Cosmic Cosmos

Monster movie fog again this morning. Fog in my head and fog outside. A matching set. Of course, the scariest thing out in the fog is neither vampires nor werewolves. It's the boneheads who won't run their headlights. Less of a problem this early, though. Life may be a misery sometimes, but I don't have some sort of deathwish like those crazy woodland creatures that sometimes dart in front of my car. I have a good track record of avoiding / sparing most of them, but I'm not going to sacrifice my own life for a nutso squirrel. Empty road behind, empty road in front, no other car to be seen, and when does he choose to cross? Dude! What is it? Did you lose millions at the First Acorn Bank? Did your squirrel girl leave you? Hey, hey, tomorrow is another day! Now that my quick reflexes have spared you, go back to the forest and rethink your life! As for the rest of my woodland friends, while I barely whistle while I work, carry on and clean cup move down. It was the sound of the alarm this morning in that strange haze between sleeping and waking that this peculiar way of the passage of time hit me with the shock of ice water... Don't discount the freaks, man. Jerry Garcia of The Grateful Dead was not wrong about the strange trip of life. No drugs needed. Just live and love and lose and see. Oh, and merely blink once to wonder how everything got so far away and so long ago, and wonder just how could one be flying so low. Keep that love in your heart and hold the ones you still can. I once again saw a video essay that got me thinking (a dangerous thing to do at my age). "Stories that hurt you with time." Stories? How about real life? Though I do have to say that Adam Sandler's "Click" was indeed an awesome movie that will really make you think. Especially pay attention to Christopher Walken's words when he said, "You've been fast forwarding your life long before you met me." As I have said, time can be fleeting and strange. Time is not my friend. At least, I have one less regret than Adam Sandler's character had. Poor Fonzie-Dad. At least I finally got in the habit of telling my own father that I love him every time we parted ways, including that last time. Not that I want to talk about it. Time is cruel. As Walken implied, you need not a remote control to fast forward your life... Hurry up, Friday. Hurry up, quitting time. Hurry up [insert holiday, vacation, social event here]... Remember being a kid and a year seaming like forever? Remember how summer vacation seemed to go on and on? Now, look around. Every year gets shorter, and the population of the dear ones in your heart begins to outnumber those dear ones still here to show that love to. And just because you finally get it through your head to tell them just how much you love and appreciate these people, does not mean it's going to be any easier, does not mean you will not have any regrets. Life is a lesson in progress. You are a work in progress. Learning and growing is the meaning of life and the reason you're still here. But yeah... Time hurts.. My one remaining sister's big day is approaching fast, as in it is two days from now. Once we were five, but now we are only two. I feel this need to represent the missing three as well as me. They would be there if they could. Wish me luck, Universe. You know how uncomfortable I am with social situations. But, as I said, I will happily brave that fire for a very few special loved ones. I guess this would sound overly dramatic to anyone who's never lived with this heavy anxiety, but believe me, it's frightening. Still, you can't be brave if you're not scared. She's been there almost from the beginning. And, just like Marsha, she was a guardian who stood toe to toe with those who were trying to hurt me. It is for more than simply blood that I will stand by her side on this important day in her life. It's more than just my job. It is a great honor, and it is what I want to do to walk her out, not only for myself but to represent the family. I've got my outfit picked out and hope to be totally styling that day. I want to be there for her, to stand by her side in steadfast support. I wouldn't have it any other way. The tough part is my anxiety, which is why, honestly, I am looking forward to it being over with it. She's one of the very few still on this earth that I would walk through that particular fire for. It's just that I have never really been one for these social events. Both weddings and funerals make me wan5 to weep. Both events just remind me of who is no longer here. I will do this for her. But as for anyone else, I just want to make my appearance, show my support and love, and then disappear like Dracula at dawn. I wish them both the best, all the happiness in the world. If this dude makes her happy, then he's a heckuva guy in my book. And whatever brings my sister happiness and success is exactly what I want for her. One hundred percent. Meanwhile, in the background, I have been dealing with my own complicated feelings. There is the inner conflict of being terribly lonely, yet not wanting to deal with people. Catch 22. Go figure go fish. I am just too old for drama and games, too old for conflict and confrontation. All I want is peace. But this damn loneliness won't let me have that peace. Damned if I do, Damned if I don't. Hell, ain't it? As it stands now, I try to keep busy, and I try to stay active. I do a lot of work around the house and in the yard, just to be (in my mind) closer to my parents. I picture them looking on with approval at the progress I've made. I make sure I'm just too damned tired to cry. I hope someday to feel they would be proud of how I have matured and grown as a person. It's not so much the progress around the house, but the progress on myself. I would like to believe I am somehow this new creature, this better human being. No, not perfect, but maybe just a little closer. I am not sure just how short my time is getting. At my age, Dad had 22 years left. At my age, Grandpa had 42 years left. And I? Car wrecks, heart attacks, wayward asteroids, Communist viruses, and a thousand other ways make not even tomorrow promised. Then again, I could be the first in my family to break the century milestone. Who knows? The mother and child reunion is only a mishap away. Heck, if I do make it another five plus decades, I hope I'd at least see my kids finally get their shit together. And I thought I took a long time. I was working by age 19, in my own place, paying my own bills by age 23, when I moved out... Now, I'm back in the same house all these years later, but I'm the bill payer there this time. Most jobs are not the ones we want, but you gotta do what you gotta do. There is only one real way to make money (legally, that is). And that is you've gotta go to work. Flipping burgers, mopping floors, cleaning toilets: There's no shame in an honest living. It takes a number of years in the workforce to navigate to something (mostly) tolerable. Meanwhile, you've just gotta grin and bear it. Life is 70% bullshit and 30% worthwhile. You've got to get through the 70 to enjoy the 30. Life just straight-up sucks a lot of the time, but there are wonderful experiences waiting in the wings. You've just gotta do some things you don't want to do... As in dragging yourself out of bed before dawn on a Monday morning. Yep, it suck major balz, but that's life. It's not forever, so you've got to make it count. Nobody knows the day or the hour of the mother and child reunion, only the inevitability. I've got a lot to do before I go, so I'll be running a bit late. Please don't freak out, Momma. You always did worry about me just a bit too much. I have miles to go and a lot of work to do. The day will come, but hopefully not for a very long time. I have a lot of things to make certain and a lot of things to make right, at least to my own mind and to my own heart. Okay, maybe it's time to change the subject? This is getting heavy, man. Heavy, heavy. Once again, something as simple as a YouTube video has sent my train of thought off the rails and over Clayton Ravine. All aboard? "Howdy, M'aam. Reckon the 910 to Yuma will be here any minute. Funny, though. It doesn't exactly stop here." Okay... Yep. Clean cup move down. My real goal is to spend more time outside and less time trapped in a computer. My focus will be on clearing more land, making needed repairs on the house and sheds, and (hopefully soon) gardening. I've just got to find ways to keep the varmints out. Especially the damn deer. I hate the deer with a passion for ruining all my hard work the last time I tried gardening. I'm not into hunting, but I'm all for the hunters. Go on, Elmer, make Bambie an offer he can't refuse. "Say hewoah to my whittle fwiend, hahahahahaha!" Yep, I want to have a beautiful garden, and I think I know exactly where. I bet I could find the material to build a fence around it. Still, that's a project for later. Specific plans can be self-defeating if you don't back them up. And general plans almost never come to fruition. One can't be vague and must shield all specifics from excuses. This whole, not feeling good today, will be your resolve's demise. This is what I tell myself. I often notice that after a while of forcing myself to get to work, momentum builds, and then I'm rockin' and rollin'. It's that initial push that's hard, but then my motor gets a-running, and I get a-rockin'. It is amazing how the perspective changes. The body wants leisure and rest all weekend so I can grow fat, old, and weak. This I must resist. This I must fight. As in that Tom Petty song, you never slow down, you'll never grow old. Fight, fight, fight. I have things to do and miles to go. The older I get, the more sense the Sith code makes. Too much complacency will make you weak. This is a constant note to self because the urge to fall back into my old habits is damn near overpowering sometimes. Fight it! Fight! Feel the passion for life and the power of the dark side. Good, Anakin, Good! Okay. Clean cup move down new subject. Random Cosmic Fact: My favorite Atari 2600 game was Phoenix. I know it was supposed to be someone in a ground vehicle defending the Earth from aliens. But to me, it looked like it was a spider fighting different birds and dodging their poop. (Which was apparently deadly on contact) That poor spider. I was also good at Missile Command. I could keep the world safe for a good while, but sadly, not forever. All I could do was allow for extended prayers and longer goodbyes to asses. The world, however, was totally screwed. I could totally Kick Asteroids.. That was an awesome game so long as I could keep my ship in the center of the screen. FYI: The score in Asteroids rolls back to zero when you reach 100,000 points. For Phoenix it is 1,000,000 points. How do I know? Because I found a way to get unlimited lives! Flip the unit on and off until your lives left are scrambled.. Then you can endlessly defend the Earth from the Diarrhea Ex-Lax Birds From Planet X! There was a similar Atari 2600 game called Demon Attack where the bird's digestive problems are far worse. You can't dodge giant poo. Plus I can't cheat in that game, so double Whammy. I love a universe where I get to make the rules. To me, that's what makes gaming fun. Cyber Merlin can not be defeated! What a contrast when it comes to my real life. Well it's a much healthier coping mechanism than booze or drugs or even more messed up habits. I love to lose myself in a story. I love being someone else for a little while. I know my way around Phobos, Deimos, and Yamaku Academy. I know those places better than I know a lot of real life places. In fiction, I fight monsters and aliens and I romance anime girls. I try not to get that backwards, even though things like Angelic Avery and a Doom dating simulator actually exist, which involves fighting cute anime angels and dating Doom monsters respectively. What? Yeah, that's backwards! Hey, one either laughs or cries... These weird distractions might seam silly to anyone outside of a situation like this, But, believe me, it's how I keep going. 

The Missing Pieces

 

I am not a hero, or even a sidekick. I am not a cure or even the beginning of a cure, I, alone, am incapable of easing anybody's pain, or of healing any broken heart. I've had quite the journey just trying to repair the particular heart that is speaking these words. (my own). I have found myself mending the same fractures again and again. (Though I am getting better) I wish I could be that hero, But I'm just a human being who has seen much. It is a harsh truth that a lot of what we search for can be found only within ourselves. This is not to dismiss the peace of having a friend by your side as you mend. I can never presume to place the responsibility of my happiness and healing on another, especially someone I truly love. Still, there will always be an extra chair and a place in my heart. There will always be an ear to listen, and a story of depth for me to encourage and cheer for every chapter overcome. There are so many things we must face alone, but there is no rule against being alone together.  I can not replace you against your opponent on the field, but I can be your loudest fan in the stands.  Beyond our island of chaos and disorder, stretches out in every direction, up, down, left, right, past and future.....Peace, endless peace.... It's just one more day. It's just one more mile. Keep going, my friend. I'll meet you there.

