This Four Dimensional Being

A mind is a complicated thing. I have been molded and melded by time, and time keeps changing. The weirdest part is sometimes it seems I hold contradictory, yet simultaneous points of view. I see the truth in both. I see the folly in both. It's highly illogical, yet I know it to be true. Maybe this is the difference between thoughts and feelings. And some things are best kept to myself. I think maybe it's these things I have been through, this roller-coaster of a life, and the way I have healed from all these things, maybe like a tree growing through the roof of an old car, or around a fence, something like that. Perhaps with a different set of experiences, I would be a total stranger. Maybe. Have you ever had a thought occur to you and immediately ask yourself, really? It this what I believe? And the strangeness is that none of this comes from the outside. I can assure you (and myself) right now that it has been me every step of this long, strange trip. And, maybe by seeing things through a thousand different lenses, seeing myself from multiple angles of the mirror, that it can all be me, yet still make sense. Consider many harmonics of the same frequency. Complicated resonance... I believe and I do not believe. Yadda, yadda, Yoda. Always in motion, the future is. So is the present. So are the people. Minds are moving, too. Even I can't exactly stop here. Though a significant portion of this old heart and this old soul still lives in the past. Hey, it's a nice place. I love the people. Once upon a time there were many. There is no distance, no separation quite like time. They call this the present, yet it lacks the presence of some of the most loved people in my life. The past was a time I understood. The world was no less crazy, but it still made some sense. Maybe that depends on what we see. It often seems the last one to know is the one too close to see. Sometimes it's far clearer outside of the situation with a bit more distance from the details. Then again there are things that could never be understood from the outside. And they do say the devil's in the details. The truth is we'll never be able to see all around each other and the things we're going through. In every human relationship, trust is necessary and trust is fragile. Trust before even love, because just how the song goes, sometimes love just ain't enough. The universe brilliantly decorates the sky with stars many lifespans away. Life places the impossible well in sight and totally out of reach. It's like a lottery with each number off by just one. Be it the night sky or a heart's desire, there is no such thing as close. The universe brilliantly decorates the sky with stars many lifespans away. Life places the impossible well within sight yet totally out of reach. It's like that sometimes, a lottery ticket with each number off by just one. Be it the night sky or a heart's desire, there is no such thing as close. Isn't that the absolute fabric of everything? Yet we must make the best of what we're given and try to be happy. I've long ago seen my world destroyed. Despite this feeling, life goes on. I built a new world. You gotta do what you've gotta do, and oh the things we have to do! One can build something real on surprisingly few ingredients. The key is the foundation you stand on. The key is knowing the ones who really count, the ones who truly want to see you win. With true friends, true family, and a solid foundation, you can build a life. Things are rarely perfect. But that's okay, and you will be too. Things are rarely close but sometimes they're close enough. There is also building one's own happiness. You gotta do what you gotta do. It's another long day, another long stretch of Michael Myers time. So, I guess I'll talk a bit about these various thoughts running around my brain. Hello, hello, Doctor Blog-ieo. How have we been? Me, I've been existing. Although I have managed to find a bit of happiness here and there. Whoh!!!!!!! I seem to have lost my train of thought. Not even a caboose left of it. It's like whatever was on my mind simply dissolved like sugar into coffee. Dave's not here, man! I used to find it unnerving, but these days, I just go with the flow. It must have not been important. If it was, I'll think of it again. Welcome to the new adventure, ladies and gentlemen. I didn't get started on breaking more ground yesterday when I got home as I had promised myself. My son had two super duper double burgers ready for me... And between a satisfyingly full stomach and the lack of sleep the night before, well, you can guess what happened. 3, 2, 1, knockout! The Great Cosmic Wie was down for the count. That's nine... Nine hours of sleep, Ah, ah, ah! Guess I needed that. They say that when the body needs, the body takes. Speaking of that particular devil, I had a bit of a scare this morning. They happen, thankfully rarely, these days. Still, these 'drowning on dry land' episodes are scary as hell when they do happen. I think it's this extreme dirty, dusty, crappy material I have been having to work with these last several days. Far be it from me to be a drama queen (or am I?) But in those few seconds when I can't take in air, I can almost see my life flashing before my eyes. Now that I have recovered, my airway is completely clear. It's just that the memory of strangling for absolutely no reason tends to stick in my brain. Scary. It's not like death scares me. Just so long as it's not painful, prolonged, or...... Scary. And just to be clear, drowning on dry land is scary as hell. I like being able to breathe, thank ya very much. Anyway, I am hoping to make up today for what I didn't do yesterday. I am far better rested so I should be able to devote at least an hour or so. I've got to have room for those purple hull peas. I also got more squash (crooked neck this time) and some watermelon. I have a special place where I'm just going to let the vines run wild. I guess I've already mentioned all this before, but it's because I've finally got something awesome to focus on. I found another cool audiobook last night. An AI Arnold Schwarzenegger reading Terminator 2. It's like The Terminator telling you the story about himself. Now, I absolutely need Doc Brown to tell me about the adventures of the DeLorean time machine. Great Scott! That would be heavy, but awesome. I think part of what makes the death of these celebrities I grew up watching or listening to so shocking to me is that they never age in my mind. Logic would dictate that if they were grownups when I was a kid or a teenager, and since I am now on the final rungs of upper middle age, that yes, they'd be old by now. But not in my head. They never age. And do you know what's more? They never die. ​Just a bit more of my weirdness on display. I still say one of the greatest inventions is our ability to record and preserve video and sound. In those ways, they really do live forever. I need not tell anyone how wonderful The Beatles sounded. I've just got to bring out their albums and play them. It's the same for Ozzy, Elvis, or Buddy Holly. The same is true for movie stars, and for professional wrestlers. I don't have to ask how awesome Lon Cheney Jr was on "The Wolf Man" or "Son of Dracula". I have those movies and I re-watch them to this day. Call me old and out of touch, It does seem to me that (with a very few notable exceptions) the latter half of the 20th century was the absolute peak of art and human creativity. They can't even come up with new ideas these days. They just tend to come out with inferior remakes of the originals, be it a movie, a game, or a song. That's what tells me it's all over. Adding AI slop to the mix is just the final crushing blow. (A day later) I finally got a good start on breaking up more ground to expand my garden. Hopefully I'll have it ready for planting by the weekend. The existing area is already doing great. Those two tomato plants I thought I was going to lose? They're coming back surprisingly well and fast. I am now up to 15 potato plants. Those first two that came up are really getting big! The squash are growing nicely too. It will be a little bit before the