Endless Limbo

 This day seems like it could go on forever. The minutes and hours of it seem to be of the Michael Myers variety, almost impossible to end. They just get back up and they keep on ticking. Just like him. Just like me, I guess. Being Doctor Loomis failed miserably, let's give Doctor Blog-ieo a try. I see a lot of people had the luxury of taking today off. Not me, though. I need every dime. You gotta do what you gotta do. I'm just sitting here in silence. She's by my side but not by my side. It's kind of a dimensional blend, as I can't help but think how things could be. For want of a nail go we. She's in my head, in my heart, in my memories. It's reality versus the way I wish it to be. And if there were ever a time I needed it so, it is now. My thoughts turn to many things, but also to a few special people who I can't help but love, to departed loved ones, to absent friends. To the meaning of life... And of love... Of time and of space, separation along dimensional lines. To everyone and everything my heart simply can't let go of. Where the hell am I? When the hell am I? And the greater question: Why? Welcome to the future, space cadet. You are now its prisoner. Though a quarter of this 21st century is soon to be gone, with many too young to remember the last, I remember well the 20th. Now, there was a time to be alive. While the 1970s were a bit hazy because I was very young, the 1980s and 1990s are quite sharp, very clear in my mind. They could have been yesterday. This future of present day feels like an involuntary exile from a time when things made sense. Nonetheless, that time was long ago. I know I must live in now. 2025 draws near. Another year draws to a close. I am so ready to put this one behind me. After all, this one took my Dad from me. At least 2023 gave me a break from losing people. 2022 just sucked in that regard. And now? I am resolved to nothing. I just want it over with. I kinda feel like I've been scammed, like some shady crook switched my gold for fake tinsel. I've never really been one for New Years resolutions. Not for myself. I do not depend on the calendar to make changes when I know I need to. I just want 2025 itself to resolve to quit taking my beloved. They get fewer and fewer as it is... Not so many left to take... Those three, Momma, Dad, and Marsha, were more in my corner than most, throughout the many rough times I went through... Until the rough times became about losing them. 2024 also was the first year I have moved in 22 years. Now I'm back in the house I grew up in. I moved out for the final time 28 years ago... Now I'm back. I'm in what was my parent's room, surrounded by photographs of them and Marsha, by not only my possessions but by things that used to belong to them. That is where I sleep these days. I remember being in despair over the poor state of my house a year ago. It's not a problem now. You could say that mine was an expensive house. It did not directly cost me a lot of money. Instead, it cost me my father. I would gladly go back to dealing with the faulty wiring, the crappy plumbing, the poor insulation, and a place that was literally falling down around me, If I could just have him back. It was his many years of work that made this place, not mine. I guess my work will be what holds it together from now on... Though I am under no illusion that my turn here will be any more permanent than his was. I guess I need to be thinking about how I want this to go to my boys when it comes my time to go. And I can't really base that on anything, can I? My grandmother (his mother) lived five years longer than him. And my Grandpa lived almost exactly 20 years longer than him. Basically, if I could base my lifespan on Dad's, I've got just shy of 25 years left. But so many things could happen. Car wrecks, heart attacks, god knows what else. The mother and child reunion, father and son, sister and brother, is only a random misfortune away. I guess I really need to be figuring out how I want this to go to my sons. My grandpa bought the first half in 1940, the second half in 1942. My Mom and Dad had the house built in 1979, and we moved in in early 1980. I moved out at age 23, and now I'm back. And now I guess it is my plan to live the rest of my life where I spent the majority of my youth. Still... It reminds me how some places are separated by time rather than space. I hope to have the same good fortune as my father to never have to leave this place until my last day here. I hope to keep things together for just a little while longer. Well, I had to get ready for work in the dark this morning... Someone out on the highway took out a power pole and thus the power. I heard the guy walked away, okay... Power poles are notorious for not getting out of the way... Considering that, even when second guessing whether I buttoned my shirt right in the dark, I suppose my morning is still going better than who that poor soul was. I do believe this is going to be a long day. I was talking to a friend this morning about how booze just ain't a thing for everyone. These days, I'm not really into it, myself. It wasn't always the case. Pun intended. A long time ago, if I had anything less than a 12-pack in the fridge, there was going to be a trip to the beer