(If you’re into this, and enjoy these daily divulgences, please support me at www.patreon.com/altdaddiary. Why? Why not just read for free? Especially when I’m the biggest freegan on the planet, sniffing out ways to save a buck. Two quick reasons. If you value something, support it, so it continues. That’s one. Supporting someone becomes a means of connection, if the support is organic and genuine. And connection is the way out of Internet-loneliness, I think. Just something to chew. And now..)

Lost the baby’s doctor appointment slip. Jake is coming in at 1pm for a dread. Worried it might stick out. Lay down, dread. Lay. Zoloft works, the woman from Thai Massage said. I took the dog for a walk. Drove out of town to Selma. Sometimes I saw walk, when I mean run. But it’s so hot, I mean walk. 

In Selma, even the leaves have sore backs. Veiny and brittle, bones crack. There could be a fire too. Santa Rosa looks bad. No houses survived, FOX News says. It was playing at Bodyplex. 

People can be so kind. I need to notice more. An older professor gave me a tire pressure gauge and a pump. Double-barrel foot pump. For the car. Last week it was down to 10 PSI in the front. And I was talking to him like a chicken with his head dandling all around. 

I said that’s so kind and had to know so I asked why. Said I was in need, and said he could help. 

I worry about whether my life matters. A hair stylist says I've already succeeded. I need to see a hair stylist more often. 

Good news. Doors open. I’m now the Communications Director of a brain research non-profit. Big acronym. Neurosensory Neuroregenerative Research Foundation. Unpaid for now. But something to channel writing into. 

Dog eye allergy. Try Benadryl. 1mg per pound. Try olive oil. Kate said to go to the vet. I called because that’s the free option. They said bring him in. Then they said they weren’t taking new clients. The baby’s eye is dripping too. Crusties forming. Boogies, mom calls them. 

Stop here or keep going? Readers drop off after a page. Remember the subtle art of not giving a fuck and keep going. Focus. 

A woman with an eagle and flag profile photo says dreads don’t look right. I think about a reply. A mini lecture on democracy and the confusion of building arguments on opinions rather than facts. 

Pull of drugs waxes, mood bottoms out on Friday, actually Thursday. Not anxiety or loneliness, not acute forms. Those words seem to colorful. I feel grey. 

And cannabis cookies legal in other states still that static radio channel head into a mesmerizing mountain meadow. Not in Georgia. 

I pour myself a glass of purified water and carry on. Weekdays are easy for marriage, structure. My roots are coming undone. A woman said the massage didn’t help her neck pain. How do I explain massage is magic? 

Find Atlanta Craigslist and post ad for dread loctician services. Or or many. Baby is reaching for things now. Beginning of the end? Reaching, I mean. 

It's funny the people that you meet. Thai massage woman said her son doesn't want her calling all the time to see the new baby. I see the problem from the other side. Apparently my sister in law reads these. Reports back to my wife. Ry......! From two rooms over. 

If you live in Milledgeville come over I'll gift you a flannel shirt. Seriously I need to practice with generosity, and I have flannel shirts to give. 

Ennui. That’s the word of the day. A feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement.

Some say god, country, family. I’d put family first but I wonder if Patreon supporters come before family,