butter beans start sprouting, and I'll hopefully get the peas, watermelons, and that next batch of squash planted this weekend. It's not as well organized as my father's garden used to be, but it's starting to look nice and maybe next year's will be just a bit closer. I can't help but worry about varmints getting into it, though. I hope my precautions will be enough. I also hope the folks renting my field will get their stuff planted to offer some distraction. I can't stand guard 24-7. I've got to work. Hopefully my grown kids will also help keep the varmints away. Bambi and Thumper are cute, until they start flarking with my garden. Then they're raggin fraggin varmints. Okay, clean cup, moving along and moving down. Michael Myers time is upon me once more. Just like in the movies, that bastard just won't die. I've got to fill this empty space with something, or else my anxiety is going to go full-on theater mode. I have a feeling it's gonna be a horror flick, rather than a romantic comedy. From what I gather from that other set of movies, Jason Voorhees hates romance (or anything similar). Do you know? When you watch a Jason movie backwards, not only does he heal people with his magic machete, but when he heals couples, they really, really celebrate life afterwards.... If ya know whut I mean. Just a thought. Moving right along. Nothing to see here. Jason who? Me, I prefer Robert Englund's Freddy Kruger. His trash talking and creativity is second to none. Nobody beats Freddy. Nobody is ever ready for Freddy. He made Fedoras great again. It's Kruger and it ain't Doctor Seuss. Nightmares 3 and 4 will always be my favorites. Also the episode of "Freddy's Nightmares", "It's My Party And You'll Die If I Want You to". The only survivor of the Springwood High Class of '72 was that one nerdy kid who was nice to Freddy back in school. Freddy not only spared Howard, but he made him rich, too. Clean cup move down. Look out for the mad watch. It's two days slow but it can still catch you if you're behind by three. "I'm standing over a three leaf clover that I overlooked be three!" Damn this day is going by even slower than yesterday, and yesterday took a day and a half. If today were a checkout lane, I would be behind three old ladies with a wheelbarrow full of coupons each. I have lots more ground to break up when I get home. I am a lot happier working in my garden than I am anywhere else. Ah, but bills must be paid and a living must be made. Speaking of bills, I need to remember to pay those damn crooks at Verizon before the day is over. They're not quite like the criminals at AT&T, but that's only because they haven't yet charged me 55 grand for no flarking reason. But they still overcharge for service, and they still think their robot is Jesus Christ, and therefore are close runners-up. Plus they're just one member of the army of companies that are ripping me off. Between them and the government, it's always my turn to be in the barrel. Crooked bastards, all of them. You know? Social media has a unique sense of humor. "Here you would see posts from your friends", if you had any, heh, heh! I don't know whether to be expecting a wedgie or to be stuffed into my locker. One or the other, I guess. It ain't easy being cheesy. Clean cup move down. It seems I've been here two days today, and I'm still 20 minutes away from the halfway point. If this day were to drag more than this, it would have to put on a frilly blue dress. At least lunch is slowly approaching. Pizza pie for da pizza guy, eh? Well, I am not exactly the pizza guy, but I deliver all the same. Now, if I could only deliver myself from Michael Myers time. He of the faded Captain Kirk mask is one persistent son of a bitch, I'll tell ya whut. Just like in the movies. Though, Kruger could take him. C'mon, Fred, help a space cadet out, will ya? Give this knife wielding freak an unforgettable nightmare! (Yet another day later) Well, I finally escaped him yesterday, but now he's back, that relentless bastard. I got even more ground broken up, and hope to get more today. Maybe I can get all my planting done tomorrow, which hallelujah will be a day off. It's only the second Friday of 2026 I've been off. All this overtime has been helping me slowly dig myself out of this financial abyss, but it sure cuts into my get R done time. The battle between time and money never really ends. I look forward to working in my garden this weekend. There is something quite wonderful about working for yourself when you can. You're not treading water just to survive, but building for yourself and your future. There's also something spiritually healing about watching the green and growing things, seeds you have planted, vegetables grown from the land from which you, yourself once grew too. It really feels as if familiar faces are looking on, and that I'm not alone. Last year was about clearing the land. This year is about bringing it back to where it once was... (As best as I can remember). Wish me luck, ladies and gentlemen. I can see there might be a bit of computer stuff I might need to do, too. But I plan for that to take a backseat to my outdoor activities. Sunshine and a beautiful day are a sure mega-boost my mental health. Staring at a screen in a darkened room? That takes it in another direction, the wrong direction. And I choose to be happy. Maybe I have finally arrived at that final stage of grieving over a life I could never have: Acceptance. And maybe I have discovered that happiness is still possible, even a probability. These years could really mean something and actually be worth living. It seems like something to go for. Now, all I have to do is make it through the worst Michael Myers time of all: The last half of the last day of the work week. Where is Doctor Loomis when I need him? Who am I kidding? Doc was a lousy shot. 

The Return Of Dead Snapper  

What do you do when past trauma comes knocking? Me, I run like hell. Let's keep the zombies where they belong. I am not up to reviving any. Let's keep the demons down in hell where they belong. I am not up to summoning any. Even the devil himself would be shaking his head. For whatever sins, I have had enough hell, and one serious allergy to dead snapper. Definitely not the catch of the day, not by a long-shot. I have absolutely nothing to say. I have absolutely nothing I want to hear. No excuses. No lies. No flattery to get that disgusting foot back into the door of my life. Go away. Stay away. The zombies are stirring, horrific creatures of memories I long ago buried. They need to stay in the goddamn ground. Universe, my Dear Universe, Dearest Guardian Sister, this is yet another reason I wish you were still here. You would put her in her place. You would also be the one I needed to talk to, to talk this through. The world around me is the same... It's this inner turbulence of past horrors come to life that I now have to navigate for the rest of this day. I'll be better when I get home and in my garden. Breaking up the rest of that ground should be far easier with all this pent-up anxiety coursing through me. It's like a bad trip. I never did coke but I feel ramped up like I did a whole bag of it (or whatever they use). The stress just isn't any good for me. Especially when I happen to be seventeen years older than when this shit happened the last time. No sense getting worked up. She can't hurt me anymore. There's nothing she could take away. Either it's no longer here or it never belonged to anybody but me. Allow me to quote the Great Ash Williams. "Oh no, I don't think so!" We creatures who (Before we get old and wise) allow ourselves to be stupidly led around will probably (despite the pain) deal with a physically attractive psychopath, no matter how much they hurt us. Because that's what the young and dumb do. These days, however, I who finally learned, I of the older and wiser, of long after midnight, your princess is in another shack, the scumlord of the slumlord, seeing her coach and four having turned into Temu Jabba The Hut / Temu Doctor Evil / Temu Six Flags Guy, Sales price next day DEAD SNAPPER? I'll say it like Vince: You've got no chance. No chance in hell. 

