Dear Universe. Dearest Sister. I find myself wondering about a lot of things. I know that if you were here, you would understand exactly how I feel right now. As it is, there is nobody else left who would even try. I am left with myself and only myself and there seems to be no respite in sight, no escape possible. Peace eludes me, It is so damn difficult to find a quiet moment, and even when I do, my thoughts are loud and my mind races, vying with my heart for the finish line. Could it be that the only peace left is that of the grave? Is that truly the only way out of this? Can't there be another way? I am really beginning to wonder the worth of continuing on. This whole situation seems to be quite the prize for a lot of wasted worry, wasted stress, wasted effort, and for what? Just so I can die all alone probably the same way I would if I just totally stopped trying? I mean, why should I? Of all the energy, heart, and soul in the universe, why should this precious little I have be spent in such futility? What would be the point? I feel old. I feel ancient. I feel my chances at happiness came and went a very long time ago. I am glitched out of the game of life. I spend so much of my time longing for peace and quiet, and when I finally do get it, I feel so damned lonely. Humans: They drive me crazy, then I go crazy without them, crazy in loneliness. How in the Hell does this make any damn sense?Some days, even most days, I'm just not a people person. No offense intended. Hell, I'm a person, and I get on my own darned nerves sometimes. Then, I turn around and complain about being lonely. Go figure. Go fish. And when people finally do leave, why is it most always the wrong ones? It seems every time I start to kind of like someone, we part ways. Damn, I'm going to miss my special friend. She's beautiful, funny, smart, and so good to talk to. Maybe there is an alternate universe where all the cards fell right for there to maybe be something more. Sadly, it's not this universe. Ah, the things I like about that mind, body, and soul. As Ted said to Bill upon seeing the princesses, I'm in love, dude. But oh well... Reality is the bummer of all bummers, totally bogus and most non-triumphant. I am wishing her well. May she find all the happiness she's ever wanted. You can't blame her for seeking better than this place. Happy, wealthy, healthy, and in a place of love. She deserves no less. Still, I'm sad to see her go. She was a bright spot in my day and chased a lot of the gloom away. Man, I'm just plain tired in all ways a living being can be. Damn it, man. If religion were really real, then I theorize we've already messed up in a previous world, and this place is the bad place we were sent to. It would go well with the messed up logic of life to be punished for sins you can't remember committing. And this runs far deeper than someone I happen to like (a lot) moving on to better things. No, this goes way back. When I was eight years old, I suddenly had a baby sister. She drove me nutso. Heck, she pinched my back when I was trying to watch cartoons, and damn it hurt. She was loud, and that damn click-click toy horse of hers was even louder. Then a funny thing happened. She kinda grew on me, and I got used to having her in my life. We made some great memories with movies, music, and video games. Then I suddenly realized she was the closest friend I have ever had in my life, my most beloved family. When I was forty-eight years old, I suddenly didn't have my baby sister anymore. It's driving me nutso. She pinched my heart, and damn it hurts. The silence of her absence is deafening, the knowledge she is no longer here even louder. Why, why, why, do you take the ones I love the most away from me? Why do you leave the jerkwads, the scumbags, and the trash, but have the freaking gaul to take my beloved sister from me? I told you I'm in Hell. I know it all too well. And if you truly had any mercy at all, you would end this. If I could tell my eight year old self anything, it would be that this loud little bundle of annoyance will eventually become one of the most beloved people of your life. And if you think that pinch she gave to your back when you were watching cartoons hurt, wait till you see how much it hurts to lose her. I know I sound like a broken record, but I woke up missing her today. That in itself is not unusual. I did so yesterday and the day before. Give those dear to your heart a hug or at least a phone call. The toughest lesson is that when they say life is too short, they're not just talking about one's own life. And that means I've got to live with this. If a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody there to hear, does it still make a sound? Does the Sierra Club still get pissed? And if I go crazy and there's nobody here to see, have I actually gone mad? Or is even my own madness a mere delusion? The thought that people would cry over a tree but not about me kind of reinforces the thought we're all alone. Oh well, I guess I should thank your god that I'm at least safe from loggers. And if it is indeed your mission to spread that virus to the ends of the earth, I'm sorry, but we can not be friends. A social media list is not your friends. Coworkers are not your friends. It is not friendship if it lacks meaning. And I want real or not at all. The only exception would be to kindly plug me into a happy matrix and give me back my loved ones. Wow, it seems my mood today went to the diving board and did one hell of a cannonball. Splash! I really need to get myself out of this very Un-James-Brown like funk. Because I don't feel good. It seems my free-floating thoughts have drifted into darkness, and now they're too heavy to fly. Let me summon my Mr Spock to see what the hell is up with me. This is highly illogical. What was it exactly that sent us on this downward spiral? Could it have been that grumpy coworker? It's not that I didn't get enough sleep because I hibernated like a freaking bear last night. Maybe the fact that someone I've actually grown to like has found something better than that cheapskate place? Can't really blame her, can I? Plus, things weren't going to go the way of dreams anyway. But surely this wasn't enough to send me down, down, down. Okay, kiddo, what's bothering you? The loss of my baby sister is nothing new. We have been grieving her for more than two years now. Today isn't significant, like January, September, or any of the holidays. So, what gives, kid? C'mon, out with it so we can deal with it! Could it be I'm just lonely? Again, it is not out of the ordinary. The only time I'm not lonely is when engrossed in my computer stuff or my photography, or when I am talking to.... Uh oh. Damn it. Okay, still.... I think it's time for that Face-cation we've been promising myself. How about we stay the hell away for at least one week? We already know what it does to our mental health. Also, let's stay away from the news sites, too. They certainly don't help our situation at all. Let's focus our online experience to my games, game levels, and my photography hobby. I, in the guise of Doctor Blog-ieo, Mister Spock, and even Doctor Spock, hereby prescribe one week away from that vortex starting right now. It really is the logical thing to do. You can't miss anything that has nothing to give and just takes and takes and takes. There is a reason they don't charge money for that shit. It's just no good, man, no good at all.
Dear Universe, If you have become one, please be out there.
Saturday, March 23, 2024
Tuesday, March 19, 2024
Levels Of Reality
Hello, Universe.
One with the universe, one with memory, one with thoughts, one with feeling, one and never zero, one with time, one with infinity, one with an eternal apartment in this heart. Would it be a surprise for me to say I'm missing you today? For the one human being who knew me best, I would imagine you wouldn't be surprised at all. It has always been like the tide, high and low and high and low. But the seas have been a bit rough these last couple of years. High tide, low tide, and the storm, and also the rain. I never seem to know what that biggest wave is going to bring, just what is going to roll in on the breeze or how much the sky might fall. Still, there's really nothing I can do, nowhere I can go. To keep this metaphor going, this is most certainly no day at the beach. Maybe that scene from Nightmare IV? Looks like Freddy forgot the sunblock. Have I ever told you how, in retrospect, the main character Alice Johnson, the hero of that movie, reminds me so much of you? Especially when she charges in and tells Freddy, "Leave him alone, you SOB!" She was ready to kick some butt to save the people she loved. That was you, Sis. My warrior. The entire Klingon high council would declare your birthday a holiday of the empire. That's a few months away, yet. That's a tough one for me, not as bad as January, but still tough. I guess I have lost my way in these words. Sometimes, my thoughts get a bit hazy. Though you would still know what I'm trying to say here. I miss you, and I always will. I guess I need to change the subject, so I will.
