A Martian Story And A Return To Earth

Please allow me to pretend for a while that I, the great Cosmic Wie, have been selected to produce a plan for the colonization / terraforming of the planet Mars. In my imaginings, I have a really awesome looking office at NASA, and I'm bringing home the big buckazoids. And... My assignment is to come up with a plan. Okay. Here is a sort of science fiction thing. Well, as much science fact as my knowledge can provide, and pure speculation and outright fiction afterward. See, we are going to colonize Mars. For starters, we must create a miniature biosphere. Before that, how are we going to do all this labor-intensive construction when there's no air, food, or water? I hear we humans need those sort of things. Okay, what's science fiction without giant robots? Science fiction magic! Poof! I now have giant robots that will go to Mars to do all that construction. They will be excavating the ground in a circle with a diameter of 2 kilometers. They will dig down to a depth or about three meters. Several large water tanks will be installed at that depth. Above the tanks will be placed on a surface designed to channel water into the tanks. Above that surface will be placed a durable mesh designed to allow water to seep through, yet hold soil in place. The excavated Martian soil will then be treated with all toxins neutralized and nutrients added, then placed back into the circle. A plexiglass dome will then be constructed, pressurized by air pump with Martian atmosphere to equal Earth pressure at sea level. (The height of the dome will be based based on available resources). There will be a polarized coating designed to block excess ultraviolet radiation and some sort of magnetic field to deflect deadly cosmic radiation. Water will be pumped from the tanks below through sprinklers mounted in the top of the dome and will simulate rain. Simple, durable plant life will be introduced first. Later, there will be more complicated plant life and insects to act as pollinators. No mosquitoes or yellow flies, though. Let's leave those bastards back on Earth. The inner atmospheric composition will be monitored as the oxygen levels slowly increase over time. There will be no need, however, to keep my army of construction robots idle. Construction can begin on a second dome, a third, a fourth, and so on. The domes will eventually be connected to each other by underground pathways. As time goes on, agriculture and the beginnings of human colonization can begin. And, no, Captain Arthur Black, I am not your brother, Edward. Ah, the Martian Chronicles. A TV miniseries from 1980, based upon the writings of Ray Bradbury. I have referenced it here and there in this blog. The part of the story I think of the most is the whole "Mars Is Heaven?" episode. I have written about that, too, questioning how I would react. That the remaining Martians recreated the captain's hometown of Green Bluff, Illinois, and populated with all the people he loved... His brother, his mother and father, even a woman he once loved... What if I were the captain? Instead of an Illinois town, a northern Florida countryside... Instead of his brother, my sister. Instead of his parents, my parents. Instead of his lost love, my lost love.... How would I react? Would I purposely let myself fall victim to such a charade? Because I miss them as much as I do? Would a short-term illusion of their return be worth my long-term death in the end? Even now? I just don't know. Ever know exactly how you feel but couldn't find the words to save your life? Beyond that, it is more than a simple question of to be or not to be, it is that mind bending question, to express or not to express, to speak up or to forever keep silent... It's not merely one question. Really, ladies and gentlemen, I don't know the answers. I'm still here, and my heart is still beating. It's the same rock and roll show that must go on. Hellooooo, Chiptropolis! Are we ready to rock? I wouldn't call it an identity crisis. I know well who I am and what I am. This is more like a definition problem. How can one define what the world can never understand? You'd think I would've figured things out by now... Nope... Age guarantees less than the youthful one may think it does. It's a helluva thing. It's not my time. It's only my turn, no more permanent than it was for those before me. Your turn is no more particular than your time when it comes to waiting until you're ready. Trust me, it will not wait. In all fairness, would I have ever been ready? Probably not. I need their council and their presence now, just as I needed them back then. The difference now is that I have to make do with my own judgment and the memory of advice given long ago. It is not my time, only my turn. Do not wait for a sign to get it all together. The day is today. The hour is now. My father is now by my mother's side where he belongs. It has taken us way too long to do this, but it has been so hard for us to get on the same page. With our schedules, it was difficult to find a moment when my sister and I could get things together. However, neither of us wanted for our parents to spend another anniversary apart. Not to mention that my own guilt in not properly putting him to rest had grown unbearable. That good man never failed me, but I felt like I was failing him and my mother by taking so long to do what needed to be done, regardless of scheduling, regardless of dread. He belongs next to my mother. Though, I would hope that his essence, his being, his soul was already with Momma and has been with her since last July. I am far more spiritual than I am religious. Most organized religions make no sense to me. Still, I refuse to see the grave as the home of the dead. My good parents, my dearest sister: Their home is not the cold ground in a lonely cemetery. No. They are one with the universe and, therefore, somewhere much better than here. I am not sure if this alternate dimension, this better place, carries the name of Heaven. But it would certainly fit the description. They're no longer in pain. They are dignified, strong in mind and body, just as they were in their prime and even better. Somewhere better than here, beyond the rainbow and the dimensional divide. At the very least, they will never again know pain. And it is a comfort to believe that hopefully, someday, I will join them where they are. Or at least I shall find refuge in the arms of merciful Oblivia, ruler of oblivion. Either way, no more sorrow, no more regret, no more pain. It is a very personal thing. Nobody (outside of a cult) goes down in madness together, always alone. There is so much emotion, too many words left unsaid. It is a river both dammed and damned. Believe it. Know it. The human soul is the deepest well. Yet, there are only so many things you can throw into it.... before they manifest again. Many of us pretend we are impervious to these things, but we're not. To look around, nothing seems that different. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. It's just storybook beautiful out there. I'm not trying to be so vague at this very specific feeling... It's just rather that the weight of any heart depends on the gravity of the given situation. Say hello to the day after everything. Say hello to Limbo. Say hello to Purgatory. This is where I live now. These days will continue until they end until it all ends. It's far from abnormal that I'm not okay. Still, nothing is changed by the way I feel. Reality is rigid, unwavering, impervious to my feelings, and to my needs. I really don't need to be reminded that I am not the center of the universe. It is a truth I realize all too well. And I really don't need to be. What I do need is to feel that at least somebody knows I exist at all, no matter how remote I may be. Time gets shorter every day. I guess it's nothing that any mortal human being does not already know. Damn, have my words found themselves in such a dark place again? You wouldn't think I try as hard as I do to keep out of this literary abyss because I find myself here, again and again and again. Let's reset this with a new subject, shall we? Clean cup move down. How about some computer nerd digital pack rat jibba jabba? My five 8 terabyte hard drives are each full. I filled up the last half Terabyte with a lot of my parent's files. There's still a lot more, but I am planning on starting a new backup, a volume 