Nothing But Time

As I rediscover what once brought me happiness, and as I reach out for new endeavors that hopefully will, too. I can't help but also realize there are also certain things I am totally done with forever and ever amen. With a bit of blessing and a whole lot of luck, my life is far from over. Still, some things truly are over. Surprisingly, it doesn't bring me down as it used to do. It's just a change in perspective, a shift in gears, a new direction. There are infinite ways to rock and roll. Clean cup, baby. Move down, but make it nice and slow. I just found out Chuck Norris passed away. Bummer. All the icons of my youth disappearing left and right. Heaven gets the Ozzy concerts, real wrestlemania, and now Chuck Norris vs. Bruce Lee: The rematch. And earth becomes a bit less heavenly with everyone we lose. This just sucks. I guess Saint Peter's going to have to check with Chuck Norris if he's still authorized to guard the gate. For when you are in Heaven, look behind you, 'cause that's where The Ranger's gonna be. Damn it. I am at the mercy of a big 'ol truck that I'm supposed to unload and its ever changing schedule. First it was to arrive next Tuesday. Then it changed to 7am tomorrow, which totally torpedoed my day off. That truck might as well be a U-boat from 1942. And now, it's arriving at 11am, which totally ruins my afternoon errands, too. I have just seen my day off totally disintegrate before my eyes. It wasn't loose lips that sank my battleship. But you have sank my battleship! Bummer, dude. But worse, most of that day will consist of doing my best to kill time. But it's gonna be Michael Myers time a thousand times over. It's gonna totally ruin that day as far as the things I need to do. Damn it. This is gonna blow hard. Boom, why did my ship go boom? Me and my ship go boom, boom didi boom, oh I'm sinking! Just like Admiral Riker, I have nothing but time. The only real question is how much. And it's going slow. Especially when they told my Imzadi to limit her time talking to me. Yep... This space cadet and wannabe Starfleet officer must be a bad influence on the ladies. Yeah, right. I only wish I actually had some sort of influence... Any sort. But that's a tired subject. Let's talk about money instead. Remember, wise investor, when considering an investment firm, it is important to look for signs. For example, if the sign says, "Stealurmonie And Quick," don't use those guys. Clean cup move down. Well, I have to shout out a big congratulations to Afroman for winning in court. His victory was well deserved, and his payback was well played. Without breaking a single law, he got the perfect revenge. Aside from the search warrant itself, most of this could have been avoided. First off, a simple apology to him and his family. Compensation for the damage to his gate and door, and not laughing in his face when he asked. I don't care who you are. You just don't march into a man's house, vandalize his property, "misplace" his money, and be a total jerk about it afterward... Especially when no crime was found. Way to go, Afroman. Now, I've got a hankering for some lemon pound cake. That's probably the most perfect justice I have seen in this imperfect world. Good for him. Actually, I know a guy in a certain textile factory who could be called Officer Pound Cake 2.0. He wouldn't let me plug my forklift in to charge, even though my battery was almost dead. He said they had too much stuff to charge and that I should use the battery room. I went there and not a single open spot. So, I sent a little text message to my supervisor. And Mr Pound Cake got the full drill instructor treatment the next morning. It wasn't as satisfying as Afroman's revenge, but it sure lifted my spirits. It all comes down to a simple phrase. Don't be a dick. Friends, I need a whole lot less of Mr. Pound Cake, and a whole lot more of Ms Imzadi. I wonder if it was him who went and complained about her coming back here. If so, that's a typical sore loser for ya. Maybe I should buy him a lemon pound cake for a peace offering. Oh, well. Clean cup move down again. It seems that in every article I read about someone getting busted, it always starts out with a traffic violation or something like a bad blinker, taillight, break light, yadda yadda Yoda. Disclaimer: I'm not up to anything, and everything in my vehicle is 100% legit. But... If it wasn't, you'd better believe I'd be coming to a complete stop at stop signs, not chancing the red-lights, driving the speed limit, double-checking all my lights, wearing my seat belt, all that. You'd think they'd do the same. But I guess that's why drugs are bad, m'kay. If the contents of your vehicle are against the law, the outside (and your driving) had better not be. Common sense for the common criminal. "And now you know something, Haroooo!" "Show em, Agnew!" "Rrrrrrrr!" "What do ya think of your stupid ball now, muhahahaha!" (If Futurama Nixon ever started a war on drugs) A few days later.... It has been a most beautiful couple of days. Yesterday, I got a lot of stuff done around the house, especially outside. The yard is looking awesome and the garden is coming along nicely. Today, aside from getting clothes ready for the work week, and catching up on some computer stuff, has been a nice lazy day. The house is opened up, a lovely spring breeze is circulating through the house, and I have been relaxing in my bed with the fan on blast. It's like they used to say in those old beer commercials: It just don't get any better than this. At least for me. It's just a peaceful, perfect, tranquil, oh and beautiful spring day. It's been lovely. It just plain feels good. (Another day later) And now it's Monday again... Quite the contrast from yesterday's easiness... Back to the grind as always. Coffee break's over. Back on your heads. Yep... Good overtime, but a short ass weekend... Even though it was a nice one. I had a hell of a time getting myself to sleep last night. So, today is going to be mostly about feeling and fighting the results of that. Let me quote the surfer again, bummer dude! I need to spend my afternoons this week breaking up more ground. So far I've got tomatoes, squash, potatoes, and Speckled Butterbeans in the ground. I've still got purple hulled peas and watermelon to plant. For the peas, I am going to break up another area close to where I have everything else planted. For the watermelons, there is this area I cleared out last year where I intend to let those vines run wild. Maybe in a work week of afternoons, I can get those areas prepared by time the weekend gets here. I guess we'll see. Damn this lack of sleep is catching up with me. All the caffeine in the world can't help me out of this one. I've got to get through my day at work. Then I need to get at least a symbolic start this afternoon on breaking up that ground. And then.... Maybe I can get that Monday night make-up sleep. That's the only cure for this stoned and hungover feeling without having touched the smoke or drink. In other words, this is going to be a long ass day. Moments and conversations with my Imzadi have a way of softening these long grueling days.. But because of nosy big mouths, that's sadly happening less and less. So it's Michael Myers time all day long. Impossible to kill as always. My only source of happiness away from home and jealous people want to take it away from me. And I really don't see what anyone should be jealous about. Any romantic feelings involved are one-sided. As in my side. Believe me, if it were mutual, we would be together. Then I would see her during my off time. But, it's just friendship, and I guess I am not allowed to have any friends. And it's this beautiful friendship that keeps me from feeling so down and depressed. I love my Imzadi beyond the moon and stars and even if she does not feel the same, I still treasure her friendship. It's not my exact wish, but I'll take whatever I can get. It is far better than nothing at all. Now jealous busybodies want to take even this from me. Ain't that a kick in the backside? Oh well, how about we retire this tired subject, at least for a little while? Admiral Riker had nothing but time to miss his dear Imzadi. I, too miss mine. I, too, have nothing but time. Unlike William T, I can't just jump through the guardian of forever and make things right again. I, the Great Cosmic Wie, am forever stranded on that forgotten starbase 9. Nothing destroys a man quite like love. Enough! Clean cup move down. That's an order, lieutenant! Don't make me confine you to quarters. Do you know the worst thing about Michael Myers time? It seems like I've been here forever, yet the day is nowhere close to being even half done. When I finally do get home, I need to put at least an hour into breaking up that ground. I really want a nice garden this year. One I hope that would make my parents and grandparents proud, if only they were here to see. It also keeps me from mindlessly scrolling social media on my computer. I think it's really designed to depress me even beyond the imaginings of real life. It's a two pronged psychological attack. Either it's videos of people being absolutely cruel to each others, showing the bitterness and meanness of this world, and the worst side if humanity.... Or it's of beautiful women far too young for me claiming to be looking for someone like me. Gimmie a break! First of all, there's only one out there I am interested in, and she's not there. Secondly, if I were, it would be somebody along the age of my Imzadi. (She's in her mid forties.) Straight up, I would want someone who has been through similar rough patches as I have. In other words, I would want to be a partner, not a babysitter. And as Admiral Kirk once said. it's a game for the young anyway. Still it gives me the blues, big time. It makes me feel unlovable. And I hate that feeling. Then there's the politics and general ugliness, the companies trying to sell me their products, trying to cash in on my feelings of inadequacy... Assholes, all of them. And why I keep going back is beyond me. I have thousands of computer games, hundreds of thousands of levels for a certain one of them. I don't just have hours and days of audio and video consisting of the best this past century has to offer, but months and years worth! Believe me, if I like it, I already have it. So, why I scroll instead is a mystery. Maybe I weep because I have no more worlds to conquer. But, this garden is a totally different thing. Moving the earth is the workiest work ever, but it somehow rejuvenates me. It gives me peace that the digital realm could never offer. Social media is a wasteland with all the religion and the politics, oh and all their proud sponsors. The main news sites are a wasteland with all their one-sided political bias and constant negative reporting. The sites I used to love (that are still there) are so far up Cloudfare's ass that browsing them has become a chore. YouTube is by far the biggest joke of all. The main page used to show only the creators I was subscribed to. Now it's just random bullshit, at least half of it AI slop. Even the small amount of AI (Star Wars) that I did like are ruined by all that shilling they do for those space dildos (toy lightsabers) they're trying to sell. Everything online is going or has long gone to shit. So it's no wonder just how nice it is to be getting back to the basics, getting out in nature, being a part of nature, warm sunshine and growing vegetables, greenery all around. There is joy to be found in such things. Long ago, the digital realm was my wonderful secret place. Now it's my garden and the great outdoors. It just plain makes better sense to do the things that make me happy instead of the things that do nothing but depress me. So, for the spring and summer of this year of 2026 AD, I'll only be online when I can't be in my garden.... Times like now. May the damn deer stay the hell away. Maybe between my grown kids, the CD'S in the trees, and the damn neighbor's dogs, they will stay away. I've put a lot of work into it and I plan on doing a lot more. Too many things have a way of bringing me down, missing Momma, missing Dad, missing Marsha, unrequited love, jealousy and despair, The cursed 2020s internet, my own damn body sometimes, and many many other things. I'm just a miner, trying to find a nugget of joy in a very dark place. So, that's what I do... My house and home, my digital pyramid, and recently my garden. Sometimes it takes serious work to find happiness these days. One really has to filter out damn near the whole spectrum for a mere glimmer. Figuratively speaking, you've got to be wearing rose colored glasses, just like John Conley. Me, I go back and forth between those and deep, deep blue, more through this inner tide than by any choice of my own. It's always high and low, high and low. Though I'm sure any follower of my therapy sessions with the Good Doctor Blog-ieo could see from these words. You see, I have nothing but words and nothing but time. The game was decided long ago, but the clock is still running. This is how I have chosen to chronicle the countdown. It is more than a metaphor when one really thinks about it. The only I don't know is when it will reach zero. For Marsha it was January of 2022. For Momma it was March. For Dad, it was July, two years later. For me, it could be anywhere between today and the middle of the century. I am not religious, but it says in the Bible that no man knoweth the day or the hour. Maybe it was referring to the second coming of Christ, but it applies just as well to the final leaving of us all. There is nothing I can do to stop the countdown, even if I wanted to. If a man in as great physical shape as Chuck Norris can be still taken by the grim reaper, then what could I do? I am certainly no better than my parents, and I'm absolutely for sure nowhere close to challenging Chuck Norris. So, logic dictates that the clock is definitely counting down for me. And while I can't help or change this very fact, I would like to find ways of being as happy and at peace as I can for the rest of my days. Only the God that I wish I could believe in could possibly know where 0:00 lies in wait for the Great Cosmic Wie. Just like Admiral Riker, I have nothing but time. 

