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Thursday, December 27, 2012

"Thankyou very nice"


Although there really is very little rhyme or reason (~certainly not “Reasoning”) involved in these essays that I post from time to time, I suppose that even where fiction is concerned there is always some element, or aspect, that comes from within the author himself however ridiculous,  inane,  horrible or even comically intended that piece may be.

I write because I feel moved to do so, whether it’s because I feel compelled to describe some truly weird event happening in my terribly uninteresting life, or because I’m bored of my so-called existence here and would rather choose to express something more compelling (-to me mind you) than to contemplate another useless day of my own as it would normally unravel before me.

Some of the folks who read the things that I write are friends and family members and I am honored that they take the time occasionally to glance here and to look at what I have to say every so often. Apparently some of the individuals reading my page wandered here haphazardly perhaps led by some poorly constructed search engine –I am tickled to have tricked them to my lair as well. Both camps arrived at the same place albeit for completely different reasons I assume –“thankyou very nice” as Andy Kaufman used to say.

Now I regard myself, mistakenly I should add, to be what I consider rather “Uber-Savvy” when it comes to reading other people, and I don’t mean their books or writing although I’m also a voracious reader (-this isn’t bragging, I just happen to lead a very bland and boring life so I tend to salt it with lots of good fiction, tah-dah). Now what I consider myself to be and where I actually land within this spectrum are often whole worlds apart. Someone says or sometimes writes something and I say, “Ah ha”, figuratively, and I think to myself how very smart I must be to read between the lines and understand some subtlety or secret quality that this individual is expressing –I think that I have somehow learned something about the relationship between myself and this person, or perhaps I think that I have unearthed some important nuance regarding how they may view their world and in turn how possibly that may affect me.

Perhaps everyone does this very thing that I am trying to describe here.  Conceivably everybody attempts to use their own roughhewn tools of observation to better unearth the psychological shards and artifacts in the others that they come across in order to obtain some sort of an advantage in their dealings with them and with others like them.  

Like some short-circuit to understanding, this more often than not leads to real imagined misunderstandings.

Hopefully if you have stumbled upon my page and come back to find it again then you have found something here that you have been able to enjoy in some sense. If indeed you know me from past experiences that we have shared and in turn read something real or fictional that I have written and think that you have possibly discovered some well hidden insight into my deeply disturbed psyche you may be Uber-savvy and clever, and then again you may be utterly mistaken.  Either way I hope that at any rate no offense is taken and can assure all that none is ever intended.

I tend to write observationally more often than not but sometimes I like to throw out a curveball and write something more comically or dramatically philosophic, and sometimes I just throw caution to the wind and express something fictional.  Whatever comes out onto this page typically does so in a spur of the moment extemporaneous fashion.  Steam of Consciousness is a term that implies something more in the realm of an artistic or fashionably creative process and although personally I like the sound, the “ring” of it,  it is well beyond describing what I am currently and quite possibly ever capable of producing either here or anywhere!  

If as you read this rather longwinded piece you find yourself wondering if indeed I am speaking directly to you rather than trying to create some excruciatingly lengthy disclaimer about any commentary written within this site, then I am doing what I assume all writers are in some way trying to do –reach you or connect with you on some personal level.  Personally I’d like to believe that occasionally I do connect with some of you –Realistically it’s more likely than not that I am reading a bit too much between my very own lines, “thankyou very nice.”   

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Holiday Thought...


Well here it is another Thanksgiving come and gone with Christmas hurrying around the corner like Lance Armstrong on an anabolic high and New Years’ soon to be just another memory before we even have time to put away the funny looking pointy party hats.

The Holiday season often seems to drag out getting here but once Turkey day arrives it’s an all out sprint to January One and if you get too caught up in the whirlwind rush of festivity preparation it becomes all too easy to miss out on the importance of these get-togethers to begin with.

Now I don’t mean to get off on a rant here and I certainly know better than to weigh in on any of the religious overtones that tend to be so closely associated with this Holiday time of year. I’m a bit older now which goes without saying, we all are. Unfortunately older doesn’t mean wiser –at least not in my case apparently (-or at any rate that’s what younger folks seem to want to point out, but hey they’re “younger” so what the hell do they know anyhow).

What I’m trying to say is that we need to make sure to take the time, especially during the Holidays, to take stock in what’s really important to us, and, by that, I mean turkey, presents, Lance Armstrong and of course pointy party hats. Now I know that some of you are thinking, “Hey, wait a minute, sure I like pointy party hats as much as the next guy but really don’t you think that we should take some time here…some real quality time that is, and celebrate what it is that we mean to one another…that we should try to embrace the terrific fellowship of family and friends that the yuletide spirit so powerfully evokes?”

Pullllease, really?  Are not these the people from who we so gladly seek to escape throughout the very year that is drawing down to a close as we speak? The long hours that we spend at work or focused in deep reflection at our computer screens perusing the most recent and evidently completely engrossing Facebook spackle seems to support this hypothesis. We wash our cars, shine our shoes, iron our clothes and spend altogether too long (some of us) prepping ourselves after showering in order to please who? Ourselves. Our bosses. Our neighbor’s opinions of us perhaps.  Certainly we don’t exercise these measures for the select purpose of demonstrating our love of family or our commitment to close friends, both of these exclusive groups of people know each of us well enough to call b#@%*&+t on any of the paltry tricks that we may utilize in order to draw attention to our outerselves without really disclosing what it is that our tricky nougaty inner-center actually portrays.

