Darn these Nitfarbs! Diary, 3/5 to 3/6/22

Dreams; constipation; erectile dysfunction; madly in love; my oldest computer TRS-80 Color C.; blog readers; neglected books; Astronomy for Writers.

Photo by Kamaji Ogino on Pexels.com

Copyright 2022 (text only) by Alan Carl Nicoll
All Rights Reserved


Dreams this morning, or should I say “dreamlets”:

I am bleeding from my butt; I use wet wipes and a paper towel or two to stanch the alarming amount of blood (not gushing). I think “My constipation has finally torn me up,” but in fact it’s not coming from my anus but rather from the right cheek just beside the anus. I get the bleeding mostly stopped, and I go somewhere, possibly back to bed, possibly just sit in my chair, worried that the bleeding will continue.

Next, I am standing in a hall before a door along with half a dozen others, none of whom I know, though I don’t think they’re strangers, either—I just don’t have information one way or the other, except that they’re all adults, well-dressed, and we’re all holding multiple plates of food. One young woman takes the initiative and knocks clumsily at the door, then opens the door and drops one of her plates (or it may be the only plate she was holding), apparently in surprise. Inside is a small white table as from a café, but beyond is a large table, covered with a multitude of dishes (no food). I say, “The silly woman has put out every dish I own.”

That’s it. I have no guess at an explanation for the second scene; the first seems to be related to the constipation I’ve been having recently (and off and on throughout my life), though the difficulty is manageable and nothing like an exacerbation of my normal life. Possibly it’s “on my mind” because the docusate sodium I’ve taken lately has done less towards fixing the problem than it had very recently. It might be worth noting, if any of this is, that this is the first time since getting out of prison six years ago that I’ve felt the need for laxatives.  Also, I went to the VA clinic yesterday.

The doctor surprised me by first, renewing unasked my sildenafil prescription, then canceling it, this time with an explanation: it’s a blood thinner and I’m already taking a blood thinner and you can’t do that.  The workaround I suggested was ixnayed, likewise my complaint of “obsession” and “inability to concentrate,” both of which I was exaggerating.  In fact, the problem has been much on my mind since my last orgasm, February 11th, three weeks ago; I’ve been keeping track since my ED got worse after I had COVID in mid-2020.  Currently, I’ve been unable to reach orgasm despite persistent (not daily) efforts to get there; indeed, it’s hard (!) to keep an erection even for as long as five minutes.  I’d had mild ED before COVID.  The bitch of it is that my desire is quite undiminished.

These details will perhaps be annoying to some blog readers; others may find them food for thought.  None, of course, are likely to be as interested as I am.

I’m still writing for two or more hours per day; my page count, last time I counted (yesterday, I think) was at forty, quite unprecedented output for me.  Explanation?  It puts me, and is the only way for me to be, in the “presence” of my beloved Apple.  If you’re “madly in love” with someone, you want to be in their presence constantly.  Of course, I haven’t been “madly in love” since my mid-thirties.

As I was waiting (forever) for my laptop to boot up, I was thinking about my experience with computers, starting about 1980 (neglecting the ineffectual experience with a big IBM back in about ’65): I had a TRS-80 Color Computer, as they called it, shortly after Radio Shack started carrying them, and I knew that thing pretty well because I was working not only with BASIC, but with assembly language.  (My point, which I totally neglected in favor of reminiscence, I’m now adding parenthetically: these days, I feel quite helpless with my laptop, the difference being the layer of secrecy and/or obfuscation that Windows introduces.  My relatively vast experience gave me perhaps an added persistence when dealing with computer glitches that I must work around—but not much else.  Back to the reminiscences.)  I spent much of my time writing what we’d call “apps” these days, apps to enable me to do things with the computer more easily.  Example:  I wrote a program to allow storage and searching of the indices of my floppy disks, which multiplied faster than rabbits unable to get condoms, ha ha.  Other than that I spent enormous amounts of time writing game programs, including trying to get an adventure game language going (written in assembly) in the quest to get a company started.  Alas, the difficulty of the task and my usual fecklessness ruined that project.  I also did programming at work on the Apple II for my job as a group insurance underwriter.  Programming, of course, was far more interesting than underwriting; I did come up with a couple of programs that other underwriters used.  The actuaries should have been doing this, but weren’t (or at least I never learned of anything they did to help us).  It’s a pity that I got impatient with the salary I was getting and complained to management, which resulted in my being bumped up to a higher job title, but a duller job for which I was quite unsuited.  Not that you asked.

Japan, China, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and Vietnam are the places from which people visited my blog yesterday, the day I posted my “Highsmith Quotes” diary excerpt.  What’s unusual is that I got no “hits” from the United States, where I ordinarily get the bulk of them.  The blog is turning into one disappointment after another.  I suppose too many people are busy creating content, as I am, to spend much time cruising the net (like me).  Actually, I spend very little time most months creating content; I create content by writing my diary, and sometimes dictating handwritten pages.  Wow, more than a page this morning.

Hemlock Club today.  Don’t know if Nog will show, since he has a rather long walk to get there and rain is predicted—which I noted in a text I sent him yesterday morning.  The forecast today is “light rain” and wind increasing to 12-14 MPH throughout the day.  With a temperature in the low to mid 50s, that’s gonna be “bracing” for someone as lightly clad as he, or someone bundled up but ancient, like me.  But I am voluble today, and need or want to move on, perhaps back to “my beloved.”

Just checking my library account, I find that I have several books checked out that I haven’t even looked at—books that I really want to read.  The kicker is that I have three more on hold ready to be picked up.  My orgy of writing is wrecking my reading life!  Now, off to breakfast and the HC.


My doctor removed a giant wart from my face by spraying it repeatedly with liquid nitrogen.  The first spray hit my eye as well as the wart—the nitfarb didn’t warn me [“Nitfarb” is a word I got from my late wife; I gather it means someone you don’t like; Google doesn’t know the word]—so I closed my eye.  However, on the day following this moderate torture, my left eye looked like I’d lost a boxing match to someone who hit me repeatedly there.  Today (second day after treatment) the swelling is much reduced, though my eyelid remains fat.

Said nitfarb also refused to renew my prescription for sildenafil (you know what it is—Viagra) because it’s a vasodilator; I’m already taking a vasodilator, so he said no.  Which leaves me in a pickle with a limp pickle…er, you get the idea.

The HC meeting was okay, though my “discussion” with Pablo re Noam Chomsky was predictably unproductive.  I think when we disagree about politics I’ll try to do more biting of my tongue and less pushing back; it never works because he doesn’t want it to.  This time I had printouts to demonstrate the error involved; he read a little of the first page (did he have his glasses on?  don’t think so!), called it “bullshit,” and tossed it back at me.  Nog has given me good advice regarding Pablo, but it takes a while to sink in.  What happens over and over again is that he reads someone critical of some source of mine and feeds it to me on steroids; he doesn’t do any fact checking.  Last time I’ll take such drivel from him seriously, or even “seriously.”  I hope.

Thinking again of writing “Astronomy for Writers, or, Don’t Look Like a Nitfarb.” Google reveals no such document on the Internet(s).

Copyright 2022 (text only) by Alan Carl Nicoll
All Rights Reserved

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