Who was it that said history rhymes? Maybe it does. Still, do not trust the future due to word of the past. Why? Because even logic and reason can lie. It is one hell of a lesson when learned the hard way. Within belief or without, there is something to be said of that biblical quote, The last shall be first and the first shall be last. Our first mistake was expecting any order at all. Cleave tightly to the ones you love. Now, in regard to material things, either by a merciful God or by random chance smiling down on me, I have been truly blessed. (In all matters except for love and loss). Still, sometimes the earning must happen after the blessing. See, both my mother and father taught me well that one simply does not perpetually have nice things without putting a lot of work and effort into taking care of them. This is why I consider this role as caretaker to be my most serious responsibility of all. The world may crumble around me, but on my soul, this family shall endure. I used to worry about being categorized and judged by one of the various check boxes that people are so bad to judge us by. Then I realized something. If they can't see past such things, then are they really worth knowing? So, believe what you want, say what you want, whatever, I don't care. Oh, and if you're gonna trust a bear more than I, just make sure he's eaten in the last day or so... Or is Yogi. See, I would take us to Micky D's for burgers. The bear would probably not. Now, I don't claim to be perfect. In fact, becoming a better human being is a lifetime's work. The changes have been little by little, but with the better part of a century behind me, you can see the difference. Little by little becomes a lot. The only person I claim to be better than is the obsolete past version of myself. Okay... Subject change... Captain Kirk told Sybock of Vulcan, "I need my pain." Because it made him the person he is, that he never would have moved on and become a better man. Maybe the more painful the lesson, the better we learn? I don't know. Where would I be? Who would I be without my pain? l don't know. Would I still stand corrected? So, do I actually need my pain? If I had one of those neuralizers (memory messer-uppers) that Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith had in the "Men In Black" movies, I would be tempted to use such a device on myself. There are a lot of things I'd like to forget. Still, there are also many things (people) I would always want to remember, so I guess it's a catch-22. Too bad the mind is not more like a computer's hard drive. Delete the bad, and keep the good. Remember forever the people who were kind, the ones who loved me, and forget the jerkwads who treated me badly. Remember with clarity forever, my loved ones, happy, healthy, and full of life, yet make my last moments with them hazy and vague, only that I was there and showed them love. I needn't remember anything else. Life may be unfair, but I've seen death be even less. Death is a thief and a bastard. And time? Time is an accomplice, the almighty Skeletor's partner in crime. Losing people hurts. What else can I really say? Friend if you ever need a reason to live, here it is: We with hearts that still beat, keep on beating, keep on playing that song of life, not only for us, but for everyone we love... Keep living for them as you know they would want you to. Eternity minus one day will still be.Time is fleeting, and time is strange. Only part of me lives in now, aka "The future." I call now the future because too many people I love are missing for me to call it the present. And future is a much less negative term than absent. See, there's a part of me who refuses to believe they're gone, and therefore does not live in now. Call it one of my quirks, quarks, and Captain Kirks. Strange maybe, but it's the only way I've found happiness in a lost age. If I keep them with me in my heart, I've got a chance. In the meantime, Spring has been messing with my head, mentally, physically, and majorly.. My sinuses are flarked, my ears are underwater, and I T- totaly feel like shit. I had an awesome weekend, though. I got the house and the yard looking nice. My parents would approve if they were still here to do so. Sadly, I have to rely on my own memories and best guesses. I am not exactly feeling psyched for the workweek, but that's life. People can be cruel. When they are, I find it hard to put it behind me and let bygones be bygones. Right or wrong, I hold grudges when I feel I've been treated badly. Why? Because bad memories are some of the worst demons for people like me. It is so easy to say let it go when you don't have (figuratively speaking) an evil version of Kasey Kasem counting down your top 40 bad memories and intrusive thoughts, "Welcome back to the Anxiety Top 40, Counting em down to number 1!" I don't merely live through traumatic moments once. Demonic Kasey's got to spin em again and again. Do yeah, a memory messer-upper would be nice. Better yet implant some good memories like in "Total Recall." Recall, recall, recall! Hey, they've already invented the equivalent of the Johnny Cab. Why not recall? Words spoken even in the gloom of an empty room are still said and unbroken, shouted with conviction into the face of doom, by a soul who will not give up, will not give in. You can not assume to rule me with fear..... ever again. One no longer fears the dark when lights go out one by one. I think we all know this place. Eternity to the left, forever to the right, a darkened sky above, and below? Eternal night. Welcome to the void. Welcome to boundless space. Thoughts shattered and scattered across this empty place beyond the day that anything mattered. Was it like this before the world began? I wonder as I wander in silence as loud as thunder. Can you hear me now? Let me tell you the logic of feeling and show you now just how the key to revealing the senses unreeling is forgetting that words ever existed at all. Because you must, by transposing space and time, learn to think with your heart and feel with your mind, knowing that even when it all ends, you will find there are always ripples, echos and emotion, beyond the reach of entropy. Beyond the degradation of time, they can never die. Reasons may not always rhyme, but they keep the song going. The beat of a heart keeps the music flowing, even if I don't feel like singing just now. So, Hello. Can you hear me now? Come closer. Venture into my thoughts. Inner monologue: Soooooo, what exactly what are we doing here, baby? The same as always, my dear. We are killing time. And time? Time is dying slow. It will probably outlive and outlast us all. This is beyond Michael Myers' time. This is immortal god time. Back from the dead, so quite fitting the season. "By the gods, what sort of blasphemy is this?" -- Roman Soldier. "Rome was not eaten in a day." --Zombesus. Well, they did say that idle time is the devil's workshop, didn't they? Well, I'd keep busy, but I can't exactly do what I want in this place, not until the hours set me free. So I've gotta keep killing time as if I were Jason on acid or Freddy on mushrooms. And so the story goes. My comfortable bed and soft pillows are calling my name. Hibernation is truly the best of all nations. I can hardly wait. Sometimes this world and the humans who occupy it are just too much to deal with. My bed, however, understands me. And oh, how I long for that embrace. I often pretend tomorrow does not exist and that this will be the final time. I am on a long streak of being proved wrong by the beep of my alarm. I suppose there will come a day when I am proven right. Part of me wishes to live forever. Part of me wishes to leave today. Either is bound to be disappointed either way. Instead of Schrodinger's Cat, I am Cosmic's Wie. And this universe? That is the box. I can never look to see if the outside of the box is white with my name neatly printed, sitting on a desk at that little place on main street. Would the sign overlooking highway 77 also bear my name? Wow. This is getting dark, just like inside of the box. Heavy, heavy thoughts, man. Such is how the past can bend a mind, and when a mind bends enough and it can get stuck in time, where thoughts of now lead to the past, And sometimes as if in dreams can even forget what can never be forgotten... Tell me, tell me, have you ever suddenly seen in a dream that that beautiful soul you've been happily chatting has been long, long gone? It's kinda jolting, a bit jarring, and damn I hate it when I suddenly break the spell for being a fool to remember, a fool to realize, that I've already lost you a very long time ago. Bummer, dude. Bummer indeed.