2, so to say. I will use my other older drives for this, my essential works in progress, the rest of my parent's files, and some of Marsha's soap operas. I hope to eventually transfer all to a more permanent storage medium. I wish 5D crystal glass becomes affordable and available soon.... At least before I die, actually, before I'm too old and messed up. As I fear that happening to me just as it happened to my parents. Just let me live long enough to complete my life's work. Let me store absolutely everything that ever was of us on one glass disc, impervious to weather and time. Let me build this digital time capsule to last centuries, millennia, longer. Remember us. I want us all to live on at least in this one way. Memory is important. Sadly, if we're not Egyptian Pharoahs, Roman Emperors, Kings, Queens, or Presidents of The United States of America, we are all too soon forgotten... Remember me, but more importantly, remember them. They deserve to be remembered. No good soul should ever be forgotten. To me, it is the most horrible fate of all. They are more than just dust, I am more than just flesh. I am a conscious being. So are they, present tense, now and forever, amen. I could never bear seeing them in any other way. I see it's gotten heavy again. You know the cycle, clean cup move down. Subject change! Subject change! Mad watch! Mad blogger! Really, how is a raven like a writing desk? The only good thing about civilized society is that it means a little less having to do unto others before they do unto you. Therefore, it beats the hell out of anarchy and living in a battle zone. Still, it's a machine we get caught up in that never ever stops. Not for pain, physical or emotional... Yadda yadda Yoda. No, it doesn't stop, and will roll right over us if we try to catch our breath. It's either ignoring the pain as best we can, keeping running as hard as we can, or getting crushed under the machine. It keeps the world turning, but it has no mercy at all. This is the machine. It's one hell of a rat maze, one hell of a hamster wheel, but yeah, it beats running from Lord Humongous in "The Road Warrior." Still.... "I'm gravely disappointed....." I guess it's not perfect, but it's all we have. Maybe humanity can invent a better way someday... But I would assume my struggles will be long over by then. Will technology save us? I doubt it. From what I have seen so far, they've used it to entrap us far more often than making any really effort to free us. That social media vortex is far more dangerous than they are letting on. Everybody's hooked on dopamine, always chasing their fix as others keep chasing the dragon, that old illusion of ever getting that feeling again. It's not real. As referenced once in song, only smart ones do without. I'm not so smart, myself, because I find myself going to that poisoned well again and again. Once you get that compulsion, it's hard to fight.... Just like any addiction. I'm not immune, but I try to stay mindful of my need to fight against it. I don't call it a vortex for nothing. It's a fast spinning super massive black hole and it will pull you in if you don't fight back against it. What looks like meaning and validation from the outside is nothing of the sort. Within that event horizon lies only emptiness and longing. Fulfillment can never be found there, only an illusion. There are things we can only find within ourselves. There are things we can only get from genuine friends in the real world. The vortex is the biggest lie ever invented. It causes harm. It brings suffering. You can not see these truths from inside of it. We must break free. Another struggle I am having is knowing I can't exactly carry everybody's burdens here. I help as best I can, but I can't be carrying everything. It is about all I can do to pull my own weight and this extra is getting to be too much as it is. As the old saying goes, people need to get their shit together. I can't do it for them. I would if I were able, but I'm not exactly getting any younger here. I mean I'm not exactly old and weak just yet, and I fully intend to stave off being elderly for as long as I can.... But... If such things happened to my parents, they'll happen to me too. I wouldn't have wanted them carrying burdens that were mine to carry. I was mostly standing on my own two feet back then, though I struggled sometimes. I kept the asking for help to a minimum. It was only when my little ones needed something that I would swallow my pride if I couldn't have covered it on my own. There just comes a time when one has to get it together. There's nobody out there I can run to for help. I am truly on my own. I am beginning to wonder how certain people are going to survive without me. Gotta get it together. You've gotta do what you've gotta do. The world has absolutely zero mercy. You've gotta rock and roll. You've gotta hit the ground running. You've gotta hustle. Life will not wait.

The Day After Everything

Ah, life.... That all you can take variety buffet of experiences, good ones, meh ones, bad ones. One great big variety pack. Sometimes, "Cowabunga!" and sometimes, "Bummer, dude!". We either hang ten or crash hard on the beach. High tide, low tide. Yadda yadda Yoda, Jedi Surfin Safari. "Totally gnarly it is, hmmmm?" Ah, but unlike the past, I can't say I was misled, deceived, or conned. Not this time. Nope... Unless I happened to Pyramid Scam myself, which is far from impossible. Just call me the Egyptian Magician. Maybe certain things hurt, no matter what. I blame my heart for being a freaking moron. Oh well... Clean cup move down. Tomorrow would have been my parent's 55th wedding anniversary. Momma's been gone three years. Dad's been gone for 10 months. Tomorrow, my remaining sister and I will finally be putting him to proper rest, as his ashes will be buried next to my mother on the very anniversary of their wedding day. This long delay in getting this done has been really messing with my conscious. Or, better said, my conscious has been messing with me, even sometimes taking his form in my dreams. It has been very clear what needs to be done. I can't say I am looking forward to it, but I'll feel better once it's done, knowing we've done right by him. He was a good man, and he deserves nothing less. Okay... I need to change the subject. Clean cup move down. Realness rarely glitters. It has no need to make a lot of noise or put on a show. It has no reason to catch any eye. It's rarely loud and never flashy and can only be seen when the blinding afterimages are gone. It's not glamorous, nor does it aim to be glorious. Still, it has permanence, staying power. Realness rarely makes promises, but will always be as good as gold. It certainty won't hurt to take just one more look around after the show is over. In the backdrop of that fading light, one just might find reality. Still, and quite contrary, It is quite that in this world, appearances can be more important than reality. I may seem anti-social, but really, I am not. I am no more anti-social than those store brand batteries are anti-energy. They just run down waaay faster. Sadly, my social batteries are neither Duracell nor Energizer. No bunny for me. Silly wabbit. This inner fear of intruding upon where I'm not wanted probably doesn't help. Social anxiety's like that. And certain experiences have not helped. I guess all I can say is that I mean well, and you are indeed welcome to say hi. Otherwise, y'all know where to find me, and I promise I won't bite - unless you're pizza. Ah, then beware. There is indeed such a day known as the day after everything. The sun may still rise. The birds may still sing. The bills will still roll in. Oh, and there will still be things to do. There will be more days, of course, just as there were more dollars printed the day after they stopped backing it with gold. But, a closer look reveals a thousand differences. The day after everything is something you feel deep within your soul and strongly in your heart. It is what you feel, moreover what you can't feel anymore. It's like those last few seconds of the record. The song is over, but the record still turns, just like the world. It's like sitting in the pilot's seat after the plane has landed, taxied, and stopped. The flight is over. Still, they're fueling up for the next one. Now, the choice that is before your eyes is as clear as the path beneath your feet. And those miles that