The Holidays somehow get us altogether too caught up in the flashy symbolism of festive decoration.  The planning and shopping and ribbon knotting that seem to misrepresent the core of what it is that we should really be celebrating. Family, Friends, (Faith if you have it). The three F’s, and two out of three truly ain’t bad in this case.

 Let’s don’t forget the folks that got you “Here” from this time last year to where you are figuratively at least today. Celebrate the emotional ties that helped to nurture and create the package that is You today as you hunt for and cherrypick packages for the special people whose lives you’ve deemed so worthy this Holiday Season.

…Oh and do be careful with the Pointy Party Hats~   

 

Thursday, October 4, 2012

A Letter To My Sister ...For Her Birthday~


October 2012

 

~HAPPY BIRTHDAY…HAPPY BIRTHDAY…HAPPY BIRTHDAY…HAPPY BIRTHDAY…!!!

 

Dear Sarah:

Well hopefully this should reach your humble little doorstep on the appropriate day this coming Saturday, and, well if by chance NOT, I plan to blame it on the U.S. Postal service, the weather, gas prices, Plague-n-Famine, and a whole host of other potential possibilities other than myself and singularly Poor Planning on my part!

You have been on my mind much lately and not just because of the forthcoming National Celebration of your much adored birth (~as if that wasn’t enough you may add) –will there be parades this year or is that planned for 2013?  No I actually do tend to think about my sister and her little brood of Boys-to-Men down South in “F-da” (-just made that up right there on the spot for you –“F-duh”, I kinda like it although perhaps it does gravitate a little towards the PG-13 in a Freudian-slip kinda unintentional way).

I thought that perhaps this year we’d simply  skip the whole store-bought card stuff and just express some good ‘Ol down-to-Earth raw, off-the-cuff in your face extemporaneous thoughts and feelings (makes me just tingle on the inside with emotion~). –Well that plus it’s way cheaper know what I mean!  At any rate if you feel the urge to send me an expensive card stuffed w/$, contraband or Colonel Sander’s secret recipe feel free, me I’m goin w/the Keep It Simple Stupid (KISS) approach this year –that’s how I Roll , at least this Year.

Curious by the way, is it personally frustrating that you will forever remain my younger sister of three years, and is it compounded, too, by the fact that your Birthday consistently shows up exactly one week ahead of mine somehow as a reminder of this shortcoming?? –Sad but these are the kinds of things that keep me awake at night…

Anyhow enough…

I can only say how truly proud that I am to be able to call you my “Little Sister”. You have always been the “Can-Do” girl; The “Find-a-Way-to-Make-it-Work” person –obstacles be damned! Take no prisoners; “See the Rainbow through the Clouds and Rain” philosopher. You possess this special Gift that pushes you to find a way to succeed in what to others would normally be reason enough for giving up and folding their hand for the next reshuffle. For those of Us who are not “Others” and who do indeed know you, we can see that what may appear to be some sort of Magic-Trick, some sort of luck perhaps is hard, hard work and persistence to the N-th Degree!  -Still We all wonder how in the “H” you do this! The Apple that is You always seems so “Shiny and Bright” –the sheen of it, the glossiness if you will, somehow never appears to fade! With each new endeavor you March on in the same wondrous fashion, humbly I should add (-for this one reason I must question our genetic link by the way!).

At any rate I for one do indeed Adore You and not just because of your ability to juggle so many balls in the air at one time (like some freakish Chinese acrobatic routine!), you are and forever will be my Sister, my one-and-only Little Sister and I am so happy that that worked out the way that it did!

Have a wonderful Birthday and Pop some balloons for Me…You will be, and always Are in my Thoughts~

Much Love… Tom

Thursday, September 20, 2012

...And Furthermore


~An Update of sorts to “…And Laugh” dated September 18th…..

I suggest skipping to the next post before returning here to glimpse these most recent macabre developments…

So anyhow it has become increasingly apparent that inanimate objects (-in particular Automobiles) and me have some innate problem in the development of “healthy” long lasting and fruitful relationships. Actually in retrospect my ability to maintain any realistic normalcy in basic fundamentally social interactions is likely questionable too –but for now let’s just stick to cars in order to retain some focus, some succinctness….

In case you choose to first read this instead of taking my advice and skipping below for some relatively important background information regarding these most recent developments of the last 48 hours, I’ll try and relate a quick (-impossible for me) synopsis to get us up to speed-:

My Honda has had some fairly unacceptable misfortunes over the last several weeks and my ability to make entry and egress has become a bit cumbersome. The driver’s side door (up until last night) could only be opened from the inside because of a recent “mishap”, the front passenger seat can only be opened from the outside (another relatively recent set of unfortunate and “bizarro” circumstances), and my driver’s side electric window has been stuck in the “up”, (thankfully-), position. Confusing, I know, but if you knew Me, it would all make perfect sense in some fashion.

Ok so here we are in the almost here and now and I can restart this tale from the most recent albeit confounding set of events that took place essentially yesterday and the day before          (–Yay).:

So anyhow we encountered a very heavy rain event over the last 48 hours after perhaps a week of very pleasant and mild weather. By heavy rain I mean “squall-like”, as in –Oh I don’t know….picture the movie “The Perfect Storm”, -the one w/George Clooney about the Andrea Gail boat that uh, well that didn’t fare so well either I guess you could say.