I guess it is far better to talk to an empty room than to never speak at all. We all need to express ourselves sometimes, and words spoken are most certainly words spoken, even if the only replies are empty echoes in the void. It is lonely to be my true self, for I feel I have nobody who can relate. Still, it must be better than pretending to be somebody I'm not, if even to maybe make a few friends. Still, the silence really does get to me sometimes. I wish I could find myself in a place where I could have love, friendship, and belonging, all while being the person I know myself to be. Misunderstanding, skewed perceptions, heck all these things are even more common in this century than even the last. It seems the world is picking teams in a game that I simply don't want to play. It is so difficult when you simply can't fit the mold anymore. Are you on the red team, or are you on the blue team? Be you a Hatfield or be you a McCoy? And what if I am neither? Why do I have to pick anything? I am myself. I am who and what I am, despite what the world thinks. They may insist I'm wrong about a lot of things, but I am fairly certain I am more knowledgeable of myself than they are. Again: I know who I am. I know what I am. They, on the other hand, do not. I am not the mold. I am not the role. I am myself. I do not claim perfection, but I will cling to my own authenticity. It is all I really have left. If I want to see facades, falsehoods, personas, and general fakery, I'll go online. Social media confounds and confuses me. From the politics, the religion, the commercialism, to the lovey-dovey couples who change partners faster than a square dance. How do they do that? See, the way I feel (one way or the other) ain't a toggle switch. Sadly, this made 2009 and even the early 2010s a tough time for me. Despite the circumstances, it took a year or three for a certain connection to finally burn itself completely out. And so, I could never understand this trading "soulmates" like cars every few years. Besides, one doesn't find a classic like me at the dealership. If this brave new world has taught me anything, it is the cardboard cutout superfluousness of it all. For those who don't like big words, I'm basically saying this is bullshit. Especially on social media. If any of this harvested data from these sites ends up on a thousand year disk or maybe a 13 billion year shard of glass, then whatever alien race finds and decodes it can see for themselves, an hour by hour timeline of the downfall of humanity. They'll no doubt probably roll their insect eyes and shake their oversized heads, "Foolish, foolish humans, what in the hell were they thinking?" Once upon a time, John Lennon wrote about Strawberry Fields where nothing is real. Now, we have social media. Nothing is real there, either. Yet I find myself returning all too often. Of course, the next time will be like the last time and the time before. There is nothing there. If I am going to dwell in a land of fantasy, I would much prefer Wonderland. At least I could be myself in Wonderland. Damn, I'm overdue for a long Face-cation. When you feel that vortex pulling at your mental health, you know it's time. It's an abyss in which they fool you into thinking there's going to be something worthwhile to see if you look into it just one more time. Do you want to feel lonely, irrelevant, unloved, and/or unwanted? That good ship to the bottom is your one-way ticket. They have their little ways of holding us in that place. They probably hire the same rogue head shrinkers that do the same thing for casinos. Remember, the big guys are in that game for money, and happy people just aren't all that profitable. It's all the same, be it with social media or gambling casinos. They do their damnedest to keep your expectations high until the inevitable crash. A good analogy would be Freddy Kruger. They gain power when they have your soul, it's all a nightmare in the end, and they probably don't give a flip what anyone thinks. One goes there for friendship, for understanding, but it is just not there. I wonder if between the politics the posing and the bullshit peddling, if there is anything genuine. Is anything real at all? I wonder if even one in ten people who share that meme, "Be kind for everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about," can even grasp its meaning. It's all a sham, a charade, all a show to put on, an image to project. It is a digital fun-house, an endless sea of distorted views. Nothing there is real. It is not only difficult to find meaning in such a place, it's impossible. Surely, there are better uses of my time. Besides, It is just a sad fact but also a true fact that people online or not just don't get me. Or maybe I'm just not around the people who would. I mean nothing bad by this, really. These people are friendly, kind, and nice for the most part. They just don't understand. It's neither their fault nor mine. Life is just a roll of the dice as to where we end up, who we're around, and who we become. My doubts are not as to who I am, just in how much or how little I should present this to the world. In a world that could never understand, prancing out and saying, "Hey there, here I am!" is probably not exactly the best idea. People are good and kind for the most part, but misunderstanding can conjure monsters, figuratively speaking, of course. It's a messed up world of distorted perceptions, images in a fun-house mirror, twisted for politics, inverted for religion, corrupted, and wrong. One word can provoke snap judgments and wrong images and place a whole lot of thinking, feeling, human beings into some category they never belonged in. How well do we know each other, really? What are those dividing lines between friendship, acquaintances, and strangers? How well do we know the people we say we know? Sometimes, I feel that every mind in every brain is a mystery. Nobody knows me, really. Not anymore. There are a lot of times when I wonder if I even know myself. Yes, yes, I know who I am, but it's the whole iceberg thing. Even I can't see all there is of me. I guess that's the other reason I write. Not only is it cheap therapy, but it is also a monumental effort to understand myself. 1.2 megabytes later, I'm still trying with no end in sight. It's been one crazy peculiar journey, a long strange trip, in the words of the Grateful Dead. I guess it's not over yet, for here I am, still trying to wrap my mind around well.... me. So, if I can't completely know myself, then what hope or chances could any other human being have? Due to our similar wiring, my baby sister probably knew me best. Well, that, plus I confided quite a bit to her, I dared not tell others. After all, I'm not going to the funny farm unless I'm ready to go there, myself. Then, I can be the committed individual the world wanted me to be. Hey, they said I could be whoever I wanted to be, and so..... I am Napoleon! Ha! This is what absolutely destroys that theory about thoughts creating reality. If that were so, then everybody who thinks they're Napoleon would, in fact, be the real Napoleon. And, this mistreatment of such a renowned world leader is just reprehensible! Expect an angry call from the French embassy, you ingrates! If thought really did make reality, there would be this loud [POOF!], and I would have some serious explaining to do. It wouldn't be Napoleon. It would instead be the one person they least expected: Me! Talk about blowing minds and shattering expectations. Then maybe, maybe? Someone might actually get me, might even want to understand? I guess since thought, in fact, does not create reality, I'll probably never know. It does, however, create quite a lovely picture in my mind, beautiful enough to even make me smile. Anything that can or anybody who can, must have some power and sway.
What good is any lesson for which one never gets the chance to apply what was learned? And isn't it a mess that by the time we finally gain wisdom, we find ourselves kinda on the old side? We are all born ignorant of everything. In our youth, we are still ignorant of many things. Even in adulthood, there is still so much to learn. Heck, even now. Still, aren't we our own worst critics? I know I'm certainly mine. Nothing would make my imaginary lawyer facepalm and say, "Oh, this doesn't bode well." More than Judge Me and a jury of Myselfs. Imagine a courtroom where the judge, jury, the accused, the prosecution, and the defense all share the same face. Matlock and Perry Mason ain't got nothing on this. Even so, even so, how would such a trial go? There have been a few things I have been kicking myself around for. And young me certainly deserves a few swift kicks to the backside. But it's like how Red in the Shawshank Redemption put it. I want to talk to that younger, foolish, wrong version of myself. Basically, I want to knock some sense into them. But I can't. That kid is long gone, and I am all that's left. And yes. It is something I am going to have to live with. There is no escaping yourself, even if that self has not been you for the longest time. People may talk and talk and talk about second chances, but there is really no such thing. Religious people seek forgiveness from god. But it is forgiveness of self that's the tough part. There is something so far out of reach, far beyond my present control. I am a better human being from all that I have learned, but I should have been that from the beginning. There is nothing I can do to change this. We truly get just one chance. That is one of the heaviest truths of all. And do you know? It feels like somebody else got that chance and messed it up, though that someone was an extremely obsolete version of me. It sure does not seem to be me at all, because it's not me, and will never be me, can't be me, for they were all the things I am not, all the things I swear never to be ever. What more can I do? As far as that dire judge of the mirror and those jurors with faces I know well, nothing I could do can ever be enough. Heavy truths, man, heavy truths. And there is nothing I can do but continue to kick my own ass. Lawnmower Man is in your head now, Jake. There is no escape. The past can never be changed, but how about today? There is a song by Steppenwolf, "It's Never Too Late," but I always add the line, ".....Until it is." Beautiful song, but I know the bitter truth, for such a day is inevitable, the day after possibly ends. I was going through some old photos, and I was reminded of this one person in the family who used to take pictures of people in their caskets. Geesh! I never understood this. That's not the way I would want to remember someone. I would have absolutely not done so with Momma or my baby sister. I am having a difficult enough time trying to forget that too small hospital room in Tallahassee as it is. Now, I don't know how things are gonna go with me, but if you're gonna snap a picture of this lovely face o mine, better do so while I'm alive, else I'm gonna haunt your house, and I'm the ghost with the most, babes. I think people make way too much of the physical grave anyway. My loved ones are not there. They are somewhere in the multiverse, be it heaven, with my Angel, Oblivia, or hopefully someplace even more beautiful. But they're not in the grave. I have visited, and I do not feel their presence there. And wouldn't that be a terrible place to spend forever? I was asked about visiting Marsha's grave, and I was like, why? She's not there. She deserves far better than to be underground. My dearest sister, my guardian warrior angel, is absolutely NOT underground! She deserves the stars and all the beautiful places that ever will exist. Do not confine her there! I will not hear of it. I hope she has found happiness and peace. She deserves all the beauty and wonder that ever was. She is alive in my memory, and I refuse to confine her to that nightmare of darkness. She deserves light. I am not the elder brother of the house of Usher. If I thought there were even the slightest chance, I would destroy every obstacle in her path. I would fight for her as she fought for me. The house and the storm be damned. Let it fall down around me. And if the message is that it is my time, then so be it. Quite frankly, I'm tired of this shit anyway.
