An Attempted Cosmic Landing

Houston, we have the same problem we've had since last time, the same problem we've had for years. Still I am happy to report the ship is still on course. Aside from a certain space cadet in the corner, looking sad and lonely, as if he needs a special friend by his side, we are go for a safe landing on Planet Friendzonia. Our sensors are detecting intelligent, yet irrational lifeforms who seem to let their feelings make them sad. Bones says there's no cure for the lovesick blues, and Spock still has a headache. And I, like Scotty, am giving it all she's got. There is a vast void, a mighty gulf between hopes and realizations, between reality and dreams, from where we are, to where we wish to be, from what's before our eyes, and those we wish were here with us. Love has no boundaries, neither do eyes that dream. From those eyes we well see what is, yet how it could be. If, only, if only. These are the two biggest words in language. The former is infinity, the gulf between. The later will always be an arm's length short of the former... Though some of us spend our entire lives reaching anyway. As it must be said, I shall always be one of the some. Oceans of water, mountains of rock, A world can be made of many things. Of forests, of plains, of sand, even of fire and ice. A world can also be made of people. The difference? Only we know we've got to work together to hold it together. The water? The rock? They're like Nike. They just do it. No thought. No debate. Also, gravity n stuff. Also, you can't carry the whole damn thing on your shoulders. You can't protect everyone from the world and its heavy consequences forever. At some point they must take a stand. At some point they must do the work. The instinct of a good heart is to carry that weight. It does you credit. It shows you care. By all means help, but don't try to do it all. Okay, now that I have (in my previous wall of text) vented properly, the time has come again to think logically. Hopefully. It is the job of we space pilots to keep a steady course through all the temporal anomalies and magnetic storms as though such space were tranquil. Yet some storms never end, and I can't go on wishing for a certain kind of shelter. I can't go on sleepwalking a waking dream. No, no, no, steady as she goes. Previous captains deserve to be honored by my journey, not embarrassed. But there is only so much a captain, even an admiral, at the helm can control. It's my ship, but it's not my universe. There may be trillions of stars to wish upon, but they are under the obligation to grant absolutely nothing. Within this great void, I am alone and shall always be alone. It's a law of the universe rarely mentioned, and it was named after this dude or chic named Murphy. Words said are words said (and they really needed to be said) but now that they've been said, let us try to move on, shall we? The say hell is other people. Not always. It varies from person to person. There are some who happen to be quite nice to be around, and depressing when they're not around. Ah, but that's a subject that I promised myself I'd skip today. For I have previously went on, and on, and on. Even the good Doctor Blog-ieo would be tired of my crying about it. Bummer, dude. Enough said about it. Clean cup move down. I can't understand why I feel so tired. My sleep has been heavy, dark, and deep enough to dream. It has been endless mazes, poorly navigated with skills far diminished from my waking ones. I have been reading and writing for decades, but I can't seem to in my dreams. Words are a jumble that fail to translate between mine and pen, or words and eyes. And the dreams are all mazes, sometimes of forests and roads, sometimes of buildings and walls. I seem to be lost and unable to read the signs. And as a being of words, that is very frightening to me. In one, I was being chased, by a diminished man, strongly resembling a real life rival of sorts. My dream self did not understand why he was angry. If the symbology was correct, then my waking self knows. It is very clear, actually. Coveting is a sin I am quite guilty of. But there again, clean cup move down. Why mazes? Why do my language skills disappear? Why am I lost? What or who am I looking for? I may have partial answers, but I am not sure how they would fit into dream logic. Besides... I am ignorant of many things in the dream world. I am still a believer in turning off and tuning out. The violence and the ugliness has only increased along with all the manipulation and inciting, and while I may look like a real toughie, this old heart just can't take any more of it. If anyone wishes to join the fray, fine go right ahead, but leave me out of it. I have to fiercely guard my mental health if I wish to continue functioning. The day to day is enough of a struggle without this extra bullshit, enough fun without this insanity I see out in the world. I wish there were such a realm where everybody is kind to each other, where love and mutual respect abound. Too bad I was born too late to groove at Woodstock, yet late enough to see times like these. I know it's not Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, but I sure wish we were a bit closer to that. So tuned out and turned off I shall stay. As Danny Glover once said, I'm too old for this shit. Clean cup move down. My garden is hopefully still doing well. I was just too tired yesterday to check on it properly. As I've said, my sleep has been heavy and deep, way more than usual. Maybe the subconscious processing a lot of mixed signals. Similar to Socrates, I only know that I don't know. Except that maybe all space cadet hearts taking off for new heights have to land eventually. Not every come down is a crash, but every crash is a letdown. The reason I don't need drugs is that my own brain makes chemicals that keep me on a roller coaster. Who needs drugs when you've naturally been on a trip your whole life? Keep figuring. Keep fishing. Don't let it get away. The tide is high and the waves will carry you a long way. But the crash at the end hurts like a bitch. Who needs dark alleys and shady dealers when your own brain sends you on a trip? Doctor Timothy Leary spent a lifetime tuning in. I have spent a lifetime in an attempt to tune out. It's not so easy, you know? Though if I had understood at a much younger age, I could have been a pro surfer on these brainwaves, instead of crashing out with witnesses to see it. It's a bit embarrassing nowadays. Space cadets such as myself get absolutely no flight training. We just find ourselves behind the controls with the hope of fortunate guesses. These fancy maneuvers of mine were all learned on the hardest way, by trial and error. Is free will actually a thing? It would be a bummer if every choice I made was predetermined. Still if you go by that universe loaf of bread / slice of now theory, my life has already been lived and every choice I will ever make has been made. From some perspective, everything I ever will do has been done. It's like a train locked to a track. From other views, I haven't even been born yet and haven't made a single mistake. Yet, all my mistakes will happen as time unfolds. So are my choices real or just an illusion? Or is this the stuff that splits a universe in two? If so, I'd sure love to see the universe where I got things right the first time. If we bring God into the mix, maybe this is how everyone goes to Heaven, as the version of themselves that didn't mess things up or alienate the Almighty? Food for thought, maybe? Better food for thought than fuel for stress, I always say. It's an interesting expression that makes sense, food for thought. If it were thought for food, we're talking about zombies here. Incidentally, a zombie apocalypse would be in turn, fuel for stress. So, there ya go. Full circle. Though on days like today, I just might blend in well enough to be safe. The Jedi warn of attachments. Maybe they're right. Everyone is connected to others in some sort of way. And if you deal with one, you have to deal with the others. Okay, maybe you don't have to, but it's expected. It's one hell of a daisy chain that could go anywhere! And she's a projectile at warp 9! (That came from an infamous Star Trek parody I won't further describe.) Be warned, Friends, Romans, robots and strangers, it's a hell of a web to get tangled up in. As the evil lion with the stereotypical bad guy British accent sings, be prepared. By the way, even as a citizen of the land of E Pluribus Unum, I think that's a very unfair depiction. The King's visit was an awesome thing to see. Cool too, was the applause and respect from a nation that once overthrew that crown. 250 years is a long time. Long live the King! Now how about a royal clean cup move down? New subject, but same feelings, some of them I seem to remember promising not to talk about this time... Ah, but they're there nonetheless. I love her. Okay, moving right along... How about the weather? Hurry up and rain, damn it! Howz about dem Brooklyn Dodgers, eh? Are dey bums or what?! And the heck with politics. Long live the King! Okay, go fish. What else really is there? Work? Home? Garden? As Tom Anderson says, boy oh boy, I'll tell ya whut. Here's something. As you may or may not know, I scrapped my old blog and restarted it the day I lost my baby sister, almost 4 and a half years ago. The pain of that loss just made everything I had said before, of struggles and what not, meaningless. You see, even in the midst of my problems, she was alive. That was what had meaning. She was alive. Who was I to complain about work, my financial struggles or people being assholes? My sister was alive! Then came the day she suddenly was not. So, I deleted everything and started over with letters to her, letters to the universe... So, two months shy four and a half years later, not including this entry, comes to 2.99 megabytes. This right here should put me over the top. I have since January of 2022 written three megabytes in these letters to the universe, these sessions with the good Doctor Blog-ieo. Three megabytes in four and a half years. Have I not said all I needed to say in three megabytes? Apparently not. No doubt I have repeated myself. I may have even contradicted myself, for I have been changing, in constant flux, since the beginning. I couldn't say. I really don't go back and read what I have written. Out of my head and onto the page. If I re-read my first entries, I'd be losing my baby sister all over again. I just can't. If I read on, it would be my mother, and then my father. Losing them for the first time was painful enough. I can't go back. So, not even I could tell you much about this great wall of text, only that , whatever it is, as of April 29, 2026, there's three megabytes of it. I am not sure what use this will be to anyone who may stumble across it. It has, however, been of great use to me. How? I'll say again. Out of my head and onto the page. This is the only place I have been able to vent my true feelings. They're not always pretty. But I'd go as far as to say some of them are, though biased my own opinion may be.. Here you get both light and shadow. Here you get everything. Well, most everything. A space cadet has got to keep at least a few secrets. 