Robert Frost so eloquently wrote of are more literal than you think. I wonder if any of my ravings make any damn sense. In this crazy life, one must pick both their battles and their truces while keeping as intact as possible their sanity (or their ability to fake it). How am I doing? Call 1 900 NAPOLEON. Sexy emperors are waiting for you. That's 1,000 Francs a minute. Good, Anakin, Good. Let the credits flow through you. Man, what a morning! Geesh! What the hell, man? I swear it's a conspiracy of the whole universe just to flark with me freaking hard. Are they purposely trying to drive me batshit crazy? Because I think it's working! My computer went stupid and froze up for absolutely no damn reason. I wasn't running anything heavy. Of course, it screwed up three of my hard drives, and all this bullshit just absolutely had to happen exactly five minutes before I had to leave the house. Lousy stupid updates! Why mess with a perfectly good setup? Have you ever heard of don't fix it if it ain't broke? Then, as I got out the door this morning, the flarking sole came off of one of my boots. Great. Then there was this monster movie fog out on the roads again, meaning another scary drive this morning keeping my nerves on edge. Then there were a bunch of weirdos at the damn store in the way for some reason... It was way busier than is normal for 5-something in the morning. Where the hell did these freaks come from? It's a freaking miracle that I made it to work on time. Oh. And I'm also having a bitch of a time typing these words (having to go back and fix them again and again) because this keypad is flarking stupid! Ah but otherwise, how is your day going? As for Sunday nights and for Monday mornings, there are three things I know about myself: (1) Being awake is not a problem for me. (2) Being asleep is not a problem for me. (3) The transition (however) between these two states of existence is for me what scientists such as Dr. Dogg PHD would call a biotch. Here I am feeling like crap for lack of sleep, but it's not like I didn't spend most of the night trying. Of course, I finally did, but it was far into the wee hours. Then it was a bitch and a half waking up. Life can sure feel like punishment sometimes. Bummer, dude. It's going to be a long day, again. Don't you just love it when the mirage reminds you of just how far into the desert you've wandered? Ah, that it's so unnatural on this long journey to lack that thirst for cool refreshing water, to lack that longing for the peaceful shelter and shade of that lone tree from the brutal sun, yet to say also in so many words, there is absolutely no oasis here for me. I totally get it. I have no problem accepting the arid reality of the climate. It's nothing I didn't already know, and I've learned it's best to put such things out of my mind if I am to continue. Such things do get easier over the long years, yet I'm not exactly immune to this human condition either. It haunts me like the ghosts of my past. Even in this desert, I am never alone. That's the hard part. As I look back on my life, such longings have been nothing but a burden. I think I would've been much better off without them. For want of a nail, for the flip of a gene, it's been hell. Random chance and here I am. Go figure go fish. Flark if I know. Once upon a time, I had a universe of possibilities ahead of me. Once there were a million choices like stars in the night sky above. I wish I could go back. Imagine knowing the pitfalls, the demons, and the places they hide. Imagine winning the war before it's even declared. Just imagine what I could do with a single save state in the game of life, knowing now what matters, which battles to fight, what to hold onto, and what to let go of. I would be the absolute greatest with no regrets, no lamentations, no reasons to believe that just maybe I actually deserve to perish in this desert, baked by the blistering sun, with past voices whispering in my ear to the bitter end. Oh, Great Oblivia, Angel of amnesia, Goddess of forever, what am I to do? I guess I am to do the best that I can for the rest of my life. What else? There seems to be only one path before my feet. I can only step forwards. There is just no going back. Following my heart only leads me in circles. Logic suggests a more tangential path. There is the path. There are the woods. This is afternoon, and night will be here soon. Ah, but sunsets are beautiful, If one can see between the trees. Man, I am zombified again today. Spaced out, tired, can't put two thoughts together. So here are some random thoughts instead. There's a lot of noise and a lot of flashy images out there designed to catch our attention, but totally devoid of any substance or meaning whatsoever. I think I'm just about ready to tune it all out, forever and ever amen. I'm tired of all the bullshit. It's no good, really. It's the same big steaming pile on a different day. Truth is a high-resolution universe, down to the little quarks and quirks. It defies all narratives. It need not seek attention. Propaganda, on the other hand, exists only in the same few tired flavors and has no real substance at all. It requires a lot of freaking hot air and never ever shuts the hell up. It's this useless product they keep trying to sell you, and keep think you're going to be dimb enough to buy it again. Oh well. Clean cup? I guess a lot of things depend on how you look at them. I really love Def Leppard's "Two Steps Behind". Always have since high school. It's got that kicked back and relaxed vibe to it. But, the lyrics, man, the lyrics! Try reading them in a creepy voice with John Carpenter's Halloween theme in the background. Disturbing, dude! While I still love the song as much as ever, I think it beats out "Every Breath You Take" by The Police as the ultimate stalker song. Speaking of music, my favorite love song of all time happens to be "Cheeseburger In Paradise." by Jimmy Buffet. It also makes me kinda hungry. Hey, I might as well cling to the few comforts left to me this day and age. Sometimes, hope dies young, long before the person who once hoped, leaving one with nothing to do but work, eat, sleep, pay bills and die...Ah but hope? Yep... Long dead, anciently so. A McCartney line is quite fitting, actually. All that magic feeling, nowhere to go. That is what the day after everything feels like, Purgatory, Limbo, the Diet Coke of Hell, Just for the flark of it and only one calorie. You've got the wrong one, baby. That is what it's like... Desolation, isolation, stuck in this planet sized waiting room. I remember well the elders in vivid detail, singing praises to the lord, so joyfully singing about heaven and Jesus, and of all manner of things I couldn't and still can't understand. Yes, and like those singing elders in the choir that I remember so well from my youth, I, now find myself waiting, too. Is it for the same thing? Not exactly. But it's related. Waiting, waiting, waiting for that stranger that doesn't quite look right, that shadow, that phantom, this closure that brings the very living end.. And here in this place, I wait, just as they once did. It happens when my mind wanders, when images dance on the edge of perception, as the shadow people walk out of the corner of my eye, their voices heard when I find myself in the strange land of half sleep, stray thoughts so heavy in the wee hours, strange moments perceived on levels I am only now beginning to know. Maybe these are thoughts not so unique to me. Maybe it's part of getting old, especially when the grand plans of youth didn't exactly work out as expected. If I'm talking a bit crazy here, just know I have quite a lot on my mind. You don't plan on burying your father ten months after his death without thinking about your own mortality. I wonder if I will be someday be interred in the same place. One can't help but think thoughts like this. It's just as inevitable as death itself. I honestly hope that by the time I return to these words, I will be the great Cosmic Wie once again, ready for space adventures beyond the moon... But for now, my thoughts are beneath the Earth, down, down, down, dark and deep, The Earth, the grown, the very dust I'm built of, saying a final goodbye to two beautiful souls who brought me here. My thoughts are scattered, shattered, and complicated. I just hope I feel better when this is all over with. In plain English, This is just plain hard.