And, well, that was when I realized that maybe, just maybe, it was time for another subject change, clean cup move down. Maybe this little tea party isn't so mad after all. I am under no illusion, but I wish I could be, just for a moment, perchance a dream at least for a while, a certain friend, pretty awesome and awesomely pretty. Nice to know and wonderful to talk to. Ever just meet someone you just instantly connect with? Well, anyway, she's moving on and rightfully so. There's no real future in a place like this. Sadly, there would have been no real future for me anyway, even had she stayed right here. She's taken and there are a thousand reasons on my end, too. Still, I will admit here and only here what I am wise enough not to say. Yes it's true. I do like her in that way, just as I have since the very first day. At least I have been content in this friendship, despite wishing for more, happy just to talk, and laugh, and smile. Damn I'm gonna miss her. I wish her well in her new journey, but I am sad to see her leave. I wish I could keep the illusion shining brightly. I'll take a pleasant dream over reality any day. See, she makes me forget a lot of darkness. Her beautiful smile chases those heavy thoughts away. Still I know it's an illusion. She's real. I'm real. My emotions are real. But there is also so much I know to be only in my mind. Yet the mind is quite an endless only, if you'll pardon one more personal observation. I wish her well. I wish her happiness. May she awaken to her most beautiful dreams, and maybe spare a thought now and again for me. That alone will have to be enough. Man, it's cold today. It's that last little cold snap that always happens just before Easter. What will it be? Zom A or Zom B? Raaaainz! Now, that was a YouTube video where I didn't know whether to laugh my head off, cringe, or just plain hurl. "Why would I partake of bread?" "Raaaaaagh!" [bites Roman soldier] That or the Roman fertility festival. Sadly, I never get invited to that particular party. Rabbits, eggs, what are they symbolic of? You guessed it. Who knows what other pagan traditions have been erased or distorted by the work of Roman propaganda from the day that mighty empire was bitten by the zombie, that virulent apocalypse that continues to this very day. Do not believe in the lies they speak of the Druids. It is, after all, some of my forefathers that they happened to be slandering. Now, excuse me while I don my black robe and hoodie and start my magical chanting. Echo echo echo echo. Seriously, I do wonder just how much human history has been erased beyond recovery. It is a shame, really. Would the temple of Athena still be standing today? But I guess this is one tired horse I should probably let rest. Meanwhile, despite the fast approaching equinox, the lingering cold and my super strong hibernation instinct happen to be sending mixed signals to my brain. I honestly feel I could sleep forever. I am not so certain I would mind so much. Sleep has always been my great escape. Even in my disjointed dreams, I seem better off. I had that recurring dream that I haven't finished school. That is always a weird one. I would guess the symbology is that I don't know everything. I can accept that. It is no doubt true enough. Nobody knows everything. I am not sure if I want to anymore. Ignorance, after all, is bliss. Could it be true that the less we know, the happier we are? I don't know, but I will tell you what I do know. All of my most recent lessons have been in the midst of considerable pain. And there is some knowledge I wish I could purge from my brain. While learning may be hard, forgetting is absolutely impossible. Now, there's a bit of wisdom to impart. You can most certainly quote me, carve it into stone, and place it on my grave. It is difficult enough to learn, but far tougher to forget. Some things get burned into the brain and forever mark the soul, a scar that will never go away, no matter how intensely you plead and beg this of the gods. A lesson that burns is forever learned. You can take that to the bank, my friends. Some things can never be forgotten.
Could anything I've ever written, not just here but all my life, actually be wrong? Of course it can! The only superior knowledge I might even possess that others lack would be that of myself, of who I am, what I am, and just how it feels to be me. Anything beyond that, who really knows? This is just a window, a glimpse from this mind, heart, and soul. I can count the many times in my life I found myself to be right, yet wishing I had been wrong. I tend to follow my heart, and the religious people would claim that's wrong. Still, I will follow my heart until the grave, right or wrong, be damned. I try to be as true to myself as I possibly can. Again, they say that's wrong, but I will be true, I will be real, no matter how wrong they say it is. These are the same people who say it's wrong to use intellect and reason, the very gray matter their god supposedly gave you. Then what is it for? Filler for the 'ol skull? A spacer between the ears? An elaborate hat rack? I guess when sheep don't think for themselves, they become better at blindly following. Could I be wrong? Anything is possible. I guess we'll find out someday. Until then, I will never ask anyone to blindly follow me. Nor will I tell anyone what to think or what to believe. Look about within and without you will find if not the answer, then at least the question. Is there really a objective reality, or is every existence colored by perception, by the very lens of the soul? I seriously doubt I could be completely objective. I can't simply tell you what I see without also expressing the way it makes me feel. My reality is no doubt subjective. Thoughts do not completely make reality. Thinking you are an emperor does not make you one. But still we could both see the same world, yet my reality will never be your reality. We may agree on a few objective things, but our subjective minds will color the rest. Thought may not completely make reality, but it does fill in a lot of the blanks. And that is why it is so difficult to truly know another. It is also why one can live on a crowded planet, walk a crowded street, enter a crowded room, yet be all alone. That's why the realm of a mind can feel so endless, so lonely, a figurative void of darkness and silence. I don't sound very objective, do I? But this is real. This is reality. Therefore I conclude that reality is indeed subjective.
Wednesday, March 13, 2024
Pi Day, Friday And World Caesar Salad Day
Friends, Romans, Robots, And Strangers.... And My Dearest Universe,
Sooooo, on a scale of 1 to Gonzo, how weird am I? Weird enough to post publicly about some of the crazy dreams I have. So sit back, have a coffee, or crack a cold one (whatever floats your boat) (May all our ships be non-Titanic) and listen to my 'enthralling' tales of time. What is it about this day of the week and weird dreams? It seems last night was encore night again, with people and places (Even occupations) long gone revisiting me or was I revisiting them? It began with me working on a surveying job with my old boss, a good man that never got a chance to enjoy his retirement, and me working for a place I haven't seen in ten years. Then I found myself driving to another project, this one out of town, some quaint quiet coastal place with one lane roads. Time passed in a strange way, like a tone arm skipping across a record. Then I was driving back in the work truck alone, but only sometimes. My mother was with me part of the time, and dream-me seemed to think that was perfectly normal. When I got home, it was somewhere I used to live 20-something years ago. The work vehicle was no longer a work vehicle. The back was full of groceries and things I needed to bring in. Then the whole 'dream within a dream' thing happened. I was dreaming that I had fallen asleep and was dreaming within the dream. In the dream-dream I was sitting in the work truck looking through the drivers window at someone I had never seen before. I went to avert my gaze, but a voice said, "It's okay, you're just dreaming." Then I 'woke up' (because I hadn't really) and was back to that place I used to live. Except, of course, I had parked my vehicle in a crazy way, and for some reason, I had woken up on the ground. I looked up, and there was Momma again, giving me that "Stop being silly" look I remember well from my childhood. It was more of an amused look than anything. The sort of "You'll get it right someday" look. Anyway, by the time I regained my feet, she had disappeared again. Again, as well, dream-me was not phased. I walked into my old place from two decades ago and found I had guests, mostly people who would never actually drop by to see me in real life. (Funeral metaphor maybe?) Anyway, I suddenly remembered all those groceries in the car and walked toward the front door to start bringing them in. But, halfway across the floor was this giant abyss, an actual bottomless pit that I didn't notice until I fell through it. Either all these 'guests' didn't see me falling, or I guess they figured I could handle it. They didn't react at all. The fall didn't take long. I suppose the chasm led to my real bed in the waking world... Otherwise, I woke up. looking about, getting my bearings, with the magical letters W, T, and F and the question "Was that about?" ringing through my head. Aspiring Freud wannabes, go figure and go fish. Oh, and while I'm on the subject, I also remember a very symbolic dream I had long ago when I was still a kid. It has stayed with me for decades.There was this stack of kickass golden olympic style torches behind KMS with a sign, "Free Take One." And so I did. But, when I got to the bus, my fancy torch had morphed into this cheap plastic knockoff. So I threw it down and ran back to get a real one. When I got back to the bus, I once again found myself with a cheap plastic imitation instead of the real thing. It just kept repeating. As an adult, I can see the symbology. All that glitters is not gold. How many things that looked golden at first remain that way? How much of the gold we chase is actually real? Okay, clean cup move down. I think the Borg from Star Trek are just future humans with the iPhone 9000 wired into their brains. Speaking of which, I really wish Locutis would pick somewhere besides the break room door to stand. It's freaky, and it feels like they've just beamed in to assimilate me! "I am Locutus of Borg" [stares menacingly] "I am also Le Cutest Of Borg!" [Winks menacingly]
Okay, computer nerd ramblings ahead: One of my favorite computer games is Doom. One of its creaters was John Romero. Way back in 2001, he recorded some demos using Doom Legacy v1.32 Beta 1. I have the demos, and I have that version of Legacy for both Windows and DOS. The Windows version desyncs less but does not play well on modern computers. I can't get the display right. It refuses to do anything but jumbled 8bit full screen. The DOS version runs fine in DOSBOX, but the demos desync out of wack a lot more. What really makes my head spin is I can play the same demo twice, and it plays correctly once and desyncs the next time. That, with no changes having been made. I even tried backing up the old configuration file from 1999 and replacing the new 2024 one generated when the game starts. I call this the Romero Conundrum. You'd think I'd be smart enough to figure this out, but go fish, I guess. I know there's something I'm overlooking, but what could it be? This makes me feel like Forest Gump, and that's all I got to say about that.