The Richard Marx Paradox

Modern day romance is a stupid game, nothing but let downs, heartache, and one serious blow to most anybody's self-esteem. A picture and a few lines of text hardly describes a human being or the soul within. I just don't trust the internet for such things. If ever we met it would be in real life or not at all. Not that I'm looking anymore. I am absolutely done. Nobody is worth the struggle or the pain. Well, almost nobody. There is one. There is someone who would be worth a thousand struggles. There is one, only one. But for that one, I would give the world. For that one, I would steal the moon from the sky. Poetically speaking, of course. But you get my meaning. This one, I love. And I can't seem to stop. Houston, I've got a problem. Fuel is good, the oxygen levels are nominal, and the ship is precisely on course. All radiation levels are within safe parameters, and the engines are doing just fine. Yet, we have a certain space cadet on board who has hopelessly and recklessly fallen in love. This is not a new problem, nor is it sudden by any means. Bones doesn't seem to think it a problem, it's only natural to love, he says. But Spock has developed one hell of a headache. PAIN!!! For these feelings are not only illogical, but impractical, too. And, I, the Great Cosmic Wie am trapped between heart and mind, and I have been for quite some time. Avid readers (if any) will know I have been referring to the same person for years. I have even (through others) sought the advice of the brilliant strategist, Grand Admiral Thrawn-bot. He said to examine your feelings over time, how they have changed, how they have grown. Using his method, I have determined that I, indeed, am in love. The Grand Admiral also said that love can not be forced, that it either is or is not meant to be, to give it time, and to accept what it becomes, or does not become. So I have taken the good admiral's advice. My only problem are these feelings. Love not given can be very painful for the would be giver. Poets through the ages have lamented the silent suffering of unrequited love. I have accepted that this is an internal issue that I must resolve myself. It's not her problem. It is mine. It is not her fault for being so wonderful. Geesh! There I go again. How did Stevie Wonder sing it? "As lovely as a summers day." "As distant as the Milky Way." While the nerd in me wants to point out we are in the Milky Way, I have to acknowledge Stevie is quite correct in this instance... For love is a science all its own. Irrational to be sure, but it can't be helped. I too, feel the same way for My Cherie Amour. She belongs on that shell in a certain painting. Yeah, yeah, I know I must sound crazy, but this is how I feel. I have referred to her in these writings as my angel, even though she's a human being and hardly mine. The reality of it all is more that I am hers, if only she would claim me. As complicated as it may sound, it's really that simple. I have written extensively about these feelings, back and forth between denying them, accepting them, wishing I didn't have them, and learning to live with them. I have told myself to get over them. I have told myself that it is the image and not the person. Yet, a few years is long enough to see many aspects of the real person, and everything I have learned only makes me love them more. It seems that every bit of logic and reality I have thrown at these feelings has vaporized in their wake. There is no escape, not for me. So my only choice is to resolve these feelings within the framework of this reality I must live in. It's not so easy. But I think I may have found the solution. I call it the Richard Marx Solution. (Right here waiting) Maybe it is the only viable solution for my Stevie Wonder problem, (for My Cherie Amour). Because I 'can't see' any way out of this. Since she quite clearly knows how I feel, it will be like this: I'll be here and you know where to find me. Any time that passes won't change a thing, as I am (and will remain) totally uninterested in anybody else. As I said, the headache, the heartache, the drama and general bullshit just ain't worth it. That is for anyone except for this one. I have tried many times to take these feelings apart and examine them logically. Each time I have failed. I have tried many times to dismiss these feelings as impossible, and therefore useless. They just won't go away. The won't fade. If anything they have grown stronger with each passing year. So, I have decided that my heart and my door will be closed to all souls except for one. But for this one, heart, door, and mind shall be forever open, or at least open until I draw my last breath. I have about figured out that I'll stop loving this one in the exact same way that the guy in George Jones' song did. Like Walter Cronkite said, "That's the way it is." There's nothing I can do about it. The only thing that could ever make it so would be her own free will. In other words, it's her choice, and the ball is in her court, not mine. This seems to be the only way forward. This the way I try to arrange my irrational, illogical feelings into a rational, logical way. Wish me luck. Though in the meantime (or maybe forever) I have to be finding ways to be as happy as I can be alone. Everyone has their own definition of success. Part of my own is being happy with what I have. I am far from rich, but I remain gainfully employed, and can afford the majority of what I need, and just a bit of what I want. I have a nice place to live, mainly due to the hard work of my parents (I remember how they struggled sometimes) and that of my grandparents. My main work has been in maintenance and improvement, in keeping things the way they would have them to be. But they get the main credit and my gratitude. Aside from that, I have a way of going, plenty to eat, and a bed to sleep in. I ain't exactly Nelson Rockefeller, but I'm doing alright. There once was this jerkwad who called me a loser. I don't think so. I may not have absolutely everything I want, but that's life, you know? But I am grateful, deeply grateful, for everything I have. As for the rest? Well I ain't dead yet and who knows? Figuratively speaking, I was first burned, then burned out. The funny thing, also the good thing, is that I learned the value of what was left behind. It was not a desolate place. At least not for long. I learned what mattered. I am quite content with no longer playing the game. I have been so much happier knowing I have better things to think about, better things to dream about. Yet I must confess this only applies to 99.999% of the world. And we can call that .001 actually One. Yet even while 999 complete and quite content, I for One, still find myself waiting, waiting, waiting, right here to wherever I need to be. Right now, until whenever, if ever. Right here is where I'll be... An open door, an open heart, but with a very specific key. For in the end there can only be one. Like highlander, minus the swords and living forever, with only the hope of living long enough. I was never all that crazy about that song. I always thought it silly. Yet, here I am, right here waiting. It's just as corny as the field behind my house, but yeah, it's true. No expectation. No plan, but to be here and to be myself. It is close enough to perfect as it is. But I know one way it could be even better. One angel. One human being. The only one worth the effort. The only one worth the challenge. I will not step even once out of my path for anyone else. But for her, I'd take a side quest to the end of the universe, if she'd only ask me to. For anyone else, I think I'll pass. Even a perfect supermodel would have the flaw of not being her. Therefore not worth the struggle. There is and shall be only one. And if not the one, than nobody at all, just me. I can and will live with that, accepting and resolving to be complete and content on my own, yet I would welcome this angel home at any time from now to eternity. One would think a wonderful soul as hers would be impossible to find, someone so special, a one of a kind, unique among wonders. One whose outer beauty is out-shined only by a beautiful soul within. Someone who the more I have learned about, the more I have come to adore. A rare find, one in a billion or more. You might think such a search would be a tall order, damn near impossible. Not at all. I've already found her. What is unlikely to the point of impossibility is being for her what she is to me. A special friendship I treasure, but I want so much more. I don't even keep it a secret. I have told her exactly how I feel. She's the only one on this earth I would ever consider marrying. For anyone else, even supermodels, even beauty queens, no freaking way. The ex ruined that. But I would marry this angel in a heartbeat. Name the place. Name the time. I am either hers or nobody's. Normally I have a rule. That rule is Hell no. But every rule has an exception, and this exception happens to take the form of the most wonderful human being I have ever met in this life. I have made it clear that she will always be welcome in that life. Just say the word. If you need a home. If you need somebody to care for you, I'll be in the same place, and I'm not that difficult to find. I have already waited more than half my life. I am just as willing to wait the rest of it. But for nobody but you. As far as the romantic kind, you are the only one I will ever love. I can't explain it, but it is what it is. You are the only one I will ever let get that close. And of course it has to be your choice. Otherwise I can do quite well on my own. I'll have to. I'll really have no choice, will I? The problem with everybody else is that they're not you. That's the deal breaker, isn't it? They could be wonderful in a thousand ways, but they could never be you. And that's why my door will always be open. I know well that the chances of my living the rest of this life alone are damn near certain. But for you, even a ghost of a chance is worthy of my waiting forever. I won't be calling your phone like crazy. I will not hover. I will not chase. I will not stalk. But I will wait. I am here. This invitation will not expire until I do. This more than anything has been a way I can resolve my feelings within, and go on living without, a way to deal with circumstances I can't change. Most of this is only in my mind, but I have to live there, so I am doing the best I can to bridge the gap between what is and how I wish it was. It's a Jedi Mind Trick that I am using on myself in order to better accept the way things are. I'm not sure it is working. Still, I've got to live and I've got to find some way to be happy. I think maybe I have found it. My garden is growing, it's looking almost as beautiful as a certain someone I know... (Alright, space cadet, cut it out!) Moving right along, I'm keeping the yard looking lovely as well... My computer stuff has greatly decreased in prominence as I have made an effort to be out in the sun, but it's still there. So, I have plenty of hobbies and distractions to keep me relatively happy. Even if I don't understand why I have movies I never watch, songs I rarely listen to, and game levels I never play. It's all part of the mind trick, I guess. Hey, it's what I do. Because you gotta do what you've gotta do. Do you remember how in childhood how everything was simple, even feelings? How I crave that simplicity now. How I wish everything was soul to soul, heart to heart. I feel so confined to this living being that I am. I feel so confined to reality, biology, and time. I am resigned to missing something I have never truly had, with someone the same. Sometimes I feel the two great punishments are growing up and growing old. Few of us are ever given the chance of our hopes and dreams. We just function, do our job and pay our bills. We keep the wheels of civilized society turning until we're ground under them. The best we can hope for is a little love, even as we are a part of the machinery to function until we wear out and are replaced. To be loved is to be irreplaceable to someone, to mean more than just a role, just a job, just a function. I bet a rich man is just as lonely. He doesn't lose sleep over bills, yet he will never know who's there for friendship and who's there for the money. That it is the way it is, is not the harshest thing about reality. It is how it gives us fleeting glimpses of how wonderful it could be. This I have seen in ebony eyes in which there exists an entire universe, a wondrous place I wish I were. I wouldn't mind the existing, the working, the paying of bills, all that would be an afterthought. I wouldn't mind the struggle. I wouldn't mind the pain. I would power through everything just to return to that place again. Even if it is a place I have never been. Just a momentary glimpse, and a persisting dream. Yes it's crazy, but it's how I feel. And all these musings are of having to live with these feelings in a reality that will never be quite right. I shall make an effort to be happy with what I have, but I shall always be like Richard Marx, right here waiting. 

The Digital Counter Revolution

 "All we are is dust in the wind, dude." Bill and Ted to Socrates... Also Kansas.