In The Fullness Of Time

I have hours to kill, but it feels like the hours are killing me. How can I find it so hard to fall asleep when I can and should, yet find it equally difficult to stay awake when I absolutely have to? My inner clock must be on Timbuktu time. What the hell, man. I'm so damn sleepy that my eyes are burning. I'd damn near sell my soul to be in my bed right now. Now watch me be staring at the ceiling tonight. Oh, the irony. Maybe tonight will be better. I don't think even Freddy Kruger could keep me awake tonight. Move over, Fred. I need some freaking shut eye. There has been a bit of a heated debate in the cosmic senate of Wie on whether or not I should bring this blog to an end. On one hand, shouldn't I after three years and two megabytes have said all there was to say? But was that really the point? If this is really the cheap therapy I say it is, then shouldn't multiple sessions cover the same subject? While this seems to be getting longer than a lot of books, a book was not my intention. Besides, it's not exactly of biblical proportions. Not yet. Apparently, that would be just under 5 megabytes. Yes, I checked. So, less than halfway there. Besides, my direct outpouring of the contents of both heart and mind is a bit disorganized, with no chapters and verses here. Good thing I'm not a prophet. There's no counting the religious wars the book of Wie would start. I am glad I'm not a god. Gods live forever, and I wouldn't want that. I have thought about maybe changing it up by writing stories based on the things I've been through, but I don't know. Have I really said all there is to say? Wouldn't it be so that for as long as there are thoughts in my head and feelings in my heart, there will always be something left to be said? Is my story really so over that words would be a waste? My heart still beats and I'm still here. I suppose I should continue on, since it is simply what I do and the way I deal. It's the way I keep my sanity (or at least my ability to fake it) out in the world. So, for my dear universe and the good Doctor Blog-ieo, I shall remain. And my friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, you are welcome to continue with me on this longest and strangest of trips, which might impress even Jerry Garcia. See, Jerry, we dont need drugs to be fhacked oop in za head. Just a bit of the genetic code I call the Barney curse. That's all we need for a wild ride indeed. And writing is a healthier coping mechanism than booze or drugs. It even makes sense for my baby sister and I to be the bookends for this blog. It began when death took her. It will end when death takes me. This is the purgatory between. These are the years that I still live, but without her. It sounds heavy as a concept, but it is oh so apt. Unlike being the eldest but still alive. That makes absolutely no damn sense to me at all. I wonder if there's a parallel world out there where it was me instead. Or better yet, a universe where it was neither one of us? It doesn't really matter if it's this universe I must live in. Damn. Here I go on this road again. Time to change the subject. I call for your finest, cleanest cup, universe. Fill it with bourbon and move it on down.  Maybe I should just continue letting my heart speak. This could be yet another reason to keep living. I need these things to remind myself when my tide and my spirit is low. Sometimes, these blues breed scary thoughts, little monsters I don't need conspiring with demons already there. I've got to keep that Robert Frost poem flowing in my head, that I've got things to do, and many miles to go before I can sleep on that soft grass in that lovely dark and deep forest. I'd bet those night birds could sing the most beautiful lullaby. How peaceful in the forest, peace in the valley, far beyond the reach of pain, blame, and shame. Damn. I need to stop, don't I? I do believe worlds begin and end every day. And sometimes we outlive all hope of happy endings. Maybe the question is as to what is the next best thing. Aren't we all trying to fill this very same void? Who doesn't want to feel loved and appreciated, to be the object of affection? It's just the stress, the baggage, and the stupid games, the traps, those beautifully deceptive pearly gates that lead to the other place instead. These are all the things an old heart (this one) can't take anymore. We all think we're reasonable until we're not. So I ask again, what is the next best thing? How does one fill the void, and how does one glue broken hearts back together? Duct tape? Gorilla glue? Bailing wire? How can one feel whole again? How can we move on and begin to heal? If we humans were indeed just animals, then I guess my reasons for living would have been long gone. After all, I have already met the criteria for a successful life by animal standards. I survived, and I made more of us and raised them to adulthood. That's the goal for animals, even human ones. But for heart, soul, and spirit, there are so many miles to go. For one thing, my purpose, my meaning for life should be far more than food, sleep, and reproduction... As nice as such things can be. I want to leave behind much more than my genetic code. My genes, much like the land I live on, are not permanently mine anyway. They are of my mother. They are of my father. They are of my grandparents, Edna, Clarence, Lena, and.... I loathe to admit... Barney... The latter's only gift seems to be my mental problems.. And genetics don't stop there either... My forebearers, most I do not even know.... My genes, my time, my land: only for now, only my turn, no more permanent than Dad's or Grandpa's. I know this. I just hope at least one of my three grown kids will finally get their shit together so I can decide who to pass this on to before my turn at the helm of this ancient enduring family ends. I may not be the Pharaoh of Egypt, but I still want to leave my 'kingdom' in capable hands. I owe this to my forefathers and to my descendants. The strongest chain is judged by its weakest link. Therefore, I am trying my best to be strong. I am of the variety of human that supposedly never needs to be held, consoled, or loved because feelings are supposedly forbidden. But I do feel a need for all these things! Hold me, comfort me, love me, and tell me that I am not alone. Yet I am supposed to be too big and bad, too rough and tough to need such things. I guess I fail. Before everything, I am a human being with one hell of a well of deep emotions. I am a being with needs beyond the physical. We all have feelings, and some of these expectations of society are absolute bullshit. Emotions are a strength, not a weakness. A man must have a reason to be strong. Standing in defense of the people that he loves is a damn good reason to be strong. Let me say a bit