During this fairly heavy and cold cascading damp soaking personal nightmare, and because of the way that my driver’s side door now hangs from the unfortunate “accident” that I participated in, moisture (-read LOTS of WATER)  poured in the gap in my side of the car overnight while I was asleep. When I entered my Honda to leave for the morning, (-gaining entry by 1st opening the front passenger door and reaching in to use the interior driver’s door handle to get that open and then, of course, walking around and getting into the driver’s seat w/out having to climb in through the passenger’s side –which would look even more “dorky” –as if that’s possible!), I had to use a towel to wipe the rainwater off of both my driver’s side seat as well as the driver’s side door and armrest as both were completely soaked. New morning chore accomplished, I started her up and took off down the mountain to get a cup of hot coffee and start my day.

When I arrived at “Dynamite Coffee” I let myself out of my door from the inside (this doorhandle does work!) and upon removing myself from the car I made a point not to close my door completely so that I wouldn’t have to use the dorky move previously mentioned in order to gain reentry. Ok again –in and out of said Coffee Shop, no prob, open driver’s side door to get back in w/out too much personal embarrassment no prob, still raining like something out of a dramatic movie –check.

It’s still morning,  got my coffee, back in my machine, I decided to light up a cig and head into work  –so far  –so good….

As I lit up and began rolling towards the highway I decided to roll down the rear passenger window (electric) along w/my sunroof to let the smoke out as I drove –I’ve got a roommate that I take care of and since he doesn’t smoke I try to be relatively considerate about the lingering tobacco odor (-hey what can I say –I’m a classy guy!). Well anyhow it’s still raining like Hell and now I’m getting cold with all this rolled down window space so I flicked the butt out of the sunroof (-my ashtray no longer “works” either –I told “you” to read the post from September 18th first but does anyone ever Listen to Me?). I pressed the switch to close my sunroof (switch located on the dashboard ~check) and then I began to catch a faint whiff of an odor that I couldn’t immediately place. I smelled this almost indiscernible “fragrance” and I just could not for the life of me make the neural connection necessary to place what it was right away. I turned down the radio to see if maybe I could focus better on this “thing”, well then all I could hear was the sound of the wind and rain rushing in through my open back window so I reached over to my driver’s side armrest control panel and went to press the button that raises the back window. It was then that it hit me as I was trying to pull all of my limited powers of observation into focus and figure out what the hell this familiar odor was. It was the scent of ozone, the scent of a shorted out electrical connection, the aroma of all of my power buttons, at least the ones embedded in my driver’s armrest portion of my car going through their Death-thrawls!....So here I am in this Marx Brother’s mobile of a car ~a Clown Car at this point really, and it’s pouring down rain and I’ve been getting soaked anyhow because of the gap in the door on my side because of recent personal appendage threatening events related to the “accident” from the week preceding, and now the @#$%* back passenger window is stuck in the down position too because of some freaky “Thomas Edisonian S@#t!” …..Oh Well, Right.

So last night after dinner my roommate and I were leaving the partially skirted singlewide castle where we dwell (-another story for another day perhaps) and as I waited for him to gain access through his front passenger door and kindly open the driver’s side door from the inside (remember!) –he decided to insert some further “humor” into my embarrassment of having to wait for him to open my door for me by depressing the door lock button also embedded in the driver’s side armrest. Upon depressing said button, the door locks immediately went into this convulsive ratcheting up-and-down rapidfire spasm TicTicTicTicTicTic….Well because this too is electric and somehow interconnected to the wiring in the armrest there,  Guess what?…My  driver’s side door is now completely locked out,…Completely, as in I furthermore can no longer gain entry or exit from this particular, and to Me, important accessway!                                          (-Yay!).

Ok so now with this most recent bit of karma I ask my roommate, who is now actually stuck in this Car Monster (*Remember he cannot get egress from his interior door except from the outside door handle!) –I tell him to sit still while I walk around to his side of the Car, open his door from this “position”, ask him to please step out of the vehicle so that I can gain access to my seat via the now open front passenger way.                                                                          REALLY~

So anyhow off we go to this function that he attends in the city. Said function lasts approximately an hour or so give or take and we go through the previously described Clown Car routine of getting in/out/in/in (Use your imagination and you’ll be able to see this in/out/in/in visually in your head –let me help …roommate opens his door getting In, he gets Out, I climb In through his side, he gets In ~special Right!)  Finally situated in the HorriCar we crank it and get on the highway that takes us both back to my aforementioned vinyl sided palace in the “Hills”.

As I get off the freeway exiting down this rural road that is no more than a mile from home base, I see a car approaching rapidly from behind w/his bright lights on. Blue lights soon add to this crescendo of visual overload after what has been a most interesting evening. I pull over into the parking lot of a country convenience store and kill the motor.