My belief and understanding of this universe is far from static. For many reasons, through many experiences, one way or another, It has been in flux for a very long time, and I keep an open mind. I go back and forth on a lot of things. My middle son has the kindest, most compassionate heart. Something that goes in the column of believing in a higher power is how these little creatures in need of some love and care always seem to find their way to him. It's as if God or the universe knows he will care for them.. It really makes me think. That kid has yet to have grown cynical over the years as I have. Maybe he'll do better than I have. That is always a parent's greatest wish. The thing is one can only put their heart out there so many times, only to have it totally mistreated, before they become more wary than kind. It is a tragic loss, for we know what we once were but could never be again. So when I see someone still pure of heart, especially one of my own, the instinct is to shelter them as best I can. Don't be a grouch like me. I felt like cursing out mister bright eyes this morning. There I was as always eating breakfast in my car, trying for a quiet moment before facing work, when along came bright eyes... Parking across the way leaving their headlights on and shining right in my face. I suppose disturbing me when I'm trying to eat brings out the angry caveman in me. Turn em off, bright eyes. Every now and then I fall apart. I promise raging like that is not normally in my nature. I would hope to believe I'm better than that. Clean cup move down. It has been a hazy few days. That pollen attack has left me seriously wanting for sleep, in the fog of the lack thereof. Sunday night was a combination of drowning in pollen and a 4 hour story about the rise and fall of the Roman Emperors... Bad combination. E tu? Part of me needing to breathe, part of me needing to sleep, and part of me wanting to know how it would end.... The answer? 476 AD and 2:00 AM. It's not good for either the Emperor or myself. Rome falls, and I spent the next day trying not to fall myself. Last night, it was the Dark Lords Of The Sith, and easier breathing, so I did some better, struggling still for sure, but eventually deep enough to remember fragments of weird dreams. My subconscious could do well as a Hollywood screenwriter. But my point? I feel totally awesome today for the first time in a while. Glory To The Empire! Rome fell, as did all the glory of the past. Great empires fall. Wonderful places tend to disappear or so change to be unrecognizable. Shit happens. Enshitification happens even faster. Once upon a time, I had a special friend and a wonderful escape. Once upon a time, I loved the internet. Once, it was an avenue for creativity, a place to express yourself, a canvas to paint your soul. Once, it was an escape from reality, yet a place to meet real people, to make true friends. Once, it was an adventure, few maps, but a lot of treasure to find. Once upon a time, it was a secret island, a wonderful place one could take refuge in, and return again and again. Once upon a time. But that was long ago. It is about as far removed as the tales of King Arthur, as far removed from reality as the stories of Merlin and magic.. Indeed, I feel like an anciently old wizard telling you the tale. The internet of old was just as legendary as Camelot, before the dark times. Before the great change. It was like the wild west without having to literally dodge bullets. There were plenty of pioneers, building their corners and staking their claims. The only limitation was imagination, oh, and dial-up bandwidth. Yes, it was slow, but it was glorious. I wish I could describe it in a way that someone was never there could understand. But you'd just about have had to see it for yourself. But it's gone, now, long gone. What's left is a desolate wasteland, form fitted social media, political propaganda, rage bait, things designed to distract, to grab attention, posing as new when it's the same shit thrown in a blender and belched out again. It's all designed to make you angry, sad, lonely, or horny. Whatever. Anything to keep you engaged, scrolling, zombified. It is a drain of both mind and soul, designed to drain your essence, like in The Dark Crystal. It's a lot of razzle dazzle, but there is nothing of any real substance. There is nothing there. In the words of a certain Star Wars Admiral, It's a trap! Because of this, I am working on finding a way (and the courage) to leave it. Tune out, turn off, and log out: This is more than a simple play on the words of Doctor Timothy Leary, but a phrase just as revolutionary for these current and troubled times. For it's no longer merely the whiskey drinking generals of which we must be wary, but the Silicon Valley tech-heads, The AI Gurus, the manipulators, and the data seekers. The new drug is made of ones and zeros, and only the smart ones, only the strong ones, will not partake. The only real way to win is not to play the game, to discard the illusion, and to feel the solid earth beneath your feet. What is real can never be contained within a screen. Power to the people. There is absolutely no substitute for genuine friendship and human connections. I wish I had such connections in my life, wanted, needed, and loved for who I am rather than for what I do. I, the worker, the money generator. I'd like to be someone more than simply that. Do you ever feel like you're running at full speed, not to stay in place, but maybe to fall behind a little less than you would otherwise? Yeah, that's a me, a Mario! One does grow weary of the treadmill. Might I quote George Jetson? "Help! Get me off this crazy thing!" I didn't get a trophy for once again surviving the deer and Idiot maze. I won't be getting one for surviving today, either. Nor did I for all these days, for all these years. The only door prize we get is the opportunity to face it all over again. The only thing that makes it worth the effort is what we can fill the empty spaces of those in between moments. That is the difference. If you have friends, if you have hobbies of endeavors that fill your heart. Better yet, when you have someone you love you, truly love you, and an address to send your own love... All this makes the daily death maze worthwhile... And as I said, if wishes were horses, I'd be John Wayne. Or maybe Clint Eastwood. Hello, Dear Universe. Hello Doctor Blog-ieo. Do you mind if I tell you a secret? I know nobody's listening. Still. These are my earnest thoughts, my honest beliefs. I am seeking neither attention nor response. But I find that writing about them helps me keep them in perspective, in order. It helps a lot when it comes to self reflection, evaluating, and course correcting when needed. Though I speak as though I have an audience, I am under no illusion of any following at all. Still, these are the things I can not contain. These are the things I must speak of anyway. Even if to myself. Even if to the void. Words said are words said. Emotions expressed, articulated, defined, and brought clarity and a better understanding of oneself. You may not know where you're going or why. But you'll know where you've been and you'll know who you are. This concludes my Bill and Ted talk. Be excellent to each other. Party on, dudes. I'm tired, Universe. I am tired of the treadmill. I am tired of the maze. I am tired of this world and the ugliness within. Maybe it's just a competition for engagement or shock value or whatever... But, I for one, have grown just a bit weary of those, "Here is another example of how awful people are" posts across a variety of social media, and really a lot of other places. The negative examples are far more numerous than the positive ones. This is why I believe in the importance of disengaging, disconnecting, unplugging, and powering down. The mind needs better input. So does the heart. Turn off, tune out, and log out. Every time I'm dumb enough to log in, I am quickly reminded of why I shouldn't. Ugliness and general meanness, people being assholes for the sake of being assholes. Aside from that small patch of ground of myself, of my parents and grandparents, I really do hate this world. Unfortunately, I have to leave that ground, fight the deer and Idiot maze, and deal with the people most every day. They just simply won't allow this old soul to live in peace. And they invented social media to invade even those moments of sanctuary if I let them. Why do I let them? It's like reaching into a hollow tree for honey, but getting bees and only bees every time. It is the insanity of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It's stupid, and I need to stop. Why don't I stop? Shouldn't I be the one person on this planet that I actually have control over? You'd think