about fathers. There is or at least was this tendency to say to yourself, "He knows I do." Instead of telling him, "I love you." Let me just say that in a life otherwise full of loss, lamentations, and regret, there was one thing I actually got right in the last few years of my father's life. I finally got into the habit of saying, "I love you," every time I spoke to him. How much worse would I feel today had I not? Remember, sons and daughters, it's not enough that he knows. Tell him anyway. There may come a day when it is the only thing that eases the pain. Well, well, anyway, how are ya? Me, I'm okay. Except that if I were Beetlejuice, I'd feel like a trip to Dante's Inferno Room. Ah, but that's another story. I have spent my weekend so far working on making this place as beautiful as possible.. I know it's crazy, but I feel closer to my Mom and Dad when I'm out there. Really, my baby Sis, too.... When I'm out there working, the difference between the 1980s and the 2020s just seems a little smaller. Beyond that, I have not been on here much, have I? Just as I can't really find any inspiration to be seen, noticed, yadda yadda Yoda, as someone I am not, I can't really get all that inspired either by feeling totally invisible for simply being myself, either. The truth is, I wouldn't know how else to be. There is a fine line between fitting in and blind conformity. See, one side effect of getting old is caring less and less about such things. Though it would be nice to find as for this unique wavelength of mine that the frequency isn't totally empty. After all, static is nobody's favorite tune. Not even when remixed. Such is the way of the force, I guess. If I were the religious type, maybe I would call this my version of the whole 40 years wandering the wilderness thing. At least I never had the trappings of Egyptian royalty to miss while wandering. Damn it, I could have had my very own pyramid, but noooo! Seriously, I doubt I have 40 years. Only if I had my grandfather's lifespan. Based on my parents, barring unforeseen tragedy, I've got 22, maybe 23. One can't exactly base the future on the past, though. If that were true, my parents would be alive today, and Dad would especially have another 20 years. It would seem my aunt, his older sister by 6 years, is the one who inherited Grandpa's longevity genes. Dad was her little brother, just as Marsha was my little sister. Being the eldest yet still alive, I think maybe I understand. It's one hell of a bummer. I've seen way too much proof that being the firstborn does not mean the first to go. I'm still here, it seems. Maybe this is my punishment, disguised, though it may be as a blessing. The finest blessings are empty without the people that I love and owe so much. It's like having a billion dollars, yet nothing to buy. Empty, lonely, full of lamentations, and regret. I could have done better, and I know it. This is what I must live with along with this loneliness and loss. I should have done better. But this aging soul is all that's left. This is the most apt and accurate punishment. I can't describe the pain of not being able to change a damn thing about the past. It's too bad that the young and stupid kid I once was is no longer here to take the lashes. It's just me, but in me, you have a willing party to take them just the same. Just know I am not that person anymore and I will never be again. By the stars in heaven and by the fires of hell, this I forever swear, to my very grave. And whatever (if anything) lies beyond. I guess we are often our worst critics, especially when it comes to the past. Imagine a court room where the accused, the judge, prosecutor, and bailiff, are all you. Your Honor, Wies of the jury, I, District Attorney Wie, will prove beyond doubt- Objection! Overruled! Sustained! I declare Clean Cup Move Down! This universe is made of time and space, which is what I just so happen to need sometimes. I need to think. I need to breathe. If I isolate myself, there is a good reason. It not only benefits me, but others, too. After all, I do not wish to be a total jerk by getting ugly with those not giving me the breathing room I need. See, it's like this: When I go somewhere to be alone, that is exactly what I want. Some people (I think as I take out a couple of anti-psycho lozenges, aka nicotine pouches) just piss me off by existing, especially when encroaching my personal space enough to breathe my air. Not today, human. Scram! With polite expression, please leave. With impolite expression, go away. With rude expression,goo to Hell! Ah, whatever works. If it wasn't for varmints, there would be times when I would say humans (including myself sometimes) were my least favorite animal. Though I really hate armadillos much more. Did a turtle and a possum get freaky? Ugly! And they dig up the damn yard. Ragging fragging varmints.  ..And I mean this in the kindest Yosemite Sam way. After all, it seems I see more woodland creatures than Snow White herself, at least in the mornings. Some of them are daredevils with a deathwish that I try my damndest to avoid. I am a bit tender hearted for most creatures, and I would never want to hurt them if I can avoid doing so without getting in a wreck. Life is precious, but so is mine. Miles to go, miles to go. I am amazed how minds can move, evolve through time, and change. Some minds learn and grow. Others grow bitter and cold. It can go either way. Examples abound in fiction. 30,000 years of self reflection turned Vandal Savage into a good, thoughtful man who helped Superman undo his past evil deeds. Self-preservation turned the Metamorphis into an evil being bent on the destruction of a nation when he once held compassion for Ghandahar. The tragic loss of loved ones turned the once sympathetic radio host, Luther Mandrake, into a bitter cynical man who didn't mind making people cry with his cruel, hateful words. What about the spiritual journey of Moses from Egyptian Prince to prophet of God? What about Lucifer's fall from a high-ranking angel to a literal devil? Minds move all the time. And really, I have had my own journey. I am not the same being I once was. Not even close. Years of wisdom and tragic loss have left their mark on me. I am somebody else. I look back at someone who is clearly not me. I suppose so long as free will exists, both redemption and falling are both possible. Superheroes, Supervillains, Angels, and Devils: They all have a back story, an origin. We must all decide which we're going to be. May I continue on the path of wisdom, growth, improvement, and evolution. Let me see in the mirror the good person I wish to be. I need to know I am becoming more and more the one I should be. I had another crazy dream, another maze. A hospice nurse came up to me and asked how my father was doing. I was about to