Folding is ironing. Does that make me a bachelor?
If you missed it, the previous entry (and the one before) were all started days ago but finally got filled in and fluffed up and uploaded as this one ought to be in a few minutes which is why I linked the previous one so it doesn't feel neglected cuz it is a tribute of sorts to old friends and memories. Don't let them down, go visit and click and riot in their comments and notes, yeah, rock their world. And pay respects too.
We should also take a moment to mention that the last few entries were uploaded tonight so they will likely see less of you unless you click the back button a few times. You never know what sort of highs, lows, magic, and secrets might be slipped in for posterity in this obscure maze of a written world I present to you. You can miss it if you wanna, but you can also dance.
Meanwhile, I have an iron or two and an ironing board or two in storage up north and I used to iron my clothes, but I gave up the habit and now simply fold neatly. Pants get pressed by their weight folded neatly on top of each other, sometimes. So do T-Shirts. Work shirts get pressed hung up and pressed together in the closet. I no longer have any desire to dress to impress (is that why I am alone in bed again?... or is it the fat?) and would rather be comfortable than suited up even though the financial restraint leaves me cutting out a lot of fun I used to take for granted. I just don't want to be that "pressed" anymore.
So the ants are finding their way into the house even though the windows are new model well sealed and the bug guy comes regularly. Their new way in is the shower as the shower needs caulking. I'll mention it to Eb and see if he does anything more than ask the bug guy to come back again.
Meanwhile (yes again), in possibly related but maybe not news, I am suffering from some sort of bites or rash on my legs again. I get this sort of annoyance a few times a year and I don't know if it's because I was out in some insect world not noticing them climbing into my shoes and up my legs and biting me or if it's bugs around the house or bed bugs or some sort of rash related to high blood sugar or high blood pressure or some other medical issue or a reaction to the blood pressure medication or some sort of food or plant allergy or what, but these little red spots pop up looking like mosquito bites and they itch like crazy and I put afterbite and benadryl ointment on them and try to not let them distract me but sometimes they do cuz they itch so much. I may rub them in my sleep but I am very good about not rubbing them when I am awake. Rubbing them definitely makes them worse.
Anyway, they are back and further up my leg than usual and I am wondering if there are bed bugs in my pillows and all sorts of wonderings are going on once again. Could it be fleas? I washed the bedding and sprayed some flea and bed bug spray and will likely wash them again this weekend and will consider new pillows, but at least I shall spray the pillows with bug spray and lysol again and maybe wash one first to see how it turns out. Washing pillows can ruin them sometimes. But then, bug bugs or feels can ruin more than pillows. Nothing a blowtorch to the whole filth house wouldn't cure. The room is clean. Spiders?
These itchy spots rarely appear above the legs and seldom appear above the knees. What they look and and feel like most according to this website are flea bites. It is definitely flea season and I have been around many animals recently. Helen has three cats, one who lives outdoors most of the time. Jackson has two outdoor cats and two dogs who are out in the yard a lot and their yard is wild. I've been to both houses and the dogs laid all over my lap. There are two indoor-outdoor dogs at cards the last few Saturday nights and they might have fleas. I gave them a lot of attention and affection too. So maybe this is a flea problem.
Or maybe my feet and legs have chicken pox or measles.
Yeah, I ought to take it more seriously. It really is annoying and distracting.
What? I get serious sometimes. We don't have to make a big deal out of it. I mean, unless you want to. Ego hasn't been fed in a long long time. We are almost thinking about taking down the don't feed the ego sign. What I would really like is (no, don't even think about food... umm, ok) a cuddle. Nobody cuddles with me anymore. Except some flea-bitten dogs (I'll find out if Jackson's house has fleas when I stay there house and animal sitting the week of the fourth of July) and cats and, heck, I don't even know any kids anymore. How isolated from family life I have become. Yeah. Sigh, again.
Do you have an ultimate truth?
It is time to repeat this. I think I will repeat it a few times before I stop begging for attention. It just seems right that way. Kind of like this or any of the other linkages that went on repeat in the past. Anyway, the present brings is to this semi-revelation: I am still sharing after all these years, just differently. My complaints are not fun (or funny) anymore. The philosopher is winning out over the comedian. I am still wide awake at 4am even if it is more in my dreams (remember sleep writing?) than in the daily reality. I am still babbling, just differently.
Toldya I get serious sometimes (and if you think you've been there already, explore some more. cheayah. Cuz just like hope, there's always more. (even there).
Narf :)
Thursday, June 22, 2017
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
Meaninglessness
I'll say it again. I am still sharing after all these years, just differently. My complaints are not fun (or funny) anymore. The philosopher is winning out over the comedian. I am still wide awake at 4am even if it is more in my dreams (remember sleep writing?) than in the daily reality. I am still babbling, just differently.
It is not because my best friend abandoned me except in texts (and now says those need to stop too). It is not because I moved in with a guy who said he would clean up before I moved in and has made a much bigger mess instead. It is not because he told me he was going to lose weight for charity and sits around eating ice cream and cakes and pasta while drinking protein shakes and eating protein bars. It is not because he is broke even though I pay enough rent to cover his mortgage, all utilities, and there's still more left over. It is not because after living here more than three months there is still not a clean space for me to sit in the living room, still not a clean kitchen that I would cook in, or still dishes in the sink and clothes in the washer even when he goes away for a week. It is not that he poops these huge stinky morbidly obese person shits and leaves the bathroom door open even when I close it repeatedly and spray air freshener that I bought and leave in the middle of the mess on the kitchen table so the air conditioning intake which is right outside the bathroom blow the stank into my face in my room (it's a small room). It is not because almost everyone I've ever let close to me has shown me good intentions they could not live up to and said words that turned out to be unintentional lies. It is mostly because of what most people do to each other and to this world every day.
Humans do not respect life. As much as most humans fear death so much they do not even discuss it, human actions individually and as a species are more suicidal than any other species on this planet. The human species is a parasite that does not care if it's host dies.
Harsh, huh?
Ok, so I obviously wanted to vent a bit about the people closest to me, but I've known much deeper betrayals and much more dirty living spaces (though this is the longest I ever stayed in one without cleaning it myself). I imagine there are some people in this world who take responsibility for life-supporting lives much more than I do, but I just do not seem to attract them and that's my bad. Maybe they are just not as good at finding broken lost souls as I am (cuz I sure find them a lot). Maybe I am too broken and lost. Maybe I am hidden beneath such a clever maze, no one can find me.
G used to tell me that. Hail Toronto.
Meanwhile, I'm getting hungry and the last thing I want to do is eat this late because I have been turning the six month pigout around these last thirty-six hours and if I can keep this up a few more days I just might remember how good it feels to not be bloated all the time and maybe even get back to some sort of exercising daily since I have a free gym (two, actually) at work and that is still just six short blocks away. Actually, less. Sleep would be right about now anyway because it just might not rain tomorrow night and I just might get to play softball for the first time in... has it been a month? No wonder I am discombobulated.
Be healthy out there.
Narf :)
It is not because my best friend abandoned me except in texts (and now says those need to stop too). It is not because I moved in with a guy who said he would clean up before I moved in and has made a much bigger mess instead. It is not because he told me he was going to lose weight for charity and sits around eating ice cream and cakes and pasta while drinking protein shakes and eating protein bars. It is not because he is broke even though I pay enough rent to cover his mortgage, all utilities, and there's still more left over. It is not because after living here more than three months there is still not a clean space for me to sit in the living room, still not a clean kitchen that I would cook in, or still dishes in the sink and clothes in the washer even when he goes away for a week. It is not that he poops these huge stinky morbidly obese person shits and leaves the bathroom door open even when I close it repeatedly and spray air freshener that I bought and leave in the middle of the mess on the kitchen table so the air conditioning intake which is right outside the bathroom blow the stank into my face in my room (it's a small room). It is not because almost everyone I've ever let close to me has shown me good intentions they could not live up to and said words that turned out to be unintentional lies. It is mostly because of what most people do to each other and to this world every day.
Humans do not respect life. As much as most humans fear death so much they do not even discuss it, human actions individually and as a species are more suicidal than any other species on this planet. The human species is a parasite that does not care if it's host dies.
Harsh, huh?
Ok, so I obviously wanted to vent a bit about the people closest to me, but I've known much deeper betrayals and much more dirty living spaces (though this is the longest I ever stayed in one without cleaning it myself). I imagine there are some people in this world who take responsibility for life-supporting lives much more than I do, but I just do not seem to attract them and that's my bad. Maybe they are just not as good at finding broken lost souls as I am (cuz I sure find them a lot). Maybe I am too broken and lost. Maybe I am hidden beneath such a clever maze, no one can find me.
G used to tell me that. Hail Toronto.
Meanwhile, I'm getting hungry and the last thing I want to do is eat this late because I have been turning the six month pigout around these last thirty-six hours and if I can keep this up a few more days I just might remember how good it feels to not be bloated all the time and maybe even get back to some sort of exercising daily since I have a free gym (two, actually) at work and that is still just six short blocks away. Actually, less. Sleep would be right about now anyway because it just might not rain tomorrow night and I just might get to play softball for the first time in... has it been a month? No wonder I am discombobulated.
Be healthy out there.
Narf :)
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Suck It Up and Love It
Yeah, right, so I can babble at will (and you can dance if you wanna) if I want to so what's with all the missing days (or dates) here in the babbling daily life (and I can even babble on about daily life as if someone is actually interested in the minute details and even actually interested in knowing me and maybe even letting me know {there's always hope} even if I lose interest in recording {as in writing all the words} all this and that myself sometimes... what?... never trust a parentheses... wait, or is that always trust a parentheses... well, you decide cuz only I know the truth... like god, ya know?)..
Of course (as if it's as obvious as the last paragraph or more, even) there are more pages than the missing day/dates in the letters to J (and no, J is not Jackson, two different people on two different longitudes with two different lives and personalities and only similar down deep at the core where the heart is pure) because I was drawn to writing letters to J as much, if not more, than writing here because J responds and... well... just look at the comments left here over the last hundred entries or so (or more) and the dead silence from you, dear readers, is not much of a motivator when I am seeking motivation to babble on about all the little details of this life I loosely call mine (or any sort of daily life for that matter... did we just do a double take?) so one day the missing day/dates might be filled in... or maybe I'll just start a new blog called Letters to J or something like that.
It's laundry day.
That's right, I was all jazzed about cleaning last night and getting laundry done so I had energy. Laundry, however, has a history that brings back memories of family and my experience of family brings memories of immense joy and intense pain. Then a text comes wishing me a happy father's day from one of my adopted daughters. She's grown and I hear from her now and then and she's back in this city and thought of me on father's day. Sweet. So it's father's day, who knew? lol. Sweet.
About then I wandered over to Diaryland and started reminiscing a bit.
Then there was the time Andrew wrote the Diaryland Song and in those two links I think the whole experience of Diaryland is summed up well. Just a place to share yourself, a place to be yourself without pretenses or any sort of mass-market production. A place to be real, make mistakes, share successes, failures, joys, pains, and fun. A place to suck if you wanna lol.