As the policeman gets out of his car to approach mine on the driver’s side I roll back the sunroof. He steps to the door where I am sitting and motions for me to hand him my information –by respectfully rolling down my driver’s side window I’m guessing. I peer out at said policeman upwards through the open sunroof escapeway and at the same time make a horizontal finger slicing motion back and forth across my neck area trying somehow to indicate that rolling down my window wasn’t likely to happen any time soon as I stuck my other hand gripping my license vertically through the sunroof attempting to hand it graciously to him. As he took the ID from me via this open roof portal he asked me how long my car had been so damaged and what had happened. –Got A Minute?  Returning to my car moments later after no doubt checking my vibrant civil and criminal history, the officer obviously trying to be somewhat respectful of my car’s sad physical shape, elected to approach said vehicle from the passenger side. When he got around to that side w/my ID in hand I again made some sort of nonverbal gesture now referring to this his newest attempt at gaining access to my attention. “Sorry”, I said as I related that my passenger window would neither roll down nor open from the inside –I took a leap of faith as I continued with my current woeful tale by asking the kind officer if he would possibly not mind opening the passenger door from his side so as to gain rapid access and hand me back my photo ID in the least further embarrassing way. He complied, shaking his head slightly as if in disbelief at my current predicament. –He kindly suggested that I get my shattered rear brake light cover fixed in the Very near future and gave me what I guess could best be described as a “Pass” –kinda “GoodFellaesque-style” and sent us on our harried way.

Well that’s it, so Far at Least, of course the day here so far isn’t even half way over yet which as far as I can say still leaves plenty of time for Future possibilities that may be hurtling My way and Yours even as you finish reading this horribly ill-composed piece.

~Good Luck To The both of Us

 

  

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

...And Laugh


These last few months or so I’ve been responsible for taking care of a young man who happens to have some substantial challenges in his life. Terrific guy and who among us can truly say that we are without the need for help in some form or another from the others in our daily migrations within our often, at times, chaotic existences….

At any rate, several weeks ago my friend and I were travelling in my car on a Saturday towards one of the movie theatres here in the western “hills” of North Carolina where we now both live. As we approached our destination that afternoon my cellphone rang w/a caller ID which indicated that it was a friend calling not for me but for my current travelling companion, who, at the time, was napping. As I swung into the theatre parking lot I nudged this sleeping person awake and handed him the phone w/his buddy holding on the other line. ~Now I probably should mention that at times I can be cheap and that my cellphone and network carrier reflect this abhorrent quality of mine~ ,upon gripping this sub-standard cellphone of mine and uttering hello my service dropped this seemingly important incoming call. –Turbo semi-wakeful Agitation descended so quickly at this distressful occurrence that I barely had time to slip into a parking space before trouble began brewing within the very tight confines of my car. Thinking fast on my feet I stopped, parked, got my phone back and related to my companion that perhaps we could redial the recently “dropped” call from the movie parking lot area with better results and hopefully regroup our collective composure by absconding from our vehicle for a more suitable reception area. As I made my way out of the parked car and moved around to his side to try and get better reception I noticed with some degree of  my own personal agitation that he was gripping the interior door handle and frantically attempting to open his door in order to get out quickly. As I observed this unfold in the slow motion way that seems to only happen when things are about to go completely awry I blinked once and the next image that my brain processed was one of him red faced and even more angry than before holding what just moments before had been my interior-connected door handle (plastic housing and all) in his clenched right hand! –Yay.

So…for the last several weeks and to this very day still, in order to open the passenger side door of my car it is now necessary to first open the passenger side window (electric windows!) and then stick your (his) arm out the window in order to use the outside door handle and abscond from my Honda. –Yay.

Two weeks after this initial excitement I began to notice some relatively gradual change in the speed in which my driver’s side window (did I mention –electric?) was going up and down. Soon thereafter it quit going down altogether and I have had to leave it in the up and “locked” closed position. (~This will make more –or less, sense shortly.).

Getting closer to this present time frame, just shy of two weeks ago I was involved in a one man car accident. I currently reside in a trailer park development here in the mountains (-don’t ask) and the trailers are placed  going up this rather steep hill (-read mountain). The units are also aligned horizontally to one another so as when you are ascending this slope going up you have to turn in rather quickly to the left in order to come in for a “landing” and park next to your own little singlewide castle!

Now on this particular early evening as I was taxiing in upon arrival I made a simple yet problematic mistake. I entered my runway -(read driveway) at the wrong angle and instead of hitting the tarmac (-read driveway pavement) I came in “hot” hitting the rain soaked slippery hill just next to my landing-way, on a very steep incline where gravity wasn’t favorable to stooge-like overcorrections.

My car wheels spun for purchase but a Honda ain’t a Hummer and I slipped down this fairly steep incline into my neighbor’s yard/driveway pinning my car against a tree on the driver’s side and their beat up Oldsmobile against my back bumper. As I snapped out of my current state of semi-shock induced from sheer stupidity I made a rash decision to open my driver’s side door and remove myself from this mess of a situation which I had so recently created. I opened my door just barely enough to stick my left foot out and escape when it became apparent, rather quickly, that my car was still rolling and that the tree alongside my door was pressuring said door closed quickly against my now stuck b/n the doorframe and door foot. –Problem!

I jammed my right foot back down on my brake pedal to prevent the car from lurching further backwards and at the same time I slammed my left wrist and hand against the door panel to create some space so that I could pull my pinned ankle back within the car to safety. Thankfully this maneuver was successful and I was able to rock the car back and forth enough w/gas and brake action to remove myself from the scene of the scene as it were and make some sort of apology to my hillbilly neighbors. –Yay.