Good Morning Purgatory

Hello, there? General Kenobi! Not quite. Here is another blog saber to add to your collection. Cough cough. Again, I have to say that these long ramblings are from my point of view, nothing but an emotional grounding rod. I say a lot of heavy things here just to get them out of my mind. Over the course of this seemingly long (and seemingly short) life of mine, I have been collecting, like a doctor's waiting room, many issues, some new, and some old, piling up on the end tables. These issues are not of Newsweek, Woman's World, or Golf Digest, but of the mental and the emotional kind. In my forward dealings with the world, and in my personal dealings with loved ones, I think I present quite the projection of normality. It's been quite a role and quite a show, and the show must go on. The truth is that I am one hell of a mess. Grief, guilt, past trauma, depression, anxiety, regrets are all among this pot luck stew of a soul. It's quite an interesting flavor. I would truly go down in madness if I could not express my secret heart and these tortured thoughts. These feelings will not go away by being ignored or completely suppressed. So, I let all the arcing and sparking go to my ground wire. This is my ground wire. And with that said, welcome to the latest edition of Good Morning Purgatory, the number one morning show in the galactic universe of the great Cosmic Wie. Let me first wish everyone a super sunny morning especially to all my fellow souls here in the lost realm. It's not quite hell. Here, there's less torture, so we can all clearly think of all the messed up ways we flarked things up. Sadly, this limbo is not the cool Limbo like in down in Jamaica. There is no going under a bar that's already coming down hard on our poor backsides. This is not lounging under the setting sun at Montego Bay. We don't even have Bob Marley reassuring us that everything's gonna be alright. It's just no good, mon. And really, I only have myself to blame. Is there such a thing as dignified humility? You know, like knowing you're sometimes wrong, but also knowing that nobody is absolutely right all the time. Then there is knowing that arguments are generally a waste of time, whether you are right or wrong. There are not many out there care to lose, no matter the case. I state my case, but I don't argue beyond that. I think most human beings, no matter how big and bad an image we project to the world, need to feel safe and loved. The difference is that some of us don't seem to realize others need this, too. It's not a matter of weakness. More like augmenting each other's strength. Our game face may resemble an aggressive hockey player, but some of us are just teddy bears in disguise. Me, I'm more like Yogi. No pick-a-nick-baskets for me today, a voo-va-va-voo. Then again, what the hell do I know? Nothing, Herr Komendant, nothing! Sometimes, I feel a thousand times removed from everything and everyone. This postmodern day isolation sucks. The technology I used to love is partly to blame. It's not that I have ever been so wired in as a lot of people out there. I have figured out that the Borg from Star Trek are nothing more than these particular humans from the future with the latest iPhone, complete with eyepiece, prosthetic arm, and a wifi connection from the internet of things directly to the brain. Resistance is futile. You will all become one with the Borg. "I am Locutus Of Borg. I am also Le Cutest of Borg!" [wink-wink]. The worst part is there's nothing out there, really. It's all an illusion, a total facade these days. There used to be so many cool places to go, limited only by what you could think up to look up. Not anymore. Now it's all a plain Jane landscape with no real character at all. Remember that wasteland full of evil robots and a few scattered humans just trying to survive? No, it's not Los Angeles in 2029 from the terminator movies, but the internet in real life 2025. Welcome to the machine. It's the new world order, of the robots, by the robots, and for the robots. And not even of those cool Cylons from 1970s Battlestar Galactica. At least they'd make cool overlords of Earth with their oscillating red lights and reflective metallic bodies. No, modern-day robots are quite stupid. Especially when they fake being human. Not to give away how damn old I'm getting, but I am old enough to well remember the 1990s. Once upon a time, all was a great adventure. Once it seemed it held infinite possibilities... Once... An infinity ago. Somehow, everything changed right under our keyboards. It used to be a wondrous universe of infinity. Now, it's nothing more than a singularity. It's like a fast spinning super massive black hole. The pull of gravity from beyond the event horizon is so strong that it takes a waking mind to resist. I am not immune myself. It's a Venus Flytrap, a Pitcher Plant for humans... If we were moths, it would be a flame. And it is far more dangerous than most of us realize. And, friend, you'd be so much happier without it. The vortex is so misleading. The corporations who built it wish to keep you scrolling, to make that screen the singular focus in your life. It's just how real psychologists designed slot machines and casinos. Casinos drain your money, while the social media vortex drains your sanity. It traps you by making you think you need it. Modern humans have been around for tens of thousands of years. Maybe more than a hundred thousand. Google it. It seems we humans for a very long time have gotten by just fine without that screen. Modern-day people can, too, if they really try. I wish companies and governments would realize that not everybody has (or wants to have) a smartphone up their ass. The screen is a trap. How do you feel after spending your hours there? I don't know about you, but the whole apparatus makes me feel unwanted, unloved, and that absolutely nobody on Earth cares. That is at least a partial lie, I know because there are several people still around who do care. It's an illusion, and it is designed to drain the very life from your soul. A happy person is not very profitable. See, as you look for absolution, as you seek validation, all you will find are ads for products to make you like a more attractive and lovable person. Real human connections can rarely be found. I think the algorithm actually interferes with it. I do have a few friends there, but it is hard to find their posts amongst all the bullshit. They're being deliberately obscured. That is what I think. It is just unhealthy. They are literally causing harm. I guess that's why I have more and more gone the route of the simple blog. I have no expectations of a following here. In fact, I'm counting on it in a lot of ways. Though I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world if it somehow happened. If I haven't explained myself in all these words, I guess I never will. We all cope in our own ways. This is my way. It beats drinking, smoking, gambling, dope, and about a hundred other things. Still, it doesn't exactly sound pretty sometimes. Just know that I express my darker thoughts here to be sunnier out in the world. No, but it's not pretty, not pretty at all. Here, you see what I hide elsewhere. Here, my true being dwells. Depression and anxiety are not exactly the prettiest colors to paint with. Still, have hope, my friend. A bit of heart and a bit of soul can shine through anyway. Now, as to the subject of the social media vortex. We all need to repeat the mantra. Nothing is out there. Nothing is out there. It's not a falsehood, not anymore. I might still find a few cool Doom levels, maybe some fanfictions and other forms of art. Information about most anything and most everything can also be found, though multiple sources are a good idea. Besides that, however, there's nothing to be found. There is no comfort, no absolution, no validation, no meaning, purpose, love, belonging, to be found online. These things can only be found in two places, in the real world and from within. The internet holds many answers, but not THOSE answers. They're out there, but in the real world, not in cyberspace. You would have a much better chance of encountering the Cyberdemon in cyberspace instead. ROO! A little Doom Reference here. Remember to dodge the rockets and use the BFG 9000. Man, I wish it would have rained like this during the workweek instead of all weekend. This being stuck indoors and not accomplishing hardly anything has really given me the blues. Meanwhile, I got tired of that crappy mower I bought just two months ago that never exactly worked right and got another one. Screwed over by the warranty people. I guess I should have gotten that extended plan when I bought it at Lowes. Splurged for a new one because I finally got tired of fighting it. Just no chance to use it. It's hard to be bright and sunny on the inside when it's so dark and gloomy on the outside. I know we needed this rain, but damn. Why couldn't it have rained like this when I'm stuck inside factory walls anyway? Oh well.... And, of course, it was Mother's Day too. I miss that lady. Despite how I used to gripe about how crazy