Almost like LiveJournal or the old myspace blog, but more intimate and personal and private. And simpler. And still free and still there, even after all these years. That's a Canadian mind for you (and why I love and respect the basic Canadian mindset, mostly... Aussies too, for different reasons... yes, Kiwi's too... once in love with Kazzy... wait, we'll be hearing from Sharetruth and Childinside at this rate... can the mush be far behind?). Diaryland was and still is a place where people could become friends anonymously without it being an oxymoron.
Many hours later, many loads of laundry washed, dried, folded, and put on the shelves where they belong, many rivers to cross. I wandered Diaryland for a while and watched Rizzoli & Isles for a while. That was one of Jackson's favorite shows, maybe her favorite. I miss having a roommate. I miss having a TV watching friend. I miss having a softball partner. I miss having a dinner partner. I miss having someone to call in emergencies. I miss having family close. I miss having a best friend. Jackson was all that and more for me. Yeah, sigh. The final season of that show was emo, especially the last episode. A little like Family Guy in the last scene, but maybe that's just me.
Meanwhile, Diaryland (oh, was there a topic for this blog post?... or is it an entry... take me back, why dontcha) offered more hope for finding minds that might relate to mine. Babblers. Even if they are not as different as I am, hey, I know my mind wanders way off the beaten path of normalcy when there's no real world responsibilities to be taken care of and I really don't expect anyone to follow me there (oh, but we can dream), no less actually be there when I wander through the infinite possibilities, but it sure would be a wonderful surprise if someone related to the infinite possibilities with me. So many rules govern human existence (stop me before I vent), so many rules govern human thinking. Maybe some physical rules are immotile (and yet, can our laws of physics be unique to our universe or even our part of our universe?) but rules for thinking?
That just seems so restrictive for a mind. Sad, really.
Here's a human limit few discuss outside of anthropological sociological philosophy (discuss amongst yourselves), why do we restrict the human rights and freedoms of human children for 18 years or longer in our culture? Seems to me the actions of control freaks and people afraid of the potential leaps forward in human development that could happen if we allow minds to reach for the infinite possibilities when they have a whole lot more ability to learn than adults do. Instead, adults force feed what we call education and rules of thinking to children, breaking their spirits, even drugging them into submission and conformity. That could be considered child abuse from a child's perspective. Thank about it.
Anyway, Diaryland reminded me that there are people online who think differently. Perhaps the anonymity helps. I try to respect anonymity but I don't hide myself and maybe that's why some of my readers don't share much. I know a few told me so. Some didn't tell me until after I innocently cheered them with a link in my diary or blog and then after I removed the link they didn't trust me to keep them anonymous anymore. So I will continue repeating this...
Yeah, meanwhile I should also have a disclaimer about my tendency to distract myself with mental multitasking for the fun of it until I push past my limits and lose track of what paths my mind wandered down simply because that is when I take leaps and combine random paths and every now and then something worthwhile comes of it. For better or worse, I wander off before I read a whole lot (between work and play and babbling I don't really have much time for reading, but I so l've the written word I want to correspond more like I used to... hundreds of pen pals once upon the time... even published pen pal magazines... where are you all now?).
So I decided to make notes here so I might return to writers I want to check out (like books from the library, but like a singles bar, sheesh) when I have more time (or maybe they will reach out to me and start a conversation and we'll find we are friends and inspire each other). I start at one of my favorites for many years, Dangerspouse, and let's see where this journey instigated by Mr. Spouse (and his favorites) takes us.
Misfit Stray (or is that Mis Fit Stray... or Mis Fits Tray, for that matter?... laughing, for again, so much and so little can be in a name, I enjoy the semantic game play and mean no harm) was the first stop and I either remember her from long ago in that vague memory of writing at Diaryland or she just feels like an old friend in some odd way, even. She moved and left no forwarding address. Fine start. There is an email though so perhaps I shall move to that after I finish babbling here (or maybe not as I don't want to start a communication I will just neglect due to lack of time... alas, so many correspondences have been left like dangling participles in the winds of time). Wait, upon further inspection (clicking the back button to her previous entry), I found she moved here to create her own world on her own server (or something like that.. I started out like that but got too lazy to maintain it so blogspot does it for me... save... a lot). Misfitsray is cool.
Ok, so she is back on the active writers to check outlist she returns. I shiver when I imagine where she lives though, snow on the ground in late April is an environment I left long ago. I am a tropical babbler.
Already side=tracked by who knows what, I am going to pause in the visitation and leave you with some writers I knew once upn a time who I stumbled upon tonight and am now wondering about (maybe it's a tribute):
Stepford Tart was one of the cast of the online soap opera a friend (Smash The Gas) wrote many years ago on Diaryland. I never made it on to her "Stuff I Like" list (I rarely do, probably because my babbling is so whatever it is and readers fall asleep or wander off before they remember my name, but I remember liking her and so I wonder). I hope she didn't die. I know we all die someday and it's a natural part of this life experience, but I always wish I had told people I enjoy reading how much I enjoy reading them after I find out they died. And then I read some notes and find out she died and pow, right in the heart. Don't I have sick timing. I know, it's not always all about me. Hopefully she is somewhere laughing in some form at my out-of-the-blue concern and knows it is sincere, even though it is so seldom expressed.
Speaking of the dead (with no ill intended, really) Hiss and Tell is gone, I mean her diary is locked (alas, it happens to the best of us), but she is also gone from the planet, I think. She was a joy to read (at least as much as Dangerspouse and sometimes more and Danger is one of my favorite reads, but his ego has had enough strokes and this is Hiss's bit (like what you can't tell?... don't hiss, this paragraph is made with love). Hiss would weave a tale with guttural class that always amused and usually gave me a feeling of a chocolate ping pong ball bouncing around in my head, only with purpose and meaning far beyond anything I ever put into words. I miss Hiss.
Then, keeping with the theme of gone, but in this case, hopefully not dead yet, there was Z0tl. Yes, Z0tl. Z0tl appears o have deleted or disabled all sign of his online creations which brings much sadness to my world (he inspired more than a few searches over the years. Ah, the wayback machine, one of these days. I hope he is still alive and doing something he enjoys and not too buried in darkness or pain. He did not know just how much of a creative genius he was (and could be) because modesty and cynicism combined to skew his view of himself (and love, modern medicine, and the immigration authorities all failed him), but I still remember enjoying the visit to the Kennedy Space Center when he visited Florida. Long Live Z0tl! May he return to the written world someday.
Smash The Gas is my hard rocking pedal to the floor friend from across the pond who created an online soap opera that put me in two rather prominent roles (was I exhibiting schizoid multiple personality disorder or did I really have an evil twin?... perhaps the story will continue one day and we will find out) that tickled me from heart to ego. I think he was reflecting my Candora and Candoor diaries and used his genius to combine and separate them into two characters that were somehow me squared. Besides the ego food, there was a lot of wonderful reading in Smash's diary. He was one beautiful monster. I still hope for more.
She was a Dandy Dandy she was. I hope she wasn't hurt by the water (seriously) and sadly, another link to another locked diary. Maybe she and the CuteThing and others I mention along the way will find this entry and send me a key cuz I really am going through a missy fit (as in missing you) at the moment. Who'da thought words could create such a bond in the brain. Not James Bond, more like memory epoxy on some synapses. My memory took my diaryland journey on a detour tonight and one of these nights (one of these long and lonely nights, even) I will return to the scene of the crime (what?... you thought there's be no link to the kindly old madman who started all this?... and no, I don't mean me, at least not this time) to continue the journey through Dangerspouse's favorites and links and wherever the random clicks might take me. I miss you Dandy, see how I had to distract myself with other memories just to keep from embarrassing you? Wonder Woman (yes you Dandy), where you are, I love you.
So if I say folding is ironing. Does that make me a bachelor?
Amazing what a good laundry day might bring, aye? And with that philosophical ponder, I shall bid you all a fond farewell until next time when I steal time from sleep to reminisce, revisit, or otherwise babble on through friendly writers and writing friends and whatever else mind may wonder. There will be no quiz, only the memory of the memories remembered memorably.
May we all be together again.
Narf :)
Of course (as if it's as obvious as the last paragraph or more, even) there are more pages than the missing day/dates in the letters to J (and no, J is not Jackson, two different people on two different longitudes with two different lives and personalities and only similar down deep at the core where the heart is pure) because I was drawn to writing letters to J as much, if not more, than writing here because J responds and... well... just look at the comments left here over the last hundred entries or so (or more) and the dead silence from you, dear readers, is not much of a motivator when I am seeking motivation to babble on about all the little details of this life I loosely call mine (or any sort of daily life for that matter... did we just do a double take?) so one day the missing day/dates might be filled in... or maybe I'll just start a new blog called Letters to J or something like that.
It's laundry day.
That's right, I was all jazzed about cleaning last night and getting laundry done so I had energy. Laundry, however, has a history that brings back memories of family and my experience of family brings memories of immense joy and intense pain. Then a text comes wishing me a happy father's day from one of my adopted daughters. She's grown and I hear from her now and then and she's back in this city and thought of me on father's day. Sweet. So it's father's day, who knew? lol. Sweet.
About then I wandered over to Diaryland and started reminiscing a bit.
Then there was the time Andrew wrote the Diaryland Song and in those two links I think the whole experience of Diaryland is summed up well. Just a place to share yourself, a place to be yourself without pretenses or any sort of mass-market production. A place to be real, make mistakes, share successes, failures, joys, pains, and fun. A place to suck if you wanna lol.
Almost like LiveJournal or the old myspace blog, but more intimate and personal and private. And simpler. And still free and still there, even after all these years. That's a Canadian mind for you (and why I love and respect the basic Canadian mindset, mostly... Aussies too, for different reasons... yes, Kiwi's too... once in love with Kazzy... wait, we'll be hearing from Sharetruth and Childinside at this rate... can the mush be far behind?). Diaryland was and still is a place where people could become friends anonymously without it being an oxymoron.
Many hours later, many loads of laundry washed, dried, folded, and put on the shelves where they belong, many rivers to cross. I wandered Diaryland for a while and watched Rizzoli & Isles for a while. That was one of Jackson's favorite shows, maybe her favorite. I miss having a roommate. I miss having a TV watching friend. I miss having a softball partner. I miss having a dinner partner. I miss having someone to call in emergencies. I miss having family close. I miss having a best friend. Jackson was all that and more for me. Yeah, sigh. The final season of that show was emo, especially the last episode. A little like Family Guy in the last scene, but maybe that's just me.
Meanwhile, Diaryland (oh, was there a topic for this blog post?... or is it an entry... take me back, why dontcha) offered more hope for finding minds that might relate to mine. Babblers. Even if they are not as different as I am, hey, I know my mind wanders way off the beaten path of normalcy when there's no real world responsibilities to be taken care of and I really don't expect anyone to follow me there (oh, but we can dream), no less actually be there when I wander through the infinite possibilities, but it sure would be a wonderful surprise if someone related to the infinite possibilities with me. So many rules govern human existence (stop me before I vent), so many rules govern human thinking. Maybe some physical rules are immotile (and yet, can our laws of physics be unique to our universe or even our part of our universe?) but rules for thinking?