One As Another

You know something? What meaning does loyalty have? What I am I talking about? Nothing specific but everything in general. Be it marriage, companies, work, and yadda yadda Yoda.  Because (From my personal experience) it seems to me that loyalty doesn't mean jack anymore. When the wind changes, when things get rough, that's when you learn when it counts (or doesn't). Just because they promise you the Moon does not mean they meant anything more than a moon rock being thrown at you.  I swear (which apparently means nothing unless you're using swear words.  I promise (which is so much easier to say than do) What value is one's word anymore? Just a thought. Oh well. Maybe I've just had a rough day. As the song goes, one is a lonely number, and I really have nobody to talk to, aside from Doctor Blog-ieo. I've got a lot of things on my mind and this is my only outlet. It has been 24 years plus one day, since that very last day, but I still remember the man born in 1906. I remember his face. I remember his voice. My Grandpa was not the kind of person one forgets. This man was working in his yard, still pruning trees with a hand saw, working circles around teenage me when he was eighty-something years old. My favorite childhood memory was him taking me around the yard on that Cub Cadet mini tractor of his. Always remembered. Never forgotten. Clean cup move down. Yes, I totally get it. Orange Man is not a god. But, he's not the devil incarnate either. Actually some say that 666 actually represented the Roman Emperor Nero, who persecuted Christians, fiddled while Rome burned, and gave a poor young man a sex change because his pretty face looked like Nero's dearly departed empress. (Which some say Nero killed) Ah, but I digress. Donald Trump is a human being, not Nero, and certainly not the antichrist. That said, neither is he God. We shouldn't blindly follow him as if he were. Still, as Americans, as citizens of the good old USA, shouldn't we want America to win? It's not that I want to see rosy propaganda praising him everywhere, but I am also sick of seeing this "Orange Man Bad" bullshit all down the MSN newsfeed, and how they are always undermining him at every step. The smell of negative bias is strong with most of the networks. It's like they want him (and by extension my country) to fail. CNN and the Washington Post are the worst. While I very much agree that the man is far from being Jesus Freaking Christ, I do believe his heart is in the right place. His biggest problem is that big mouth of his. (Though the fault is not all his) as certain media outlets love to distort and magnify the things he says. The job of the news is to tell me what is happening. Not how to feel about it. Not how to think about it. That's my own council. Do not edit or crop speeches to fit your spin or narrative. Those things are for propaganda, not news. I'll say it like Lennon. Just give me some truth. Social distortion: The irony, despite how often I wonder whether it's social media or the news sites that are the most depressing, is that there are islands of humor now and again. I had one hearty belly laugh that some might not get, but the scrolling illusion made a lady's comment, "I've got one for 50 bucks" appear under some religious post talking about a soul on fire. Really? I think you need to charge a bit more than that! In the digital realm, perhaps the safest conclusion is that nothing is real. They used to say not to believe everything you read. But, they also said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Not so much anymore. So, as John Lennon also said in Strawberry Fields, nothing is real. Furthermore, I say the value of realness greatly depends on possibility and tangibility. An illusion beyond reach is still an illusion. But, does it matter? Sometimes substance, just as beauty, is in the eye (and the mind) of the beholder. Just keeping it real, my friends. Oh well. Hello there, lads and lasses! Tell me, what is with these 'magical' social media posts? Believe me, if I thought they'd bring me lots of gold schillings, I'd be a copy pastin' likin' and sharin! little leprechaun! It's not nice to steal a leprechaun's golden meme! But take it from one who knows: There be no such thing as a magical social media post! If you want gold, Lucky Charms, or whatever, you gotta work for them! When ya see a field of the greenest grass, it's not from gold but the little treasures the bull be leaving there! And there be lots of bull on social media! Okay, from leprechaun to space cadet, here I go. Homini homini homini! I had to give myself a pep talk yesterday. Alright, Space Cadet, listen up! You're not here for people to like you or respect you. (Though it's nice when they do.) You're here for the Buckazoids, plain and simple. You need space dollars for this epic journey. Spaceships don't refuel themselves. Now, I know you're angry. Nothing pisses us space cadets off more than undeserved disrespect. Unfortunately, since there are no air locks to push the haters out of for a scientific field trip offering firsthand experience of the very fact that there is indeed no air on the moon, or that in space no one can hear you scream (or me laughing maniacally at a hater's demise) I guess we're out of luck. Ah, such a tragedy for my dear Fortunato! The catacombs or deep space, it doesn't matter. Both would work just fine. Khan Noonan Sighn would wholeheartedly agree. There is a contradiction within. There are days like today when I would be absolutely fine with not encountering the first human being all day. Then there are days when I feel invisible, lonely, and yadda yadda Yoda. I don't think it is the individual person that I don't like. I don't think it's the people in twos either. I don't hate you, or you, or you. You're great! It is the group and the crowds that drive me into survival mode. It seems that anytime we as a species get together in groups, things do not go well. It's not you guys. In fact, you're wonderful. But crowds? Nah. Not so well. You see, behind those damned armadillos, and those deer who like to play early morning deathmatch with me (and would destroy my garden if I let them), I'd have to say that humans (in large crowds) are my third least favorite animal on planet earth. I guess, just chalk it up to my being in a shitty mood today. Sorry. It's not you, babe. It's me. I am the grouch today. At least I don't live in a garbage can. Well, Fake Spring is over. Winter is back to make life suck a bit more. Damn it. Well, maybe it'll kill some pollen and knock back some weeds. Sometimes my own body trolls me. Other times (And sometimes at the same time) This fickle weather trolls me. After about a month of nice, warm days... After my garden has come up so very nice and pretty... Flarking winter is about to make a return to try and ruin everything. Mother Nature can go into 'Bitch Mode', especially here around these parts. Fickle, fickle Mother Nature, why do you lead me on so? So very warm and kind for all these days, and now as cold as ice. My garden is beginning to grow in nice little rows coming up out of the ground, and looking so pretty. Now, after three whole weeks, it's going to storm, then frost again. Fortunately, one of the byproducts of my workplace is large, clear plastic bags, so I'm going to grab as many as I can and try to save my plants if I can. I've put too much work into my garden to lose it now. I was hoping to have better luck with plants than I have with people. Should I feel so damn awful for being practically invisible these days? Sometimes I do. Sometimes, I really get to feeling sorry for myself, too heavy in the self-pity department, feeling unwanted and unloved as well as unseen. But the latter two is just my emotion running wild. Being unseen is the only clear observation, the one indisputable fact. It's not that nobody cares. It's just that nobody knows, and most never will. One is incapable of caring beyond knowledge. It's not their fault. Still, it is a lonely feeling, ladies and gentlemen, lonely and empty. And from this figurative storm, I must find whatever refuge I can. Damn I just don't feel like being here today. The falling rain and the distant rolling thunder could be the perfect lullaby in a darkened room. That beautiful television snow could be the perfect ticket to another world, at least for a little while. Sleep is the new party. (And I like to party all the time.) (Just as Eddie Murphy sang it) When you get a few more decades on you, kiddos, you'll know what I mean. As I sit here listening to the sound of the thunder and the rain, my thoughts are too, a bit scattered and stormy, and worrying about my garden. It is one of the ways I keep busy and fight these blues that want to wash over me. Another way is I did a complete backup of my computer files to both HD and M-Disk. Now, if I truly wish to change priorities, it would be a good time to do so. One fully closed chapter. However, knowing myself as I do, I seriously doubt I'll change