I might as well tell you the many other things in my life that happen every day as to tell you of this particular moment and how it feels. Hey everyone, I woke up. Hey everyone, I got myself together and did the things I needed to do. Oh, and to keep with this, I spent all day breathing, and my heart has been steadily beating just as it has since Nixon was president. I might as well tell you all of these things I do day in and day out, as to tell you that I miss my baby sister. Because that too is every single day. I'd just as well tell you about reaching into my bag and taking all my meds, as to say I had a thought that threw me back in time, triggered a memory, a reminder that I'm still here and Marsha is not. Happy memory, sad memory, The end result is the same. Either I lament the loss of the days gone by, or I relive that day I wish I could forget. I do this every single day. It sounds like hyperbole, but it isn't. Surly, one would believe I'd have other things on my mind, and I do. But, she is always there, needing only sight, sound, thought, or memory.. And it sounds so redundant to continue to speak after all of this time. But, like I said, my heart beats, and my lungs take in air. It would seem I am alive since it would be impossible to speak otherwise. And I can't really talk about myself without also speaking of what defines me and who has a many roomed apartment in my head. I guess it's redundant, but it is also me. Missing her is simply a part of who I am. What am I to do, Sis? People tell me again and again and again that it gets better, but after these two long years, I am beginning to wonder. It's true that I don't cry myself to sleep night after night like I did that first bit, those nights when I actually could sleep. There was no way to stop thinking of you until I became too exhausted to think at all. I remember, too, how physical an illness my grief for you became. It was like my body wanted to match my mind for once, and it made the hurt on the outside equal the inside. So if they mean the fact that I am no longer physically and mentally crippled from losing you, when they say it gets better, then I guess yes. But you see, these feelings have not gone anywhere, and it still hurts. It's just that I am better at making myself go on despite this pain. Nobody would expect me to get up and walk with a broken leg. Funny how they expect us to perform fine with a broken heart. Broken legs and broken hearts are both very painful and take a whole hell of a lot of time to heal. Yet, for one of these, the world still expects us to get up and walk. It still hurts like hell, but I'm trying.
All these scenarios that play out in my mind are just plain exhausting. Some of them are quite scary. If I could have a proper argument with myself, I would be asking just why in the hell do I want to live these nightmares in my head that will most likely never become real? I stop myself from daydreaming about becoming rich or finding love, oh no we can't do that, but it's a green light for me to day-mare these horrible things I don't want to ever see happen. Man, what the hell is wrong with me? If I'm going to live out things that will never happen, then why not tripping over some money and falling into a beach chair on some tropical island, beautiful scenery (Plus the landscape) and cold frosty delicious umbrella drinkies. Oh, and a new name. Most definitely, a new identity. (I am so damn sick of being the person this world expects me to be!) And nothing but time, nothing but peace. I am so weary of fighting these same battles over and over again. I have done my time. Please let me spend whatever time I have left with sunshine and smiles. And could we please add love and belonging to that order. And put a little pep to your step, baby. Okay... I'm being silly... But sometimes silly is good. It makes me forget I'm hurting. It is a most lovely Jedi mind trick. Help me, Universe Kenobi. You're my only hope. I think it's time for another face-cation (an extended break from social media) once again. When one's mental state goes south of the border, it's time for a Face-cation. Trust me, you need to keep your heart and soul a safe distance from the mental vortex that is social media. Believe me, neither Elon nor the Zuck have your best interest at heart. At least here, I can mostly write about whatever. Blogio, Good old Doctor Blogio, cheap therapy at its finest. I probably owe the fact that I remain "uncommitted" to the good doctor's help. I guess I have not committed myself to a Face-cation quite yet. I've got to hang around long enough to post clips from the Leprechaun movies on the 17th. Is that me gold? Still, if things go further south, I had better if I don't want to get worse. It's a trap, really. It is also the quickest way to realize that your struggles mean nothing to anyone else. I really think social media has messed up the meaning of friendship. I mean, are your "friends" really your friends? Hopefully, at least, some of them are. It is a very lonely feeling sometimes. And it really is a trap. It makes certain people money to imprison as many lonely souls in that little screen as they possibly can. They do this because other people actually believe intrusive advertising actually gets people to buy that the BS they're selling. And they're way off with me. Booze, Gambling, Pet Stuff, Baby stuff, little blue pills, and all the bullshit the simpleton they think I am, (all because of age and "Gender") apparently would totally go apeshit for. Okay. Let me break it down, Watergate Style Haroooo! I really don't drink that much anymore. If I do, it is gonna be some Smirnoff Pink Lemonade, or better yet, a Miami Vice, the absolute best umbrella drinky ever. There was a long time ago when if I had anything less than a 12 in my fridge, there was gonna be a beer run in my future. Then, I changed. Why? Parenthood, divorce, and the fact that drinking is the absolute worst thing to do when you feel like crying. Alcohol: That big magnifying glass for your emotions. Tip: Only drink when you're happy. Also, one does not drink to forget, lest they spend all night dwelling on whatever they wanted to forget. As Futurama Nixon said, "And now ya know somethin' Haroooo!" So... Booze is a no-go. Okay, a mostly-no-go unless it morphs into umbrella drinkies. That vice covered, on to the next vice: Gambling has never been my thing. At least when drinking you get a buzz out of the deal. So gambling isn't for me. Maybe a lottery ticket once every few years, and that $20 I fed to that slot machine in Biloxi more than a decade ago. All one has to do is consider the math and find that a lightening bolt to the backside is far more likely then ever getting ahead in that crooked game. Okay, next ad: Pet stuff. I do not own any pets and never will. I have nothing against pets or their owners. It's just that I have enough to have to feed and clean up after, without going beyond my own species. Raising three boys to adulthood generated all the feeding and cleaning up messes I could ever want. Speaking of which, I have no need for baby stuff either. I got my babies raised, and those babies are 20, 22, and 24. There will be no more. I am officialy out of the baby business. Also, Social media ad folks and shady scammers, get this and get this now: I am not some old bald creeper looking to score. Is this what you honestly think of me? It is insulting! First of all, my hair is long, flowing, and lovely. Secondly. I have no interest in anybody, especially someone way too young for me, looking (Despite their youth) like they've already had a certain surgery that I certainly would not let them get if they were (And they look like they could be) the daughter I never had. As King Triton said, "So long as you live under my ocean, young lady, no boob jobs allowed." No daughter of mine is gonna be excessively ogled by creepy old men if I can help it. Geesh, just what kind of simpleton pervs are they targeting? Look, I ain't no babysitter, and even if that fake profile were real, I absolutely ain't getting involved with someone half my age! There was this old guy who probably had 20 years on me, hovering and bothering some of these young ladies at work. Geesh, Father Time, At least I am only old enough to be her dad, so back off, grandpa! Even in general, I ain't looking for a date. And if I were, it's gonna be with a grown woman. Who the hell do they think I am, an elderly Glenn Quagmire from Family Guy? Giggidy Giggidy? Or worse, Herbert? Getting beyond the pervos, I have no interest in games or drama. No more. I have experienced way too much of that already. If that's the price to not be single, then I will be single forever. Maybe had I chosen better in my youth, I would not be alone now. Maybe... I mean, I have no idea about alternate universes. I tell my three sons they were all meant to be, and if they are, then maybe I could never have chosen differently. Life's a hell of a thing. I've been through the mill these last several years. And it would be so hard to make another human being understand what it has been like for me. There is a difference in wanting sympathy and needing a bit of understanding. We all judge others, so drop that false pretext. Still if you must judge me, do so with all the facts. Do so knowing how this feels, what it's like, and how it is in this mind, through these eyes, and with this heart. Judge me, but know me through and through. And we might find that few if anybody at all have the knowledge to judge jack shit.