That just seems so restrictive for a mind. Sad, really.
Here's a human limit few discuss outside of anthropological sociological philosophy (discuss amongst yourselves), why do we restrict the human rights and freedoms of human children for 18 years or longer in our culture? Seems to me the actions of control freaks and people afraid of the potential leaps forward in human development that could happen if we allow minds to reach for the infinite possibilities when they have a whole lot more ability to learn than adults do. Instead, adults force feed what we call education and rules of thinking to children, breaking their spirits, even drugging them into submission and conformity. That could be considered child abuse from a child's perspective. Thank about it.
Anyway, Diaryland reminded me that there are people online who think differently. Perhaps the anonymity helps. I try to respect anonymity but I don't hide myself and maybe that's why some of my readers don't share much. I know a few told me so. Some didn't tell me until after I innocently cheered them with a link in my diary or blog and then after I removed the link they didn't trust me to keep them anonymous anymore. So I will continue repeating this...
If anyone linked in any of my writings does not want to be linked, please tell me and I will not link you. I link out of respect and admiration, but I can respect and admire without linking if that is your preference.
Yeah, meanwhile I should also have a disclaimer about my tendency to distract myself with mental multitasking for the fun of it until I push past my limits and lose track of what paths my mind wandered down simply because that is when I take leaps and combine random paths and every now and then something worthwhile comes of it. For better or worse, I wander off before I read a whole lot (between work and play and babbling I don't really have much time for reading, but I so l've the written word I want to correspond more like I used to... hundreds of pen pals once upon the time... even published pen pal magazines... where are you all now?).
So I decided to make notes here so I might return to writers I want to check out (like books from the library, but like a singles bar, sheesh) when I have more time (or maybe they will reach out to me and start a conversation and we'll find we are friends and inspire each other). I start at one of my favorites for many years, Dangerspouse, and let's see where this journey instigated by Mr. Spouse (and his favorites) takes us.
Misfit Stray (or is that Mis Fit Stray... or Mis Fits Tray, for that matter?... laughing, for again, so much and so little can be in a name, I enjoy the semantic game play and mean no harm) was the first stop and I either remember her from long ago in that vague memory of writing at Diaryland or she just feels like an old friend in some odd way, even. She moved and left no forwarding address. Fine start. There is an email though so perhaps I shall move to that after I finish babbling here (or maybe not as I don't want to start a communication I will just neglect due to lack of time... alas, so many correspondences have been left like dangling participles in the winds of time). Wait, upon further inspection (clicking the back button to her previous entry), I found she moved here to create her own world on her own server (or something like that.. I started out like that but got too lazy to maintain it so blogspot does it for me... save... a lot). Misfitsray is cool.
Ok, so she is back on the active writers to check outlist she returns. I shiver when I imagine where she lives though, snow on the ground in late April is an environment I left long ago. I am a tropical babbler.
Already side=tracked by who knows what, I am going to pause in the visitation and leave you with some writers I knew once upn a time who I stumbled upon tonight and am now wondering about (maybe it's a tribute):
Stepford Tart was one of the cast of the online soap opera a friend (Smash The Gas) wrote many years ago on Diaryland. I never made it on to her "Stuff I Like" list (I rarely do, probably because my babbling is so whatever it is and readers fall asleep or wander off before they remember my name, but I remember liking her and so I wonder). I hope she didn't die. I know we all die someday and it's a natural part of this life experience, but I always wish I had told people I enjoy reading how much I enjoy reading them after I find out they died. And then I read some notes and find out she died and pow, right in the heart. Don't I have sick timing. I know, it's not always all about me. Hopefully she is somewhere laughing in some form at my out-of-the-blue concern and knows it is sincere, even though it is so seldom expressed.
Speaking of the dead (with no ill intended, really) Hiss and Tell is gone, I mean her diary is locked (alas, it happens to the best of us), but she is also gone from the planet, I think. She was a joy to read (at least as much as Dangerspouse and sometimes more and Danger is one of my favorite reads, but his ego has had enough strokes and this is Hiss's bit (like what you can't tell?... don't hiss, this paragraph is made with love). Hiss would weave a tale with guttural class that always amused and usually gave me a feeling of a chocolate ping pong ball bouncing around in my head, only with purpose and meaning far beyond anything I ever put into words. I miss Hiss.
Then, keeping with the theme of gone, but in this case, hopefully not dead yet, there was Z0tl. Yes, Z0tl. Z0tl appears o have deleted or disabled all sign of his online creations which brings much sadness to my world (he inspired more than a few searches over the years. Ah, the wayback machine, one of these days. I hope he is still alive and doing something he enjoys and not too buried in darkness or pain. He did not know just how much of a creative genius he was (and could be) because modesty and cynicism combined to skew his view of himself (and love, modern medicine, and the immigration authorities all failed him), but I still remember enjoying the visit to the Kennedy Space Center when he visited Florida. Long Live Z0tl! May he return to the written world someday.
Smash The Gas is my hard rocking pedal to the floor friend from across the pond who created an online soap opera that put me in two rather prominent roles (was I exhibiting schizoid multiple personality disorder or did I really have an evil twin?... perhaps the story will continue one day and we will find out) that tickled me from heart to ego. I think he was reflecting my Candora and Candoor diaries and used his genius to combine and separate them into two characters that were somehow me squared. Besides the ego food, there was a lot of wonderful reading in Smash's diary. He was one beautiful monster. I still hope for more.
She was a Dandy Dandy she was. I hope she wasn't hurt by the water (seriously) and sadly, another link to another locked diary. Maybe she and the CuteThing and others I mention along the way will find this entry and send me a key cuz I really am going through a missy fit (as in missing you) at the moment. Who'da thought words could create such a bond in the brain. Not James Bond, more like memory epoxy on some synapses. My memory took my diaryland journey on a detour tonight and one of these nights (one of these long and lonely nights, even) I will return to the scene of the crime (what?... you thought there's be no link to the kindly old madman who started all this?... and no, I don't mean me, at least not this time) to continue the journey through Dangerspouse's favorites and links and wherever the random clicks might take me. I miss you Dandy, see how I had to distract myself with other memories just to keep from embarrassing you? Wonder Woman (yes you Dandy), where you are, I love you.
So if I say folding is ironing. Does that make me a bachelor?
Amazing what a good laundry day might bring, aye? And with that philosophical ponder, I shall bid you all a fond farewell until next time when I steal time from sleep to reminisce, revisit, or otherwise babble on through friendly writers and writing friends and whatever else mind may wonder. There will be no quiz, only the memory of the memories remembered memorably.
May we all be together again.
Narf :)
Monday, June 19, 2017
So I Concentrated (Rinse, Repeat?)
This was actually written days from now because I forgot I had uploaded the previous entry so maybe it's a contest for which entry expanded on the original best since both this and the previous entry here were expansions on the brief blog which will be surreptitiously linked at some later time, no doubt.
Hey, you, are you with me?
Hello, like in Pink Floyd's song... anybody? I know you're out there somewhere (not just cuz the Moody Blues told me) and it would be a huge (not the Trump kind) kindness if you would share a few words (candoor at the gmail, you can do it!) here or in email or text (if you can't find my number you haven't looked). I kind of like her voice, but I wish she's stop talking and play the whole songs. Meanwhile, I have not one bit of kidding when I say (or write) that I would really like to continue (really I would, do you want me to?... a yes would inspire so much) and I kinda almost did (or at least started), but maybe the worms did eat into his brain after all. Sigh, ya know?
I really want to see what she looks like (is she her?
Oh I've so been there (and wanna be again, aye?)
Meanwhile, in what passed as the daily life, which is what the brief and this blog is supposed to be about (in case it matters... are you still awake?), I spent the day out in the world having fun. That was after a less than ideal sleep night as lot of interruptions came around. Eb wanted to tell me his itinerary at my door as I was eating so I think he's going away this week, but I was not paying attention. Don't expect me to take detailed notes while I am eating. I don't eat to get fat, I eat to savor the tastes. Pay attention and you'll enjoy life more. And lose some weight like you said you would. Who me? Then there was the lawn guy pounding on the door and ringing the bell several times yesterday after work well into the late evening, I might have mentioned that. Then he's back ringing the doorbell before 7am this morning until Eb got home around 8am. Eb asks me what's with the guy. I explain what he's been doing for the last three weeks and repeat the mantra he's your lawn guy, I just pay you rent and you decide how to spend it. Then a wrong number phone call on the work phone woke me again at 9am. I finally got up and showered about a little after 11am.
Something's gotta change in my eating sleeping exercise habits. Less, more, and more would be wise.
Once there was a way (or something like that).
Then I was off to lunch with Helen, her mother, and one of Helen's girlfriend. We went to the least healthy salad place I know, Sweet Tomatoes. How Americans eat salads, with lots of dressing, bread, cheese, pasta, and high calories soups. Oh,let's not forget the ice cream. I actually ate too much (what's wrong with five bowls of soup, I mean they had eight or nine kinds and I had to try some of them) and had to stop at a big box store to use the bathroom. I am getting rather comfortable using outside public bathrooms. Naturally I bought a few things. Less spending too, please (see the close of the previous paragraph that was more than a one line plug for the seven thousand entries in my previous blog).
Are we having fun yet?
Well, if you must know, I am out in the car a lot some days for work and I visit friends far from where I sleep a lot so I use the facilities wherever I need to. I know some clean ones and bring my own clean-up stuff. Shades of the homeless song, no doubt.
Anyway, then I met Helen at her house (she had taken her mom grocery shopping and I was supposed to be getting a haircut) and we went to an even bigger big box store and bought some more stuff (somebody hide my wallet). After that we went to the haircut lady and she took the day off, so no haircut. Nobody will believe me but Helen witnessed it. I actually wanted a haircut.
Then we hung out at her house for a while (she did chores, I relaxed... she doesn't sit still much, which is why she can eat buffets with me and is still so thin, dangit) until it was time for me to head to cards. A selection of the usual suspects were there (at cards) along with the usual cheap pizza for dinner (Hungry Howie's tonight) and in the end, I finished second and walked away up $50. Good deal.
Heading home, I stopped at the storage unit and picked up a cooler because I am going to start keeping two coolers in the car, one for the laptop bag (in the trunk) and one for drinks in the car. Driving around in the heat on weekends or on weekends for work is getting expensive, so bring drinks and keeping the laptops cool is beyond sensible.
When I got home I found myself motivated to straighten up and reorganize this room and it is much more spacious (for a small box) and things are more easily available. Such a mood must not be ignored. Who knows, I might get to the laundry this week. Only about eight or ten loads piled up. No wonder I am getting itches on the feets.
Now, if only someone was here to share the fun, life (and this space) would be even better.
Even here
Hello?... hello... hello...
Narf :)
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Stop The World (I'm Trying to Concentrate)
Interruptions, interruptions, and then, the interruptions get interrupted by more interruptions. That could become a fractal fracturing all concentration and undermining any organized thought which could leave a body floundering in a life of disarray. Let's not let that happen to our hero, m'ok?