she drove me, she was a good mother, and no doubt the first love of my life. I have been told I would totally freak out as a toddler when she left my sight. No doubt I never gave her a moment's peace back then. Firstborn and clingy as hell, as some children are. Now, she's left my sight for the rest of my life. I'm not that clingy toddler anymore, but I'd still like to see my mother, especially on days when one is supposed to think of their mothers. Now, she's gone. She's been gone for more than three years now, two months after I lost Marsha. Only, I can't exactly freak out now. At least, not openly. At least nowhere except for in this blog. They're gone. Momma, Dad, Marsha. I still can't understand this messed up order of things! Like with so many things, some days are harder than others. I know there are many people in the same boat as me, Mother's Day without their mother, Father's Day without their father, Birthday's, death day's, yadda yadda. Valentine's Day for the perpetually single (which I mind the least of all the others) Romance is overrated. I do better alone. Or at least that's how I feel today. The person I have alluded to having feelings for is still around, but it's just as pointless as before. And I would just rather be alone than with anybody else. Only one soul has those particular keys to my heart. No one else would ever do. If not her, then nothing. Emotions and mentality can be quite the quicksand if there's nothing to hold on to. Got to reach out for something... I've been playing my old FPS games to try and cheer myself up. Otherwise, I might as well go back to work. I've been in one hell of a discombobulated state. I spent all of rainy Sunday in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. I left my phone in the car for two days and didn't even miss it. I guess it's good that nobody was trying to reach me. Though that kinda brings me down. Here's a grim thought: Save for my grown kids, how many days would it take after suddenly dropping dead for the world to know? I live a lonely life, my friends.... Imaginary friends, but real robots and strangers, huh? I had a bit of a scare this morning, bright headlights suddenly behind me, so I hit the gas and drove like a maniac. That wasn't normal behavior for me, but the situation just unnerved me. Strange, though, how that vehicle suddenly disappeared at a spot in the road that simply does not make sense. Did they live there? Did they wreck? Or did they exist at all? Maybe there's a logical explanation for this, and I'm just gaslighting myself... This damn raining the whole time I was off, shitty lawnmowers breaking, and general unease has probably not been so good for my mental state. I hope all this rain will have moved out by quitting time so I can rock and roll until dark when I get home. I am not feeling right in my head or in the rest of my body, for that matter. This past flarked up weekend has just totally derailed me. Plus, that Wally World trip just totally pissed me off. When it comes to my very opinion of my own species, it seems I have a split personality. For the most part, I like my fellow humans. In small to medium numbers, they're just fine. Hell, I even feel lonely without at least some basic human connections. But I despise crowds. I hate dealing with big cities, crowded highways, and places like Wally World (what I dub Wal-Mart). I avoid those places as much as possible. I have avoided them for so long that I am rudely reminded of why. It's nothing against anybody. Sometimes, there's just too many of us. If I wouldn't be so damn old by time it happens, I would volunteer to be a moon or Martian colonist. I love beautiful Earth, blue, green, and sometimes serene, were it not for all the damn humans. (looks in mirror) Damn! There goes another one! I'm a human myself. Therefore, I sometimes get on my own nerves, too. Nothing against humanity, mind you. I try not to be such a damned bitter misanthrope. Indeed, there are a lot of beautiful souls out there trapped in human bodies. I love all beautiful souls. No matter the body they occupy. It's just that I'm reminded again and again if just how much we humans are part of the animal kingdom. It is one dangerous and scary jungle out there. And all too often, it is the law of the jungle that we humans tend to follow. We're the top of the food chain, rulers of Earth, but we seem to have difficulty graduating to something far more than the creatures that gave us rise. These large brains of ours should have plenty of room for philosophy and wisdom. If not, then why did we bother climbing down from the trees and out of our caves? Ooga booga! Mmmm, fire pretty. Ow! Ah! Fire hot! Ogg think this good time unga bunga clean cup move down! We may be born all at once physically, but I think it takes a lifetime to be truly born spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. My present self still needs some work, probably always will in some way, but I am here, indeed, working. While I'm not exactly brimming with pride, of being the wisest, or the greatest (for I am neither) I can say that there is nothing about my current self to hang my head in shame about. For I care, and I am willing to do the work necessary to become just a bit better each day than the day before. I wish this were true about my distant past. As a teenager, I was selfish, insensitive, and couldn't be bothered to see things from other points of view. I was disrespectful to my parents, who struggled so much to give me a good life. Only my own pain mattered to me. Why in the hell did I not take a minute just to look around and see? No doubt I was annoying to be around, and it was probably a miracle I made any friends at all. I was ignorant and made no real effort to learn better. I may have been book smart, but I was stupid and wrong in most every other way. I honestly wish I could go back in time as the person I am now, still with flaws, but with a lot more wisdom and understanding. Though I would probably give my younger self a well-deserved butt whipping. Believe me, he's had it coming. It would be far better to simply replace him with me. I would indeed have a lot of work to do. It would also be awesome to have double the decades to work on myself, for I know I am far from done. Yes, I have matured greatly over the decades, but I don't think it was quickly enough. The clues and the answers were all around me, but I was purposely blind to them. I have a lot of regrets I would like to undo. I have a lot of wrongs I would like to make right. Would it be like Picard in Tapestry? Without the hard lessons I learned from being so stupid and ignorant, would I be any better now? I can't really answer that with any degree of certainty. I wish I could redo my life with the wisdom I have gained. Not by boasting of future knowledge, but by living in quiet wisdom, exercising emotional intelligence in my dealings with others, and simply being the best I could be in whatever role, purpose, or task in the path before me. I would give everything I have for a true second chance. I would like to keep the lessons I've learned, the what, but not the how or why, to have the improvements without the regret or the pain. Is that even possible. Kirk needed his pain. Picard needed his mistakes and youthful arrogance. Did I have to learn everything the hard way? Indeed, there's a reason why I sometimes think of my current life as Purgatory or Limbo. Do you ever remember after bring punished as a child being told, "Now go to your room and I want you to think about what you've done." My room is now Purgatory, and I have the rest of my life think about a lot of things. Including where I flarked up royally. I guess at the end of all things, the only power I have is over today as best as I can. I am older now. I have gained a lot of wisdom that I have paid dearly for, by once upon a time being pretty damned stupid. I can't rewind the tape and put down a better track. All I can do is make these last few "songs" on this "album" be the best ever. All I can do is continue to be a better person each day. I see so clearly what I was once so damned blind to and so ignorant of. My mind is open, and so is my heart. And I find only the here and now before me and within my reach. I might as well put all of my energy into making the best of things. I can't move mountains or drain oceans, but I can make ripples from new examples. I wish I were this person all along. I can only hope that maybe they would be proud of the person I have become and am still becoming. Though my biggest regret will always be that it took this damn long. They deserved the best version of me. Sadly, my best version is today, not yesterday, certainly not decades ago. This is the Purgatory I must live with and in. I can not be prayed out of here. Only the amnesiac arms of Oblivia, or the mercy of whatever and whoever the real God is, can rescue me. After all, it wasn't devils or demons that condemned me here. It was me, albeit a lesser version, a smaller being. Why couldn't I have been born with the maturity and wisdom I have now. Current Wie would have lived a totally different life.