-I should probably quickly add that my “roommate” had just that day moved on, rather abruptly I should add, to another living arrangement (-read, he was not in the car at the time of this incident and therefore not in harm’s way at said time) and that there were some pretty new as well as pretty unsettling financial concerns related to this piece of my day as it unfolded here.

Because of this newest, (at least to this point in my story –believe me it gets “Better”), wrinkle (pun?) and the physics that mass and velocity in regards to cars and trees and Oldsmobiles and Hondas can and do create….now my driver’s side door can no longer be opened from the outside (-read, it has to be accessed from the inside door exclusively). Also because of the mangled metal damage caused by this ridiculousness, this same said door is askew in that it hinges and “hangs” pointed up and out in relationship to my doorjam with about a 3 inch gap that now lets the air (and rain) in throught this orifice –a real custom job let me tell you.


(*Remember, if you will, that my driver’s side window no longer goes up and down).

The day after this interesting occurrence I visited a guy that I know down in the valley because I had noticed that given the way my driver’s door now hangs my interior door light that is on the door panel of the drivers side stays on all the time and I was concerned that this might be a drain on my car battery. Dave is fairly mechanical and I felt that maybe he could be some assistance in helping to determine whether or not I needed to be concerned about it.

Dave decided to disconnect the idiot button that is supposed to depress when you are normally able to fully close your car door (-mine no longer closes completely although it does close enough to stay shut while driving –Yay!). Ok so this guy disconnects this “button” –disengaging the wire that it was connected to and shuts the driver’s door to see if in fact this light will now go off.  As soon as he shuts the door my car alarm begins going off and the power doorlock engages and my car locks up! Apparently this button was also connected to the security anti-theft/doorlock operating system too (“knee-bone connected to the thigh-bone” crap). I would push the button on my Honda key to unlock the door and the door locks would unlock and then just as quickly lock back down –it was sick, but frankly funny in a disturbing kind of way! Finally we were able to get in from the passenger side door (remember –no access from the driver’s side door because of my current faux pax) and reconnect this stupid “idiot button” so that although the interior door panel light would still be continually burning –at least I could continue to gain entry via the passenger door if still only from the outside!

As I left Dave’s hose, (-he actually lives in a real house!), I lit up a cigarette. I reached over the automatic gear lever to open my car’s ashtray and as I touched it, it broke into two pieces in my hand. It Broke. REALLY –came apart in my hand from me touching it apparently~

So anyhow as I write this today my recently “old” roommate has moved back into my trailer and so that part of my discombobulated life has been readjusted so to speak. It is so funny how the things that we often take for granted can change in such seemingly dramatic ways so very quickly –both good and bad, they quite simply Can and Do and Will and you just can’t always be prepared to do much more than roll with the punches. ~Oh yea…and Laugh…never forget to Laugh…!

 

Sunday, May 20, 2012

...and On


~The path hemmed and hawed its way through tree lined latticework, mountain laurels and magnolias, bloodroot and bluet crowding for space in the meandering dirt and stone strewn expanse. Larger rocks and stray boulders some cleaved in two stricken perhaps by lightening or from earths great hellish heaving’s during some long ago terrestrial cataclysm and then pitched down the hillsides hither and yon to stand randomly like sentries from another world. Marauding old and twisted knees and elbows of larger trees broke up and through the surface of the lane as if requesting help, pleading their case.

An occasional glimpse through wrecked and fallen timbers displaced a thick and gauzy haze exploding heavenward from out of the earth itself, silent, erect and vertically swirling, smoke-like apparitions, the ghosts of morning dew, damp fire pouring forth from the dawn of the newly baptized day, as if the mountains themselves were aflame and retching out some demented and forsaken anguish.

The beaten trail worked its way through the densely forested mountains up and down breaking left and right so abruptly at times it seemed to be creating its own unique glyphs on the surface of the hillside, writing prose that no one save aliens could cipher.

Wild birds braked and belched forth from behind fallen lichen and moss fluted logs as if flung out of the worm festered loam and scattered skyward to look abruptly earthward in speculation at some ghastly miasma upon the downward scape.

Great infestations of flying insects swirled haphazardly about creating gray and transparent curtains, gnats and no-see-ums, mosquitoes, horseflies the size of half dollars, spotted moths with great cat’s eyes painted on their diaphanous wings. An intermittent ground squirrel labored away collecting meaty shelled parcels from beneath the crashed down limbs of fallen oaks.

The grisly half eaten remains of some obscure beast wedged up under the scree of a large bolder, it’s gnarled head gazing out towards the path as if requesting assistance which had never arrived, its final story earmarked here forever a mystery, its only witness long since vanished back into the thicket.

The trail stretched on and on for uncounted miles its history rich and much forgotten. Its recent travelers mostly of the four legged or no legged variety and seldom seen by the men who now used it for hiking or jogging. These hikers and joggers themselves really no more than local touristry steadfast in their belief in some notion of regional sustainability and their own godlike stewardship towards it as if the land needed some divinely human saving from itself. Like penitents seeking their own salvation through the saviorship of that which came before them and would ultimately see them dead beneath, their ecclesiasticlike musings shuttered beneath the grounds which they had the audacity to think themselves the wiser of.