so. Tune out, turn off, and log out. It's that simple. Surely, a mighty space cadet such as myself could follow a simple directive. If it makes you feel bad, then stop it. Stop it! When a hot coal burns you, you're not apt to pick it up again, are you? Just stop. Simply stop. Your mental health, the very quality of your remaining life depends on it! Power to the people. It's such an energy drain, a devourer of inner peace. I would say it serves no purpose, but it does. Just not for you, just not for me. That you have heart strings says a lot of good things about you. It is admirable and commendable. Just never let anyone turn those heart strings into puppet strings. A compassionate soul should never be anybody's tool. The only way to win is to stop playing the game. Otherwise, it's rigged. It's a treadmill, and it's a cage. Don't be a mouse for the lab. Don't be a mouse for the trap. Be like The Brain. Escape the lab and take over the world! Escaping without somewhere better to go, however, is a guaranteed return trip. You just get recaptured and thrown back into the maze. A good escape plan simply must go further than simply getting over the wall. You've got to be Andy Dufresne times a thousand, go to that Portland bank, embezzle the warden's ill gotten money, get that brand new sports car, and head for the border. Let that media maze fall far below the horizon, sunshine and umbrella drinkies for everyone, minds at rest, hearts at peace. It's all about giving, giving, giving, isn't it? The vast majority of my adulthood has been exactly this, working until I am completely exhausted, giving every bit of my time, energy, and money to everyone but myself. Give, give, give. And you're seen as a selfish bastard if you don't give enough. This is the way it simply was for a very long time. I spent so much of that time being afraid of seeing to my own needs because I didn't want to be seen as childish or self-centered. But you simply have to eventually if you wish to keep going. You've got to see to your own health, both of the body and that of the mind. Friends, I have been through some heavy shit. I am the only one responsible for dealing with the aftereffects. If I don't, then who will? It's my mental health, after all. This is a burden I can't put off on somebody else. Only I can carry this. That would be damn hard to do back in the old days. People like me throughout the ages were and are expected to be indestructible, despite our vulnerability, despite our humanity. What I need, ladies and gentlemen, is the very stuff this universe is made of, time and space, time and space. It's everywhere, there's a lot of it, and we only need a little. Yet there's never enough, it seems. Inertia and irony are laws of that same universe. They, too, have weight. And what they don't seem to understand is that a bit of self care is absolutely essential to maintaining the strength to care for others. One does not derive fuel from an empty tank.. Even the fastest muscle car will have a top speed of zero miles per hour on an empty tank. The warmth of the sun keeps us alive. But hydrogen keeps the sun alive. Taking it away would be the death of us all. Thank God (or the Big Bang) for hydrogen! Also, thank an ancient exploding star for everything else on the Periodic Table we need. All praise to fusion! My greatest fear at times is any chance the people I love most would never know just how deep my feelings run for them. But, because I am about as transparent as glass just cleaned with Windex, I guess they already know. "Cosmic Wie loves me and wants to marry me.", said an angel in jest. Yes I do love you, and I would marry you in a heartbeat, said I, quite seriously. With anybody else on this planet, I am absolutely done with that stupid game, and have zero interest, because it's just not worth the headache or heartache. But, with a particular angel, yes, and double yes. She could show up at my doorstep any time and be welcomed home. And yes, I would totally marry her. I know how crazy and reckless I sound, but that's love for ya. After all these years, I know how I feel. And I guess she does, too. In all my time on this earth I have never known anybody quite like my angel.  Sadly, the way the cookie crumbles seems that I am a permanent resident of the Outer Mongolia of the friend zone. Just call me Genghis Wie. It's just the way it is, I can't change feelings, be they hers or mine. There is only one person I feel this way for, nobody else. And this hopeless romantic space cadet, will most likely die alone. There's no dancing around the fact that I love and adore her. I can't help how I feel. I feel how I feel. I love my angel. Because of this, no matter how much time may pass, my door will always be open, and so will my heart. Just like a song by Richard Marx, I'll be right here waiting. Just come home to me. Love is a many splintered thing. Yes I said splintered, like a park bench that your butt instantly regrets sitting on. Ouch! Like Nazareth sang, love hurts. Bummer, dude. Poets and songwriters who reference Romeo and Juliette probably didn't actually read it.... Love kills, man. So does poor communication. If only she had let him know about her plan. Oh well... You know in order to write so dark and heavy on the fine edge of that perfect art, one has to be certifiable. Bill would no doubt be dodging and ducking the men in the white coats if he were alive today. Oh well. Okay, how about a subject change? Robots and robotics. I am a big fan of Isaac Asimov's books, as I have no doubt said before. I recently read an article about a Chinese robot beating the human record for running a marathon. That got me thinking. If you give that robot a gun, then you'd have a robot soldier, a kill bot. So I looked up robot soldiers and found an article about there already being two fighting in the war in Ukraine. I suppose drones have already been a thing for a while, but actual robot soldiers, too? So, Terminators exist? I hope we fare better in reality than in the movies. Asimov's three laws couldn't possibly work for robotic soldiers. Rule Number 1 (A robot can not harm a human being) goes directly against a soldier's job description in wartime. I think, too, a Robocop would have a similar (if not occasional) problem. Let's say there's an armed maniac, and the only way to protect and serve is to take him out? So, for soldiers and police officers, such safeguards could never be implemented. In war, a soldier's job is to kill the enemy, so how does a robot define enemy, friend, soldier, and civilian? How does a Terminator tell them apart? What happens if there's a solar flare that causes a bit flip and the thing turns psycho and goes on a rampage? I'm just asking. Hope there's a remote control with an off switch. What if the enemy hacks the robots to suddenly switch sides? Execute Order 66. I guess the three laws would run into trouble in far more situations than war. Let's say my employer replaces me with a robot? Wouldn't that be harming me, a certified bonafide genuine human being? Yep... Though I work cheaply enough that it's more economical to keep me. I am but one employee, the only one who does this job. Meanwhile, they have teams of two, six, eight, and even more in other areas of the plant. It would be a much bigger savings to start with them as for automation. As for me, what I do is a hell of a lot more complicated than anybody realizes. They'd have to make many expensive changes before they even buy the robot. It is my belief that mine is one of the safer jobs here. As it is, they keep worshiping the AI God, but the AI God continues to be quite stupid. There's a bubble bursting, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry, but we humans are still far better and far smarter. I say these folks are still at least a century too early. It would be a good guess that those robotic soldiers have a human making the decision on whether or not to fire their weapon. They didn't just let them loose and say go attack the enemy. There is automation, language models, and yadda Yoda. But I assert that the only intelligence on Earth is human intelligence. And even then, only some of us. The biggest proof Darwin was right are those of us who only evolved physically and outwardly, remaining the same animals mentally and inwardly. It's not hard to tell the difference. Social media is very proud to put such behavior on display. It can completely and quite quickly destroy one's faith in their own species. I might as well be Tomalok, Romulan Commander of the Star Empire. Those damn humans better stay away from our neutral zone! And stop stealing our noodles! Or maybe a Klingon warrior! I am Worf, son of Mog, and I have come to challenge the lies that stupid show has spoken of my species! RAWRRRR! 