Hey, you, are you with me? The writer, the babbler, our hero, let' not lose him to the normalcy of complacency and procrastination. Let's care, dangit!
I'd like to continue (babbling on my quest for the one and assorted other reasons for living even as I might be nodding off at the computer here) and I kinda almost did (or at least started), but maybe the worms did eat into his brain after all cuz nonsense is as amusing as the seriousness of the quest these days and there is still a great divergence between the normal human acceptance and definition of common sense and mine. Sigh, ya know?
Meanwhile, in the daily life, which is what this blog is supposed to be about (in case it matters) and this blog you are currently reading is supposed to babble on about digging into all the dirt, drama, and details while interjecting any associated or random tangent that might come to mind), I spent the day out in the world having fun. Yup, meanwhile.
That was after a less than ideal sleep night as lot of interruptions came around. Eb wanted to tell me his itinerary at my door the moment he walked in and I was eating so I think he's going away this week, but I was not paying attention. Food deserves undivided attention, ya know? I mean, don't expect me to take detailed notes while I am eating. It is a waste of calories.
Then there was the lawn guy pounding on the door and ringing the bell every hour or so well into the late evening yesterday. I might have mentioned that. Babbling was interrupted and that is a repeatable offence. I mean, it's worth repeating. For me, at least. Anyway, he's back ringing the doorbell before 7am until Eb woke around 7am. Then a wrong number phone call on the work phone woke me again at 9am. I finally opened my eyes for the day and got out of bed and showered about a little after 11am.
Then it was lunch with Helen, her mother, and one of Helen's girlfriends. Sweet Tomatoes, the deceptively fattening salad bar restaurant. I ate too much and had to stop at a big box store to use the bathroom on the way to getting a haircut. It was an awkward stop and I ended up buying butt cleaning stuff because I forgot to put some in my bad. That prompted me to want to get more organized and that idea percolated a bit as I headed to Helen's house.
I met Helen at her house and she wanted to go shopping so we went to an even bigger big box store and bought some more stuff to help organize the little stuff that make up a life. I bought a couple of mini five drawer mini-cabinets (now I just need a shelf to put them on) and some other organizing type stuff and some other stuff too. I bought some frozen pacs to keep in the freezer and use with two coolers I have in the cars (mine and the work car). I bought more underwear too. If you want to know the brands and colors or more details, you'll just have to ask (and tell me why you want to know).
n the way back to the car I told Helen I really must start restricting my spending because the savings is not growing the way I need it to grow to feel comfortable moving out of this room and into a more expensive space. I write it here again to emphasize the importance of restricting savings so I can get stuff out of storage and unpack in my own space again. Also on the agenda that should be emphasized... exercise, eat fewer calories, find a roommate and activity friends, fall in love, and save the world.
After that we hung out at her house for a while until it was time for me to head to cards. A selection of the usual suspects were there and cheap pizza (Hungry Howie's) was dinner and the aggressive player few people like (a few, including two of the closest friends I have in that group... the two who took me to Atlanta to pitch for their team... will not show up unless he isn't there) was up to his usual tricks trying to dominate the table and distract people when they are thinking and it was justice to see him go all-in and lose after he won it all and strutted like a peacock last week. Some people just do not have enough social skills to play well with others.
In the end, I finished second and walked away up $50. Good deal (pun not intended).
It was after midnight when I headed back here for the night, but on the way I stopped at the storage unit and picked up a cooler because, as I mentioned above, I am going to start keeping two coolers in the car, one for the laptop bag in the trunk (because I will not leave the laptops here because the crime rate is too high) and one for drinks in the car. I do a lot of driving for work and to see friends and driving around in the heat is getting expensive as I keep stopping for water and it is much cheaper to but n bulk. Simply, bringing drinks when spending several (or many, even) hours driving around (and in and out of the car) for work and or play, keeping the laptops cool is beyond sensible.
Finally actually heading back to this place with my bed, I found myself motivated to straighten up and reorganize this room and it is much more spacious (for a small box) and after about an hour and a half, things are more easily available.
There is more, but sleep is calling and the eyes are closing.
Now, if only someone was here to share the fun, life (and this space) would be even better.
Hello?... hello... hello... (to be continued)
Narf :)
Hey, you, are you with me? The writer, the babbler, our hero, let' not lose him to the normalcy of complacency and procrastination. Let's care, dangit!
I'd like to continue (babbling on my quest for the one and assorted other reasons for living even as I might be nodding off at the computer here) and I kinda almost did (or at least started), but maybe the worms did eat into his brain after all cuz nonsense is as amusing as the seriousness of the quest these days and there is still a great divergence between the normal human acceptance and definition of common sense and mine. Sigh, ya know?
Meanwhile, in the daily life, which is what this blog is supposed to be about (in case it matters) and this blog you are currently reading is supposed to babble on about digging into all the dirt, drama, and details while interjecting any associated or random tangent that might come to mind), I spent the day out in the world having fun. Yup, meanwhile.
That was after a less than ideal sleep night as lot of interruptions came around. Eb wanted to tell me his itinerary at my door the moment he walked in and I was eating so I think he's going away this week, but I was not paying attention. Food deserves undivided attention, ya know? I mean, don't expect me to take detailed notes while I am eating. It is a waste of calories.
Then there was the lawn guy pounding on the door and ringing the bell every hour or so well into the late evening yesterday. I might have mentioned that. Babbling was interrupted and that is a repeatable offence. I mean, it's worth repeating. For me, at least. Anyway, he's back ringing the doorbell before 7am until Eb woke around 7am. Then a wrong number phone call on the work phone woke me again at 9am. I finally opened my eyes for the day and got out of bed and showered about a little after 11am.
Then it was lunch with Helen, her mother, and one of Helen's girlfriends. Sweet Tomatoes, the deceptively fattening salad bar restaurant. I ate too much and had to stop at a big box store to use the bathroom on the way to getting a haircut. It was an awkward stop and I ended up buying butt cleaning stuff because I forgot to put some in my bad. That prompted me to want to get more organized and that idea percolated a bit as I headed to Helen's house.
I met Helen at her house and she wanted to go shopping so we went to an even bigger big box store and bought some more stuff to help organize the little stuff that make up a life. I bought a couple of mini five drawer mini-cabinets (now I just need a shelf to put them on) and some other organizing type stuff and some other stuff too. I bought some frozen pacs to keep in the freezer and use with two coolers I have in the cars (mine and the work car). I bought more underwear too. If you want to know the brands and colors or more details, you'll just have to ask (and tell me why you want to know).
n the way back to the car I told Helen I really must start restricting my spending because the savings is not growing the way I need it to grow to feel comfortable moving out of this room and into a more expensive space. I write it here again to emphasize the importance of restricting savings so I can get stuff out of storage and unpack in my own space again. Also on the agenda that should be emphasized... exercise, eat fewer calories, find a roommate and activity friends, fall in love, and save the world.
After that we hung out at her house for a while until it was time for me to head to cards. A selection of the usual suspects were there and cheap pizza (Hungry Howie's) was dinner and the aggressive player few people like (a few, including two of the closest friends I have in that group... the two who took me to Atlanta to pitch for their team... will not show up unless he isn't there) was up to his usual tricks trying to dominate the table and distract people when they are thinking and it was justice to see him go all-in and lose after he won it all and strutted like a peacock last week. Some people just do not have enough social skills to play well with others.
In the end, I finished second and walked away up $50. Good deal (pun not intended).
It was after midnight when I headed back here for the night, but on the way I stopped at the storage unit and picked up a cooler because, as I mentioned above, I am going to start keeping two coolers in the car, one for the laptop bag in the trunk (because I will not leave the laptops here because the crime rate is too high) and one for drinks in the car. I do a lot of driving for work and to see friends and driving around in the heat is getting expensive as I keep stopping for water and it is much cheaper to but n bulk. Simply, bringing drinks when spending several (or many, even) hours driving around (and in and out of the car) for work and or play, keeping the laptops cool is beyond sensible.
Finally actually heading back to this place with my bed, I found myself motivated to straighten up and reorganize this room and it is much more spacious (for a small box) and after about an hour and a half, things are more easily available.
There is more, but sleep is calling and the eyes are closing.
Now, if only someone was here to share the fun, life (and this space) would be even better.
Hello?... hello... hello... (to be continued)
Narf :)
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Terrorists Delight
This one went behind this entry you are reading way too quickly. It really is a shame when reality interrupts a good babbling flow for no reason. Sales people ought to be shot. Ok, maybe that's a bit extreme. Or is it? There are moments when I understand the recluse on the mountain who fires a warning shot at strangers. Then starts the music. This neighborhood holds a plethora of followers of rap with aggressive base lines and often hostile lyrics who get some sort of reward from sitting in their cars with the windows open and the radio blasting as loud as it can go. Sometimes is doesn't like a war movie outside, especially when Eb leaves the windows open. Lately he's been doing that again. He seems to forget how he reminds me about how high the electric bill is during weeks he does not get the electric bill. Maybe you shouldn't leave the windows open and the air conditioner on, aye Eb? I've pointed that out a few times, but he obviously forgets.
Then there is the lawn guy who doesn't seem to understand a few simple facts like that Eb is not home when his scooter is not outside and I do not own this house or pay him. He (the lawn guy) does not have a phone (or vehicle, apparently) and walks over here from where he lives several times on Friday evenings either asking if he can mow the lawn or asking to be paid for mowing the lawn. I say the same thing to him again and again. Eb's not home if his motor scooter is not outside in the driveway. It's Eb's house, he decides when the lawn should be owed, he pays the bills. Every Friday night since I have been home (cuz softball has been rained out the last few Friday nights). At first I tried to help by calling Eb, but Eb doesn't always answer. I really don't want to be rude or mean or a bad neighbor (especially in this high crime neighborhood), but please stop making me get up and get dressed and answer the door to say the same thing, especially not when I am in the babbling zone. Or sleeping.
Last Friday night I went out for ice cream and stayed out a couple of hours.
Might be doing the same thing tonight.
The perils of living with a completely disorganized and careless person is having to take responsibility for him (or her) simply by being a responsible organized person in the same space. I have drawn the line on many levels, but some things just can't be avoided without leaving the space. Like persistent lawn guys. And filthy kitchens and bathrooms. Having no local friends (no one closer the 25-30 minutes away) and no friends I can just stop by without rather formal planning does not help as there is no easy escape.
