March 22, 2017
My attendants don’t have time to assist me in using the bathroom at the conference or stay overnight at the hotel. “That’s not our job,” says the house manager. We take care of you. They don’t have time to go for the Capitol for Advocacy Day. This is what I do. It’s my life. I have to fight for everything sending emails to the care agency director. They like the photo ops, articles, and the books, which they haven’t read. They see the long hours being spent. I’m a real author but they don’t care. My people know. Last fall I visited my college classmates and when I said goodbye I cried because I can’t get attendants to go anywhere. I have to be an author, but I feel that what I’m doing for the last time. I’m just beginning life, but deep down I’m dying. The arguing is taking a toll and I will quit fighting sometime. I am the author not like my roommates. Today I gave the Governor a book since he is an author. But I’m a real author. I did PR, handing out cards to people and a volunteer read my letter about saving Medicaid to a legislator. I had a person come up to me say “I know you” and I didn’t know them. That’s an author’s life. My people are not surprised by any of this. It’s Steve, the English people would say. And I think about suicide. I have novels to write and women to make love to. Today I was an author. Tomorrow I’m critiquing papers being a TA. This weekend I’m an author, talking to authors and my agent. And an article came out on Monday. Who does that? Steve, my people would say. They are right again. I got what I wanted though. I’m going to the conference. I won’t give up I promise. I love you. Someday I will be known.
March 20, 2017
March 20, 2017
I go out in the world this week. I go to the Capitol to see lawmakers about the changes to Medicaid and Medicare. I will leave a book for our Governor. He is an author, but I’m the real author. It’s too bad that he won’t be in the office to meet me, but he knows who I am. The writing conference is this weekend. I will sell and autograph my books. I’m a real author. I tend to forget that. Mom is proud. I will savor being out in the world before returning to my office to write another novel.
March 13, 2017
This week is the NCAA Basketball Tournament and I will sit in the recliner to watch it. I will be a couch potato and eat pizza as I get ready to sell my two books at the writing conference. That’s an author’s life.
March 10, 2017
It’s Mom’s birthday. Mom is proud of me. It’s a busy time, Mom. Radio and newspaper interviews, three book signings, and writing a new book. Work is always there. Women. Sorry, Mom. I’m a new man. I have manly needs. Two books, Mom. All because of you! I have a career. You aways believed in me. I’m a real author, Mom. Thank you.
February 27, 2017
February 17, 2017
Women are making me crazy right now. Women are beautiful. My career doesn’t mean much without her to share with. The sisters can’t give me what I need anymore. A man needs love and the female touch. Women are the best and I will find her.
February 14, 2017
It’s Valentine’s Day this week. Valentine’s Day leaves me feeling empty inside. I will meet a special person someday, but this year I will go to my favorite place and have a couple of lap dances with my two favorite strippers. I have a career and responsibilities like any man. Last week I did two radio interviews and wrote an interview for a newspaper. That’s working and stressful. A man needs a female to hug, hold, and touch to him that he needs to take a breath from the world of demands. The feminine touch is what every man desires, including me.
February 7, 2017
I have a career now! I have proved the system, which told me “you can’t,” dead wrong. In a couple of weeks I will start writing my eighth manuscript, but two things are needed in my life. I need my own apartment where I can have privacy to write and quiet in the morning to sleep. The other wish is to have sex. I can make career decisions, manage my money, work with my attendants, and go to the strip club to have a lap dance but I can’t hire a woman for sex. A forty-nine-year-old man with a career needs to have sex once in a while. I’m just a man with needs like every man.
January 23, 2017
“You are being rude,Steve,” an attendant tells me when I’m sick. “Can you go to the store for bread and cranberry juice,” I ask my attendants. “No, I’m too busy,” says one attendant sitting on the sofa. “I’m out of gas,” the other attendant says. There are always problems with my attendants. They make me want to die but I can’t quit now. I have to answer their questions. “Where are you going, Steve, ” my attendants asked.” Out, and you know where,” I say, with a big smile. “What time does your bus come and when do you come home,” the attendant asks. “6:30 to 10:30,” I say. “That’s too late, Steve,” the attendant says. “I’m going, bye,” I drive out of the garage to the bus. I’m going to my favorite place to relax, think, and have female attention. I’m a man with a career and have needs like every man does. A beer, a lap dance, female attention, and naked women help clear my mind. I’m not disabled or have Cerebral palsy. I’m a busy lonely man, looking for sex. The system will always deny me what I want the most, but I’m awesome, remarkable, and whatever else disabled advocates say. I’m just a client, who happens to be an author!