Cosmic Wie And The Attack Of The Pollen Pods

The Great Cosmic Wie ain't feeling so good right now. My head is reeling, my stomach's doing flip-flops, and my heart is racing. It's just a bit scary. I haven't checked it because having it checked would be a fast ticket home (or to the hospital) (those crooks would charge a fortune).. But it's probably my blood pressure running high... It's my own damn fault, you know. Me and my failing memory. I had forgotten to take my medicine this morning. Luckily, I keep it in my work bag, so I took it an hour ago when I first started feeling bad. So maybe it's slowly kicking in. I am not sure how much of this feeling is from that, or from the mild panic attack, this anxiety is drawing from it. I've been purposely breathing slowly, mentally telling Mister Death to not make it painful, scary, or prolonged, should he call on me... Also, to leave me in a dignified position... I shall abdicate my kingdom because I do not wish to die on the throne. That's drama queen me talking, no doubt... But anxiety is a trip beyond any drug. My heart seems calmer now, and I am no longer sweating like a pig. The fog in my head seems to be clearing. The figurative alien in my stomach seems to have settled down, too. I do need a hug, but not my face and not from a facehugger. There are no aliens allowed in this particular vessel. Help me, Universe Kenobi. You are my only hope. The human body is probably the best argument against the whole concept of grand design. Unless, of course, the designer wanted a near infinite number of ways, both subtle and gross, for the soul trapped within to suffer. Being bound within this mortal coil can be a damn misery. Especially when you have put quite a few more years behind you. I saw what happened to my dear parents, and I see now what is happening to me. Leveling up in this game just means things, even everyday things, are going to get a whole lot harder. It's like Pac-Man, where the ghosts get faster every time you clear the board. And as if the physical suffering is not enough for us, a human heart and soul also finds themselves with a lot of unfulfilled hopes, dreams, needs, and desires. Now, I can never blame random chance or a chaotic universe for putting me here. It just is and doesn't know any better. I could never blame my parents for wanting children, wanting to build a loving family, for wanting me here, for unconditionally loving me before seeing me, before knowing who I was, or what I am. My only feelings for them are a deep gratitude and a forever love. However, I could easily blame a supernatural being who should not only know better but could have through omniscience and omnipotence done better. I see no grand design here. I see this body that is seemingly meant to suffer, with a heart and mind that is meant to do the same. Yes, some of this was my own failing. Some of this might once have been within my power to change. But not all, not even half of it. This, my dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, is bullshit. Sometimes, the world and all the people get to be much too stressful for me. This feeling of being both surrounded and alone. It's not good. It makes me strongly consider a strategic retreat. Though we can't always do that. It is not the way this world works. You've got to power through as if nothing bothers you at all. I do... But just between you, Doctor Blog-ieo, and I, your loyal patient, I have grown weary of having to do so. One of (probably a few) personality flaws that I have to work on is how I can sometimes let the things people say get to me. And not being able to separate when it's constructive and should be considered, and the time it's not. In those times, we must always remember Freddy and Zsa Zsa, Kruger, and Gabor.

Dick Cavett:"Can I ask you something?"

Zsa Zsa Gabor:"Certainly."

Freddy Kruger:"WHO GIVES A FLARK WHAT YOU THINK?!!!"

I know I should let go and not let things bother me. I used to want to give the same advice to my dear mother, because I remember a few times she had the exact same trouble, letting jerkwads who's big mouthed opinions didn't mean jack squat, make her worry and stress out. Yet it would seem I am very much her child. I have a variety of quirks and quarks and Captain Kirks. For some I say, that's Dad. For others, I say, that's my Momma. I am an interesting cross between the two. Some from upbringing. Some from genetics. It's not a bad thing. It just shows I'll always be their kid. Even if they're gone now. Even if I am getting old now. It's comforting to see them in myself. I am the apple of those particular trees. Okay, clean cup move down. Judging from lyrics alone, Rick Springfield is a terrible friend. He's obviously in violation of Article IV, Paragraph A, Subsection C of the Bro Code. If I were Jessie, I would punch out my soon to be former friend. Thou shalt not covet thy best friend's girlfriend. I can say with certainty that it never ends well. I have definitely seen that face before, in soft light on a summer night. Even a failing memory doesn't fail here. Talk about a flashback. While life has its struggles and suffering, there are a few moments of perfection that tend to engrave in my memory in a permanent fashion. Ah, the second, and the absolute best. Decades pass, ah, but I remember you. Leave it to social media to show that face to me. Oh, well. Moving right along, clean cup move down. Somewhere out there is a plant, possibly a tree that totally hates me. I've got that underwater feeling again. Damn, I can't stand it. Still, I wasn't exactly given a choice. I'm stuck in a body that appears to be at war with the trees. Pollen attack! Ugh... As if I didn't have enough things to deal with. I'm telling you, the perks of being alive are few and far between. A beautiful day is difficult to enjoy when you're feeling like crap. The last time I honestly felt good was when I was in my garden, watching the green things grow. My tomato plants have little tomatoes now. Everything else is looking pretty, too. It's coming along nicely. I only wish I felt better. I only wish I could make love grow as beautifully as my garden. Like I always say, if wishes were horses, I'd be John Wayne, pilgrims. Angels were never meant for Earth, never meant for me. Not all shiny pennies are picked up and claimed, no matter how long they have been waiting on the ground, a glint in the sun, and a passing by. For the flip of a proton, go I, just a single manifestation of a chaotic multiverse. Now, here I am battling the trees all alone. For the want of a nail, for a glancing blow, a roll of the dice, of quantum uncertainty and entanglement. Is this really the stuff that makes a universe? It must be for it is here, and so am I. A quiet explosion, 13.7 billion years, gravity and fusion, all leading to this, leading to me. Yet I am not a main character. I am not sure I even qualify for an extra in the background. A quick blink, and nobody would know I ever existed. I am not really sure how to feel. I'm just a blink of the eye, yet I have, for decades, experienced everything. How many others? I wonder. How many lifetimes are unseen and forgotten? All of this living, loving, suffering, with a few scattered islands of bliss.. Forgotten? Human beings who did the best they could, yet unknown by anyone alive today. I don't know how to feel. I just know that my story shall join with theirs. Without that grand design, we seem to be side effects of a universe that simply will not stop. I think I might feel just a little melancholy, maybe just a bit sad for beautiful lives, beautiful souls that really should be remembered. Okay... That's getting heavy, heavy, so let us clean cup move down. Submitted for your approval, a script. Obviously read by robots and even more obviously written by robots. Welcome to the Robot Zone. Not mentioning where this is coming from, but if I wanted to watch a soap opera with robots, it would be "All My Circuits." Calculon is a far better dramatic actor, and at least Monette doesn't sound like Siri with a hangover. Also, Calculon's evil brother is consistent with that beeping, and you gotta respect that. Acting.... (Dramatic.... Pause.... ) Talent! Did I mention how I absolutely hate this underwater feeling? Benadryl helps, but it also makes me even more zonked out, practically stoned. Life sure is hard enough as it is, without this 'grandly designed' body giving me grief. If I were home, I'd hopefully still be passed out in my bed. As it is, I didn't get out of this particular Friday, so here I am, and I overslept and was damn near late. Made it, though, but I still feel out of it. Those Rockstar drinks that normally perk me right up have not even made a dent in this wall of fog. They pick the one day I feel like shit to make me do this anyway. It seems the body is more than just a simple prison. It's a torture dungeon, too. A bird just flew in here, happily chirping. Don't chirp so happily, Mr. Bird. Not all of us want to be here like you, dude. Go pester some snuffleupagus, won't you? Oh, dear, oh dear, bird! I feel T totally like shit, bird! I feel like that poor Mercedes you just took that giant poop on. Actually, I am more like Oscar today. Quiet down, assholes! I am trying to sleep in my trash can! I'd sure like to throw this body of mine in a garbage can if I could go buy another one. It seems we're all stuck with what we've got if we all want to live. No refunds. No exchanges. Therefore, I am just a lonely zombie in this hallway. Discerning people know the rest. 