tell her that he's been dead and gone since last July, but his voice interrupted me, saying, "I'm doing much better now." I turned around to see him, about my age, in his 1990s health and glory. Then I wondered the maze some more and found myself in some sort of restaurant. A waitress asked me if I could help them clean up the place, and I agreed, wiping counters, gathering up trash, and putting it on a giant dumpster out back. On about my third trip back in, something was wrong. There was this crazy fat maniac with a gun on a murder spree. I tried warning people to run away, but only a few heard me in time to get to safely. Instead of being brave like I'd hope to be, I ran away. I could see the lights flashing and hear the sirens blaring as the police surrounded the building. Then I found myself back in the maze again. I couldn't find my car. Suddenly, a sharp pain seized my leg, and I fell. It turns out it was one of those damn cramps I get in the middle of the night. The only way to make it stop is by getting out of bed and standing up. That was what woke me up. It was 3am. The dream or the cramp that woke me, which hurt more? Tough contest to judge if you ask me. My dreams make me wonder about my own mental health. Am I really that flarked up in the head? The only good aspect was Dad, undiminished by the ravages of time, saying he was doing okay. The rest of the dream totally sucked. We all want to be heroes, but can we really know what we'll be when all hell breaks loose? No. Me, I'll either be running toward the enemy to fight or away to flee. All I know it I will not freeze. Flight or fight, one or the other. Oh well, at least my dream self did make some effort to warn people of the danger. What the hell causes me to have nightmares like that? Probably all the insanity on the television news. It's a madhouse out there. Most of the maniacs are not in the asylum but are roaming free. It's a frightening thought. I guess it seeps into the subconscious, impossible to digest, so the mind needs to take a giant shit now and then. Though what the mental Ex-lax happened to be, I don't know. I thought Freddy Kruger was the only maniac of dreams. I guess every town has more than just an Elm Street. Mean glove, move down! Enough of the freaking prime time! Enough unpleasantness. Spring is here. And if Mr Orange happens to be right, I just so happen to be in the right industry. Stocks mean nothing when one can't afford to invest. Wages, on the other hand, matter a great deal. I guess we'll see, won't we? All I know is I have seen things go downhill for a very long time now. It doesn't take a genus to know workers with a living wage can't compete against sweat shops. I have no need of cheap junk, especially expensive cheap junk. I have no plans to buy a new car. My current vehicle still had reasonably low mileage, and I take good care of that ol gal. I have long figured I can't afford retirement. Who knows? Maybe that will change. If not, it will be just as bleak as before. Any chance is better than no chance at all. As I have said, it's my bottom line I care about and none of the bullshit. One country said it was like a friend starting a fistfight. Well, if I caught my friend stealing from me, I'd go all Rocky Balboa too. And enough of that because I still hate politics. The only side I'm on is mine. It's like the Superbowl. What do I care who wins? Do I get a ring? Do I get to party with the cheerleaders? No. So why should it make a difference to me? It's only natural that the only team I care about winning the championship is Team Wie. Go Space Cadets! Fight, fight, fight, for the spaced out cadets! Goooo Meeee! GI Zapp! Did you pack your parachute? Good, because I forgot mine. It's not selfish to be making sure that at least one person is looking out for your own best interests. Casting our souls out to be at the mercy of strangers is a very risky business indeed. You've got to have your own back if you expect others to. On the other side of that same coin, we should always look after the ones who look after us. Not blindly, but with open eyes. I take no side that refuses to be on mine. I try my best not to be like Luther Mandrake by letting tragedy and loss transform me into some hateful, bitter cynic. I still have empathy for others. But the lessons born of tragedy not only remind me to appreciate the people who genuinely love me but also remind me to have the same care for myself. I am not perfect, but I am still worthy of love, patience, and understanding. Why? Because I actually do care. I just have to remember I can't drain the very last drop of my own life's blood, just to save another. I am not Jesus Christ, just another human being, full of flaws, and with a past, I can not change. I am not immune to temptation or death. And sometimes, I think death has sadisticly spared me thus far, just for me to witness him take the ones I love, one by one. Just as with my trashy ex, sometimes the best revenge is letting them live while everything and everyone they love is picked like flowers by the gods and the angels, for Heaven, Valhalla, wherever What matters is that this world grows darker with each light extinguished. I won't lie. Would you laugh at a middle-aged aged adult sits and cries because Mommy and Daddy are gone? Then laugh it up, asshole. It'll stop being funny when it starts being you. I miss them. I miss my dear baby sister. I miss the illusion I once had of success and normality, that as long as I were good I would be treated in kind, that I had married a soul mate and not a monster intent on first using me then crushing my soul. I can't be like Mandrake. If I become a cynic, then I have lost. I am no advocate for the devil. Only for myself, because most of my advocates are gone now. I still have a heart, even if it has grown old. Old, but never cold, my friends. I still love with everything I've got. I'm just a lot more careful with who. Time is peculiar. This day seems like eternity. My youth seems like yesterday. And I? I am sure I've explained why I call now the future and not the present. I am a space cadet lost in time. This future, where so little is familiar, where the dead should still be living, and where I should not be this damn old. This is the future. And in more ways than not, the future sucks. Science damn it. I am sick of the freaking future. Just drop by in your 1981 DeLorean DMC-12, like a knight in stainless steel armor, pick me up and take me home. Rescue me. Take me back to a time when I still had a chance and things still made sense. I am old and I am tired. There goes my dramatic ranting again. God save the King..... (and the Queen). Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. I am the great and powerful wizard of Oz, north, south, east, west, to the borders of Wonderland. 