So the wonderful ethereal eclectic flow of babble has turned into a gripe session as reality pounded itself (on the front door) into my internal meanderings and the secrets of the universe (and me) will have to wait for another time when I have less aggressive interruptions. I wonder what would happen if I blasted Phantom of the Opera or The Beatles or Melissa Etheridge or Tommy or Harry Chapin or Pink Floyd or Elton John or The Moody Blues or classic Broadway show songs or Fall Out Boy or John Lennon or Evanescence or Cream or Dan Fogelberg or Led Zeppelin or The Beegees or Mars Volta or Barbara Streisand or Supertramp or The Eagles or Lori Carson or Elvis or Linda Ronstadt or Billy Joel or Depeche Mode or Snow Patrol or The Four Tops or Black Sabbath or Barry Manilow or Metallica or Mary Poppins or Air Supply or Springsteen or Leslie Gore or Jarah Jane or Jackson Browne or Spill Canvas or Bread or Lynyrd Skynyrd or Rilo Kiley or Dead Can Dance or Heart or R.E.M. or The Beach Boys Allman Brothers or Tom Chapin or Chicago or The Innocence Mission or Leonard Cohen or U2 or Alice Cooper or Bob Dylan or Sarah Macglachlin or Art of Noise or Neil Sedaka or Joan Jett or Don Mclean or The The or Tanya Tucker or Abba West Side Story or The Four Season or Andy Williams or Queen or Meg and Dia Aerosmith or The Supremes or Jewel or Genesis or Chuck Berry or Men At Work or Demi Lovato or Blind Faith or Joni Mitchell or Mozart or The Cardigans or Foreigner or Bright Eyes or The Doors or The Sound of Music or The Pretenders or Smashing Pumpkins or The Waterboys or Frank Zappa or Sleater Kinney or Jay and the Americans or Alanis Morissette or Death Cab for Cutie or The Cure or She and Him or Janis Joplin or Nada Surf or Bob Marley or Bing Crosby or Pearl Jam or Sheryl Crow or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Shania Twain or Jimi Hendrix or Kon Kan or No Doubt or The Rolling Stones or Sinead O'Conner or Jethro Tull or Blue Rodeo or Derek and the Dominoes or Cindy Lauper or Portishead or Bethovan or Stone Temple Pilots or Charlotte Gainsbourg or The Clash or The Platters or The Cranberries or Donovan or Say Anything or Tegan and Sara or Radiohead or The Telling or Lenka or Jesus Christ Superstar or George Carlin or Robin Williams or Lenny Bruce, for that matter.
So many different kinds of music (and I've left out so much). Why do some people only blast one?
Obviously I felt like writing tonight. A bit of loneliness. A bit of frustration. A bit of imagination. A bit of alienation. A bit of memories. A bit of creativity. A bit of wishing and hoping and dreaming. And a whole lot of music. Maybe the best thing about music is that you don't have to listen to hear it.
Then there's Jackson. I am concerned about her. I am concerned that she is still not whole enough inside to have a balanced relationship where she is not co-dependent and dominated. I am concerned that Brandy is too controlling due to her own insecurities and alienating Jackson from all of the people who mean the most to her and from the social network she depends on for her emotional stability. She (Jackson) has such an external locus of control and Brandy seems to want to be the only external food/support for Jackson's very hungry/needy self-esteem and security. I fear Jackson might do something dangerous to herself if Brandy pulls the plug because Jackson is too needy to go it alone without any of her network.
Being your priority does not mean being the only one in your daily life.
Brandy wants Jackson to stop texting her friends every day. I think it is pretty selfish or Brandy to make Jackson stop texting her friends every day and not let Jackson have lunch or dinner with a friend. I think that is an unhealthy relationship. The only time she can get together with a friend is when Brandy goes out of town and apparently, Brandy reacts poorly afterward. Just last week when Jackson and I had dinner together for the first time in months, she told me how much she misses her friends, how different she and Brandy are socially (Jackson wanting a network of friends, Brandy wanting only one) and how she feels isolated. When friends are shut out, there is no external perspective. There is only the dominant controller setting the rules. That can become abusive, if not physically, at least emotionally. For the friends, there is a helplessness that simply must be accepted. All we are left with is hope that she knows how much she is compromising and giving up of herself to satisfy Brandy and hope she survives and finds happiness and peace and security without her network or even her close friends and hope she is satisfied with what she has even though we know it is less than what she wants. I hope they can be happy together.
Sometimes big brothers (like dads) have to just let go and hope for the best.
Meanwhile, I return to babbling to myself a bit and that is a wonderful thing for me. I have only been babbling in letters to J and I might not have babbled at all recently if not for J so thank you J for providing the inspiration and safe haven. Once of these days I will figure out what I want to do with all the words I've been pouring into letters to J. They'd be edited for her privacy, of course, and then expanded upon as able usually is. Another new blog, perhaps. An extension of Letters To the Night, a LiveJournal that never quite got off the ground and may have been removed from their servers for inactivity. Oh, how very sad to find out you've been purged.
Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. Keep on keeping on.
Then, outside, gunshots.
The loud music and party got very quiet all of a sudden. I looked out and saw the group out in front of the house across the street mulling around awkwardly and a guy in a red shirt with a gun in his hand walked across my lawn and crossed over to them. Apparently they knew him and convinced him to put the gum away. They hardly made a sound after that as sound of the shots woke the dogs around the neighborhood and the barking may have given them concern that the police might stop by. After a few minutes the party wet indoors and there has not been a peep since. It's the first time I actually saw a gun across the street. Until tonight all of the drug buyers have been very discreet and mellow.
Alas, I am stuck here trying to balance my budget and save money as I've been spending more than I ought to and not saving as quickly as I intended. I have way too many expenses. $400 car. $140 NY storage. $130 Fl storage. $150 phone. $100 car insurance. $550 rent. $15 rental insurance. $75-100 gas. That's $1585 already. More than a two week take home. I don't earn nearly what I used to so I must slow down on spending. I've been buying a lot since I started this job because I don't want to spend time searching through storage partly because the mice got in and I had to move stuff around and spray a lot and it's not as clean in there as I'd like so I don't want to open boxes. I've been eating out a lot and occasionally high priced meals. I am a bit out of control. I easily say who cares and fuck it and move along. That keeps me stuck here.
Well, hasn't this entry turned into a rotten kettle of fish. Where's that barrel of monkeys when you need it, aye? Oh sure, make jokes. And we were having so much fun before it all went south. Some say the south will rise again. I say I am hoping this irreverence helps me rise above the depressing surroundings and reality so I can get back into the escapism babbling that was starting this weekend off with a bang and a bing and a burp. Softball tomorrow, weather willing. Perhaps lunch with Helen and her mom. Perhaps Texas hold'em in the evening. We shall see how I feel in the morning. At the moment I feel much more alone than when the night started. Much more alone. Much.
Oh those darn whipporwills.
And I really don't want to die here either.
Narf.
Then there is the lawn guy who doesn't seem to understand a few simple facts like that Eb is not home when his scooter is not outside and I do not own this house or pay him. He (the lawn guy) does not have a phone (or vehicle, apparently) and walks over here from where he lives several times on Friday evenings either asking if he can mow the lawn or asking to be paid for mowing the lawn. I say the same thing to him again and again. Eb's not home if his motor scooter is not outside in the driveway. It's Eb's house, he decides when the lawn should be owed, he pays the bills. Every Friday night since I have been home (cuz softball has been rained out the last few Friday nights). At first I tried to help by calling Eb, but Eb doesn't always answer. I really don't want to be rude or mean or a bad neighbor (especially in this high crime neighborhood), but please stop making me get up and get dressed and answer the door to say the same thing, especially not when I am in the babbling zone. Or sleeping.
Last Friday night I went out for ice cream and stayed out a couple of hours.
Might be doing the same thing tonight.
The perils of living with a completely disorganized and careless person is having to take responsibility for him (or her) simply by being a responsible organized person in the same space. I have drawn the line on many levels, but some things just can't be avoided without leaving the space. Like persistent lawn guys. And filthy kitchens and bathrooms. Having no local friends (no one closer the 25-30 minutes away) and no friends I can just stop by without rather formal planning does not help as there is no easy escape.
So the wonderful ethereal eclectic flow of babble has turned into a gripe session as reality pounded itself (on the front door) into my internal meanderings and the secrets of the universe (and me) will have to wait for another time when I have less aggressive interruptions. I wonder what would happen if I blasted Phantom of the Opera or The Beatles or Melissa Etheridge or Tommy or Harry Chapin or Pink Floyd or Elton John or The Moody Blues or classic Broadway show songs or Fall Out Boy or John Lennon or Evanescence or Cream or Dan Fogelberg or Led Zeppelin or The Beegees or Mars Volta or Barbara Streisand or Supertramp or The Eagles or Lori Carson or Elvis or Linda Ronstadt or Billy Joel or Depeche Mode or Snow Patrol or The Four Tops or Black Sabbath or Barry Manilow or Metallica or Mary Poppins or Air Supply or Springsteen or Leslie Gore or Jarah Jane or Jackson Browne or Spill Canvas or Bread or Lynyrd Skynyrd or Rilo Kiley or Dead Can Dance or Heart or R.E.M. or The Beach Boys Allman Brothers or Tom Chapin or Chicago or The Innocence Mission or Leonard Cohen or U2 or Alice Cooper or Bob Dylan or Sarah Macglachlin or Art of Noise or Neil Sedaka or Joan Jett or Don Mclean or The The or Tanya Tucker or Abba West Side Story or The Four Season or Andy Williams or Queen or Meg and Dia Aerosmith or The Supremes or Jewel or Genesis or Chuck Berry or Men At Work or Demi Lovato or Blind Faith or Joni Mitchell or Mozart or The Cardigans or Foreigner or Bright Eyes or The Doors or The Sound of Music or The Pretenders or Smashing Pumpkins or The Waterboys or Frank Zappa or Sleater Kinney or Jay and the Americans or Alanis Morissette or Death Cab for Cutie or The Cure or She and Him or Janis Joplin or Nada Surf or Bob Marley or Bing Crosby or Pearl Jam or Sheryl Crow or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Shania Twain or Jimi Hendrix or Kon Kan or No Doubt or The Rolling Stones or Sinead O'Conner or Jethro Tull or Blue Rodeo or Derek and the Dominoes or Cindy Lauper or Portishead or Bethovan or Stone Temple Pilots or Charlotte Gainsbourg or The Clash or The Platters or The Cranberries or Donovan or Say Anything or Tegan and Sara or Radiohead or The Telling or Lenka or Jesus Christ Superstar or George Carlin or Robin Williams or Lenny Bruce, for that matter.
So many different kinds of music (and I've left out so much). Why do some people only blast one?
Obviously I felt like writing tonight. A bit of loneliness. A bit of frustration. A bit of imagination. A bit of alienation. A bit of memories. A bit of creativity. A bit of wishing and hoping and dreaming. And a whole lot of music. Maybe the best thing about music is that you don't have to listen to hear it.
Then there's Jackson. I am concerned about her. I am concerned that she is still not whole enough inside to have a balanced relationship where she is not co-dependent and dominated. I am concerned that Brandy is too controlling due to her own insecurities and alienating Jackson from all of the people who mean the most to her and from the social network she depends on for her emotional stability. She (Jackson) has such an external locus of control and Brandy seems to want to be the only external food/support for Jackson's very hungry/needy self-esteem and security. I fear Jackson might do something dangerous to herself if Brandy pulls the plug because Jackson is too needy to go it alone without any of her network.
Being your priority does not mean being the only one in your daily life.