 In times gone by Creek and Cherokee had scrambled up and down these forested highways in search of food and wood for their fires. The ancients before them a disremembered and alien lot, savages, ill clothed hooligans from another time, disheveled and as animal like as the species that they scavenged for in the surrounding woodland. Skirmishes fought with rocks and staffs of hardwood, sharpened flint stone and animal thighbones. Territory battles, their outcomes long ago decided, had raged up and down the beaten way since time forgotten.

 This the newest Age of Modern Man now seemingly at the helm and much like the savages before him certain in the knowledge that his stewardship the cleverest of the Lot. Time and weatherworn these thoroughfares which were carved out of their terrestrial pinning’s took hold and many a man and beast who’d trodden there before and would surely come later mused about their bitter place upon the land,  their role, what their great contribution should be. The legacy of the land was the land itself and the people and animals who traversed the plane of it were but a blemish, some eruption of activity to be tolerated until some newer Epoch emerged from the chaos left behind from that which came before it still.

….On and On and On again~






Thursday, May 17, 2012

...The Old Man


~The Old man snatched up his cards and ferried them broadways across the table to the dealer. He’d stayed long into the night and the time to leave this place had long since passed. He scooped up the tokens that were his and counted them out stacking them orderly by color and pushing them forward towards the man whose shack he and the rest had been sharing the evening with. The host recounted the stacks setting them back neatly into the stained  and leathered box that housed the chips and cards along with an old worn Texas Instruments calculator he’d used to total up the dividends of many an evening past spent.

The host tallied up the count and uncoupled the hasp of the old cigar box that he’d used to ferret away the notes and coins which the players had traded for earlier in the evening and as necessary throughout the game. He pulled out a small sheaf of bills and a handful of assorted pocket change and handed the folded notes and coins to the old man. The old man crumpled up the evenings take and pushed it all into his pocket. He lifted his lighter and cigarettes from the place where he’d sat and ushered them away into his clothing as well. He thanked the host and the other players still seated around the table and rose to take his leave.  

The night air greeted him as he stepped to the walk leading down the hill from the shanty house. An ocean wind serried and rocked about his ankles blowing sand and cut sedge grass from out of the yard as he made his way down the path. Seabirds and crickets called out softly before him beckoning him forth into the darkness.

Setting out on foot beyond the broken and crumbled concrete paving’s he headed east towards the dunes. The moon had ridden high up into the vault and the Pleiades shone brightly above Orion as the heavenly objects in the firmament spun downward in their declination towards the rim of the earth itself. Wild oats and sea grass hissed and chaffed as he descended the roughhewn narrow boardwalk that cut its swale across and out over the combs. The strand was broad and solemn and lay out before him his path dimly lit by the light cast down from the orbits in the breach above.

He walked on at an unhurried pace the sound of the crests breaking along the hard packed sands thundering their arrival upon the shores and the slurry of their recession back into the sea carrying along with it sand and aggregate bits of shell signaling their endless return, waters forever giving and receiving back and forth throughout all of eternity droning on and on their ceaseless hellos and goodbyes delivering parcels from beneath the waves and depositing their secrets upon the apron of the world.

He ratcheted a cigarette up and out of his pack and cupped his hands around his lighter to fetch off the wind. The day yet lay ahead approaching somewhere from behind him in the heaving spin of the planet.

He walked on for some time before he sat and removed his over shirt placing it beneath him a barrier against  the grit and fine scrabble, the sea breeze carrying with it  a light mist blowing leeward, an empty chill in the salted air and everywhere all about him a hushed silence like some promenade of despair.

He reclined back his knees pulled skywards and perpendicular to the earth his vertical gaze toward the speckled void. The great expanse of the heavens above pierced the sparse and delicate cloud cover that lay out before him, some great unreckonable mystery. He closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted silently away the sound of the waves hypnotic Gods own metronome.

  Memories, glimpses of some former life long since passed floated before him, specters of former acquaintances, their voices, their faces unlined unscathed by the harshness of time forever placid and young, vibrant, carefree as if the earth itself could somehow stay  times ceaseless appraising of them. Haunting remembrances displaced and ageless like some atavistic and alien beings whose shapes, whose existences could only be memorialized by him.  A parallel imagination of sorts specific only to him, some inward and personal recollection of his own doing although real and mentally tangible as the night sky before him caressed his soul, soothed his spirit and carried him away towards some friendlier plane of interior awareness. 


... He drifted off.

The shifting distance between cognitive reality and dreamscape ebbed and flowed, like some tidal hyper reality ordained and baptized by life itself.  Images of time spent, of things done and undone forever sifting together seamlessly in the ether world of unconscious being.

He dozed. His dreams of better times, of times well spent with friends, with loved ones. Realities cobbled together with fantastic imagery, emergent possibilities that could only take place deep inside his very core. Hours past as days, as years even, in his reduced state of sub-cognitive awareness. Future histories made real and tangible only through deep slumber, only to become lost again though wakefulness and reclaimed later, perhaps in future dreams, only again to be disremembered and cast aside forevermore.

He awoke to the crashing sounds of the sea by which he lay prostrate and sprawled out on the sands just below the dunes. The sun had just begun its ascent, its broken shape articulated upon the waters blood red, burning, seething, making known its own timeless indisputable course.