The Waiting Room

I've finally gotten to the point in life where I'm quite happy to abstain from the mind games. I'm like Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies, too old for this shit. Besides, where did it ever get me? Lemmie tell ya where I am now.... Ruler of my own fate, listener of some good tunes, and far happier now than I ever was when in said game. Sometimes, the way to win is to quit playing. It does not make you a loser. It makes you smaaahtah den da average bear. I am matter. I am energy. Though lately it seems like slightly more matter and a bit less energy. A little too much jelly in the belly. I've got to get back rocking on the dieting and exercising. I mean I am far from looking like Jabba The Hut or Moby Dick, but I damn sure don't wanna get any closer. Just my mind talking. My body? It most definitely wants to be fat. Bring on the jelly donuts! It seems I'm always hungry and never not. I argue with myself. I'm hungry. No you're not! Such is the battle within. I am, in fact, many things. I am a waveform, not a particle. There are many shades of Wie. I have several names, but only one face. I have only one heart, and I am only one soul. But both are deep wells of many possibilities. It's not identity disorder or multiple personality. At the end of the day in whatever form, it is only me. Sometimes I can see better the other side of the precipice on which I stand. My center, especially that of gravity, tends to ebb and flow, pushing me forward then pulling me back. The actor, the space cadet, and the true self: It is I, and we are we. We are the Wie. The Wie and the I. And so, why, ladies and gentlemen, do I bring this up? Because these many shades and these mighty contrasts will show through in these words. Contrasts are not contradictions. They're merely different shadows and various points of light, refractions and reflections from many different angles cast through the lens of my thoughts and emotions. In other words, it's all me, baby. Its all a mess, but I will own it all. Why? Because I am the mess that made it. Hopefully I am at least consistent in this one way, if in none other. Sooo. Anyway, that's that. Continue. Clean cup, move down. Look out for white rabbits, Cheshire cats, and mad watches. You know? I find myself waiting.... For the sun? For a falling star? For the other shoe to drop? For the sky to fall? For a taco pan pizza? For a super duper double bacon burger with fries? For a million dollars? For the end? For new beginnings? "For a girl like you"? (What's up with these songs?) Really, I am alright. I can't say I am happy with the status quo, but I am okay with it. I have seen how it can actually be far worse for those 'fortunate ones' sometimes. Like I said, it's neither heaven nor hell, more like purgatory. Like those old folks in church I remember so well from my childhood, I'm just waiting. Not singing so cheerfully as them, but neither drowning in pure melancholy like some condemned prisoner. I'm just waiting, that's all. My life is a waiting room, and my diversions are like the outdated magazines on the end tables. I'm just waiting. For a doctor to heal me or for a principal (schoolmaster) to punish me, I can't say. The waiting is all I know. I find myself waiting for something, and I know not its nature. All I can say for certain is that it's definitely not nothing, certainly something. And like Tom Petty once sang, the waiting is the hardest part. As I find myself three years and two megabytes on the other side of a heavy day that made me realize I knew nothing at all, a day where I deleted everything and started over, I am sending my best wishes and hopes for my dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers... As well as to the good Doctor Blog-ieo, but most of all to my universe, my dear sister, my dear parents... I'm still here, and I still love you. How could I not? I still think of you, Dad, of your example, of the truths you taught me. I think of how you were always wondering if I was okay, even those last days, always concerned for me, a true, caring, loving father until the very end. More than just a good man, but the very example of the very meaning, the very concept of what it means to be. I think of you, Momma, of how we drove each other crazy, and got on each other's nerves sometimes. But I also remember how through it all, even when I was being a total ungrateful jerk, you stuck by me, never left me, never abandoned me. I don't think I could have asked for a better mother. I think of you, dear sister, dear universe, and wonder how three years could have passed. The very inspiration for all I have written, the biggest missing part of my heart, a wonderful soul who believed in me more than I ever could. I think of you all and deeply wish I could have a second chance to maybe have been a better person to all of you, to not take for granted or given the limited time I had with you, the presence that enriched my life, or the unconditional love that means so much to me. I carry your pictures everywhere I go. They, too, surround me in my room, to remind me of what I can never forget. I carry you with me. And I don't think I'm even capable of letting go. Regret is like a punch to the face, and grief is a kick in the heart. I am still hurting, and maybe I deserve to. Otherwise, how have I been? I had a very productive weekend, made my rounds, stocked up on some good food, mowed the yard, edged around the house, washed the car, basically got everything looking as beautiful as I wish I were. I think Mom and Dad would approve of the progress I've made. Then I got to doing computer stuff. I have found YouTube to be an excellent source of info on some cool anime style games and where to find them. The same is true for Doom levels. If it looks cool, I can use my search skills and usually find them. I guess, besides being Cyber Merlin, I am also Cyber Lewis and Clark or maybe Cyber Sherlock Holmes. Can I find it? Indubitably, my dear Watson. As much as I love technology, there are a few things I find worrisome about it. About 170-something years ago in the 1850s, there was this solar flare or something similar that electrified the telegraph lines, zapped some equipment, shocked some people, and maybe set a fire or two. Still, the world ran on paper, cash, currency, and businesses kept all their records on paper. Now. Imagine if you will that happening today with ancient electrical grids, and the whole economy, commerce, and just about every damn thing running on computers. Imagine everything getting fried in an instant. Just how flarked would we be? Very. It is a scary thought indeed. Maybe it won't be a planet wide phenomenon. The unaffected hemisphere could suddenly be a technological power house. I'd hope they'd be generous, too. So how about we quit pissing off the rest of the world, just in case? Ha... The political bullshit continues. All that matters to me is my bottom line. It used to be only in election years that things got to a fever pitch. Nowadays, they never shut up. It's not donkeys or elephants that concern me. It's my own wallet, my own financial situation, my ability to cover my own bills. and not be drowning under an ocean of debt. As far as many other things, while I may have various opinions with either trunks or tails, but compared to my bottom line, they are insignificant. Then there are many things for which I frankly don't give a shit. Like I said, the hot air coming from all these mouths would be a good source of green energy. There's your solution. Oh and you are quite welcome, my dear. This world is so full of empty talking points, words without any real meaning. It can be so disheartening to see so little substance, so little realness, so little meaning below the surface or beyond the superficial. I can not be moved by echoing dogma. I can not feel words without heart. I can not accept, rationalize, or reason with words without true thought behind them. It is only noise to me, babble to exceed Babylon itself. It's just garbage in audio form. Madness without the Hatter, the hare, or the watch. Clean cup! Clean cup! Move down! I wish I could believe in friendship. Sometimes, I wish so much that I see it where it obviously does not exist. In the end, it would seem there is only me. Sometimes, all we have is our diversions, our