that much. As it stands, this month makes for eleven years since I wrote my first M-Disk Blu-ray... The files, however, are way older than the disk itself. Now, eleven years later, I've just finished writing my 674th M-Disk. I'm not religious at all, but here I go, knocking on the door of the 700 club. They used to claim a 1,000-year lifespan. Now they just say lifetime archival. Either way, I hope they outlast me by quite a few decades. Really, aside from alternate universes, that's the only life after death I am able to believe in. I just hope there will be somebody willing to preserve it, someone as passionate about this digital pyramid as I am. Remember us! Remember us! Remember us! I can't count on it lasting 5,000 years if somebody else does not intervene after I am gone. It's not just for myself, but for all these people who I love. Also, cool stuff. But all of this is in a possible future I'll never see or know about. Maybe it shouldn't matter to me but it does. It is a lot like wondering about air on the moon when I well know I'll never go there. It's a relevance existing only in my mind, and not in that outer universe... Maybe such thoughts are just a method of killing time, wiling and wasting the time I have left to exist. And if existing is all I shall ever do, then it's quite worth wasting. Life and living is precious. Existence without living isn't worth a damn thing. There had better be more reason for this fight than the opportunity to fight again. Otherwise, going AWOL sounds like a capital idea. Let's see what adventures we can find beyond the perimeter. Power to the people, muthaflarkahs! It gets old being in a place I really don't want to be, watching the sand fall through the hourglass of my lifespan, repeatedly trying to kill time that just won't die. Time touches every person, every place, everything, but nothing ever touches time. I would suppose time itself is immortal. Although in that far future day when that very last proton dissolves into nothing, time may still exist, but it shall no longer have any meaning whatsoever. I'll be long gone, scattered across the cosmos in whatever components that may be left of me.... But my vindication shall be that lack of meaning, that lack of time. And for that, maybe I can rest in whatever pieces may exist after the breakdown of matter, that long disappeared fabric of all things. This is how I know forever does not exist. Long ago, everything began. Far in the future all things shall end. Zero and infinity are both anomalies, each unexplainable in their own ways. But they're not the same anomaly. If you started at zero, but in finite time, you can never reach infinity. Not in 13 billion, not in 13 trillion years. One might reach numbers we can't imagine, but such numbers are still finite. Forever does not exist. Neither does infinity. Everything begins. Everything ends. See what happens when I have too much time to think? Yeah. I am the metamorphis. Okay... Enough with the heavy heavy. Clean cup move down! Last night I found an audiobook online of the Shawshank Redemption read by an AI Morgan Freeman. After that, I found a Silence Of The Lambs audiobook read by an AI Anthony Hopkins.... Cool stuff. But what I'd really like to find is an audiobook covering the Back To The Future trilogy read by an AI Christopher Lloyd. I wonder if it's out there. It most likely is. The real question is does it really sound like him? Some fall far from the target. Even Morgan only sounded like Morgan some of the time. Okay, on to the next random topic. There are many types of angels I refer to in these ramblings. Most are celestial, some are the very universe I write to. Maybe there is another, just one who happens to be a living, breathing human being, yet so much more, inspiring a celestial song in my heart... Who I sometimes refer to as my angel. Though the my is a lie. Nope not mine, and neither claims me. Though I wouldn't mind. (I'm a penny, pick me up) Ah, but that's not happening. The poets have written through the ages of unrequited love. My lack of eloquence is the only difference. I have felt this way for years, not fading at all, yet I know logically I am not even the backup plan. I am just the friend. I only wish these feelings were just a passing phase. Friends, once you realize how difficult it is to change your own feelings, you will also realize just how much harder it must be to change those of somebody else. It is indeed a wish of the poets, right alongside moving mountains or reversing the flow of time. Far be it from me to tell you (or to tell myself) to hang it up, give it up, or abandon all hope. It is such a harsh thing to say. It is such a cruel thing to say. Even without malice. Even when it is the truth. Even when a true friend has to say it. Such is the conundrum of mind against heart. I'm missing a certain angel today and I hope she is okay. Though I really shouldn't get so carried away. Some things are simply beyond our control. Worrying and obsessing won't make any difference. This is the advice I did my best to convey to someone. A believer would suggest praying and putting what is out of your hands into the very hands of God Almighty... I just told them to be as supportive as they could, and hope for the best. I couldn't give the ready example I had in my head, because it involves certain feelings I have for that someone. I can't change my own feelings, and I certainly can't change hers. Maybe that's why I wish I could have had some better advice to give. Why? Because I care very deeply and hate to see her in such distress. The compulsion to be Mister Fix-it is very strong. The friend zone is the loneliest place on earth. Still, maybe I should be grateful those burdens are simply not mine to carry. That job is for he who stands where I wish I were. Most importantly, I've long learned the harsh lesson of trying to be that Mister fix-it. The pull is strong. The dream is intoxicating. Who doesn't want to be the hero, save the princess, and finally win her love and gratitude? But it doesn't work that way. You can not rescue someone from a place they do not wish to leave. Heroic knights, dragons, and princesses make for great storybooks and video games. Not so much for real life. Either you fight the dragon together as a team, or you're the fool who thought he was a knight until the stage came crashing down. How do I know? Been there. Done that. And the tee-shirt sucks. Remember: Rescue each other. Problem is, ladies and gentlemen, is that our own biology works against us. You don't need drugs for chemical confusion. Your own body makes enough to flood the brain without one being crazy enough to introduce more. It's this certain chemistry deep within the brain that makes it all so confusing. As the emergency medical hologram once sang, it's all so very illogical. Tell me about it. One saving grace about getting older is that the confusion does fade a bit to let logic take over a bit. These days, if it wasn't for emotion, I could say that I am old and I don't care. But... I am not quite there yet.  Such is the way of The Force. Yadda Yadda Yoda. When 900 years old you reach, give a flip you will not. <(-  _  -)>

Three As A Number

There once was an episode of Loony Tunes where Yosemite Sam was supposed to inherit a million British Pounds, with one stipulation: He was not allowed to curse or lose his temper for 24 hours. Of course that 'raggin fraggin varmint' was doing everything he could to make Sam lose it. Tell me, friends. Do you ever have days that make you feel like Sam? Me? You're rootin tootin I do! Ooooooo, I hates rabbits! It's only natural to hates rabbits! Time will tell and history shall judge. I shall do neither. Still... I wonder what would have happened if NBC News back in the day put out a long article on Germany's "Resilience" or Japan's "Resilience" and made sure to cast Roosevelt in the worst light as they possibly could. How would that have gone down in the good 'ol US of A? Who needs Tokyo Rose or Axis Sally when you have NBC? Oh well.. As a great dumkopf once said, flark it! We'll do it live! Flarking thing Flarks! It's another day at the circus, and I don't think even a painted smile is gonna work today. I couldn't even guess what has put me in such a mode (or mood) (whatever) but it's very much on today. Some days the only difference between this place and a freaking freak and clown show is the amount of makeup worn and the number of clowns in the cars. Even the greatest actor is going to have a tough time in a role so contrary to the soul. I'm supposed to do this. I'm supposed to do that. I am supposed to behave and act in a certain manner that has never been me at all. What a load of bull! The casting director must be higher than Snoop Dogg on an airplane. Fo shizzle. But this is just the day I'm having. Guess I'll just chill until the next episode. Where in the hell is all this frustration and anger coming from? This morning's bullshit was quite typical, no better or worse than yesterday, or