Above The Vastness, A Dimensional Tightrope.

Some call it a temple. Some call it a high place. Some took it as destiny. A wise few stepped back, went their way, and found new heights on steadier ground, never to know whether monsters or angels awaited in the wings to bear them up. Maybe they shudder in the darkness of a memory where and when they might have chosen the other way. Can you see that shadow and his outstretched hand, as you find yourself before his presence again? Do you feel the wind before you and the pull of gravity below? Can you see the eternal stars above and the city lights on the horizon? And do you know what the next moment will bring? What are you feeling? Is it fear? Is it wonder? Is it the balance between gravity pulling you down and the wind holding you back? What are you feeling and why? You trusted yourself. That took quite the leap of faith. And how did it end? Was it really what you wanted? I need to know lest I take this very same stand in that very moment of decision. Do you feel what I feel? Beep beep, goes the alarm, jolting me from the peace of this dream, a rude awakening to the reality that I somehow wish were somewhat better. It's Mourn Day Morning once again. Bummer. Can there be any divinity to be found in this day? How can I bother taking seriously, the here and now when it seems to me to be a cosmic joke? With one hell of a punchline; an ironic continuation simply to remind me that it's all over, that it has been over for a very long time now. It is a restless wind that refuses to let settle the dust of time that would otherwise have long concealed these fractures and fragments, these scattered shards of what was once whole, ancient ruins, exposed for all to see. An illusion, an afterimage of long lost love and familiarity, Another day of exile in a strange world, surrounded by strangers I thought I knew. Tell me, tell me, imaginary friend, temporary friend, what does it mean to be alive? And please tell as well just for what and for whom is this old heart still beating? What does it mean to have meaningful connections in this life? I am the type of person who never ever wants to be anyplace that I don't feel wanted. Call it social anxiety. Call it dignity. Call it whatever you will. It's probably all of the above. I can't force people to like me or love me. They will think, do, and say whatever they will. I don't claim to be perfect. I've got my quirks, quarks, and Captain Kirks. Still, this self-worth and self-esteem has been the toughest lesson, and it has taken me so many years to learn. Such efforts shouldn't be wasted time. I have indeed made my mistakes. Some of them, I admit, were boneheaded and stupid ones. It's not only dumb people who do dumb things. Sometimes, it's intelligent people blinded by emotion. I know. I've been there, done that, got the tee-shirt, and damn near the straight jacket, too. (What the hell is wrong with these damn sleeves?) Everything's playing with my anxiety these days... As if it's Eddie Van Halen and my nerves are the guitar strings. Now, it's the bank's online portal still acting weird. Guess I've gotta make some phone calls to figure that out. Uncertainty gets Mr. Anxiety going every time, especially when it comes to that almighty dollar. I've got to be certain of where all the moving parts are and exactly where and when the other shoe is going to drop. I may never know the exact state of fate and God, but I should have zero doubts about my finances. At least with that, I have some illusion of control and agency. Caesar and God both exist in the same universe, after all. Still.... Rome eventually fell, and knowledge casts quite a revealing light on the shadows of belief. Ah, but it's still the same universe. There is a sound from deep in the swamp on a moonless night... Ribbit-ribbit! Ribbit-ribbit! Ribbit-ribbit! "Ribbit, fix me!"said the frog. My life lesson again and again has been that I'm a lousy Mr. Fixit. Really, it is the greatest illusion. We can only really fix ourselves. And even for me, that has been a job and a half. You can show love and support. You can encourage and cheer their successes, but you can't fix them. Is it society? Is it biology? What is this instinct, desire, compulsion, whatever to be the hero, and save the day? Remember this, all potential Knights and superheroes: No matter how noble your cause, no matter how pure, genuine, or from the heart your feelings may be, they are NOT a magic power. Magic is for fairytales. Even Knights need rescuing once in a while. My heart is open. My world is open. My arms are open. One could truly come home for the first time ever. Yet, time and again, they throw their heart and soul at the feet of those who prove again and again they will never love them as I do. I suppose hell is sometimes a choice. And maybe, just maybe, I realize that I chose a similar hell a long time ago. Though my feelings seem to have nothing to do with choosing any damn thing at all... I choose now to deflect my focus from those feelings to the knowledge that happiness can be defined in a thousand different ways. There's no point boldly setting course for a star I'll die from old age long before ever reaching the halfway point. I wished so desperately to be just the soul they needed, just the heart they sought. My dear friend, my love of all loves, so far beyond the cosmic horizon. I'd give my soul if it were possible to reach beyond it all for hands to meet, but there is no point in sacrificing anything for the impossible. I can not overstate the depth of my regret that I can never be the hero they needed. Love for the impossible is the next level of hell. In the end, I can only rescue myself. When setting free a person, place, thing, or concept you have feared so long to let go, the real shocker is the person you're really freeing is yourself. Remember, you are doing no favors by being the only one holding on. Time to move on. Clean cup move down. Goodbye is meaningless when you've never had a proper hello. Might have been never was and will never be. There might be an infinite multiverse of possibility beyond the dimensional divide, but it matters not when it is this universe alone I must live in. I am genetics. I am environment. Because of this, alternate parallel versions of myself (for want of a nail) could never be me at all. My experiences, good and bad, have changed me. I honestly hope they have at least helped me to become a better person. That may be the only positive thing I can derive from some very painful moments of my life. When those who were close to you, leave, through choice or not, through separation or death, you lose a bit of yourself that must be rebuilt without the definition they once provided to your life and yourself. You can never be the same without them. Understand, my friends that while the well of the soul is deep, there is a bottom. You can bind infinity within your heart, but it only stretches so far. What goes up must come down, and what leaves must come home. You must rise from the ashes of pain to become someone new. A new creature, still having love in your heart for those who have gone, but also able to continue with a life that must be redefined. You can't live in the past forever, no