Okay, another Star Trek joke....

When in a drinking contest at Quark's Bar, you know that you must be keeping up with the Cardassians quite well if they're seeing five lights when there are actually only four.

Two hours later: "THERE AHHH FOUR LIGHTS!!!!!!!", shouted an inebriated Jean Luc Picard, as he was escorted out of the bar, with Gul DaDrink watching on with amusement, 17th beer in hand. 

The Wonderful Wizardry Of Off

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain, or to that noise upon your screen! I am the Great And Powerful Button Of Off! Indeed, there is a certain power to that power button that few these days realize. The importance of the off button can never be understated. Too many of us (including myself) often forget that it is there, just waiting to be pressed. It's like new magic for the 21st century. It makes the illusion, the hype, the noise, the political rantings, the obnoxious selling of shit, the posturing, the posing, the propaganda public relations campaign, the manipulation, the attention seeking, and all the chaos and insanity go away. You only need to press it. The power is in your hands. Just turn it off. That is the key. Turn it off and let the silence descend. Unlike Timothy Leary, I say you've gotta tune out and turn off. Then, you can finally tune into your own thoughts. You might get to know yourself better. "Are you sure you want the key?" Because this is the way to set yourself free. Because then you get to be in charge of your own beliefs and programming. Otherwise, it's them. You get to choose the right and wrong of it all, and whether the crap they're selling is even worth the headache that all that shilling is giving you. The off button is pure wizardry, magic within your reach. Never forget that it's there. Social media plays a terrible game of duality. They are either showing me beauty beyond my dreams, or they're showing off ugliness to the Nth degree, people being cruel to each other, fights, shouting, the absolute worst of humanity. That is the noise, ladies and gentlemen. Some say detachment is unhealthy. I say the health greatly depends on what you're detaching from. Maybe it takes a few decades to learn the difference. Or maybe it takes a long list of ill effects that come with not being able to let go when you damn well know you should. I know nothing but how I feel. I still find letting go to be very difficult with certain things and certain people that I love. Sometimes the lesson sticks with me. Other times it eludes me. I claim no expertise, merely experience. Silence can bring loneliness, but it can also bring clarity. It is much easier to think away from all the noise. In the silence, of course, I think of you, Universe. Actually, I woke up this morning thinking about you. It's nothing new. I always do. It is quite literally your face that I see when I first open my eyes. Frozen in time, in a frame on my wall, along with many other reminders of you, of Momma, of Dad, of everything that was, of everything I wish still were. I fight off sleep, I force myself up to face the day, and so the day begins, and so the time goes. There are places to go, things to do, bills to be paid, and so I go, and so I do. Then the day ends and I come back home. Weary of the day, weary of this long night, just before I close my eyes, there you will be again, the last face I see. There are many varieties of being alone. From the absence of family, the absence of friends, dear ones loved and lost through time. From that aspect, these last few years have introduced such feelings I have never before known. As for the more familiar loneliness, that I have known for the majority of my adulthood. Welcome to Outer Friendzonia. I, the Great Cosmic Wie, will be your guide. There's no need to look doubtful. I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that nobody is more familiar with this territory than I. Being the remote desert that it is, I am often asked directions on how to get here. It's simple. Be a nice guy. Don't be a jerk. Be kind. Be thoughtful. Have empathy. They absolutely hate that kinda stuff. There is no need to worry about lions, tigers, and bears. They're all out on dates, LOL! Still, I'd say this is the most peaceful place on earth. No stress. No drama. No worrying about saying the wrong thing. Self-reliance has a greater presence here than self-pity. Here, we learn to believe in, rely on, have faith in, and finally trust ourselves with our own lives. That is the upside once you learn the lay of the land. And peace, my friend, is a precious thing. There seem to be too many people out there who thrive on chaos. They take to those stormy waters like insane ducks. And they love it. Rocky relationships are just the beginning. There's also high horses, soap boxes, and politics. Some people love the storm. I prefer the gentle rain. I prefer to live apart from the chaos whenever I can. Now for the first of many clean cup move down's. I used to enjoy watching true crime videos on YouTube before the dark times before the AI made up slop. I doubt I am the only one to research a case online after seeing the video. And there used to be a treasure trove waiting. There still is for the old videos, not only the articles in the local newspapers, but interesting footprints of the perpetrators, namely a blog and a YouTube channel for one of them, a wife and mother who had her husband murdered. But also other traces, web pages in the internet archive, and on and on, traces of lives forever changed or forever gone. Those bullshit AI slop videos have ruined that. The entire internet has gone to shit, my friends. The unique way I once enjoyed it is going the way of the dinosaur. Cloudflare is ruining all my sites for game levels with its overly aggressive filters. I don't even try to save the pages on those sites anymore like I used to. I only go for the levels, and even then, I've got to prove I'm not a freaking robot 4 or 5 times, just from browsing. Like I said, it's all going to shit. Clean cup move down. When overtly religious Ned Flanders appeared before Homer Simpson as the devil himself, he said it's always the guy you least suspect. But for me, it's the exact one I'd most suspect. I have seen many examples in my lifetime of over the top religious people having something evil to hide. Not all religious people, mind you, because I also know a pastor who is straight from the heart with his message, a good man, trustworthy, and honest. Even I who has such difficulty in faith can't help but respect him, and what he's trying to do. But as for most over the top religious folks, I do not trust. Especially when I am picking up Jim Jones vibes. Just because you can quote Bible verses does not make you a good person. We all have our good side and our darker side. Most of us don't require a religious cloak to hide them. Only monsters take refuge under beds and hide in closets. So, Ned, you would have been my very first guess. Clean cup move down. Social media is one hell of a mess. The people I may know, either I don't know or wish I didn't. At least the ex-wife doesn't show up there anymore. Though that's because she friend requested me and I ignored it. I'd rather be friends with the devil himself. He might even prove more trustworthy. Someone else has been showing up in that list in her place, though. She has one thing in common with my ex, and one thing only, and that happens to be, well..... me. Unlike with the ex, my feelings are far more complicated with this one... Even if I am mainly over everything these days... She was unforgettable in many aspects. Some of us have difficulty separating different kinds of closeness. Either this is a failing on my part, or maybe it is just built-in to some of us human beings that to be close physically is to be close emotionally, too. Talk about flashing back. The way the moonlight illuminated her face is not an image I can erase so easily in my mind. Still, time has changed, and like Axl Rose once sang, I already left you, and we're better off left behind. There's nothing like social media to dig up old memories and to drag all those skeletons out of the closet. People you may know... Oh, I knew her better than most. On to lighter matters, They have also once again suggested Double Margarita, but I must respectfully decline. Hey, she's pretty and all, don't get me wrong, but all I can see in that future is one hell of a hangover and a lot of regrets. Also, I seem to have a parody of the Macarana stuck in my head. Hey, Margarita! Sadly, I already feel hungover enough, and I haven't drank a drop in weeks. What the hell is up with that? It's zombie me again. I don't get it. it was 1, 2, 3, knockout! when I hit the pillow, but I feel like I stayed up all daggum night. I need a pick-me-up. While 1892 Coca-Cola is doctor (Freud) recommended, I hear it just might be just a bit habit forming, so that's out. I ain't Popeye, so spinach is out, too. (Why the hell did they fight over Olive Oyl anyway) She's like I-10 in the desert. No coives. Go onshore and find Betty Boop, for goodness sake! A-wha? Where was I? Ah, yeah..... Coffee, coffee, coffee. Brains! More brains! A is for Alpha. Z is for zombie. B is for BRRAINZ! I am just a lonely zombie in this hallway. You know?Sometimes the struggle is real, ladies and gentlemen. But I do have to say that aside from missing so many of the people that I love, my life in general is far better than it was ten, twenty, and thirty years ago. If only I could bring them back and it would be near perfect. Missing them is the hard part, but I keep them with me in whatever ways that I can. I have also gotten better at filling the moments that can be all too quiet, with the things that make me happy. Better too at believing in myself enough to know it's going to be alright, one way or another. Yes, I still complain, but really, it's okay. I am doing far better than I ever thought I would. I still have my problems, but I suppose everyone else has them, too. Clean cup move down. I am sure this is true with a lot of people, but when I love someone, I can't explain it. I just do. Love is not a list, but a presence in my heart. I can deny a lot, except when it's for them. For them, I can deny nothing. And it is not for expectation of anything changing about being in the freaking outer Mongolia of the friend zone. I know she'll never love me, but still, if she asked for the moon, I'd be trying to figure out how to burgle it from the sky... Poetically speaking, of course. The real moon is a bit too big to hide. Also, there is still no air on the moon. Bummer. If the feeling were mutual, we'd be together. Ah, but they're not, so we're not. Still, I treasure her friendship, and still, there's not much that I could deny her. Illogical feelings, illogical thoughts. Thought leads to thought, concept leads to concept, a nice little daisy chain of randomness from neuron to neuron. Some call it creativity. Yeah, let's leave it at that. Cree eight Tiv-ity. Might be why I write it down. Although I've got a feeling my illogical thinking would give Spock a migraine. PAIN!!!!! Unfortunately, with me, the son of Sarek will always need an aspirin. Ah, but it keeps me from being boring. A logical leap does tend to liven up the party and keep things interesting. Probably the only one who would laugh out loud at my Star Trek jokes would have been my dear baby sister. Still, here goes for the rest of the world. If Michael Dorn as Commander Worf would do a spoken word version of two particular songs, Scandal's "The warrior", and Pat Benatar's "Love is a battlefield", that would be the most awesomely laughing on the floor hilarious thing I'll ever hear in my life! A-wha? Where was I? Riiiiight. Carry on. How about yet another clean cup move down? Rather than shouting into the void, I prefer talking normally into the void. It makes the echo more intelligible, not to mention still being in my smooth silky voice... Also, the void appreciates my choosing it, rather then being a deejay on Easy Listening 105.. Related story: There once was a lovely lady who used to call me on the telephone, and nearly all of our conversations ended with her falling asleep. Good thing? Bad thing? I don't know. But she had the cutest little snore I've ever heard. Ancient history, but it still brings a smile. I suppose at a certain point, it all becomes nothing but memories. Life is like Jeopardy. Most of us never ask the right questions, and end up having to settle for the home game and a free copy of Encyclopedia Britannica. You know, if wishes were horses, I'd be John Wayne. I wish I could be your answer, everything you ever needed. I wish I were that key. I wish I were the answer. But I will never know. There is the vision. There is the daydream. But, then there is the human being. Then there is knowing the difference in my mind. There is no deception but for my own, for it is I who saw the dream, not reality. And my biggest wish is to find something between dreams and reality. Nothing would make me happier. I'd give everything, yet I would want for nothing, but for the one, only for the one. I guess what fills this old heart with sorrow is that I shall never get a chance for the only one worth trying for. How much is reality? How much is illusion? How can I know when I so often wonder how well I even know myself? I often feel a need for that clarity that silence brings. That brings me back to that all powerful off button. It's hard to hear your own voice in the midst of so much noise. Letting go is a skill I have not learned well. Letting go of the past, of the good and the bad memories, of the people I loved and lost, but the most difficult is letting go of the distractions that have so far, drowned out these thoughts I do not wish to think, these feelings I do not wish to feel. Silence invites a voice. Silence invites regret. Silence invites loneliness and the emptiness of unrequited love. And the tough part is wondering if these completely real feelings are for a genuinely real person. Or did I conjure in my mind a dream based on that very real human being? Questions and doubts with noise all around. I should take a long break from all the noise to figure out these feelings, to face all I have been avoiding. The off button is within my reach. I only need to find the courage to press it. Does my angel truly have a name? 