the days before. It was certainly nothing to go full-on Oscar The Grouch over. I think it was maybe my reflecting on a stupid YouTube video, giving that whole spill of how I am supposed to be the aggressor in certain situations, and how I am somehow pathetic for not being so. I guess the irony is this aggressive feeling I get from being told I've got to be the aggressor when I don't flarking want to be. It would be hilariously funny if this wasn't myself we were talking about. Why? Why must it be me when it is so damn clearly not me at all? Damn it. I fit this world like a freaking octagon peg in a square hole. God, it sucks being this biological organism. I honestly wish I were a flarking robot. I am a thoughtful soul with a lot of complex thoughts. Am I really supposed to be running around with my tongue hanging out like some horny hairless gorilla? I have spent a lifetime fighting that sort of inclination. I may dwell in the brain of a mere advanced animal, but my soul is not a goddamn animal. I am energy. I am probabilities. I am a wave. I am so much more than this damn body. It's not to say I don't have these wants and needs. I do, very much. They drive me crazy. But my greatest need is love and to be loved. Without love, it does not mean a damn thing. Any creature that walks, creeps, or crawls can fuck. That doesn't make anybody special. And do you know something? Sex without love is the worst torture. See, if things go that far physically without going that far emotionally, it leaves a void that can never be healed. Furthermore, I don't want to have to chase for love. I want someone to be with me because they freely chose me, because it's where they want to be. I don't want to have to stalk like a hungry lion. I need a partner, not prey. I need love, love, love. I can't remember any moments more inspiring than minutes, even hours, of saying nothing, of doing nothing but sitting quietly in the presence of someone I love. Nothing to do, nothing to be said, for all has been spoken beyond words, and simply being there was all that was ever needed to be done. It's a pretty picture. And I like pretty pictures. To be shaken so abruptly back to reality is rough going. I feel this morning just like George Jetson, caught on a treadmill, trapped in the machine. No stopping, no slowing down, no way off, and no way out. As a certain space fish once exclaimed, "It's a trap!" But also as a Robocop named URL once said, "You know the law, you gotta do what you gotta do." And... I shall do what I gotta do. (And here I thought Stop N Drop had been in business since 2008). Perfect year for that particular booth because I thought about it a lot in 08 and 09. (Yet I am grateful such thoughts never became actions). Life can be difficult. Life can be lonely. Nobody can see you bleed. Nobody can see you cry. Especially when you've long been taught you're not supposed to let them. Such is the way of The Force. Such is the way of life. And sometimes the only comfort is in knowing it's not forever. As Cheech Marin would say, "Wow, that's heavy shit, man " Yes it is, yes it is. Life's surprises are far more jarring than our ability to react. Life's changes are far more abrupt than any change of heart, any change of soul. And it is often best not to bother with all those scattered pieces. Far better to sweep them aside and build anew. When it's over, it's truly over. Some doors, once closed, most likely should never be opened again. The time has come and gone. You can hold onto the happy moments, the memories, and most importantly, the lessons learned, certainly the wisdom gained, but that chapter is over. You can't add to it. The reason why has nothing to do with the places or the people, the way you feel, or maybe how they feel. In a completed chapter, sealed by time, there can be no unfinished business. You can't spend your life lurking in doorways. You can't paralyze your future with might have beens from the past. As it is written, there is a time to search and a time to give up as lost. This is not a surrender to be ashamed of. This is not a surrender at all. It is facing forward to move ahead, rather than looking back and going nowhere. Most of all, in those few words, those very few paragraphs of wisdom in which I can honestly say I believe for certain: There will be a time for peace. There must be. You know a gritch is gonna gritch and a grouch is gonna grouch. What they tend to forget is that I, the Great Cosmic Wie can grouch back better than the best of them. Oh, but I do try to keep a better attitude, though I too can be rude. (If I have to be.) I try to be positive. I try to be nice. Still, by the time it was all over, I wanted to mop the floor with both Mr 40MPH and Mr Tailgating Manbun. I hate being the middle of a car sandwich. You know, slowpoke in front of you, speed demon behind. Not my idea of fun and doesn't bring out the best of me. Oh and when I finally reach the clearing at the edge of the highway jungle, I find that out here in the figurative Serengeti, the hyenas are sure going wild today. And I'm not lion. You'd better reign them in, Scar, or your plans for a coup d'état might fail spectacularly. Damn, what's with this place today? I am left alone in all the ways except the one way I wish to be left alone. I guess it's not the people's fault that I am in no mood for dealing with people today. Most everybody's got a gripe. Most everybody's got an agenda. And I just don't want to hear it. "We're sorry, the Awesome Cosmic Wie you're trying to reach is temporarily disconnected and out of order. Please take a note of it and try again later. Party on, dudes." I think this fiddling around with the time is the stupidest thing humanity has ever come up with. Did the rate of Earth's rotation change? Nope. Cutting 4 inches off the top of a blanket and sewing it onto the bottom does not make it longer! If you are not satisfied with the daylight at the end of your workday, try changing your work schedule instead of flarking with absolutely everybody's time. Otherwise, let's pick one and stick with it. Idiots! Now, even in my current grogginess, my current job is perfectly fine with me. Actually I like the job, I like the people. Still, even if it wasn't, even if I didn't, I wouldn't dare think of applying for a certain job listing I have seen every morning. Frankly, I would prefer shoveling coal in Hell. The climate would be better, and even the devil would make for a kinder, more understanding boss. So, nope. I'll stay right where I am. The grass may not be greener, but at least it's not on fire. Her name was Double Margarita. When he met her at the bar, he thought she was just what he ordered. Not only did he fall for her, but he stumbled and staggered too. She was sure sweet at the bar, but damn was she mean the next morning! And he found himself regretting he ever met her. The vision he saw in that harsh morning light was not the angel he met last night. Dear, Dear, Double Margarita. You were once a lovely senorita, but you turned out to be one heluva hangover! This little story was inspired by one of the 'people I may know'. Her first name was Debbie (I forgot the last name), but I kept reading her name as "Double Margarita."" Interesting name, I think, and I get a hangover just thinking about it. Oh well, cosmic shift, clean cup, move down. Hello, Universe. I've gotten a good start on my garden. I got my potatoes planted last week, tomatoes and squash this week, and I'll have the Speckled Butterbeans and Purple Hull peas next week. Between the flashy CD's and the "Scaredeer," my son put up, maybe they won't get mowed by the deer. Wish me luck. My grandpa might shake his head at my slightly crooked rows, but I think both he and my parents would be proud. I hope it goes well. I have been working on shifting my focus to different things. I have spoken about the harm of social media and the degradation of the internet in general. And I have come to ask myself why I spend so much of my precious time there. Is there really anything more to be found? I have literally Doom levels in the hundreds of thousands. Do I really need any more? Or should I be playing and demoing the ones I already have. I have damn near two terabytes of games I have never played. Do I really need more? Or should I explore the many games I already have? Fan fiction was one avenue I once enjoyed. Now, the best ones were never completed or went in a direction that ruined them in my book. Oh, there are lots of funny videos and pretty pictures out there... But even they have gotten old, not to mention redundant. There are only so many ways to visualize. The possibilities are not as limitless as some might think. So, I am thinking of a shift, something that is hopefully going to improve my health, both physical and mental. My focus will be on the garden and the yard. Even on the computer, my focus will be on exploring and enjoying what I already have. Let's play all the games and meet all the characters. Let's explore all