He rose dusting off the granular chaff from his legs and ankles and shaking out his sleep wrinkled shirt. He stood and turned away from the water and made his way towards the dunes above. The dawn of a new day, a new chance, some unknowable set of possibilities lay out before him. He stepped forth and the earth beneath his feet hurtled out upon its own endless enduring course doing its best to keep pace with him.~

Saturday, April 28, 2012

...The Sleepy Child


~The sleepy child ambled up clumsily to a kneeling position in order to better survey his surroundings. The room where he awoke was semi-dark and the midafternoon light played across the white bed linens laddering them as it exited through the venetians on the eastern windowed wall. Small motes of dust and other particulate matter floated eerily and caught in the sun’s rays forming disorganized patterns and glowing dramatically in the vertical eddies created by the heat in the stillness of the room. The queen sized bed from where he drew his bearings rose scarcely three feet as it surfaced from the floor but could just as well have been The Eiger or perhaps even the southwestern face of El Capitan such were his juvenile negotiating skills.  

The room itself was small by adult standards but, for the toddlers’ perspective, loomed large and profound with shapes contemplative and angular, and silence everywhere both distracting and oddly frightful.

 Translucent and bone colored window dressings embroidered with some sort of vertically running bamboo-like striations adorned one side of the bedroom. A steady summer breeze billowed the shadows of nearby maples and oaks and their representative dark duplications paneled the floor and western wall above the bed.  Discordant shapes and patterns displayed themselves in the filtered light as they struck objects within his field of vision.

The carpeted floors stretched out from below the bed and to the walls themselves.  Brown in color but perceived by the boy child as a form articulated somehow more by ill intent, malicious in nature, seemingly animated and perhaps better described by dread than spectral shading. The alarm clock on the bedside table ticked out the seconds, pulsating and clicking, adding some vague aural drama and establishing a tone of general unease. 

Somewhere in another room sounds emanated and passed beneath the trellis of the doorway. Muffled and incompletely understood but sensed by his childlike mind, disturbing and ill boding.

The young form that he currently occupied drew in all that he surveyed and all that was surveyed by him,  became him, ….occupied him, ….colored him.

 Given his relative newness to the world and, indeed, as some part of it unto himself, the synaptic foundation upon which he would begin to lay the groundwork for all of his understanding of things both tactile and philosophic began to take shape, ….To Evolve, ….To Learn, ….To Grow.

Countless varied things were absorbed and diagnosed by his “new” mind that would, in time, come to define who and what he was along with some cryptic pseudo-understanding of who and what the actions of others were and meant in relation to him and his own selfish needs. Neurons in his tiny but growing brain fired and bridged marking chemical pathways and creating connections with which to analyze that which crossed his mental geography.

The curtains along the window on the wall, their faintly embossed patterns, their nap, the lay of the material as it fell upon the valley of the floor. The dark and water-stained walnut finish of the dresser table, it’s poorly veneered surface covered by a laced and coffee spotted throw. The simple round clock marking time, making patterned observations of its own accord, telling its simple story. Muted conversations, their words not yet fully understood –not completely defined for study. Already he could grasp inflection and color in speech, volume and pitch, cadence and importance or the lack thereof. Although limited as he was in his ability yet to coherently label that which he drew inward, the absorption of everything that took place within his youthful surroundings carried on and he took to the task at hand like some factory worker seeking overtime and carefree of time clock considerations.

The sights and sounds and feelings from where he took this communion of sorts all filed away for some future references’ sake to be withdrawn from some colossal library of thought perhaps later, perhaps never to be glimpsed again except possibly in dreams themselves, perhaps never to be remembered still.

So much to take in, everything new. Things even when finally known, finally understood, firm in their definition, only later to be reassessed, re-understood like some task never fully completed only started, ….A Beginning Forever.

Still sleepy-headed he began to drift off. The heat of the afternoon sun settling on his skin, draping over him like some unknowable radiant netting, the boy dozed escaping this plane of awareness for now. Dreams came and his limbs twitched as if in recognition of some important task at hand.

On this day, and many others soon to come and go, there would be no memory of these dreams nor of the things that may have undoubtedly inspired them, ….Thankfully.~


Friday, April 13, 2012

Little Bohemia...

Well it’s been close to 30 days since I last decided to weigh in on anything ~New~ and I suppose that it’s about that time again , so here goes…

Maybe it’s best to begin by saying that I’m a fairly progressive thinking kind of guy. I try to remain moderately open to new things and ideas and I‘ve been known to be persuaded by logical and impassioned rhetoric even when I’ve previously held some sort of stubborn position on a particular topic. I believe in diversity and am intrigued, to a degree, by the way in which it can inject sometimes dramatic affect and change in socially stoic ideations regarding all manner of “things” different. God only knows -I take some getting used too, not necessarily for the way that I look or dress but most certainly for my odd way of looking at and describing the things that cross my gaze from time to time. I too can only assume that I require some degree of patience and understanding when it comes to listening to the driveling prattle that escapes my lips. My rule of thumb seems to be -if It entertains me in some fashion I’m compelled to share It with some poor soul in my life and let the bitter fallout settle where it may! -Hey, hopefully it’ll retain some of the strange humor that was intended, oftentimes, however, that intended giggle-factor doesn’t succeed in making the target that I thought I was dialing in when I opened the bomb bay doors -Oh well, that’s life right…

