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!