It’s 6:30 and I’m done. I can’t do it today. Just one thing after another and I just can’t do it. I’m too sick and my leg is too fucked up.

A little while ago I made an effort. I managed to water half the field. These were the pumpkins who looked like they just wanted to die from the heat. Maybe the rest of the field needs water too but they’re just going to have to learn to live with it. I know they’ve never had two days off in the summer but I just can’t do it. My last attempt had me go over onto the floor, crutches and all. It wasn’t a balance issue per se, it was a technical issue of my legs telling me they just don’t want to work for me anymore. At least not today. The last thing I did was to crawl to the kitchen on my hands and knees and pick up that second kishu from Friday night. A kishu can sit there a couple of days without any problem. Another beautiful thing about kishuim. They Don’t really require refrigeration.

(Kishu) is an excellent source of vitamin C. It is a good source of vitamin B6. You’ll also get smaller amounts of vitamin A, folate, riboflavin, and thiamin. Minerals in zucchini include manganese, potassium, and small amounts of magnesium and phosphorus.

I got through about half of it and realized that I was full. I thought that was pretty cool that I was full on half a kishu. Up until that moment, my only thought was that perhaps I should have planted zucchini instead of pickles in the Three Sisters Garden. Knowing who my neighbors are, they might be a little too stretchy for a simple pickle.

Speaking of my neighbors, I’m talking about that unbelievably wonderful Blue House. These are the people who cut down their fruit trees for some reason known only to them. These are the people who are either selling the property or not selling the property but seem really interested in me. It seems I cannot appear without them jumping on me as if I am… meat.

I don’t really understand this or why they’re in such constant need of new resources. I don’t understand why people can’t make use of their own efforts and eat their own food at least as much as possible. I don’t understand these needy, greedy resource hogs and why we breed them so vociferously here. Again, they did not call me my name to say that they had to deal with me. It was just that the conversation changed to something about being a gentleman. Women are pretty big about this gentleman nonsense. They believe it gives them the right to retool any mail of the species they want into physical labor regardless of the purpose or even justification of the labor they give us. Give these women even a touch of money and the world is frankly unbreathable.

I heard them directing the conversation to me. It’s called innuendo. Apparently what they have decided between themselves is that I should be turned into a raving physical savage and attack them so that they can call the police and have me arrested. I’m sure this is a sexual fantasy for each and every one of them. Hence the kishu. The problem with this is that I have never attacked anyone here. This whole plan and the entire concept was concocted by my other neighbor and frankly, we all saw the film.

I said nyet. But, you know they don’t listen to me so they started it again because it is their absolute right to needle me to death. And I would like to point out that I am moving about 1 m a minute. Maybe that’s a little too much. Maybe it takes me about 30 seconds to go one meter because I just couldn’t move very fast and at the time, I couldn’t find my crutches. I really needed them but I couldn’t find them and it drove me crazy. I eventually found them. When I went through the trouble of taking that picture out the back window, I guess I threw them on the bed and that bed is just hidden from the door. Oops. I even called the ex partner but she said no twice. That’s right, I genuinely thought she grabbed them out of spite. It would not go against form.

This time I added my more theatrical voice. My tourette’s voice. This time I added the one that makes my voice echo all over the place and is obviously impossible not to hear. I said nyet. And this time they calmed down. As for nuance or some thinking about how to get along with each other, that’s never been in the program. To them, they have complete rights to kill their property as much as they want. Apparently though, it’s also within their means to kill me and my property as well.

I did manage to water that area really good. Those pumpkins were really sagging badly. It’s not just the heat. It’s a global warming heat. They’re getting lasered out of their life. If I don’t give him some water, like all other agriculture in this destroyed land, we just can’t grow food here. I genuinely think this is the truth. You can grow a lot of grains that you can sell to other people as a commodity. But they don’t do fuck all to feed their people and they keep all the money for themselves. Oh well, Belarusian agriculture in the nude.

After managing the watering of at least the back side of the house and the search for the crutches, I was pretty much delirious. I was not going to get off this couch because the combination of weakness and pain was a pretty potent combination for fucking up the old American. You give someone like nine doses of individual City covid and then just fuck with someone’s head just because they prefer ecology to gasoline, shit happens. Like for example a sprained knee and this malevolent bit of covid that even my ex partner can’t bring it out of herself to take some pity on me.

But then I grabbed that kishu, left it in the basket because I was crawling, and pushed it back to my office and had a few nights and I felt better. I do not feel good enough to get up. But I feel good enough for my head to work. Even that’s positive, isn’t it? I mean, if I actually had a genuine friend here, why, I’d be set for life, wouldn’t I?

I have six weather services I applied to. Some of them say that they are 100% optimistic that it will rain tomorrow. 100% is a serious number. Some of the other reports however are not so optimistic because, you know, they live here and they’ve been observing how little rain we get regardless of the barometer. They don’t prepare a report outlining what might be causal to this fucked up sunshine. That is beyond their pay grade and they are not paid to think. They are paid to produce their garbage and go to work and go home and remain sick. If they’re not going to do that, the Nazis will come and get you.

So what? I lost this game. I lost this game because I got beat. The other team did not fight me hand to hand. They did not fight me with logical argument explaining their side. They didn’t come to me to try and make friends with me even to explain their side. They really don’t want to listen to any words I say, they just want to dictate policy and enjoy harming me. Gosh, the more they can harm me, the more of my energy they can take away from me, the better off they are and the better they feel. Sorry you feel like shit baby. Would you like me to give you a causal for that?

So there is nothing left to do except to close a few windows and quit this day generally. After that, I am praying to God for rain with all my heart. If there is any thought in my head though, it might be at all of those beautiful rains we got up until a few weeks ago infuriated my neighbors. They don’t like to be burdened by rain. It makes everything they do more difficult. They’re closing gets wet, their hair gets messed up and they have to drive their car with the windshield wipers running. Good god, such a tragedy. Nevertheless, they did go out of their way to burp quite a bit of gasoline smoke into the air, didn’t they? Do you think there is a causal between their silly little games and that it is not raining during the hottest days of the year in a planet that has been in drought for a decade and a half? Do you think if they just burn a little extra gasoline just to fuck with their Jew neighbor, it might have an effect on the weather? It certainly had an effect on my body and my leg. They were going to cause harm no matter what and nobody was going to stop him or talk to them. They were just going to go, go, go because living with themselves is such horrendous shit, they just can’t wait to get out of their houses.

That last paragraph was the end of the essay but I just thought I would throw in here that I deleted my Instagram and VK accounts. I am officially no longer available on the social networks. If you need me, click on the contact and send me an email. And by the way, zelle works really good with me. If you want to send money to that email, I’m not going to scream nyet.