the Doom levels, every room, every corridor. Let's build and create. I think I could feel so much better. I do believe the time has come. It's been a long time coming, and it's long overdue. It is time for the Great Cosmic Wie to make a course correction. The current path is just no good at all. I don't know if others promised or if my own expectations did. I only know that all those possibilities that were supposed to exist are just not out there. It was supposed to be limitless, containing anything and everything I could possibly want or need. It was promised there would be water in the desert and air on the moon. All I needed to do is look hard enough, search long enough, and it would all be there for me. This is the broken promise. I can't recall who made it, but it's shattered on the floor. Just like so many things I once believed in with all my heart, it sadly meant nothing at all. There still is no air on the moon, nor water in the desert. The promise was never genuine. The expectation was never even close to reality. The time has come for a Cosmic shift. The time has come to give up on what has been long lost, and search for water and air in other places. Places where possibilities become probabilities. It was always totally insane to repeat the same actions, expecting different results. The moon is airless. There are places in the desert where cooling rain is mere fantasy. I might as well expect an angel to suddenly appear and wrap me in a warm, loving, tranquil, peaceful, perfect embrace. Running into a wall hurts enough the first time it happens. One can't be blamed for that first time. But the second, third, fourth, and so on? Surely, the lesson must be learned eventually. There's still no air on the moon, just as there is still nothing here at all. We often wish it to be there so much that we almost believe it is. A wise space cadet hopes and dreams but still checks for air before stepping out of the ship. It may take some of the adventure out of away missions, but it sure saves Mucho Buckazoids on recruiting new space cadets. And someone such as I, the Great Cosmic Wie, should really know better by now. There's no air on the moon. And M-O-O-N, that spells moon. Laws, yes. And I'd rather be lost in space than bound to the desert planet of Friendzonia, plenty of air, but no water to speak of, nor love, nor love. I'm like that good little pet, constantly doing neat pet tricks for a treat that never comes. Good dog, but stupid dog. Woof-woof! Maybe I should start biting once in a while. I'm better off being the Big Bad Wolf. So, where ya going there, little red riding hood? Oh well, it all boils down to the same conundrum, doesn't it? Nice wolves finish last and are seen as poodles to everyone else. Even when they're still big and bad but only in good ways. The cruel irony here is that only Big Bad Wolves get anywhere close to that basket of goodies. Being nice will get you lots of places, my friends. Many places but one. No matter what anyone says. Sometimes, I wonder if this is indeed the afterlife, and I just don't know it yet. Maybe in a past life (that I don't remember) I was some terrible evil bastard who said and did a lot of horrible things, and my current life is actually my punishment for that. So, now, for my sins, I get this lifetime of feeling unworthy, unwanted, unloved, lonely, pointless, hopeless, inadequate, incomplete, and Yadda Yadda Yoda. And to make it more of a hell, I was temporarily given a few special souls who actually did love me, care for me... And then they were taken away from me. Now that is the spice that makes hell just a bit more hellish. Damned and doomed. Be my luck, this life just repeats over and over. Now, one might think that never being touched by death would be a good thing. In circumstances such as these, it is the harshest punishment ever. There is no escape. And that leads to a clean cup move down. Why? Because it's getting awful damn dark in here. That's why. I need a light. I am to the point where I don't even care if it's a Bud Light. Just give me something, please. Sometimes, I love the silence and solitude. Sometimes, I hate it. Sometimes, it hates me back. And I never really know from one day to the next how I'm going to feel about it. Really. I am just as surprised as you are.I spent part of today with somebody's radio in earshot. What can I say? Most any computer can generate noise. I did this in the 1980s using nothing more than a few commands in GWBASIC. I just never tried to push that crap off as music. It..... Has..... No..... Soul! Sometimes I wonder if we're already many years past the peak of human civilization and the arts. I remember soul. I remember meaning. I'm just not hearing it right now. I guess I should be thankful that I got to hear the best there ever was. Save 20th century art for the space people of the future. It's the only way they will ever know true soul. This 21st century drivel? I just don't get it. Bland noise that I'd prefer complete silence to. I don't get it. Go figure. Go fish. Go fishing with Red Holland. I've got nothing. Come on in, satellite! Calling every galaxy, every star. Calling all protons, neutrons, and electrons.... Buzz Lightyear to Star Command: Do you read, over? Hello, there! General Kenobi! You are a bold one! Set phasers on torture. Holy Shatner! Put them in the Iron Maiden! Iron Maiden? EXCELLENT! Execute them! BOGUS! "I said where's the freakin bourbon?!" You know? I hate to say it, but Freddy Krueger has a point here. 

The War Without And The War Within

We'll I've got about 20 minutes of Michael Myers time (impossible to kill), before I can head on to the 'ol Ponderosa. However, writing is sort of a silver bullet for that. Actually I'll have to be careful with that because I have seen more than an hour suddenly jump by. It depends on just how into it I am. I was hoping to skip a Friday for the first time this year. But, it's just not in the cards... Tomorrow, time wise will be even worse than Michael Myers. A lot of folks are off, but I'm not one of that lucky majority. Bummer, dude! Hopefully it means I can sneak away a bit earlier than normal. Tomorrow, In a lovely alternate universe, I actually do get to sleep in, to wake up little by little instead of abruptly by that damn alarm clock. Just not this one. Damn. Foiled again by that proton! We could be anything. We could be everything. We could be just about whoever we wanted to be.. If, if, if... That tragic word that binds us to these bones, that grounds us to this earth. Anything would be possible, if only the universe were designed just a bit differently. For the flip of a proton, for the quirk of a quark, go we. And one has to wonder if a single thought, a single hope, a single dream is the stuff a universe is truly made of. I guess to be remembered, one has to do one of two things: Something really good, or something really terrible. Failing that, most of us are bound to be forgotten someday. Oh, there are the ones who love us. They will remember. Still, for me, after losing so many, they get fewer and fewer. And there will come a day when there will be nobody left to remember me. Maybe if they're into family history, I'll be a name in some database. There'd be nobody to place a face or a memory to my name. People are remembered for only two things, great goodness, and horrible evil. Nero, Emperor of Rome, who fiddled while the city burned and tried to give a sex change to a poor boy because he resembled his late wife? Yep. He'll be remembered. Not so much for the poor boy. His name was Sporus. Hitler, Stalin, and Mao? They'll be remembered. Abraham Lincoln who freed the slaves, Joan of Arc who led French armies, and Napoleon who coded laws we use today, and sold the Louisiana territory to Thomas Jefferson, who wrote the Declaration of Independence. All remembered. Who could forget Caesar? Who could forget the kings and queens throughout the ages? But, most of us will not even be a memory. Somebody might find these words. But what would they mean? I don't know. You tell me. Obscurity is part of the package deal of oblivion. Okay... Subject change. Clean cup move down. Does anyone remember the desks in elementary school? The ones with the cubby hole for your books and papers? I've always hated apples. Apple juice, apple flavored things are okay, but apples? Yucky! What does this have to do with the desk? I'm glad you asked. Every day, my dear Momma would send an apple for snack, and every day, I would just stuff the apple in my desk and not eat it. Needless to say, after a week or three, I got found out and in trouble. Until this very day, wherever in this vast multiverse she may be, I still love my Momma...... And I still despise apples. If I were Adam, I would have said to Eve, Yuck! No way! And humanity would have been partially spared from original sin. Pick a better fruit, Satan! Now if there were mangoes on that tree, we'd be in the same mess. I hate apples, but I love mangoes. Do they really keep the doctor