<(- _ -)> "Hmmmmm! Right in front of them Yoda could be, but see him they would not!"
But you guys, on the other hand are awesome Jedi Masters.
I love you all.
Tuesday, March 5, 2024
Cosmic Wie's Adventures In Space
Years ago, you were my comrade in the Psychic Wars, fighting side by side against all manner of demons, and sometimes even perception. Now, I most desperately need your help in my struggles against the figurative creatures of the here and now. It seems I could not save you, and I fear my mission to keep you on Earth has failed. As the sibling of the cosmos, As the only heart and mind constructed similarly enough to understand, you will know how to retrieve and decode what others would discount as ravings of a being once sane, once rational, once logical. This is my most desperate hour. Help me, Universe Kenobi. You are my only hope.....
First of all, my usual disclaimer, though more concise: I go mad here in these words so I don't go mad elsewhere. I am always better after I have vented a bit. That said, Major Tom, take those pills, don that helmet, and brace yourself. It's Showtime! (Headspins) Donchya just hate it when that happens? This time we are going on a ride of exponential adventure. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Blastoff! We join our main character as they pull back into the work parking lot after taking their father to the doctor. After taking a couple hours off to run an important errand, I have questions: How can it be that so many people have the time and gas money to ride the roads all day while I'm at work? And tell me, tell me, tell me, how can they be soooooo bad at driving after all that practice? I thought the 45th Annual Dummy Derby was next month. And what is with all of those IWT's! I see you have a cool trailer there. It would be even cooler if you knew how to drive with one. Sorry.... Like I said, it's like a contest between the deer and the humans to see which ones will finally get me committed to the looney bin. Hell, I might just show up on their doorstep and put on whatever show for them to let me in. (Tips imaginary hat) Pardon me, Miss. I am Abraham Lincoln. Why, yes, I do look great for my age. Why just last month, I celebrated my 215th birthday. Might I make an inquiry? Is this my Gettysburg address? Oh, my. Begging your pardon, Milady. (Makes beeping noises)This GPS is quite vague, my dear. Oh, don't worry, Ma'am. You're quite safe with me. I am of the Yellow-Yellow Taxi, and I can fly! I am Napoleon! I demand a room with a view! Josephine? Where is my Josephine?! Yes... This is madness, yes madness, indeed. Madness, this must be, absolutely has to be. It's certainly not Sparta.... Though if you read about those Spartan dudes, you might find they were all madder than hatters, too. Madness. Yes, I think this is madness. It's Red Alert, Battle Stations, On the USS Sanity. And, like Montgomery Scott, trying to keep this old ship from flying apart, I'm cross-wiring every neuron I can think of. I think the phase inducers are glowing red and smoking just a bit. Oh, and the Heisenberg Compensators? Oh, I am totally uncertain about them. Madness, yes, this is most certainly madness. I have been doing my best to shield myself from all the insanity without, coming in from all sides, with everyone seeing me for just this robot on which to lay a laundry list of things to on... Is it too much? Don't have time? Is it freaking you out? No problem. Just give it to the robot. The robot can handle anything. The robot would never burn out from stress or get tired or maybe need the rare sign that maybe somebody actually cares for it. Just pile all your troubles and bullshit on the robot. Think of it as a coat rack for everything that weighs on your shoulders. Oh, the robot can take it. Oh, we never ask it what it feels, thinks, or needs. Why would we do a silly thing like that? At work, I get it, I understand. I do have a job to do, after all. Outside of work, I get a bit hazy. Just give it to the robot. Why we never even think of the robot unless we want the robot to perform some sort of task. That is the only existence of the robot in our minds, just a tool, some servo in the machinery. We are the same ones who erroneously assume that the Tin Man really didn't have a heart, while he's all the while rusting in his own tears. I wonder if when this robot ceases to function, they'll just cart it out to the curb and get a new one. Sometimes, I think that even if were I to rant and rave, it would be barely noticed and dismissed at that. I think I'd be better if people and circumstances would just leave me alone and let me be. I swear it feels like a conspiracy to drive me to the freaking madhouse! Please just stop. This is not exactly the best time. Perhaps we can make an appointment? Lemmie see... How about on the day after hell freezes over? Just go away, please go away, these many and overwhelming buzz kills for my sanity! After all this, trust me, I am already sufficiently crazy. If I were any worse, I'd be fit for a straitjacket, a padded room, and some good drugs. Madness, yes. I am going mad. Friends, what is your silly hobby? You know, the one thing that you do to occupy your mind? That one silly thing to keep those horrible heavy thoughts away? Mine is my digital collection, along with what I could save of my sister's.. It's silly, but it drives out these heavy thoughts. It chases them away just as she would have chased away anybody who was hurting me. Maybe they are a talisman of some sorts. Maybe they have a way of warding away all the sadness and the loneliness, all of the regret, and even anger. Well, my master drive failed on me last night, and I freaked. I know it may sound like a silly thing to freak out about, unless you know the context and the meaning. It wasn't the last remaining copy, but it was still one hell of a setback, and I freaked. It was about that moment that my Bluetooth music player decided to do its "low battery, please recharge", song and dance. Needless to say, that was its last words. I kinda sorta spiked it like a football after a winning Superbowl touchdown. (Whistle-whistle!) Unnecessary roughness on the electronics! Fourth Down, 15-yard penalty! This isn't me. Not at all. It is not like me to rage like that. That was my ex-wife's bit. She was one to rage, and I was one to cry. I know, not exactly fitting the roles, were we? Is it any wonder why breakup songs by Jewel Kilcher resonate so much with me... Goodbye, Alice in Wonderland... Yeah... I get that in ways the world will never know... But anyway... So these words flow from my brain to these pages... When was the last time I felt genuinely loved? There were the illusions I lived under long ago. How could I have even believed my ex genuinely loved me, cared for me, when she continuously demonstrated, time and time again that she didn't? Funny thing about being on the inside of a situation: There are so many things you'll never see, unless and if you make it out of them. Okay.... So when was the last time I felt genuinely loved and actually loved. I think it was when I saw my baby sister's genuine rage on my behalf. I felt worried what would happen if she ever came into the same room... Not for her physically, because I have no doubt my baby sister would have mopped the floor with them, wring them out and hung them out to dry. But for the trouble she would get herself in for putting the smackdown on someone who had hurt me. I felt worried, but I also felt loved. How many people out there would care for you so much that they would quite literally swear a Klingon blood oath to avenge you? That was my guardian warrior sister. But now... I just wish she were here so I could talk to her. I wish she were here, period. Still living her life and following her dreams. But yes... She was good to talk to. She always knew just what to say to chase these heavy thoughts away. I wish she were here. She might not have known the answers any better than I do, but she would have stayed around until she knew I was okay. She was my listening ear and my crying shoulder. I don't know what to do, Sis. I fear I am literally losing my mind. Madness, indeed. There is no mistaking it this time. I am most definitely going mad. What else could this be?
What would be worse? The fate of the word that loses the definition, or the fate of the definition that loses the word? There is a phone call I wish I could make tonight... It is a number I used to call in moments like these. Most of the times I didn't even have to finish my disjointed sentences. It wasn't telepathy, just a matter of similar minds thinking alike. It was a two-way help line. Sometimes, it was my turn to listen. And it's strange how each knew the right words to say to turn a serious conversation into a lighthearted chat about movies, music, and games. Funny really, how no matter who would call who, that's how our talks always ended, with laughter, smiles, and a weight off the shoulders. Now, Now, what can define us? The things we do. The things believe in (or don't) and... And.... AAAAAAND.... The people we love. This would have sounded silly to me a few years ago. Hell, I went through a divorce and lost a lot. But I kept my definition. I kept myself. It was only later, much later... I learned. You know there have been a million songs written about romantic love, but that is far from the only kind their is, nor are these other kinds any less meaningful. And some bonds are so obvious you can't really see them.. Until they're gone. Carved in stone is my guardian angel. Small is the box with her name so neatly written on the label. Lonely is that place where people say she is, lonely for she is not really there. She may visit and reflect as I tried to do, but it's not the sort of place she would dwell forever. No. She would be among laughter and smiles, strolling through sunshine. She would be among stars and memories, bringing the same light she always brought to my heart. And above all, I know she wouldn't want me to feel this way. This I know. There may be moments when I, without a cause or a clue, can barely even know myself. But it seems I do know this. How, I can't say, but my certainty of this is paradoxically confounding.