matter the depth of your love, no matter the persistence of your pain. It just isn't humanly possible. And don't you dare blame yourself for being human. Soooo. How's about another clean cup move down? No room? I hate intrusive thoughts, don't you? They're like annoying internet ads for the brain. Except, they're not trying to sell you little blue pills, or tell you about supposed hot singles in your area. Mine are more like vivid memories of bad moments. As someone once put it: Spicy Deja Vu. It's like a TV show where only the episodes you hate get reruns. Yep. I guess I can forget seeing the first two seasons of Star Trek ever again. Ah, but "Spock's freaking Brain" is gonna be on repeat! I hate that episode! Pain! These daymares either involve things I couldn't do anything about in the moment, or things I could have done something about back then, but didn't and I sure as hell can't now. The latter are the absolute worst. You can't escape your own mind. It's the worst prison ever, and they use torture. Believe you me, be glad you're not the great Cosmic Wie. Clean cup? I think it should be a basic human right to have a limited number of consequence free "Forget This Crap!" vouchers each year that they can use at any time. To invoke a voucher, one must throw up their hands, look around, and shout, "FORGET THIS!" (or words to that effect) then calmly walk out the door. And by my new rules, everybody must pretend it didn't happen the next day. I think we should get at least 5 or 6 "Forget" this! vouchers a year. I think I would use one today. Oh well... It ain't what I want but it is what it is. Remember if you find yourself relegated to the corner of anybody's circle: Circles do not have corners. Have a looooovely day...

In The Absence Of The King

April is gone. Splinter and the Ninja turtles think it's Shredder's evil plan, but that's all a ploy. See, Shredder and April have been having a secret torrid love affair all along and have decided to elope on the first of May. Congratulations to the happy couple. Ah, April. It has been an interesting month. She has come and gone, and we've seen very few of those April showers I have heard spoken of. It's been dry, super dry. It's so dry that I've dared not burn anything in several weeks for fear of anything and everything going up like gasoline. Nope.. I'll take Smoky The Bear's sage advice. Maybe it's all about to change. There was finally just a little bit of rain, barely enough to knock the dust out of the air, probably the pollen, too. Whichever the case, I can breathe so much better today. Damn, I'm so glad I finally quit smoking all those years ago. I'd probably be about dead by now, had I not... Now, if I can just transfer that willpower over to a better diet and more exercise, that would be awesome. I would like to avoid becoming a combination of Eric Cartman, The Goodyear Blimp, and Moby Dick. I have been doing the second best thing by doing more around the house, clearing up the areas of the property that have grown wild since a major hurricane ravaged it about seven years ago.. There's still gigantic stumps from trees that got toppled, and those areas have been taken over by hedge, oak trees, bamboo briar, those damn fence row cherry trees, and a thousand other things. It's been slow going, but I have made a lot of progress. I've been getting in somewhat better shape and have lost a few pounds, but I still (in my opinion) have a long way to go. I still look and feel like I'm expecting a baby alien in a few months. Congratulations, it's an alien. I think I'll name him Zorg. I swear I am at war with my own body. It keeps the axiom 'No pain no gain' absolutely real, as in a ton 'o pain for an ounce 'o gain. Inflation, man, inflation. Still, I've got to pay that price if I'm going to make all these miles I have left to go. It's either pay greatly now or pay dearly later. There are certain basic things I always want to do for myself, no matter how old I get. So, I must exercise both mind and body. You lose what you don't use. It's so easy to say these things, but all the harder to actually do them. For me, it's a thousand notes to self to remind and reinforce what I need to be doing and why I should keep on keeping on. It is good for the yard, and it is good for me to spend my free time outdoors and getting things done. This post modern day world would like to trap us all behind a screen. I still love my games and computer stuff, but there are fewer and fewer reasons why I should spend hours and hours hopelessly wandering the web. The good stuff, the games, the movies, and a thousand other things are already saved on my disks. Spending more time outside will not make them disappear. Basically, I have already invested enough time into those things. Digitally speaking, if I want it, I already have it somewhere. If I don't have it, it is because I don't want it. There is simply nothing out there that I absolutely couldn't live without. Still, there was a time when such access was the key to the kingdom. That was the golden age. It was long ago, and now it is long gone. There's really nothing much to find that's worth looking for, not like in the old days. I miss the internet of old. It was less but more. It actually had substance. It used to be Eden. Now, it's a garden overrun with weeds and fertilized with bullshit. Political bullshit to be exact, has infiltrated social media and what the cynical or the oblivious dare to call "news sites." They're always trying to sell you something, be it a product, a service, or a pack of lies. Yes, I can still find cool things like Doom levels and a very few interesting games, but that's about it. Gone are my favorite fanfictions, the good ones long abandoned, collecting dust, and link rot. Good thing I saved them. YouTube is full of a lot of robot AI crap. If I wanted to hear a robot, I have my own, and she sounds way better than theirs. Shoutout to Robo-Bridget! That's my girl. Social media is the worst of all the internet. I have never seen a page so full, yet be so empty at the same time. It's a vortex designed to trap you in a screen until they put you in a box. It's corrosive acid to your mental health. It kills us slowly. It's the better mousetrap for humans. Beware, friend, beware. Some hells have pretty gates, at least on the outside. Social media goes on the same list as drugs, drinking, and gambling. It is a dangerous compulsion, an addiction even. And it was purposely designed that way. Beware, and leave while you still can! Whether chasing validation or chasing the dragon, the end is never good. Things that are free can cost you far worse than money. They'll cost you your peace and sanity... And you can't exactly live without that. Not well, anyway. The same demons that occupy that bottle or that pipe also live behind that screen. Don't let them in. Just my own thoughts, I guess. Take this as you will. In other events, I saw my one remaining sister get married this past weekend and did my part as the only one remaining of we five. I was happy to do so, but I'm glad it's over. I'm not sure what is going on with me, but it seems my nerves have been in a full-on power surge since then. Sleep has been eluding me. The ceremony went well, and I