Shadows, Reflections, And Harmonics

Hello, Universe, it's me. 

 It's another Monday, slowly killing time. I suppose time is slowly returning the favor. All we are is dust in the wind, dudes. As I am writing these words, it's April 6, 2026. I am looking forward to getting home today for more than the usual reasons. They're doing that flyby of the far side of the moon today. I am looking forward to seeing some cool pictures. It's the same old moon that has been falling around the earth forever, the same moon that will still be falling long after I hopefully find myself where you are now. (The only way I'll ever leave Earth) But it's that side we never see. I can't make the trip, but I can at least see the sights. It is ironic how the last trip to the moon happened before I was born, and now this current trip (more than a half century later) finds me to be just a bit on the old side. By all means, kiddos, go to the moon but stay off my lawn. I am really looking forward to seeing the pictures. I have indeed seen many pictures of the moon, but I have a feeling these will be the most awesomely detailed I have ever seen. This space cadet finally gets to see the far side of the moon. How awesome is that? Okay, from one Abraham Lincoln to another (or Napoleon if you prefer) between you and me and we three, this planet is a madhouse. You might escape to the moon for a while, but being built for earth gravity, needing food and oxygen, (sometimes other humans), not to mention being adverse to cosmic rays, yadda yadda Yoda <(- _ -)> means "Come back sometime you must! Wonder me this, wonder me that. Could it be the very reason once clear lines have turned into the fog that brings about ambiguity and confusion happens to be because those with perfectly clear agendas are stirring up the once clear water for the precise reason it blinds us to the truth? Just a random thought. The news is depressing as always. Some people truly believe they can change the world by taking its entire weight upon their shoulders. I don't. The truth is most of us are just along for this crazy ride. You can indeed move an entire planet, but you've got to be standing at the right place and at the right time. Most of us are not exactly there, and not exactly when. One has to wait. One has to look. One has to listen. One must have the power. Worrying and stressing over what is beyond your power leads only to self injury. The moment of action may only come once or twice in a lifetime. All I can say is to be ready, yet preserve your sanity and your strength until then. This is indeed the land of confusion that Phil sang about. I do my best to concentrate on what I myself can control, on what I myself can change. It's admittedly damn little, but I do my best with what I have. This has been one hell of a road, my friends, a long strange trip indeed. Life is a mofo and a half. Nobody has an exclusive in tragedy. Nobody has walked through decades of this life without encountering heavy loss and heavier pain. Still, that is no excuse for not being kind. I think such experience should make us more understanding, more empathetic, rather than cruel. To somebody having to take that same journey through hell as we once had to, we of all people should know what difference even a single word of compassion, caring, and encouragement can make. I do understand this pull of bitterness. More than I care to admit. But it is bitterness of bad luck and fate. Not of the people. Every soul has its trials. Every heart gets broken at least once. I have been through some heavy shit. I don't know how I made it through 2009, much less 2022 and 2024. This old heart has been shattered and taped back together so many times that I'm not sure how much is heart and how much is tape. Still, I find myself well able to love, well able to care. That's irony. The tougher the breaks, the stronger the love. There have been other effects. Fractures are the closest description I can come up with. It's like scattered light, different aspects, and different harmonics, but it's the same light. It's not multiple personalities, but maybe different versions of myself. I have a mind full of contradictory thoughts. It might be described as on that 1990s TV show, "Herman's Head," but with a major plot twist. Let's say it was like the show until one or more of these major traumas of recent years caused a surge that zapped all characters in that little room. Some of them got split into two characters. Some of them got merged into one. Some of the duplicates have serious opposing views. But, as with Herman, they're all still me. One of them is my original self that got zapped back to life like Frankenstein. The second was the self that replaced him. The third? That's the one trying to navigate the real world without exposing those two. Beyond that is the role or character I have to portray. That's the one who keeps all the bills paid, mind you. Important. A good part of the conflict is between one and two. Certain events of my life radically changed me. The first sees the second as a coping mechanism. The second sees the first as a ghost. The third is back and forth between diplomacy inside and image outside. And my role? Well, that's just the character I play in reality. It is we, but we are all me. Maybe the I truly does not exist. Or maybe this is all just a game I play in my mind to try and rationalize the mess that I am. As I have said, I have nothing but time, and I am nothing if not creative. There is neither figuring nor fishing on this one. It is just me as the good Doctor Blog-ieo trying to analyze myself. It is I as the Great Cosmic Wie, still trying to stay on course, and it is I, still at my very core, that one who does not fit this role at all. Does this make sense? No? Welcome to the club. The funhouse mirrors are on the left, all the definitions are on the right, and the airlock is right behind you. Now sign the membership book in front of you and go where you wish. Did you hear about the man who insured a box of expensive cigars, filed a claim, "destroyed in several small fires"? Yeah, they got him for arson. What the heck? I just saw a religious meme with (get this) Jesus on a riding mower pulling a wagon full of potato chips. A-wha? He delivers you from evil and sin. He also delivers the Pringles. Right to your door, apparently. What brought this on, I wonder? Did somebody say, "Jesus Christ, I'm hungry!"? Let me try. Jesus Christ, I sure need a girlfriend! [Looks around expectingly] [Sad Cosmic Wie noises] Send me an angel, send me one angel in particular. Nothing? Such is the way of this universe. You gotta love fate. You gotta love destiny... Even if they lead to lonely places... Okay, maybe you don't have to love them, but you've certainly got to live with them for whatever duration that you have left. I see a lot of beauty and wonder out in the universe, but I see no indication of grand design anywhere. If it were so grandly designed, then all good souls, all kind hearts would have somewhere to belong and someone to belong with. So there is no grand design, only chaos. Maybe beautiful chaos but still chaos. Getting older means waking up some mornings with a hangover when you didn't drink a drop. Maybe life is making up for younger days when I didn't wake up with one when I darn well should have. Related thought: Why is that particular sleep right before the alarm the absolute best feeling sleep ever? Ain't nothing better... Aside from good food and a-wha? I forgot. You know, I really could be a morning person if mornings happened around noon-ish. Yet I'm up and gone before the sun most every day. Such is the way (and not the only way) I must conform when I would really rather not. As I said, bills need to be paid. I would be totally unrecognizable if all these invisible barriers were to go away. The first would not be happy that the second was out and about for the whole world to see. But that's another story. It is also pointless since I see nothing changing anytime soon. Such is the role and such is the first. The word if makes all the difference. It is the divider between utopia and reality in a world where money for basic needs does not magically appear. The first and the role have to be in charge. The best thing to do is let it all be. It's just your shadow, you know. You can't disown it completely. There is ownership that must be taken. Repression beyond a certain point will always lead to rebound. I have seen this from others who went too far, implosion then explosion, the exact opposite of what they wanted to happen. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. I am not speaking of the traditional metaphors of darkness and light. One's shadow is not necessarily evil. It's simply the self you do not wish to see or show, despite it being there all along. There is a better way. You must first own then properly channel your shadow. You must first acknowledge it. There are no secrets to be kept from yourself. There is only the difference between the person and the persona. There is only the difference between the one you are and the one you were. One can not change or improve upon what they refuse to see. Anyway, enough of this. Clean cup move down. This isn't exactly Wonderland, but I kinda wish it were. So, how does one glean happiness from a life of empty spaces? I fill it with hobbies and distractions. Gardening and working in the yard is one of them. It makes me feel like my parents are still around, that what they used to do still gets done, but through me. I still have my computer hobbies. I still find levels for my old games, though saving the pages has gotten a lot more difficult. Cloudfare sucks, ladies and gentlemen. Worst thing to happen to the internet since social media. I still enjoy building levels and making demos. And it's not complete isolation. I have a few friends. I have my kids. All in all, it's not a bad life. But it does get lonely sometimes, at least on those rare days when I'm not so content with my own company. Though I'm sufficiently awesome most of the time. It's the same story, always. Only the characters change. It does seem more have left the stage than have appeared again. It's the stadium emptying out in the last quarter of the game. Some leave by chance and fate. Some have left by choice. But most have been escorted out by that jackass with the robe and scythe. I have one hell of a bone to pick with that bony bastard. Still, in the midst of it all, I have managed to find and or create moments of near normalcy, of almost peace. I think too that a lot of my problem is expecting too much intelligence from the world. There is a big difference between a person and people. One person can easily be intelligent, articulate, a ray of sunshine, and a pleasure to communicate with. However, the more people involved, the lower the IQ goes. That's why I hate crowds. By the time we get to a planetary scale, things get really flarking stupid. There is no such thing as making the entire world understand. There is only being lucky enough to find a very few wonderful people, maybe even just one wonderful person who gets you better than anybody else ever could. As far as for the world, especially the online world, there is simply nothing worthwhile out there anymore. Just a bunch of meaningless noise and confusion. It's damn depressing if I think about it too much. So I should try not to. I do not feel lonely because there's no people around. There are people everywhere, too many people. I don't feel bored out of my freaking skull because it's too quiet, or that there's nothing to see. There is already way too much, sensory overload. It is just so very difficult to pick a song, a voice, out of noisy room. There is too much noise. Everybody has something to sell, a product, a political viewpoint, a religious belief, and they're all obnoxiously loud about it. And I don't want a damn thing to do with any of it. It's the same old shitshow that never stops. It's a freaking madhouse, and all I want is out. And I have sort of found my own way out. And it is called detachment. I find it absolutely necessary in today's world. To retain even a bit of sanity, one must detach and walk away from the bullshit. It is the only way. Believe me, you will miss nothing of any importance by doing so. Get out of Derry while you still can. Don't Clown around. Okay... Change of subject. The price of gas was $4.09 a gallon yesterday. If you will remember what I've said before, I don't care about donkeys or elephants. I only care about my bottom line. Thank goodness my round trip to work and back is only 14 miles, but still. And what's driving the whole thing is this phenomenon of not shutting up. No talk. Just do or do not as the old Jedi master said. Do or do not. And shut the hell up. I swear, every time this guy farts, they jack the prices up. So take some Gas-X while you're at it. Oh, and shut up, damn it! I agree with many of the policies, but that big mouth is costing me money. Clean cup move down. I can not force, nor would I want to, nor should I have to, anybody to be in my life or to acknowledge I even exist. I might not be the greatest show on earth (or even the greatest in town) but awesome enough not to want to perform for a captive audience. My door is open, but it's not revolving. And you won't see me asking, chasing, or begging to be a part of anybody's life. Far be it from me to say you're missing out, but you just might be. Another clean cup, ladies and gentlemen? Shall we move down? Times change. People change. I have seen and I have been through many things, many seasons, many times. As I look back through my current lens, it can be quite confusing. In the words of the Grateful Dead, it's been a long, strange trip, indeed. Lives can be shared, but be careful of what, and be careful of whom you include in the foundation of your life. Build together, but do not build upon, do not build around. Because if that foundation disappears, your whole world will come crashing down. And should that happen, be wary of need and vulnerability in the aftermath. It is a place I can not describe with words, but you'll know it when you're there. Do not make permanent decisions with scrambled thoughts, and a broken heart. These words have been brought to you by the letters W, T, and F. And by the number nine. Number nine? Number nine. Though two is not forgotten. Certainly not. Okay, do you know what time it is. What time? It's clean cup move down time! Any Futurama fans out there? If I were Phillip J Fry, I'd forget all about Lela and go for Amy. This actually happened in one episode, but Fry ruined it by being stupid. Fry was a dummy. If I were Fry, I would be head over heels for Amy. Lela no. Amy yes. Not even a question. Amy, Amy, Amy. Amy Wong, absolutely beautiful and super rich, too. Her parents own half of Mars, for goodness sake! But because Fry had to be stupid, Amy had to settle for Kiff. Amy for the win. Choose Amy and leave Lela to deal with Zapp Brannigan. I'm sure the Zapper would very much approve of my idea. That's an order, Kiff! Inform the men. When I can think of it, I might look up to see if there is any more Fry and Amy fanfiction out there. I only found one a few years ago and of course it was never completed. Too bad, because it was a good one. Like I said, Amy Wong for the win, Lela for Zapp. They truly deserve each other. Clean cup move down. Well, here I am in the midst of Michael Myers time, dragging by so slowly, still impossible to kill, trying to puzzle out this sudden wave of fatigue washing over me. What the hell, man? I feel like I could pass out instantly if I could only lay down. But I am several hours away from being able to do that. So, here I am, a zombie once more. Brains and all that jazz. That mental television snow is getting damn loud in my head right now, drowning out any real thoughts I might have. I feel like one of those poor lions on Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, tranquilized, and out of it. Like, roar baby, what the hell hit me? I felt fine an hour ago. But, now? Wow, man. I wonder if this is how Tommy Chong feels? Dave's not here, man! Apparently neither am I. It is going to be a long four hours. It already feels like five thousand. It's hard work just keeping my eyes open, a job and a half. It's like somebody turned my power button off. Tell me, Tell me, do you prefer Zom A, or Zom B? Blame it on the rain in Spain that falls mainly on the BRAINZ! Hello, there! General Kenobi! You are a zonked one! 

Calling Doctor Blog-ieo

Hello, Universe. 