We now rejoin my innermost thoughts, a place where only the brave dare to tread. You may find them odd. You may find them peculiar. But no thoughts or feelings could be more real. I should know. They are, after all, mine. I well understand that my life isn't always about me. I get it, I honestly do. But could it be a wee bit about me, just for once? Could there be a fleeting momentary brilliance of a shooting star, the ghost of a chance there would exist... At least one human soul for whom it would matter, who would want to know that I'm okay, truly okay. See, we imperfect human beings have a slight flaw in our programming. Some of us need a wee bit of reassurance. Oh, that's silly, right? Well, if it seems silly to you, then you are indeed fortunate. I would imagine you could brave all the possibilities of this universe with a film star grin. It would be no great matter to be the person this world expects you to be, basically the average Joe equivalent to a Stallone or an Arnold. Sadly, not all of us are built this way. Okay... Now, I'm going to gaze into my crystal ball and tell you what I think my future will be: If I be good, work and pay some bills and be a generally useful human being to everyone around me, that wants this and wants that, the grand showcase prize is I'm going to get old. The End. Riddle me this, riddle me that, why do we little people only get a police escort one time, and it's when we're already late? (My grim humor kicking in) Anyway, like wow, I sure feel motivated. I mean, that's a whole lot of effort to wind up with nothing, oh, and as nothing. It's not the sort of crystal ball I want to see. Believe me, that image would make the Wicked Witch Of The West and her flying friends look like a band of angels, with she being the most beautiful angel of them all. (Your castle or mine, beautiful?) I don't ask to be the center of any universe, but could I be at least part of the orbit? Could I be part of the sum total? Do my feelings matter? Isn't that the Million Dollar Question? This little speech has been brought to you by anxiety, the little disorder with the funny name. And by the question, do you have it, or does it have you? Oh, and by the number three. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain, For I am the great and powerful wizard of oz. And yes, my imaginary fears are bigger than your imaginary friend. Tell me another tall tale of time, but please try to make it one I've never heard before. These tired non-solutions to every single problem in life are getting even older than I am. Really. How about a tangible effort to make this world a better place instead? Man, I'm just tired of everything. I try not to think of certain things anymore, those that maybe I could have changed long ago, but can no longer, or the ones where the cookie crumbled a certain way, and dem breaks fell another way, where everything zigged instead of zagged, and vice-versa, where I was at the mercy of fate and could not stand before that mighty wind. The lines between these tend to blur anyway to the point where I don't always know what was circumstance or simply me. I used to ask myself what I did wrong or what I could have done differently. Then I realized all these woulda coulda shoulda what-ifs lose their meaning if there's no chance to try again. You know? I am not sure if mid-life crisis is the correct word for someone like me. But there's certainly something to how I feel. See, the path of my life wouldn't allow such a thing. The first issue is money. I can't exactly go out buy a new wardrobe or sports car. Besides, I like my current clothes and Kia. I have no caring wife or a loving home to leave. Not that I would. I have always craved stability, and I have never understood those who treat spouses like cars and trade for a new one every few years. But here's where I match. Do I feel like life has passed me by? Yes. Do I feel it's too late for me in so many aspects? Yes. Do I often feel that the only future I have is the senior citizen's discount and the grave? Also, yes. What's fair or not fair is not a good road to go down, for keeping score is certainly no path to happiness. I'll jump on that bandwagon in saying I hope we all win in the end. It's a good way to travel. Still, I wish we could all get one redo to fix at least one thing, to try again. Why not? Mistakes in life are a dime a dozen, minor ones like mismatched socks to major ones like picking the wrong spouse to esoteric ones where maybe you find yourself wishing you had shown more love (when you still could). Just one redo. Just one saved game. It's all I need. It's a hell of a feeling, love that resides in the dead letter box, the place they send mail with nowhere to go. Sometimes I feel like a fish out of water, like so many things in life are meant for the young, and that I, through circumstances, both within and beyond my control, saw all my opportunities pass me by, leaving me but one thing to look forward to. If I'm really good, work hard, and pay bills, my grand prize will be to grow elderly, weaker, and die. How about no? Maybe I don't want to go out that way. When one finds themselves with nothing left to lose, then maybe it's time for something a bit..... Unusual. I try not to be one who finds a dark cloud behind every silver lining, but still.... Have you ever wondered about the reasoning behind that whole saying about life being about the journey and not the destination? Hopefully, it's not because we're all headed for disaster. This following the rules and paying the bills just to get old just doesn't sound cool to me. I'd pay a penny for the thoughts of Wile E Coyote on his rocket powered roller skates just before the rock face, and hope mine are not just his slowed way down. Speaking of going looney tunes, I remember this thing where Yosemite Sam was a Duke or something and was going to inherit millions of pounds, with one stipulation: A penalty will be deducted for every swear word Sam says. What does this have to do with me? Well, between the day and some of these people, I've lost more pounds than the raggin fraggin grapefruit diet. Heck, I might even end up with a bill. If only this worked like this for losing weight. Then again, I'd be freakin Skeletor, heeheeheehee! I'd give the Crypt Keeper a run for his money. Wow, these thoughts, these heavy, heavy thoughts. This is my most desperate hour. Help me, Universe Kenobi. You are indeed my only hope.
Well it seems my latest high octane nerve adventure into the upper stratosphere and beyond is finally coming back down. You can see the capsule gently returning to Earth. We are now in that "after phase" y'all've heard tale about. Yep. Okay, okay, okay. I need my ground crew to gently pick the Major up and easily put them to bed. Don't worry, Ground control. I promise the major's going to be out for a good while before they come to. It has been one eventful trip to the stars, a full speed ahead rocket fueled adventure. Now that all of that high octane anxiety has burned itself out, Major Tom is going beddy bye. Once awakened, Captain Normal will reappear and hopefully remain with us for a good while. Thank you for flying Acme Rocket Anxiety Powered Airways. We know you have a choice in air travel and we think you may have goofed and chose wrongly. Watch that last step, bu-buy, bu-buy, bu-buy. And that ladies and Gentlemen, is the best way to describe a panic attack to people who have never experienced one. Describing it as a rocketman space adventure makes my life seem far more glamorous than it really is. Still, I am available for autographs and tee-shirts.
And now for an update from Ground Control: Well, I thought Captain Normal would return in the morning, but it looks like they only sent his adjutant, Major Lee Depressed. At least it wasn't Major Tom again, That Anxiety Astronaut can be a bit of a drain on the 'ol batteries. Damn, The high command really needs to get their act together. Ain't nobody got time for that. I guess that's supposed to be me, I am that elusive high command. Funny though. I'm not exactly feeling high or in command. And, the only military jargon that would apply to my situation would be SNAFU. Oh well... As the poster in Futurama says, You've gotta do what you've gotta do. I know the cycle well enough to know I'll be okay. But God damn it, man. You know? A dead end road and a one way street are merely simple hassles independently. They can still be overcome. It's when they're one and the same when you start think of taking the side exit. Not even I know if I am just being a drama queen here or if this is truly the longest U-Know-What Note ever. Oh, well. The good news is that one does not do anything rash until they finish writing the note, right? Wait: There's rules? But, yeah, it would seem I'm not finished writing it, 1.2 Megabytes and counting. I would like all my reasons clearly detailed in my little Encyclopedia Insanica. They're that complicated. They're that simple. And maybe speaking of them in enough heavy detail will send the heavy heavies back into hiding. Scram, heavies. I wanna feel groovy again. I used to see gateways to many little realms of heaven. First, it was to immerse myself in music, to let it carry me away to a place of no pain. Later, it was in merging myself into the character of a book or a video game, whether in defending a city, fighting monsters, or finding romance. I have long wondered the commonality between all of these things. Then it suddenly hit me, overwhelmed me with its simplicity. All of these things took me to places that are not here. So what does this say about me and this place I am always trying to escape? I think sometimes that the most wonderful yet painful thing the human soul ever did was to finally move beyond the simple creature that gave it existence. We are more and never less than the matter that binds us. Is there any chance to elevate beyond this fishbowl world? Or is all we have just words and words and more words? How about some lyrics instead?