didn't mess up my part in it, so I don't know what my problem is. Sleep has eluded me. I spent all night tossing and turning. I am usually nervous before big events, not after. The world is fuzzy, wuzzy, television snow. Reality seems like how FOX28 used to be... Visible but full of snow. And this time, I doubt tin foil and rabbit ears are gonna help. Ah, the good old days of analog TV and everyone being alive.... The present of the past. There is no present, only future. The future sucks. The past is long gone, only an echo in my mind. I hate the future. It is a very lonely place to be. The one thing I remember about the last time I was actually able to sleep is that I dreamed of both Marsha and Dad. I am not sure if it was anything spiritual or just my damaged brain... She was saying she didn't die, just like Dad had said in my other dream. I'm not sure what in the hell is going on inside my sleeping brain, but it was good to see them regardless of whether it was really them or a figment of my grief roasted mind. Maybe it does not matter which. I've just got to hold things together a little bit longer. The only thing beyond the future is eternity. I still have some miles to go. They do seem long sometimes, stretched by time, distortion by emotion... Sometimes, I just feel lost. Never underestimate how the people you love define you. When definition disappears, one begins to wonder who they are. The world seems off today, very strange. And I'm mostly sure it's me and not the world. I'm on that lack of sleep psychedelic trip. And it was not for a lack of trying. My brain absolutely refused to go into sleep mode last night. Damn it's going to be a long day. I feel hungover despite not drinking a drop. I'm hoping the world might go easy on me today, but I know I can't exactly count on it. There are days when life is just plain hard, and I can't help but wonder the worth. My body is trolling me in a thousand different ways. I spent all night in bed with my eyes closed, hoping that sleep would come along. It never did. Now that I'm up and have to be alert, I feel like I could pass out instantly. What a load of bullshit. It's days like this when life seems more a punishment than a gift. My body is a mightier troll than anyone in the YouTube comment section. I have to fight it every single day to be the person I want to be because, believe me, my body wants to be the exact opposite: Old, weak, fat, and ugly. I have to fight it with diet, exercise, and effort. And now? It's depriving me of sleep, too. What a bummer, dude. Tell me, tell me, I implore: Which shatters, the mirror or the soul? And, who am I? I thought I knew, but heavy doubts are rolling in like storm clouds. I can close my eyes and see my soul, but the body is doing everything it can to destroy that image. Aligned with the body is the ridiculousness I see out in the world of Bozos and Nutsos, clowns who look like bums, and bums who dress like clowns. How can I take myself seriously if I can never take them seriously? In the mirror and even worse on pictures, I see more of my role and less of my soul. This is killing my inspiration and breaking my heart. I ask again, who am I? Who am I really? I just don't know anymore. It's a damn scary thing to realize that your solid ground may well be quicksand. Hobos, Bozos, and Nutsos: Do you think you're doing any good in this world? It's aweful, terribly aweful. It shatters the mind. It condemns the rest of us to our prisons, and worst of all, it proves all the haters right. Clowns are great for the propaganda of hate. And the clowns are giving them exactly what they want. I fear that by being so disrespectful to the true among us, clowns will be the inspiration for bringing back the insane asylums of centuries past, dark places with no hope. It frightens me, this road they have put us on. I doubt it leads anywhere good. One can not disrespect and expect respect in return. That is not how life outside of the circus works. The clowns have managed what the haters never could. They have caused me to doubt my own inner light. So, I ask again, just who am I? How would one answer the caterpillar's question now? Who am I? I once thought I knew. Now I am not so sure. It seems these changes never end. Yep, like Ozzy, I'm going through changes. Only this time, I am not sure what they are or where they'll lead. I've been cast adrift, left to the mercy of the currents deep below. I have no clue where they're taking me. My head is full of fog, and my eyes are full of sleep. I am a bit concerned about getting behind the wheel of my car. But, I must if I wish to see home again. Who else can I rely on? I'll just psyche myself up to the task of focusing my undivided attention on the road and the cars, slowpokes, and lunatics alike. Home is calling, specifically my bed. I can't wait to totally pass out. Until then, I've just got to be alert. No dozing at 65mph. No jumping that I-10 overpass like the Duke boys. I'd probably end up like Roscoe, except with more fire. Not exactly my preferred mode of bucket kicking, I'll tell you what. Nope. Nothing scary and nothing painful. The Roscoe method sounds like plenty of both, so no way, José. Life is plenty scary, but not as scary as a Lord Humongous crash on Nitro. I'll just live to be gravely disappointed another day. Clean cup move down. [One span of days later] I indeed passed out when I got home. It was the best sleep ever, dreamless unconsciousness. It was like I blinked out of existence for a number of hours. Damn, I needed that! I rocked and rolled the next day at work and kept on rockin' when I got home. I got a lot accomplished in the yard. Then I went inside and got my older model Panasonic VCR working. I had an old tape in and was watching 1985 TV. Like the real 1985, I was in the same place I was back then. Unlike the real 1985, when Mom, Dad, and Marsha were there too, it was a lonely contrast. I luckily once again passed into deep dreamless sleep... And here I've been rockin' and rollin' again... I've only now found a chance to give an update... Lunch is close, and pizza is calling. Pizza loves me. Pizza understands. Pizza never leaves me. But it does have a way of making me fat if I'm not careful. So, I'm thinking of my next rock and roll venue when I get home... Gotta burn those calories. I am at war with this body, and I am in to win. V for Victory, baby. Maybe this could be my finest hour. Don't quit, space cadet. This space battle isn't over. Let's fight for galactic freedom! Braveheart in space. Funny true story. I am a descendant of the king who had Mel's character tortured. Of course, that far back, I am one of millions. Edward The Longshanks.... My 30-something great grandpappy. He probably wouldn't have liked Bill and Ted either. Bogus! I think Iron Maiden is excellent, too. My arms are sore. My shoulders are sore. My body is pulling out all the stops to keep me from my new course. I'm not stopping. But yeah, there's most definitely pain to go with gain. I've just got to power through. There's no stopping this train. Ozzy is the conductor, and Casey Jones is driving. Wile E Coyote provided the rocket boosters, and we are bound for outer space. Buckle your seat belts, space cadets. Warp 9, engage!