distractions, our dreams and delusions, and..... Ourselves. Is it actually wise to be oblivious, ignorant, but happy? I get it. Not everybody is my friend. But there are times when I wonder just who is? It's not a super exclusive club. There are no detailed applications or elaborate initiations. There's no dude in a 500 dollar suit gonna go sniff sniff with an upturned nose and turn folks away. There's no Temu-Arnold bouncer going to throw anyone out. Be human, be kind, be heart and soul, that's all. Conversely, nobody should feel obligated to be in said club if they don't want to be. You won't be interrogated. This isn't Shawshank, Leavenworth, or Stallag 13. There are no prisoners here. The gate is wide open. All are free to walk away. You need not be a total jerk and treat me like the dirt under your feet. All you need to do is leave. I won't chase you. I promise. This is no joke, and neither am I. People are strange, man. Jim was right. Very, very strange. And these are strange times we live in. Strange days, indeed. they have found us. I find some of these realizations that experience has opened my eyes to, to be peculiar, to say the least. The biggest eye opener was finding out that women can be just as bad as men about certain things, and I guess vice-versa. Nothing is exclusive, neither the positive stereotypes nor the negative ones. It turns out we all own it all, the good and bad and the damn fugly. Holy freaking mackerel. I won't deny that I have the same wants, needs, and desires as most, but it's just that I long for so much more than just that. And if middle age beyond wisdom has given me any gift, it is that these days I can take or leave a lot of things. I no longer feel like I'd drop dead without it. Ever see the Dave Chapel parody of Sesame Street? Remember their version of Oscar? That's right. Bucket! If it were fatal to live without certain things, I'd be long dead by now. Bucket. I used to envy those supposed 'Chads'. Maybe I still do in some ways. After all, all that attention from the opposite sex would be most validating. Hey, hey, I'm a helluva guy, eh! But I recently learned they can also be subject to stalking and harassment (yes sexual harassment), and sometimes not even saying "Hey I'm married!" or saying, "Hey, I've got a girlfriend!" will get them to stop. Seems that men haven't cornered the market on being creeps. Once again, a check-box means nothing when it comes to the soul. Both the beautiful and the horrible can live within either gender or any other category you want to put us in. And while great sex rates right up there with fine wine, cold beer, and good food, just as it always has to me, I must say that without love to go with it, it has always left me cold, lonely, and empty. Let me just say that pretty faces, perfect boobs, and fine asses are far easier to find than a pure heart and a beautiful soul. Without a true special friend who truly loves me, heart, and soul, some things are just not worth the trouble anymore. It must be about more than just physicality, though snuggles and heartbeat lullabies are quite wonderful. Oh well, I have an idea. Let's change the subject. Clean cup move down! No mad watches were harmed in the making of this blog. I think I've finally turned a corner of sorts, hopefully for real this time. I just realized that if I never saw my special friend again, I'd be okay. I miss them even when they're here with me. It's not their fault, and I certainly don't have any bad feelings about them. It's just that I know now that I'm much happier keeping my distance. It is one of those rare times when 'It's not you, it's me' is the actual truth. The fact that it was my own damn fault does not change what I must do. Even if I must take the cowardly route of making excuses, rather than just come out and say I wanted more. I guess it's that or be a total jerk and tell the truth. And you see, I could never cause her any pain, at least without hating myself. Even if I never meant to. So, I'll just be the coward who runs away slowly enough so as not to look like I'm running away. Maybe I should go to the Wizard and ask for courage. Better yet, maybe I should move on with my life. I have been in more than just the friend zone, more than just the Gobi Desert of the friend zone. I am stranded on the Ceti Alpha V of the friend zone. And it's a bit ironic that it has been 15 years. And I don't even have the cool hair or the manly chest of Khan Noonan Singh. Damn you, Kirk! I'm either the cowardly lion or the Dollar Store Khan... Not exactly what I once envisioned myself to be. I guess some things just can't be helped. Clean cup? Move down. A few things have led me to ponder certain things. I never wanted war, never even imagined a war was coming. After a brief season of shock, I began to defend myself. Even more surprisingly, I had to defend my own children from those I never thought I would have to. I fought back and I won. That is why they hate me. They underestimated my resolve to defend myself and others. I even tried to make peace, but they mistook that gesture for weakness and for a lack of resolve. And when I proved them wrong and permanently kicked them out of my life, I became the bad guy, the son of a bitch. That is why they hate me and that is why they will always lose. The clock is ticking Silver Shamrock fans, it is almost time. I am no angel. I am far from an avenging god. I have not completely lived this life without my own blames, wrongs, sins, and mistakes to bear, especially from when I was much younger and much stupider than I am now. Believe me, they are a heavy burden. I do not speak from any pedestal of righteousness. Still it does not take a blameless angel to recognize certain things. Now, I have seen way too much death in recent years to be cynically celebrating those for whom I have absolutely no love lost. I will say there are a very few I've already grieved while they were still alive, those who have persisted in the face of my losing some of the most loved people in my life, my dearest loved ones who deserved far better than certain lowlifes ever will. While I won't be dancing on any graves, I won't be crying either. I won't be celebrating any deaths. I will only be celebrating (for the first time since losing my baby sister) that I am, in fact, still alive, myself. And I think that this will (at the very least) call for a drink. It's not revenge, maybe not even Karma. It's the chickens finally coming home to roost and the rent coming due. Rome falls. "It's time, Harvey, it's time." Helen Waite, Paging Helen Waite! "Tell em Freddy sent ya." And that, my friends, is my darker side. I really try my best not to be bitter and full of anger. I am in most circumstances, a compassionate, forgiving soul. After all, I have my own flaws. Therefore I can forgive harm done to me. I can't however forgive putting my children in dangerous circumstances as some sort of payback to me. That's where I draw the freaking line, and where certain people permanently shit their nests with me. And this I am taking to the grave. Sorry, but not sorry. Maybe I could forgive if they had sincere remorse, true regrets, and made a reasonable effort to make things right. Not with me, but with my now grown up kids. Maybe I could find it within my own heart. After all, I know well my own regrets and remorse (unrelated to this) and would definitely be moved by a genuine effort. Speaking terms will never happen, but I could most certainly forgive. But since I have not seen any of that, Like Talky Tina, I do not forgive you. Yes, this is definitely my darker side. I'm not exactly proud of it. Still, I can't really help the way I feel. I cast no stones for I am not without my own sin, but this is simply as far as I can go. I will not attend funerals for those who do not deserve my tears. And being circumstances have changed, and yet have not, I will not be forced or shamed into going. And there is where Vader speaks, my dark side.  There are many shades of Wie. Not all of them make me proud. Here you see what I rarely show. Here you shall hear much of what I hesitate to speak of elsewhere.  Do know even this is not everything, at least not overtly. I leave the rest between the lines as I always have. I am no angel, but I am no demon either. I am just one mess of a human being.