"You're on a tightrope ride, We're all by your side, but you're all alone, like a rolling stone, like Brian Jones. on a tightrope ride..." -- The Doors minus Jim.
"Watch out, don't fall!" (I'm being as careful as I can Mr. Manzerik, sir.) "Careful, don't slip!" (I'm trying, Ray, I really am.) "But, you're all alone!" (Yes I know.) "And we're going home!" ( I am too). "On a tightrope ride!" (Damn, I don't see a net!) "On a tightrope ride!" (Wow, does that wire have to be so thin?) "Yeaaahhhhh, On a tightrope ride!" (Cut it out, Ray!) (Hey, Robby, could you please jam out on that guitar there and bring it on home?) "On a tightrope ride!" "Yeaaaaaah, on a tightrope ride!" (And Robby plays it on out)
I know he was singing about Jim, but it seems to fit me as well, just for different reasons. It's about Jim and it's about me, too. I may not be number three, but it's somewhere between a half dollar and infinity, and all is chump change compared with infinity. And sometimes I feel even infinity's taking its own sweet time. Other times, I scare the hell out of myself with a thought like that. Not to worry. It is only words, my friends. May all our roads lead us somewhere we want to be. Everyone should have a real chance.
Oh well... It's been a slice of heaven with a dash of Hades. Signing off for a deep sleep worthy of Charlton Heston.
Friday, March 1, 2024
Renewed For Another Season
Mornings and I are about like old rock band mates. We're still playing gigs together, but we don't exactly get along. Our creative differences mainly revolve around mornings being ready before I am. (A true artist needs their beauty sleep!) (Damn it!) So, mornings and I probably won't be hanging out on the afternoon. Still, we're rockin' the house at dawn, again, and again and again, even if I grow weary of the same old songs. Oh, well. I once heard it said that life is like a song on a record, with the first note, the last note, and all the notes in between. And if life is like a song that can be played only once, well, you might as well sing. Though life can be one messed-up show. Maybe real life is more like TV than a song. First comes the episode. Then comes the aftermath. You know, the credits are rolling, and I am falling asleep. I doubt I'm making any sense, am I? It's not so easy, friends. Words are wonderful, beautiful, the best invention ever. Still... The tragedy is that they can never completely, concisely, convey absolutely everything. The heart has its depths, the mind has its many realms, and the soul is a universe of its own. But words are a mere echo of feeling. No matter how eloquently spoken, they can never truly express what it's like to be thee or me. I love you all, but it's all too much sometimes. I wish I could be more clear and more concise, but this is as close as the words can get. There are certain things I tell myself over and over again: It's alright. It's okay. You're alright. You're okay. Quit living the worst scenarios that never happen! It's okay. You're okay. Everything is going to be alright. And if something doesn't work out, we're still going to be alright because we can handle whatever it may be. We will make it. It's going to be just fine. Find your center for me, find your center for thee. Know yourself, and you'll know best. I would guess that these words that I write are as disorganized and chaotic as the thoughts and feelings they came from. I would also guess that I write them more for cheap therapy rather than for an audience. This, of course, does not diminish my hypothetical admiration for any human soul who would brave this brave new world from inside my head. I, myself, have to be here. It is a truth so inherent that I haven't really touched on it before. I am here, not from courage or tenacity, but from the simple fact It's my mind, and I can't live anywhere else. The fact that I happen to still be alive, notwithstanding. That has taken a lot of courage and tenacity. But, my point is that I would have great admiration for anyone here who didn't have to be. In fact, whoever you are, I love you. Even if you're only here for the crazy fun-house roller-coaster ride. Picture the intro to the Beetlejuice cartoon. It's showtime! And without further ado, the curtains open to something, Universe and dear readers (if any), that I have gotten better and better at hiding from the real world: My little breakdowns. Below, you will find me in the midst of a fairly heavy-duty one. I am writing this part in the after phase. What is the after phase? Well, that's where I've settled down and am completely exhausted. I'd would certainly pass out for a while were I in a situation where I could. Sadly, there is quite a bit of day left to make it through. So, I'll probably start writing sort of normally for the rest of this. Feel free to guess where on these pages that is. Until then, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers buckle up 'cause we goin' for a ride.
It's sensory overload all over again. Zap! Zap! Zap! I'm alive! (Sometimes, unfortunately). What do they want from me, blood? Do they want me to keel over from stressing out? Really, what do you want from me and how in the hell do you think I have it to give? Nobody ever asks yours truly how can they help me. But you can bet your sweet behind they'll want me to give and give and give until there's nothing left of me or for me. Man, I feel like a good blood curdling scream might release the 'ol pressure valve. But that would not be wise. Not here, and certainly not now. But do know this: a scream never screamed stays in the head. Maybe I will find somewhere remote enough where I can totally freak out unobserved, then after walking past all the mentally traumatized wildlife, asking, "Geesh, what the hell is wrong with you guys?", return from that place feeling sorta normal. Look I know that throwing my head back and doing a Klingon warrior's battle cry, won't help my situation any, it might make me feel better and I'll bet folks might back off a bit. Let's try it: "RAAWR!" Ever have a day when you want everybody from the king, the reaper, and the lowly street sweeper to not be a creeper, keep back with their peepers, and leave you the hell alone? It's not about being antisocial or contrary Mary or anything scary. It's just.... Some days, I can deal, rock and roll, and reel, but today just can't reveal that feel. I need to recharge, get my mind turned right.. Then I'll be back with all my might... Just not today and not this night, alright? Tomorrow, I just might, maybe. Till then, Hasta La Vista, baby. I swear that the metaphor I spoke of in the last entry is quite apt. They want to drain my figurative blood until I no longer can sustain myself! Is it really so selfish to safeguard my own sanity? Or what pitiful bit of it that may be left? I swear people leave me alone in the only way I do not wish to be left! I'll be forever alone in that way. But, nooooo they can't be content with that, can they? In all other ways, they're constantly badgering me! Yes. SNAFU definitely applies. People pull shit at the very moments I am least prepared to deal with it. Then, I wonder why I don't approach the situation with much enthusiasm. Damn it, go away! Look, Universe. Look, world. Look, friends. Look, Romans, robots, and strangers. I'm sorry that I can't be more than I am. I'm sorry that I can't be who or what you wish me to be. Sorry, but I never was that person, and I never can be. Still, I am not sorry for who and what I am. I will not apologize for my very essence. I did not ask for this place or this time or this existence. I am not sorry for who I am. My only regret is for the circumstances I find myself in, be it by fate, random chance, or some sadistic god. Please, please, please, either show that you see me for more than some servo, some tool, someone to assign duty or blame, or please just leave me in peace. Another thing, Ladies and gentlemen, I have a name. I rarely use it here, but, yes I have a name. I have had it all my life. Think of it as a role I have an all exclusive, expressive, ironclad contract, as the only one who can represent this person the world claims me to be. In English, nobody speaks for me, but me. While this role may be far from apt, it is indeed mine. And the best way to avoid an ugly embarrassing scene complete with hurt feelings, is to never but never bring my name up, make plans for me, or dare say what I should or should not do. Yes, I've got a name. It's not much, its barely the real me, but it's damn sure mine and the copyright ain't gonna expire until I do. I'm just saying, Ladies and gentlemen, Don't speak for me unless you know it's something I would say. It's absolutely not the best or brightest move to throw me under the bus. I am a nice person in most cases except for this one. Everybody wants to be right. I guess it's human nature. But it has been rare in my life I've been right and actually happy about it. Being right has often been a lonely and empty place. I have had to pick my battles, decide if each hill is worth fighting to the last. For some, I make peace. For others, I fight on. I will stand my ground without compromise for what lives within my very core. I will decide the final points for a truce and treaty for everything else. Why? Because, I have learned it is sometimes better to be wrong but happy. And life is just too fragile and short for a lot of this bullshit. When it comes to my own dignity, however, I am Rambo Freakin Balboa, no freaking compromise. (Hey, Yo Stallone played both those guys) So, In summary, There are certain things I will negotiate, compromise, and sign a treaty of peace on. Far better to be happy than right. There are other things where I will fight like John Wayne Rambo II. "Hey, Yo, Pilgrim.... I'm ya worst nightmare!" Why? Because to do otherwise would be a compromise of dignity, character, and self. And ourselves are all we really have sometimes. Now let me clean cup move down before I really flippin flip and scream like a bad dream! Subject change! Here ye, here ye! Clean cup, mooooove Dooooown! Damn, I wish Wonderland were a real place. I'd love to be in a world of my own. As mad as these people and this world with its mountains of bullshit are driving me, I would fit right in with the Cheshire Cat, The Mad Hatter, and The March Hare. And I'm talking about the main character role here. Though most won't get what I'm getting at. But it's true: AEB all the way. You know, sometimes life really sucks. Okay.. Let me fulfill my campaign promise of a subject change in every garage and a beer in every fridge. Nixon stands firm. I am not a crook's head! Four more beers! Four more beers! Haroooo!