store. Then, along came marriage, and kids soon after. More and more beer money became diaper money and formula money. When one becomes responsible for more lives than just their own, then growing up and making changes is just what we do. My father was far from rich, but I never went without a single need as a child. Who would I be to not follow his example?Then when the mother of my children left us, I basically quit altogether for a long time. As the one parent that stuck around, I could not be absent in that presence. By the time these kids got older, I guess I had been out of the habit long enough where I just don't see the appeal anymore. I look at a drink, and my first thought is the possible hangover. Not even a taste, and I already need an aspirin. What the hell, man? I guess I've also gotten used to having clarity of mind, and I've found healthier ways of escaping reality, games and hobbies, and such. Ten years ago, I bought my Dad a bottle of bourbon that he never broke the seal on. I still have it, never opened. Maybe someday I'll open it and have a drink. Or maybe if they ever have that Smirnoff pink lemonade in stores again, I'll pick up some for myself. Or maybe some of that really good high-end beer, especially draft, straight from the tap. Ah, it's been a long time. I guess as my desire has lessened, my taste has gotten more expensive. Other than that, I just don't really feel all that inclined anymore. I long ago fell out of the habit, and I really don't have much desire for going back. It certainly saves me money, and as low as my tolerance must be by now, I think I'd get a lot more bang for my buck. even with the expensive stuff. I am not sure if this is a result of getting older or getting wiser. I am not sure if this is just a result of random chance over the course of my life. Maybe people change and grow? I guess one can fall out of habits, too. I guess for want of a nail goes I. If alternate universes exist, I wonder if so does the old version? If I could invent a dimensional slider, what worlds and versions of me would I see? Still for me, there is only this universe, this dimension, this reality. I never stopped trying to escape it. I just found alternatives... Because it sure gets lonely sometimes. As I have spoken before, the universe and Bigfoot are kindred spirits, big, a little scary, and.... lonely. Does Bigfoot ever sit on a log deep in the forest and just put his head in his hands to cry? If so, then I just may understand him. We each wander the wilderness, except maybe he's not lost, but I feel as though I am. Bigfoot is a solitary creature. Hugs and being held with love don't seem to be a prospect of his future, does it. What separates a soul worthy of love from one unworthy? I wonder as I wander this wilderness of my own. Loneliness is not a sudden sharp pain of physical injury. It is an ever present ache that speaks loudly in the silence of solitude. Grief on the other hand was sharp and sudden, and what they never tell you is that it can become physical. I can't stress enough the physical blow it can be. It was like coming down with the worst kind of flu but also getting beat up by a thug. I guess over time, it does kind of fade into the loneliness that was already there, though it sometimes jumps out from behind and kicks my butt all over again when I least expect it. If loneliness is the wilderness, then grief would be the vicious beasts that inhabit it, watching, waiting, stalking. And while Bigfoot may be a most formidable creature, I am far from being the meanest SOB in the valley. Sometimes life can be much meaner. Still I plug along. I just can't understand how or why sometimes. I guess some days the sun shines and on other days it does not. The glass can be half full and still catch the light, half empty in the shadows, or shattered on the kitchen floor. All this figurative rambling boils down to the simple fact that I have my good days and bad days. Many times, I don't know which it's going to be when I wake up. Some days, I have a hopeful outlook. Some days, not so much. High tide, low tide. That's my life these days. A lot of this pours out here. Cheap therapy with the good Doctor Blog-ieo, where I go crazy here so I can fake sanity elsewhere. You, dear reader, will be the only one to know. It's our little secret. It is also the reason I write this under the alias of the great Cosmic Wie instead of my real name. Still, this is the most of my true self the world will ever see. Funny how I link to here from my social media pages that are in my real name. But, it seems to be a bit of a ghost town over there. Nobody over there seems to care enough to desire to know more about me. People not caring is not the worst thing in the world. You might think it is, but it's not. Worse would be if everyone hated me. They don't. To them I'm at the periphery, if visible at all. I feel neither loved nor hated. Not in heaven, not in hell, more like purgatory, limbo. This is where I seem to be. I'm not a pariah, not a scourge, just invisible. It's not the worst thing, but it could be better. Limbo is a lonely place. I am not an angel, righteous or fallen. I am not a demon. I'm just a human, a biological organism with just enough brain matter to ask the big questions.