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.