In other news of a lighter manner that I try to occupy my mind and time
with, The Great Backup Of 2024 continues on with my writing out my
master copy to all of my old hard drives before I get to the new ones.
Looks like I am averaging two days per drive, with my poor computer
going 24-7, and I have so far backed up my 6.2TB of essentials about 3
and a half times. Hopefully by the time I'm done, my digital collection
will be bulletproof and disaster proof. Then maybe I can/will focus on
other diversions. Maybe I will have ensured it will outlive me.
Hopefully by decades, in my daydreams, centuries. And maybe by then it
will have found a new caretaker, somebody who shares my passion to carry
it forward. I guess I'll never know, but I certainly hope so. I know this is a boring and weird thing to talk about, but we all need our little worlds to escape into.
Okay, history. In addition to classic literature, I like to read about history. And from what I have read about Napoleon Bonaparte, I don't think he gets a fair go, negative stuff enhanced, positives downplayed. The dude wasn't even as short as people claimed. I read about this guy leading his army from the front, bullets flying by and not wavering at all. But what impressed me the most would be Napoleon's belief in equal justice before the law. No different set of rules for peasants and nobles. (Emperors notwithstanding) Now, if you don't believe there's still peasants and nobles even in these United States, if you don't believe there's still a different set of rules, though cleverly disguised, then I've got a tower in Paris to sell ya. I just saw the most primo prime example just yesterday. (More on that later) For now, let's clean cup it and do it live. I'll write it and we'll do it live! Duck it! Quacking thing ducks! I gripe about social media, yet I still use it sometimes.. I like to put my thoughts out there. If something is beautiful, a flower, tree, sunset, or whatever, I snap a picture and share it. I have loved ones and dear friends I like to stay in touch with... But it's nothing like a hand-written letter or a phone call or a greeting card. And the ads, those damnable ads. A top or side banner I might understand, but when they put that bullshit in your feed? I'm like, geesh, I don't remember following or friending you. Oh, I am absolutely certain. Assholes have never been on my list. Keep your blue pills for the baldies. I have no need of them. Today, it's booze all down my feed. Now I am all for the occasional drink. Especially a Miami Vice. Yes, some of us get wise enough in our middle age to go for flavor and not effect. No cheap vodka for me, buddy. Geesh.... Tennessee Whiskey, Kentucky Burbon, Bordeaux Wine. These social media ads must really want me to go on one hell of a bender. I've done got a hangover from just scrolling past all that! Yep, Booze N Gambling. These ads are pulling out all the vices. Freeze! Miami Vice! No vices for me! Actually, be a pal and run over to Prime Time in Tallahassee and bring me home a Miami Vice or three. (Best umbrella drinky ever!). Just say to the bartender, "Freeze! (What'll it be?) Miami Vice! If I'm going on a bender, it's gonna be with my shades, pastel clothing, my Lamborghini, and cool 1980s tunes blasting, maybe a chase scene, which reminds me. A superviser at my plant who I don't exactly like-like like got busted by the cops, driving under the influence, hit and run, leaving the scene, yadda yadda yoda, lotsa bad shit. Then she shows up for work... I don't know what happened, but I want to use the same lawyer if I ever decide to do something that incredibly stupid. Luckily for me, I am older and wiser. All I know is that is one way to get into some serious trouble with the law. And the law don't play around here in the deep south. Trust me, we have a lot of Buford T. Justices around here. Don't drink and drive, you sumbitches. Anyway, here is a random quote. "Schadenfreude, making me feel glad that I'm not you." --Avenue Q
Here is another: "Muhahahahaha" --AEB
Okay, okay, okay, moving right along? Yep, I'm movin on. When a drug company uses a nocturnal animal that stays up all night as a mascot for supposedly helping you sleep at at night... Really? Am I the only one who finds that hilariously ironic? Who! Who! Who will help you sleep? Who! Not me, pal. I'm a freakin' owl!!!! Who! Who! Who! Whooooooo! Who, me? Nahhhh. Now, they're trying to sell me baby items. Nope? My three babies are 20, 22, and 24. And I can do a David Letterman style top ten list why there will be no more. I love my kiddos with all my heart. I wouldn't give em up for a million buckazoids. So today's Sesame Street is brought to you by the number 3. Any other number would be brought to you by the letters W, T, and F. Have a smurfy day. (What the smurf?) Hey, it's like that some days, situation smurfy, all smurfed up. It's been a crazy day of illogical proportions. Spock would have a headache and would be in quite a nasty mood. Instead of "Live Long And Prosper", it would be, "Up yours, pal!" Crazy days, man, damned crazy days. Oh and drunken barrage balloons flying low and getting in my freaking way, and I guess. (get out of jail free) cards must be an actual real thing. But maybe not for we peasants? Monopoly Man and Barrage Baloon wins the day, huh? "Vhats vrong? I sought I gave the order, No more barrage balloons! Ah, zhoze bhaaabed vire venzes make me feel zo zentamental!" One rule for the struggling serfdom, another rule for the drunken barrage balloons. In my best Frank Rizzo voice, This is bullshit. I well know I'd be under the jail and out of a job, had it been me. Luckily for me, I'm not that stupid..... Anymore. Also luckily for me, I was very lucky when I was young and dumb. Also, the internet we know of today didn't exist. I may no longer be young, but that is a very lovely consolation prize. All my cringe was analog and is hopefully lost to time.
Soooo, is it kinda sorta maybe time for a c-c-c-clean cup m-m-m-move d-d-down? Indeedy O'Really! C-c-c-catch the wave, Coke! Remember Max Headroom? Paranormia, Paranormia, Paranormia! I've got a pocketful of dreams and head full of superfluous memories. Like, where am I, dude? Am I the only one here who feels unnecessarily and unwillingly kicked into the future? Sometimes I think that to be the case. And, Science Damn it, I am so sick of the freakin future! Just where the hell have you put me? Where eighties icons are totally unknown, where mothers and baby sisters are long gone, and fathers are tired old men, with so much taken from them? And what of myself? Am I really all that is left? Sometimes I really feel I've been kidnapped, thrown in the trunk of a time machine and dumped in the 2020s. Except of course, I'm kinda old now on top of everything else. Damn it. So, in short, I feel like some aliens abducted me, used their Old-Ray on me, and didn't have the common courtesy to send me back to my own time. Great Scott, Marty. What the hell? I need a DeLorean, some Plutonium, and directions to the fountain of youth. Where the hell is Doc Brown, John DeLorean, Spanish explorers, and some Libyan Terrorists when you need 'em? Everything about this time period is totally fluxed up! Things sure as hell haven't gone to plan. Not only am I way off course, I am so far gone I don't even know what ocean I'm trying to sail. Arrrrrr! What in the bleeding blazes, mateys? Oh well, we'll just keep pointing to that third star, staying the course. Either heaven or oblivion awaits. Either will do, really. If we go with science and skip the faith pancake, we won't be falling off the edge. We'd be merely coming back around to the start. But, between me and thee, I still have no clue what that may mean when we get there. So, I'm staying this course, now matter how lost, and hoping for the best. Say
it with me: I'm okay. You're okay. Close your eyes and take a slow
breath. Breathe in, Breathe out... Everything is going to be alright.
And while the worst possibility is always indeed a possibility, It's
usually far from the worst that actually happens. So please try to stop
living out all the worst possibilities in your head. Let's only deal
with what actually happens and not worry so much over a million things
that could, but probably won't. And guess what? If anything
happens, you will be able to handle things. Trust me, and more
importantly, trust yourself. You are able, you are capable, you can do
this, Life is complicated, the universe can be scary, but life is just
moment after moment after moment. You need deal with only one at a time.
You got this. You are strong. You are wise. You are beautiful, far more than you can ever imagine.