Brandy wants Jackson to stop texting her friends every day. I think it is pretty selfish or Brandy to make Jackson stop texting her friends every day and not let Jackson have lunch or dinner with a friend. I think that is an unhealthy relationship. The only time she can get together with a friend is when Brandy goes out of town and apparently, Brandy reacts poorly afterward. Just last week when Jackson and I had dinner together for the first time in months, she told me how much she misses her friends, how different she and Brandy are socially (Jackson wanting a network of friends, Brandy wanting only one) and how she feels isolated. When friends are shut out, there is no external perspective. There is only the dominant controller setting the rules. That can become abusive, if not physically, at least emotionally. For the friends, there is a helplessness that simply must be accepted. All we are left with is hope that she knows how much she is compromising and giving up of herself to satisfy Brandy and hope she survives and finds happiness and peace and security without her network or even her close friends and hope she is satisfied with what she has even though we know it is less than what she wants. I hope they can be happy together.
Sometimes big brothers (like dads) have to just let go and hope for the best.
Meanwhile, I return to babbling to myself a bit and that is a wonderful thing for me. I have only been babbling in letters to J and I might not have babbled at all recently if not for J so thank you J for providing the inspiration and safe haven. Once of these days I will figure out what I want to do with all the words I've been pouring into letters to J. They'd be edited for her privacy, of course, and then expanded upon as able usually is. Another new blog, perhaps. An extension of Letters To the Night, a LiveJournal that never quite got off the ground and may have been removed from their servers for inactivity. Oh, how very sad to find out you've been purged.
Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. Keep on keeping on.
Then, outside, gunshots.
The loud music and party got very quiet all of a sudden. I looked out and saw the group out in front of the house across the street mulling around awkwardly and a guy in a red shirt with a gun in his hand walked across my lawn and crossed over to them. Apparently they knew him and convinced him to put the gum away. They hardly made a sound after that as sound of the shots woke the dogs around the neighborhood and the barking may have given them concern that the police might stop by. After a few minutes the party wet indoors and there has not been a peep since. It's the first time I actually saw a gun across the street. Until tonight all of the drug buyers have been very discreet and mellow.
Alas, I am stuck here trying to balance my budget and save money as I've been spending more than I ought to and not saving as quickly as I intended. I have way too many expenses. $400 car. $140 NY storage. $130 Fl storage. $150 phone. $100 car insurance. $550 rent. $15 rental insurance. $75-100 gas. That's $1585 already. More than a two week take home. I don't earn nearly what I used to so I must slow down on spending. I've been buying a lot since I started this job because I don't want to spend time searching through storage partly because the mice got in and I had to move stuff around and spray a lot and it's not as clean in there as I'd like so I don't want to open boxes. I've been eating out a lot and occasionally high priced meals. I am a bit out of control. I easily say who cares and fuck it and move along. That keeps me stuck here.
Well, hasn't this entry turned into a rotten kettle of fish. Where's that barrel of monkeys when you need it, aye? Oh sure, make jokes. And we were having so much fun before it all went south. Some say the south will rise again. I say I am hoping this irreverence helps me rise above the depressing surroundings and reality so I can get back into the escapism babbling that was starting this weekend off with a bang and a bing and a burp. Softball tomorrow, weather willing. Perhaps lunch with Helen and her mom. Perhaps Texas hold'em in the evening. We shall see how I feel in the morning. At the moment I feel much more alone than when the night started. Much more alone. Much.
Oh those darn whipporwills.
And I really don't want to die here either.
Narf.
Friday, June 16, 2017
A Top Match
Yeah, so that was certainly a blast from the past... or some sort of resurrection, at least, and this hasn't even been written yet, so who knows what it may be but be that or this as it may be whatever, online matchmaking websites are certainly an odd experience, if not blatantly ridiculous. Let's ask ourselves just how would these two beautiful people react if a guy on social security hit on them?
Seriously, has ageism completely gone away? (asked quite facetiously, of course, because I know it has definitely not). OK, so I am not quite social security age, but I am old enough to be scorned upon in our culture (and not just in churches) for even considering asking either of the two new-age hippies pictured above for their autograph, no less their phone number and a date (what's a date?... I don't think I've ever been on one)... but there they are in my email because this website (which seems to present itself as a serious thinking kind of meeting place) tells me at least one of them is a "top match." Of course I will not be contacting them because the website wants something like $30 a month (or $109 a year, which in less frugal {or is that more gullible} moments I might consider after I rebuild some savings if I get bored enough) to do anything beyond oogling or fantasizing and I'm not seeing anyone in my many emails from the website who I find attractive enough to want to get mindful with even if they can overcome ageism and might actually take a serious friendship (which has to happen before any sort of committed relationship for me) seriously. Though there have been a few profiles I would like to delve into deeper with their writers.
Anyway, here's my profile there. I am not sure you can see it without signing up and it is certainly as flaws as any of my hundreds of profiles around the web as words are such futile tools for serious communication, but I'll just keep putting words out there in any form I can in the hope someone comes along and wants to delve deeper into the writer. Didn't you know that is what all this (and so much more) has been about all along? lol :)
So here we are. Another Friday night and softball is once again rained out. I believe this is the third or fourth Friday in a row. It is the middle of the season for three different leagues and I think it's been three weeks since I played ball. Bloat is turning to fat because I am not substituting any other exercise and I am eating more because eating is the go-to activity when bored and alone and on of the primary go-to activities for socializing. I have no friends who see any form of exercise as an activity at all, no less go-to activity. Sadly sedentary and growing old faster than the speed of tears.
Maybe I ought to pay the $109 dollars.
Right, so not now, but I did update my profile once again. I'll put it up on my profiles blog. What? You didn't know I had blog dedicated to some of the many personal ads and profiles I've put on the web? Well, where have you been? Come on, get with the program, lose yourself in the madness for the love of words. :)
all I ever needed was the one
who else is singing that song?
who else dreams of we've only just begun
in love is where we belong
I believe in love, it's all I've got
who else will share that with me?
some like it cool and some like it hot
all I want is honesty
Simple truth, or tragedy, is I give it all, unconditionally, every time I start any one on one relationship. Platonic or sexual, in physical space or long distance through words, the one I choose to adopt as family gets carte blanche. Mostly, it's turned out quite challenging in the physical world as I've been taken for all I have and left empty and destitute. Maybe I simply have not met anyone who can share and trust as I do so the people who came close were scared off by their own fear of unconditional trust. It doesn't seem to happen often outside of some biological families. Maybe some were just users. In any case, each time I picked myself up and rebuilt myself inside and out.
Does anyone really hear the words?
I live them. Who gets that? Who believe that? I am not unbelievable, really I'm not :)
Someone searching for Ric Candor might find this entry and wonder what in the world is going on (Steve Martin and Bill Murray asked what the hell is that? too lol). If we can get past the censorship of greed, we might find a connection. Just find someone who's turning, yearning, returning, and we just may come around. Old man take a look and my life, I'm a lot like you were. Stop in the name of love. I woke up today lost in a lost world. Remember me, my friend? Maybe. The Moody Blues and I were saved by the music. Sometimes it's random and sometimes the nail is struck squarely on the flat top. Remember Dick Tracy? See the Apple watch. 6 2 and even, over and out.
I miss Douglas Adams. I miss Robin Williams. I miss George Carlin. I miss John Lennon. I miss Harry Chapin. I miss Amy Goldstein. Wow, I can actually list dead people who provided me with enough personal influences and food for thought and emotional catharsis that I truly miss. Oh wow. Is that what aging really is? Outliving heroes and friends? I miss John Denver. I miss Robert Heinlein. I miss The Beatles. I miss the idealism and fearless love of the original hippies. I miss believing in humanity. I miss Bob Dylan. I miss Wacko Warner. I miss Don Quixote. I miss Sandy Hecht. Wow, this paragraph could tell all the secrets given enough time and linkages.
And we laugh because we understand.
interruption
perhaps more later.
Narf.
Seriously, has ageism completely gone away? (asked quite facetiously, of course, because I know it has definitely not). OK, so I am not quite social security age, but I am old enough to be scorned upon in our culture (and not just in churches) for even considering asking either of the two new-age hippies pictured above for their autograph, no less their phone number and a date (what's a date?... I don't think I've ever been on one)... but there they are in my email because this website (which seems to present itself as a serious thinking kind of meeting place) tells me at least one of them is a "top match." Of course I will not be contacting them because the website wants something like $30 a month (or $109 a year, which in less frugal {or is that more gullible} moments I might consider after I rebuild some savings if I get bored enough) to do anything beyond oogling or fantasizing and I'm not seeing anyone in my many emails from the website who I find attractive enough to want to get mindful with even if they can overcome ageism and might actually take a serious friendship (which has to happen before any sort of committed relationship for me) seriously. Though there have been a few profiles I would like to delve into deeper with their writers.
Anyway, here's my profile there. I am not sure you can see it without signing up and it is certainly as flaws as any of my hundreds of profiles around the web as words are such futile tools for serious communication, but I'll just keep putting words out there in any form I can in the hope someone comes along and wants to delve deeper into the writer. Didn't you know that is what all this (and so much more) has been about all along? lol :)
So here we are. Another Friday night and softball is once again rained out. I believe this is the third or fourth Friday in a row. It is the middle of the season for three different leagues and I think it's been three weeks since I played ball. Bloat is turning to fat because I am not substituting any other exercise and I am eating more because eating is the go-to activity when bored and alone and on of the primary go-to activities for socializing. I have no friends who see any form of exercise as an activity at all, no less go-to activity. Sadly sedentary and growing old faster than the speed of tears.
Maybe I ought to pay the $109 dollars.
Right, so not now, but I did update my profile once again. I'll put it up on my profiles blog. What? You didn't know I had blog dedicated to some of the many personal ads and profiles I've put on the web? Well, where have you been? Come on, get with the program, lose yourself in the madness for the love of words. :)
who else is singing that song?
who else dreams of we've only just begun
in love is where we belong
I believe in love, it's all I've got
who else will share that with me?
some like it cool and some like it hot
all I want is honesty
Simple truth, or tragedy, is I give it all, unconditionally, every time I start any one on one relationship. Platonic or sexual, in physical space or long distance through words, the one I choose to adopt as family gets carte blanche. Mostly, it's turned out quite challenging in the physical world as I've been taken for all I have and left empty and destitute. Maybe I simply have not met anyone who can share and trust as I do so the people who came close were scared off by their own fear of unconditional trust. It doesn't seem to happen often outside of some biological families. Maybe some were just users. In any case, each time I picked myself up and rebuilt myself inside and out.
Does anyone really hear the words?
I live them. Who gets that? Who believe that? I am not unbelievable, really I'm not :)
Someone searching for Ric Candor might find this entry and wonder what in the world is going on (Steve Martin and Bill Murray asked what the hell is that? too lol). If we can get past the censorship of greed, we might find a connection. Just find someone who's turning, yearning, returning, and we just may come around. Old man take a look and my life, I'm a lot like you were. Stop in the name of love. I woke up today lost in a lost world. Remember me, my friend? Maybe. The Moody Blues and I were saved by the music. Sometimes it's random and sometimes the nail is struck squarely on the flat top. Remember Dick Tracy? See the Apple watch. 6 2 and even, over and out.