away? Hopefully not. Who could I talk to if I didn't have Doctor Blog-ieo? Only he gets my uncensored thoughts. Doctor Blog-ieo certainly knows best. Still, I do check the social media vortex every now and then. Each time, it sucks just a little bit harder. I wish we had a better way than social media to communicate. That ad riddled vortex just ain't working. I have obviously missed some important posts, yet the Alien Lizard Man, the Almighty Zuckolio says, "No more posts to display" Yeah right. I would apologize for my slow reaction, if only I knew it would be seen. No more posts to display, yet they wait more than two weeks to show me a post where this poor lady said her brother died. It makes me look like an insensitive asshole. Thanks a lot. I guess prioritizing BS and ads is way more important than her need for a human being to talk to, or her feelings. You know, when someone reaches out like that, it is in my nature to respond with empathy. I never had a brother, but I sure know what it's like to lose a sister. The Zuck definitely sucks. His ad making machine sure takes the "social" out of social media. Go to hell, you alien lizard asswipe! Okay. That's that. Anyhow.... Those who know me well know that I'm not the kind of person to go where I feel I'm not wanted. It's more an internal quirk than anything else. My very discomfort in perceiving myself in a place unwanted will outweigh any other reason I might have for being there. It's a paradox of sorts. Some incongruities live out in the universe. This one just so happens to live in my head. And... As we already know, nothing is 'only in your mind' when said mind is the only way you perceive the world. It's all the same anymore. There's no use checking the moon for air. Truth is a rare thing these days. It's too hectic, too biased, totally insane, and one just don't know who to believe anymore. Sometimes, you've really got to let the whole world go, at least for a while, just step away into another realm just as Wesley Crusher did when he left with the ped..... Er..... I mean Traveler. Hey, that dude was creepy! Focusing on the news and social media can be hazardous to one's mental health. It is best to just let go, especially when worrying and getting upset isn't going to change a thing. A few thoughts, though. Even the most evil, unpopular dictatorship has to have plenty of loyal soldiers to stay in power. Now, straight up, evil Goat Man in a towel deserved his fate. Mass murder of unarmed civilians and treating women with such brutality, calling them animals, and treating them like slaves certainly did not put him in the running for leader of the year. That bastard is dead, deservedly so, and a lot of people, especially the ones who have been suffering, are glad he is. All except for his loyal soldiers and his loyal terrorists. Now, Orange Man seems to believe he can eliminate enough of them, but I doubt even the most advanced military can kill every single one of them. Hopefully enough so that the people can take over, be free, and be safe? Of course, no matter how it happens, even if the people are saved, happy, and free, I'm sure the Washington Post will find a negative way to frame it. It's always Orange Man bad, no matter what. He's no god by any means, and there are times he's better off not talking so much. Still I think he has some sound ideas, and his heart is in the right place. I don't agree with absolutely everything he says, but I truly believe he loves America and truly wants to make the world a better place. Yet it seems not to matter at all to some who are so entrenched in hatred. I have never seen such hatred of a man bar a so-called news organization from printing the truth. No matter how it goes down, they'll make sure it is painted in as negative a light as possible. Now, another man who loves his nation is the exiled Crown Prince. You can tell his heart aches when he sees his people oppressed. He seems to have a very deep love and compassion for his people. Only a true ruler can be so affected by the plight and the suffering of his nation. I think it's time for the true king to return to lead and guide his nation back to the glory and dignity it deserves. I hope it happens. The thing that worries me is that when you eliminate one Goat Man, there will always be more goat men to take his place, just as evil, just as hateful, maybe even worse. I, on the outside, look in, see one hell of a gamble. If it goes well, Mr Orange will be known in the history books as the greatest president of all time. If all goes south, there is going to be a lot of suffering and misery for a people who have already suffered too much and certainly don't deserve more. It's all or nothing, ladies and gentlemen. For that reason, most of all, I hope that we win. I hope the people and their compassionate king win. I hope that the golden age truly comes to fruition... But for now, I can't bear to watch any more. What does it take for true reporting, not bullshit propaganda to be the norm? How about instead of telling me how I should feel, give me some facts and let me decide for myself? I don't really appreciate being manipulated. That is also why my deepest feelings have no place in the social media vortex anymore. They'll just use my words to try and sell me something, and that just pisses me off. So, I'll just keep this between you and me, and Doctor Blog-ieo. Tell me about your dreams. Oakie Dokey. My dreams seem to be the venue of encore after encore, words echoing forever. Literal and figurative ghosts from my past.... Not all of them haunt me, but a few do. Some just drop by to say hi. I have even been told that nothing has changed, and it'll be okay. But then there are repeating moments I'd rather not live through again. And it makes me question and wonder about what might have been. And that, dear friends, is a trap for all eternity, for the past tops a long list of the things we could never change. Only the here and now, here and now. There are times when I long for sleep of that deep refreshing kind where I spend hours upon hours knowing nothing at all. The very kind that is so beyond everything that waking up is a jarring experience, where it takes a moment to remember who, what, and where I am, and what I was supposed to do today. I think it's the human equivalent to rebooting your computer when you've been hourglassing just a bit too much. In other words, I need a major control, alternate, delete. My dreams have been as wild as always, half remembered visions that leave more feeling than detail. It's been only bits and pieces, unfinished, incomplete thoughts. Still, no matter the change, no matter the season, the sweetest dream was when the mirror matched the soul, that feeling of truly seeing for the first time. Even in a world where nothing at all is what it seems, there is something that cuts through the very fabric of existence and the very fabric of myself. It's like a law of physics that refuses to bend, twist, or change, a beam of light through the eternal void. Despite fact, despite reality, despite logic, despite reason, despite knowledge, despite awareness, despite my own efforts to the contrary, despite everything... The way I feel is beyond reach of all these things, as is any choice of my own. It is beyond all expression, beyond all understanding, even within my own heart and soul. I may wonder why. I may even wonder how. Yet I have no doubts whatsoever that it's there. By one set of rules, this makes no sense at all. By another, it's the only thing that ever did. Go figure, go fish. I don't get it any more than you do. In for a penny, in for a pound. I have never loved half-heartedly. And I just love who I love. I can't help it. I can't change it. Only time and distance can help me now. Clean cup move down. Another way my own body trolls me is when it decides it's time for a coughing fit right in the middle of me eating. Of course, it forces an involuntary deep breath with which I damn near inhale my food. It's pretty damn scary when that happens. I'm like, what the hell, man? Geesh! Haven't you disappointed me enough? I'm not sure if it's trolling or attempted murder. Drowning on dry land is not an experience I would recommend. Let's just say it's "Scare Ree!" As I have said, death itself does not scare me. So long as it's not prolonged, painful, or scary. This may sound like a contradiction, but peaceful and in my sleep does not sound frightening at all. And this does not mean I don't hope to stick around for a long, long time. I do. I just don't know the future. Nobody promised me tomorrow. I want to live a long, happy, healthy life. But if this is not to be, I hope to face whatever without fear and with some dignity. So far, the experience of losing others has been far more painful than I could imagine my own end to be. Far more painful. Okay... That got gloomy fast. Subject change! Clean cup move down. Mad watch! Mad watch! The watch is mad as hell and it ain't gonna take it anymore! Oh, oh, and two days slow.