy because I'm loved by my brother. Nobody would do what he did over the last couple of days except for love. Pure and simple. Its nothing I wouldn't have done for him gladly, but to have it proven to me by his patience and persistence is overwhelming.
It's not something I can really write about because I don't know who reads this blog, but I can say that last week I was paying nearly $70 a month for my internet connection and a home phone, but now I have a much, much faster internet connection and it only cost me $10 a month, but I don't have a phone anymore.
Not having a phone is no big deal. I haven't made a long distance phone call in nearly two years, and the only calls I get are from close friends and that never cost me a dime. I think I will get one of those cell phones that ya pay for ahead of time, and don't have to pay again until ya run out of minutes. The only reason I need a phone at all if for the VA hospital to call me and remind me of my appointments.
The thing about phones is my voice. These women use to call me just to hear me talk. Black women tell me I sound like Barry White because I have a basso profundo voice. I first found out about this when I worked for RCA and my job was to call people about renewing their maintenance contracts. After I talked to them a while they would call me back for the most trivial of reasons, and finally one of them told me they would masturbate to the sound of my voice. Believe it or not, I was insulted.
That doesn't make any sense does it? I oughta be flattered. After all, I have taken voice lessons and I practice singing practically every day. I sing the vowels a lot. Chanting is a religious exercise I take very seriously. I move myself into states of ecstasy via my voice. I try to get my friends to do it, because I know for a fact that they can receive ecstasy in the same way I receive it, so why wouldn't I want for them what I get for myself. Instead, they ridicule me. There is nothing I can do.
I've taken chances with my life that other people refuse to take. I don't blame them. The risk of dying is quite real. I've survived, and I understand completely why they refuse the quest, but I don't understand why they hate me for their own cowardice.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