I miss Douglas Adams. I miss Robin Williams. I miss George Carlin. I miss John Lennon. I miss Harry Chapin. I miss Amy Goldstein. Wow, I can actually list dead people who provided me with enough personal influences and food for thought and emotional catharsis that I truly miss. Oh wow. Is that what aging really is? Outliving heroes and friends? I miss John Denver. I miss Robert Heinlein. I miss The Beatles. I miss the idealism and fearless love of the original hippies. I miss believing in humanity. I miss Bob Dylan. I miss Wacko Warner. I miss Don Quixote. I miss Sandy Hecht. Wow, this paragraph could tell all the secrets given enough time and linkages.
And we laugh because we understand.
interruption
perhaps more later.
Narf.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
It's Been A While
since we've been here
no energy
semi-despair
nobody cares
nobody shares
nothing to see
oh come on
disappears
yeah, so it begins as nonchalantly as ever with a yeah, so, and an as if anyone could understand why I don't like Star Wars, not even the Family Guy version of it, and I like Family Guy enough to repeat the title in this entry in the first few lines (remember... something... I am not sure what I was going to remember or remind you to remember because Eb walked in just as I wrote the word remember and I paused to tell him that the lawn guy came around to ask when he could do the lawn again and that interruption interrupted that amazing rhyme so this entry is being sabotaged greatly before it even gets off the ground but that's not all because Eb went straight into the bathroom before I could tell him I sprayed {heavily} the cracks with Tilex because I finally broke down and decided it was time to clean up after him and the bathroom is strong, very strong, and I think he left the door open because the strong is reaching me here so I'll have to get up again and close the bathroom door because Tilex is not something we should be breathing in but it needs to soak into the grout to get the grout clean especially since it did not work on the first spray so I will be back in a few...
so where were we?... yes, still in the parentheses... something about giving in and cleaning a bit {first time the bathroom has been cleaned since I moved in... I know, gross... the song a man needs a maid was written about Eb} and being repeatedly interrupted and something about a legendary movie franchise and Family Guy {when I grow up I wanna be Seth McFarland's best friend) which really disappoints me when it comes to religion because it just pretends atheism maybe because if it didn't it wouldn't sell as well as it does because just look at the popularity of King of the Hell, I mean Hill, nuff said} so maybe it is a good time to mention I drank caffeine and ate until my stomach reached it's limits {about ten months} and have more energy than I've had when I used to babble poorly all these last few months or is it longer since I've been working and tired and having fun afk and still I miss the k and the babbling and the me hidden in all the words that nobody comes to see anymore maybe because nobody really saw in the first place within all the words and all that jazz) when I used to babble and wasn't so bloated? What rhymes with bloated, anyway?
since I've been this bloated
since my pregnancy
done went and exploded
since my back teeth grinned
and my belly floated
nothing to see here
life eroded
mind imploded
love encoded
I would be very careful with that if I were you. Enclosed are the secrets for saving the world, handle them with care. No one read the label. The package made it's way to the dead letter office when no one was there. This is an old fable. Aesop could not find it. The Grimms might have understood. these guys might rewind it. Mother Goose maybe could. Name droppers screamed from Shakespeare to Seuss burning Gilgamesh's fathers' ghosts. Leaving Homers and Simpsons and Kings on the loose to taunt and tantalize the hosts. In times named for classic metals and lives long gone by. Truth slipped through cracks as nets of fear taught us to turn a blind eye. Keep your hand away from your thigh or risk wrath from on high. You find you are gone and forgot ro say good bye.
Woah baby, where are we coming from? Shhhh, just look away and play dumb. Fear taught us all how to be numb and blind to what we have become. Who dares to care enough to understand. Where is your hand? Where is your hand?
keep your hand at the level of your eye
come what may
you don't ever have to say goodbye
to be gone
the speaker fell to the floor
carry on
you don't hear the song anymore
So you coulda been a contender too, aye? Yeah, the babbler just needed a shot of caffeine to break through the clog of cynical shit that's been fouling the synapses between the ears (can you hear me now?... maybe it was a month of Family Guy and Star Trek (all flavors) in both ears that shut the brain down and turned the senses into Romanian sludge (they said it was jelly... hello? hello?) because I care, that's why, because I care because I care so I will not give in to the silence between the lines (not betwixt neither, not no way, no how) and I will leave the hotel California in my own good time too.
Don't give up on me baby because I care because I care because I care and no matter what, even if you give up, even if everything in the universe gives up, I will resist the entropy just because I can because I care because I care because I care because I care. On ad infinitum I dare because I care because I care because because I care because I care because.
It's been a while since we've been here.
So much time, fifty or more hours a week is given to the new job, working for the man, yet except for all the time I do not have for myself and my needs and my dreams, I still love what I do as I roll on past the ninety day mark. If I only could find me somebody to love, somebody to love, someone who could reach me deep inside where I laugh, where I hide, where I sing, where I died and still lay awake each night wondering why... I will not lie so I am alone a great unknown dog without a bone king without a throne song in monotone ever ringing phone all silently moan like a rolling stone like a stolen poem like a an unread tome buried garden gnome a still metronome falling ice cream cone precious seeds never sown like winds never blown like beyond alone like...
an unfinished moan.
Wow, there sure is a whole lot of (shall we search for the right word?... is there a single word?... mocking despair?... high melancholy?... sorrowful laughter?... you remember laughter, right? lol (and so do I... but if you don't and you give in to depression I hope you find your way to a cathartic session with your inner muse or a good therapist because I don't want to imagine all the life you missed sitting up on a shelf feeling sorry for yourself and it's not that I don't feel sympathy for I own agonizing empathy but I refuse to go down for the count in this life so please put down whatever you use as a knife and damn the doubts that keep you from the hope you can create inside if you just care enough to put yourself above your fear (or just be too stubborn to follow the herd who pretend to hear the word that promises miracles but only brings them down) ... what?
A man along too long... a poem or a song... who wrote it? I forget... I recall being wet. Were they the tears of a clown or a hard rain coming down or just the new kid in town? I smile. Why do you frown? I smile at your frown and wish you well. I don't need your heaven or your hell. Actually, I want no part of your heaven or your hell. But I do wish you well.
Ah, did you miss me? I went away to write a few thousand words to J. Right here in the middle of all this babble, yup, the caffeine did it's job. After a week without caffeine, a can and a half of Kickstart sure did kickstart something here. What it's worth to you (and I hope it's something if not a lot), even if it is a lot, is less than it is worth to me. The babbling is therapy, remember... the babbling is love... the babbling is how remember all the things I still want to dream of... yeah yeah yeah yeah...............
even though this world is falling down
don't be sad
even though people will hurt you
don't be sad
even though you find fear in a clown
don't be sad
even though people desert you
you can find hope
if you want to
you can find love
it is still alive
you can find truth
inside of you
hope, love, and truth
you can survive
don't be mad
even though life is destructive
don't be mad
even though people are cruel
don't be mad
even though pain is seductive
don't be mad
even though you're called uncool
when you tell the truth
when you really give
when you are vulnerable
when you're sensitive
when you share your fear
without all the lies
you can rise above
if you open your eyes
and all you have to do is be real
don't be afraid to feel what you feel
and just be yourself
just be yourself
just be yourself
Are you still there? Were you ever?
Well, the ol' clock on the wall strongly suggests I get some sleep as morning comes swiftly around here these days. Life is spectacular in so many ways in spite of the loneliness of being alone, the isolation of living far from friends and in a space I will not even entertain the idea of entertaining, rainouts for the last two weeks (jonesing for softball), a dramatic lack of will power when it comes to food that has resulted in bloat exacerbated by the lack of motivation for exercise and lack of softball, excess fatigue due to lack of creature comforts in this living space and long work hours and all the other things listed above, the absence of sex sensuality or silly semantic amusements only slightly related to, you know.
Has it really been ten years?
Did I just spoil it for you? Well, you know where the exit is and naturally you don't want anyone coming in there even though most of the world searches for anal school ore than anything else. Don't let it get you down (or wake you up), it's only your life flashing before your eyes. After all, the world is full of fat people dreaming of being thin people but afraid to be thin because the world is full of fat people telling thin people to stop putting them down for being fat people. Fat people rule, either way. Except when the real work needs to be done.
What did you expect, I switched to live TV to see how the mass media painted how Orlando Florida handled the anniversary of the worst mass shooting for a thousand miles or more and left the live TV on into The Colbert Report and thank goodness for his fair and balanced reporting on the world and politics because I was starting to hear some really unbelievable and even scary things about our current national government and it is wonderful to learn there is so much to laugh at in the everyday antics of all the presidents men kissing the presidents ass. The only sad thing is how fast this country is sliding down in world leadership and respect. Maybe the country needs some anti-depression, anti-anxiety, and anti-psychotic drugs like so many people are prescribed these days.
Of course I could be wrong. Of course that could be wrong too. Which one do you take? Seventy percent (yes, 70%) of Americans take a prescription drub at least once a day. See, you're ok, you're normal. You get to laugh or shake your head with pity and the poor 3 our of 10 people who are not enlightened enough to spend more than three hundred billion (that's $300,000,000,000.00... and $374 billion in 2014) dollars every year to be in with the in crowd. You wanna be cool, right? Well dontcha?
Ok, so it is way past a sensible bedtime and I really don't want to stay up imagining a collaborative film produced and directed by Oliver Stone and Michael Moore with Stephen Colbert as creative consultant. Listening without sound, think Oliver Stone is studying to be Larry King, but he could be just posturing that way.
I don't want hate and fear and cruelty near me
when bullies are the heroes and no one seems to care
and children can be condemned for a simple query
why is the sky blue?
which God is the best?
why do children starve?
when will people care?
why do leaders fight?
then send children to war?
where is peace on Earth?
what is living for?
where is the love you tell me about?
it never seems to make it on the news
where is the god you tell me about?
is going to church just paying dues?
why do church leaders live like royalty?
why do government leaders live in luxury?
when billions do not have enough to eat
and millions live out on the street
why do corporate leaders live flamboyantly
when most people live in poverty?
is that what leaders do?
is that ok with you?
is that the way you want the world to be?
is that the way of God?
are these questions too hard?
mommy daddy will you answer me?
the world is far away and I like it out there
even though I'm lonely, I'm happier this way
when users are the heroes and love gives into fear
this world is no place for a child today
So how are you?
Stay strong, love long, and prosper. That doesn't mean you need to put me down. When normal is hypocrisy and most people fear honesty and evil is represented by a clown and you pretend your smile is not a frown... there is no self-respect under your suit or gown. Stay strong, live long, and prosper. Just don't preach goodness unless you do it too. As long as you can support war there hypocrisy and more you have to lie to yourself and your kids. You need an enemy so you create one to defend the things you did.
I don't like you like that. Do you? Maybe we just have different points of view.
Well, hasn't this been fun?