As the song goes, I've come to talk to you again. I have been trying to keep my focus on green and growing things. I got everything finally planted over the weekend. The butter beans have been the latest to sprout. They're looking pretty. Today's rain was a big help. I was beginning to worry. I just hope my precautions will continue to keep the varmints away. One of the reasons I have been so focused is keeping my mind off Dead Snapper trying to show back up into my life. I remember worrying if you'd ever cross paths... Because bail money is hard to raise, and I had no doubt you would have totally mopped the floor with Dead Snapper over what she did to me. I knew when my baby sister wasn't kidding around. She's damn lucky that never happened... I'm not a fisherman. If I were, certain snapper would be thrown back into the ocean and woe to the poor sharks lest they too are sickened. I am more like a pirate. I seek treasure and only the fun kind of adventure. Drama walks the freaking plank! Also a taste of rum is quite nice now and again. Yarrr! Really, these days I'm more of a landlubber who enjoys the beauty of green and growing vegetables grown from the same earth as my father and my grandfather. I am not the garbage man. I am not interested in collecting trash, or spoiled seafood. Some things, Mateys, are best left to the scallywags. Yaaaar!! Seventeen years later, I would almost be willing to let bygones be bygones if only she would leave me alone. At least she can't just waltz into my workplace like she did back then. We have guards ya know. I would hope that by now she has better sense than to show up at the house. Ten years ago we practically had an episode of COPS in my front yard and it certainly doesn't need a sequel. At least since all my kids are in their 20's, nobody can call DCF on me because they're pissed I didn't drop the charges. I swear, all the things I have seen because of one bad decision! I don't want to see Dead Snapper. I don't want to speak to Dead Snapper. My hatred of Dead Snapper carries no ill will or intentions, merely the fact that if I ever see them again it will either be too soon, in hell, or both. There are days, believe it or not, when I find myself with nothing to say, not for a want of words, but of knowing they have all been said. The subject is old, tired, and ancient. It's days like these when I, too, feel old, tired, and ancient. It's an odd situation of explaining myself, to myself. Why would such a thing be necessary? Maybe to judge whether I would still make sense if I were somebody else. I am feeling just a bit lost. I can't understand why it can be so hard to admit. I am a mess like most anybody else. So why? It is strange how a seemingly unrelated chain of events could coalesce into such specific thoughts. What do you do to chase an unpleasant thought away? Do you change the subject? Do you distract yourself with a crazy catchphrase? The Metamorphis said that time has changed. (A giant brain from an animated science fiction film). Actually, he had a lot of traits in common with a certain Anakin Skywalker. For Vader, time too had changed... And changed again when he saved his son. Redemption was the difference. That never happened for the Metamorphis. He fell with his soldiers beyond the door of time. I, too, am from Ghandahar. Time has changed and so have I. It's ironic how it was a fear of loss that motivated both of them. Anakin feared for Padme's life. The Metamorphis feared for his own. Darth Vader and his stormtroopers. The Great Beginning and his men of metal. The parallels seem endless. Random thoughts, random events, I who exists. I who exists no longer. The struggle against the one who only was and not is. The irony of the fear of loss is what comes after the loss that actually happens, when the sun keeps rising, when the birds keep singing... When they really should pause... When you look around at so many empty spaces where a loved one should be. Have you ever felt so old that everyone around you seems like children? Even the 30 and 40 year-olds? Especially the 30 and 40 year-olds? Another irony is that back when I was that age, I would sure take issue with some old codger calling me a kid. But yeah, look at all these damn kids. Well, at least they're not on my lawn. (Grumbles in old codger). I guess perspective is everything. All these thoughts, coalescing.... People in shadow, people in memory, old ghosts, new ghosts, those with substance, and those without. Alive or dead. Dead inside or dead to me. Those who live in the past, those who live in my heart. As different as night and day are the zombies who still walk the earth, whose time has long come and gone, who mindlessly and persistently bang at doors long closed and forever locked. It is I, not them, who chooses who haunts and who shall not. Only true hearts and true souls, whose presence in my life meant safety, are allowed beyond this point and behind this door. Zombies belong in the grave. Demons belong in hell. Only angels belong in my heart. They are the ones that will live there, so long as I remain on this earth. Social media needs a toggle switch for things like AI, politics, and yadda Yoda. "Hmmmmph! Too much Yoda, no such thing there is!" Also, regarding requests, there should be three buttons, not two. Accept, Decline, and GO TO HELL. After all she put me, and especially my kids, through, she's got some nerve. It has taken me many years to get my life and myself back right. There have been many pitfalls and setbacks along the way. Hurricanes, pandemics, losing my parents, losing my baby sister, and half losing my mind from undeserved disrespect and drama. A drama queen, though I may seem, I know I am not special. I am no better than anyone else who has been through similar things. But still, it must be said. Not for applause. Not for sympathy. Just to state the facts. I am only now emerging from the other side of a lot of things. These words could never truly explain or describe all I have endured, or the aftereffects, the echoes, the things that just won't go away. It has been one long and treacherous climb out that abyss. Now that I'm finally back above ground, I can't allow anything or anyone to pull me back down. It's been a long fight to get back, and I'd quite literally be damned to find myself in that particular darkness again. I shall keep the people I love alive in my heart. I shall treasure my friends. But I must also say that some are not my friends and never shall be. One who survives poison gains the wisdom to avoid it. In sickness and in health, yes. But not in betrayal, not in treachery, not in self-destruction. What has been made null and void, holds me to nothing, holds me to no one. No zombies are allowed at my door. Go away. I am literally too old for this shit. No zombies. Not a hundred. Not fifty. Not one. No dead snappers. Dead snapper can not be stolen, only picked up by the garbage man. I hope the poor guy is wearing a gas mask so he doesn't hurl. That poor garbage man. Look at what your yard did to him! Who ya callin' foo, foo?! An flark yo yard! Clean cup move down. A respectful debate between two open minds is one thing. Arguments, however, are a circus. Right or wrong, It is way too easy to become one of the clowns. They talk over one another, convinced that volume and correctness are the same thing. You will accomplish nothing by joining in. It is far better to be quietly right, guiding actions rather than words. Let me say something I know well. The most impossible way to change a mind is by arguing. I have learned long ago to simply state my opinion and let it be. If the other party does not agree, then they will find out eventually. If I happen to be wrong (it does happen occasionally) then I will find out. Either way a lot of energy and stress will be saved. State it once then let it go. Let reality do the convincing. We all hate to be wrong, don't we? We tend to hold onto beliefs like life preservers. All and good for the ones that actually save us. Not so much for the ones made of concrete. Only they can let go. We can't do it for them. Just because one disagrees does not make them an enemy. And when we do disagree, we don't have to be assholes about it. There's already too many of them in this world. Clean cup move down. A mad watch? Really? I dunno, but Michael Myers time is upon me once more. Although speaking of time, apparently all that overtime that started at the beginning of the year seems to have settled down. This week will be my second Friday off in a row. This hasn't happened since '25. So, I'll need to figure out what I am going to do with this abundance of time. The garden as far as the planting and the breaking of ground is finished. It's just a matter of keeping the weeds down and the varmints out. There's some mowing to be done, probably some trimming of the crap that grows where the mower can't get. I need to get a serious start on backing up Marsha's soaps. It's not my thing, but she's put many hours into them and was very passionate about them. Because of that, they also mean something to me, even if I am not really into them.... Except for an Angry Victor Newman.... Nobody on earth is cooler than an angry Victor Newman. You got that? Do you understand that? You don't know the power of Victor Newman. "I will crush you!" Clean cup again. Move down again. It hurts to feel invisible. Even when you are in fact, not. It's only perception, you know? It's your own life and it's your own show. Your own life is the only place where being the main character makes any sense.... And that's only when you don't have a world of responsibility, when you become a side character even in your own life. But the world turns and seasons change, and you can become yourself once more. (eventually) When you finally stop and look around, that is when you see it. What am I? A thought, an echo, a point of reference? Visible to make a point before fading back into obscurity? That is when we must redefine ourselves, write a whole new definition. Validation comes from within. Clean cup, anyone? Move down, baby. Neil, Buzz, and the other dude landed on the moon before I was born. I always wondered why space exploration has since reverted to randomly circling the earth and sending out robots. Surely the idea of a moon base is nothing new, but it's about damn time. I don't think these 21st century robots match well with Asimov's vision. Anyone who has had to deal with a robot over the phone knows the First Law Of Robotics does not exist. The stress those blooming clankers put me under could definitely bring harm to a human being. Does not compute. Also, the vending machine in this break room should really shut up and just give me my drink. If overthinking were an Olympic sport, If Yoda were my trainer, "No more training do you require. Know you already that which you need." <(- _ -)> I wouldn't make for a very good Jedi. Just call me Darth Wie. The Dark Lord Of The Sith, Master of overthinking. You underestimate my power, high ground or not. When a watch can't properly keep time, is it the fault of the watch or the watch maker? If we wanted perfect timekeepers, we should have created perfect timekeepers. The watch didn't ask to be a watch, you know? It might well have been content to have remained minerals in the earth. Or it might want to try to keep this gig as best as it can. Everyone may be born ignorant of all things, but there's no way anyone is born evil.... Good and evil happen much later in the midst of decision. Being born human happens first and is not a crime. The brightness of the human spirit can sadly sometimes cast a dark shadow. Like I said, if we wanted perfect, we should have made perfection. I know I've said this before, but I'm tired, Universe. Every year brings more of the same insanity and brand new variants of insanity, too. Every year also means I'm another year older. And frankly, I'm getting too old for this shit. When you've been around the block a few times, you notice repetition, old things rebranded to fit the time and the narrative. It's like the background when Fred Flintstone is driving. At least he didn't have to worry about gas prices. There's nothing new under the sun, especially not me. And oh how I'm constantly reminded! I am the modern day Ben Kenobi. Hello, there! It is funny how old hermits become more and more relatable with each passing year. A long time ago in a galaxy far away, I was Luke. Now, I am Obi-Wan. Oh, he's not dead, at least not yet. Of course I know him. He's me! Excepting that if my phone indeed counts, then I actually do remember owning a Droid. (Overheard from a passing speeder) "I've never seen a Jawa fly, but I'd sure love to make it happen!" Okay, enough of Tatooine. Let's go to Naboo, and talk about the queen. The Queen Of Mixed Signals, that is. The Empress of my confusion, yet still my angel, nonetheless. "Harrooo! I'm so dizzy, and it's you, girl, making it spin!" Errrrrr! "Yeah, Agnew, I know, right?" After all this time, I guess I'm going to love her for life, regardless of what shall never happen... So I guess I've gotta learn to live with it. While Dead Snapper would be stopped by a locked door, damn near a fortress, a castle with a moat filled with sharks with fricking laser beams on their heads, my angel could most likely waltz in anytime she feels like it. It's crazy and it's stupid, but it's only love. And love just is, you know. I don't know why. It just is. I just love her. Of course, she knows. I have said so in a thousand different ways. It is difficult to change my own feelings. It's impossible to change hers. So, I'm like Richard Marx, right here waiting, possibly for the rest of my life. I don't know what it was that endeared this one particular soul to my heart. I have spent these years trying to figure that out. Clean cup, move down. Let's fall a bit further down. I honestly believe that the longer I stay away from social media and the news, the better shape and the better space my mental health is going to be in. It's just no good for me to carry the world on my shoulders. Especially when such over investment won't change a damn thing. I'll leave that circus to others, and if the whole shithouse goes up in flames, then so be it. Ladies and gentlemen, I am done. No more. I'll leave it for the idiots to fight it out. I've got better things to be thinking about. I just wish I had the bandwidth to download Doom levels on this thing. I would, you know. I prefer the pixelated demons (in Doom) to the real ones out there in religion, politics, oh and marketing. Damn, do we ever need an exorcism. The power of common sense compels you! The power of common sense compels you! The power of common sense compels you! Did I see heads spinning? Oh, what an interesting hurl that was! Truth is that this whole insane asylum makes me want to do the same damn thing... Just not as creatively. Ewwww! Clean pure cup, move down, far down!