This is what happens when I let myself get exposed to the news. The world is so full of sociopathic self-destructive hypocrites feeding on the misfortune of others that they gawk at every night like rubbernecking drivers passing a bloody accident. Maybe it feels so good to see someone else's troubles because the brain sends out happy hormones as a response to the thank goodness that was not me thought. Everyone seems to want to be considered normal and be accepted and that seems to mean tolerate bullies and cruelty and might makes right and insensitivity and ignorance and inequality and unethical, even criminal behavior disguised as business.
All I wanna do is love and laugh and have fun.
since we were here
just making love
without a care
it's been a while
since we knew peace
it's been a while...
it's been a while
since we just shared
it's been a while
since we just cared
it;s been a while
since we had fun
it's been a while...
so many people wait for Armageddon
as if dying in war is a good thing
so many people dying for religions
as if that is love that their Gods bring
so many people want to be millionaires
as if that is the meaning of life
so many people ignore so many people dying
so many people support so many people lying
so many people defend so many people denying
that there is blood on their own kitchen knife
stop telling me we are all brothers
as long as we are killing each other
stop telling me to love one another
as long as you are abusing our mother
stop telling me you know what is right
when you ignore so much that is wrong
start earning respect by being honest
and tell me you can hear this song
it's been a while
since we could say
no one died
in war today
it's been a while
since this world knew
a day without
a child starving to death
it's been a while
since we took a deep breath
and took responsibility
for our own mess
since we were here
just making love
without a care
it's been a while
since we knew peace
it's been a while...
it's been a while
since we just shared
it's been a while
since we just cared
it;s been a while
since we had fun
it's been a while...
Anybody with me?
Narf :)
.
.
.
PS... and now I lay me down to sleep and hope people will live in peace and love will overcome all fear and people become aware that sharing is the best way to survive and caring is the best way to be alive... and maybe someone will find me and fall in love and inspire me to fall in love so we can be in our own shared reality of peace and love and happiness...
if that's too much to ask, I guess, I'll just make the best of this mess.
There is always hope :)
Monday, June 5, 2017
Who Knows
Naturally you came here to find out the truth about the inevitable. Upsetting the equilibrium of the body by trying to lose weight and get healthy can be quite dangerous at this age. I mean, instead of a sudden death right after all the teeth fall out, I could slowly die in agony at the hands of medical science as the do a wallet-ectomy trying to prolong my agony for a few more years.
Yeah, that's life.
Maybe another time... I am too tired to get into it just now.
... babble
... babble
... babble
just pretend it happened (it might someday)
Narf :)
Yeah, that's life.
Maybe another time... I am too tired to get into it just now.
... babble
... babble
... babble
just pretend it happened (it might someday)
Narf :)
Sunday, June 4, 2017
Tired Brain
Yes, the brain is tired. I watch TV to distract myself from loneliness. Sometimes very stupid TV (ever see The Triangle for instance?). So I watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame and naturally related to Quasi more than anyone and then, took myself close to the core with The Phantom of the Opera where words, music, and imagination tear me apart and deposit me in the middle of the debris of broken dreams, the irrational confusion of daily life in this culture, and what most would call madness - a mind open to anything.
Dramatic, no doubt.
The little minds are so tiresome. As I push myself into an age with the same limitless perspective I've known all through this life and it is challenging enough to overcome the years without everyone around pushing the fears of normalcy and what is supposed to be within the limited perspectives of current human thought. Odds are I will die before accomplishing the world changing enlightening I had hoped to bring to this human experience, but heck if am not going to die trying (even if my efforts are half-assed at times).
Let the record show, May was a challenging month. Alas, I do not maintain the record as well as I intended. So many things have not gone as intended. The links are all there, mostly, almost, especially the first few sections of blogs, or so. Yes, this paragraph summarizes everything, perhaps so far from the core that even reading every word through every link might not give you a full understanding of the experience, but it is a start, a path, and for anyone who cares enough, a hand extended on the journey.
Still, the fun is as fun as ever, just lonelier and less connected to others on any serious or intimate level. The disconnect from everything could lead to anything happening, but so far in this life, except for a few instances, I've chosen harmless peace over the violent stressors and actions that so many seem to choose. My tired brain wonders why I limit anything anymore. Will the final year of living in this body be radically different? Will I find reason for destruction? What would I give given unlimited power and freedom to act?
Well, that would be a fun discussion to have with someone who cares to trust unconditionally and go into the depths.
Anyway, as you can plainly see by the lack of creativity and scattered thoughts in this entry, the mental fatigue is distracting, detracting, and otherwise detrimental to the mental processes that usually fuel the babble usually (or at least often) found here. clever babble, I would hope. If you only knew the mind you could have if you overcame all your fears and opened it (your mind, were talking about your mind, pay attention son) to the infinite possibilities, well... what an even more amazing journey we could share.
Sadly for the writer (and readers), this is a tired period in this life for the moment.
Fun life, tired words.
Narf :)
Dramatic, no doubt.
The little minds are so tiresome. As I push myself into an age with the same limitless perspective I've known all through this life and it is challenging enough to overcome the years without everyone around pushing the fears of normalcy and what is supposed to be within the limited perspectives of current human thought. Odds are I will die before accomplishing the world changing enlightening I had hoped to bring to this human experience, but heck if am not going to die trying (even if my efforts are half-assed at times).
Let the record show, May was a challenging month. Alas, I do not maintain the record as well as I intended. So many things have not gone as intended. The links are all there, mostly, almost, especially the first few sections of blogs, or so. Yes, this paragraph summarizes everything, perhaps so far from the core that even reading every word through every link might not give you a full understanding of the experience, but it is a start, a path, and for anyone who cares enough, a hand extended on the journey.
Still, the fun is as fun as ever, just lonelier and less connected to others on any serious or intimate level. The disconnect from everything could lead to anything happening, but so far in this life, except for a few instances, I've chosen harmless peace over the violent stressors and actions that so many seem to choose. My tired brain wonders why I limit anything anymore. Will the final year of living in this body be radically different? Will I find reason for destruction? What would I give given unlimited power and freedom to act?
Well, that would be a fun discussion to have with someone who cares to trust unconditionally and go into the depths.
Anyway, as you can plainly see by the lack of creativity and scattered thoughts in this entry, the mental fatigue is distracting, detracting, and otherwise detrimental to the mental processes that usually fuel the babble usually (or at least often) found here. clever babble, I would hope. If you only knew the mind you could have if you overcame all your fears and opened it (your mind, were talking about your mind, pay attention son) to the infinite possibilities, well... what an even more amazing journey we could share.
Sadly for the writer (and readers), this is a tired period in this life for the moment.
Fun life, tired words.
Narf :)
Thursday, June 1, 2017
The Exploding Mind
So many thoughts are vying for my attention at the moment (and that's happening a heck of a lot these days) that the excitement n the synapses is bringing silliness into focus and everything else out of focus, but what may be a waste of time for most is way too much fun for me because I don't have the time to enjoy it all these days or at the moment, even.
So did you credit the madness?
Seriously, do you really wanna know what love is?
Show me.
I really must take this cold bug more seriously as it is worming it's way into the throat and gums which makes eating most everything more challenging and foods that linger in the mouth (anything but liquids, essentially) are just feeding the bag and tearing down the gums and throat... a vicious cycle that could get very painful and cost me teeth if I don't take it seriously so I must mouth-rinse with an antiseptic mouthwash as often as possible, like five times an hour (not possible at work tomorrow as there is an emergency management center hurricane drill I must participate in and be alert, be alert, be alert... when will I sleep?).
What?
Yes, the cough from the post nasal drip continues to flare up as the body continues to flush the sinuses so sleep in this lace without a cough or recliner is very challenging and not as restful as the body needs to heal itself. So the cold continues to linger and move around and takes it's toll. I see much more clearly now how old people succumb to pneumonia and other simple common cold type diseases now.
So lonesome I could cry, for sure. Still don't want to die though. Just too danged stubborn, dammit.
My work days are running close to ten hours now. The extra half hour picking up and dropping off the county car adds on to an 8-5 schedule that consistently starts before 8 and ends after 5. I am supposed to take an hour for lunch, but I've never found that fits into my work life as I do not like to turn off what I am doing and just vegetate or recreate in the middle of the work flow. So the county gets about 50 hours a week in an ordinary week. This work ethic thing sucks the life out of a playful child.
I picked up Jackson and Brandy at the airport. The round trip was 104 miles. Brandy listened to her iPhone most of the trip and Jackson and I chatted. I kept trying to pull Brandy into the conversation, but she just seems shy or maybe she is just giving Jackson and me space pr maybe she just doesn't like me or maybe she's just that shy. They are made for each other, because Jackson is the shyest person I know. Someday I hope Brandi will see me as family because Jackson is my only family (based o the level of trust and commitment, not based on blood ties or even on interactions or contact. It is my choice and she is stuck with it. She used to say I was stuck with her before she met Brandy. Somewhere inside her, no matter how little we see each other, my sister needs me and wants me around.
So many thoughts. So little time. And I must sleep.
I will lay down now and leave you these words.
Narf too.
So did you credit the madness?
Seriously, do you really wanna know what love is?
Show me.
I really must take this cold bug more seriously as it is worming it's way into the throat and gums which makes eating most everything more challenging and foods that linger in the mouth (anything but liquids, essentially) are just feeding the bag and tearing down the gums and throat... a vicious cycle that could get very painful and cost me teeth if I don't take it seriously so I must mouth-rinse with an antiseptic mouthwash as often as possible, like five times an hour (not possible at work tomorrow as there is an emergency management center hurricane drill I must participate in and be alert, be alert, be alert... when will I sleep?).
What?
Yes, the cough from the post nasal drip continues to flare up as the body continues to flush the sinuses so sleep in this lace without a cough or recliner is very challenging and not as restful as the body needs to heal itself. So the cold continues to linger and move around and takes it's toll. I see much more clearly now how old people succumb to pneumonia and other simple common cold type diseases now.
So lonesome I could cry, for sure. Still don't want to die though. Just too danged stubborn, dammit.
My work days are running close to ten hours now. The extra half hour picking up and dropping off the county car adds on to an 8-5 schedule that consistently starts before 8 and ends after 5. I am supposed to take an hour for lunch, but I've never found that fits into my work life as I do not like to turn off what I am doing and just vegetate or recreate in the middle of the work flow. So the county gets about 50 hours a week in an ordinary week. This work ethic thing sucks the life out of a playful child.
I picked up Jackson and Brandy at the airport. The round trip was 104 miles. Brandy listened to her iPhone most of the trip and Jackson and I chatted. I kept trying to pull Brandy into the conversation, but she just seems shy or maybe she is just giving Jackson and me space pr maybe she just doesn't like me or maybe she's just that shy. They are made for each other, because Jackson is the shyest person I know. Someday I hope Brandi will see me as family because Jackson is my only family (based o the level of trust and commitment, not based on blood ties or even on interactions or contact. It is my choice and she is stuck with it. She used to say I was stuck with her before she met Brandy. Somewhere inside her, no matter how little we see each other, my sister needs me and wants me around.
So many thoughts. So little time. And I must sleep.
I will lay down now and leave you these words.
Narf too.
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