Anyhow since this past December I’ve been residing here in the western part of North Carolina: Swananoa/Black Mountain/Asheville specifically,…a beautiful part of the state, and, without a doubt, one which provides an entirely different perspective on all things Sureal. Little did I know…

One of the kind of interesting things that goes on close to my office in downtown Asheville is an ever-changing parade of corner street musicians and other sundry entrepreneurial types panhandling for loose change and vague (or not so vague) passing focus. Interesting…

…Indeed… I for one am a big big fan of people watching in general and was intrigued at first to be in the presence of such a seemingly vast and eclectic parade of different (!) assorted attention seeking individuals. Ah Asheville…Little Bohemia…

Now when I think of Street Musicians I envision one guy on one corner in some fairly metropolitan downtown area maybe playing an acoustic guitar for an hour or so during peek pedestrian foot traffic times. I picture a New York Times Square kind of scene in my head -pretty vanillaesque I guess you might say. -Not to imply that I can’t or don’t possess a fairly significant degree of imagination and creativity myself, but in retrospect it’s fair to say that I had a pretty na├»ve picture in my head for what was coming. I wasn’t mentally prepared for the carnival-to-be that would blossom on the concrete sidewalks just outside my downtown doorway once the good weather really broke.

Oh to be sure there is “that guy”, the one guy with the acoustic guitar strumming out your basic run-of-the-mill folksy/bluesy street ballad for stray quarters. Enjoyable, and not just in small doses, for short periods of time…“he” adds another dimension to the experience that is “working in the downtown area”. “He” is meeting my expectations I guess you could say…tahdah…, hell, I just might pitch him a quarter or two, I may even contribute the occasional cigarette…“He‘s” adding some not so insignificant value to my newest home away from home here in the “hills”. This was the aforementioned picture in my head and I was more than satisfied by this image come to life here downtown on Haywood street.

And now, a word from our sponsors…

Don’t you just love it when your expectations are met, when you project a picture of some future thing in your mind and things turn out to be much as you’d previously expected them to be. Life should be like that don’t you think…of course, by that, I mean my life, not necessarily your life -unless, of course, it’s my idea of your life as it best suits my own selfish needs…these things , of course, almost always never work out in quite the way you had planned for them too…I digress

Of course the one guy on the one corner with the one guitar quickly multiplied, …exponentially.

It’s barely April and already it’s become impossible to enjoy a quiet contemplative cigarette outdoors what with the aural (and visual) cacophony that has descended upon the downtown area. There are music playing street folks and wannabe hippies with all types of musical (dis)abilities on every corner of my downtown “neighborhood”. And not just on the corner of the block, I mean also spaced out in small groups throughout the entire sidewalk area as one tries to manipulate their way up and down the geography so to speak! Guitars, banjos, flutes, saxophones, spoons for God’s sake (which, by the way, was kind of cool probably because it was so unique and unexpected -but really who leaves the house in the morning and says to himself -oops, almost walked out and forgot to pack my bag of spoons -please!). There’s an older kind of heavyset guy with fairly long shoulder length white hair and ditto beard to match that I see about once a week always on the other side of the street across from the office who walks around wearing his green tartan-plaid kilt -so far sans bagpipes, but I’m waitin’. There was even a skinny guy in ripped up jeans and a flannel shirt doing some kind of a Grateful Dead dance, I guess you might say, while manipulating a bright red ball which was about half the size of a basketball but with a smooth bright glossy finish --truly a “you-had-to-be-there” kind of moment -I couldn’t make this up if I wanted too!

Honestly I really need to get some of this on film because words (my words at least) just simply can’t express the utter symphonic explosion (in a real visual sense too) that has evolved in what can only be described as the new southern fried Haight-Ashbury district.

Last Wednesday or Thursday morning I think it was I was coming out of the parking deck making my way to the office in the morning and as I turned the corner I almost tripped over this fairly large woman with kind of short matted hair (the early pre-stages of natural dredlocks that seem to be so popular here in the “ville“), she was caterwauling out what I can only describe as some sort of tundra themed Alaskan whale folk song piece while sitting cross legged on the walk there in my path. She was accompanying herself with an accordion…an accordion.

Darwin himself would be Perplexed

… Amused

… Bewildered

 

 

Saturday, March 17, 2012

.....tHE pUZZLE

It’s been a little while since I’ve had anything new to add here to this semi-autobiographical forum of mine and I suppose that it’s due at least in part to some degree of laziness from my end. The potential for commentary happens daily and frequently is filtered and modified by the confluence of events and conversations that I have with others as well as those that take place within the narrow boundaries of my own soul.

Let’s get started shall we……

It’s not always what you may think “it” is. There’s a certain distinction to be noted, one that periodically gets redrawn, depending upon one’s point of view, one’s own unique point of reference. Lines of thought, beliefs, goals, the daily maps that we attempt to adhere to as we make our way into the fray of our heavily populated lives…..the plans that we formulate in an attempt to influence the events that swirl discordantly about us. There seems to be by necessity the need to build in layer upon layer of contingency……escape hatches for implementations’ sake to use when things go amiss. As much as we may want to try and project our “self predicted” outcomes onto the paths of some as yet to be seen future history, we are oftentimes surprised when this road which previously we had expected to be straight and flat becomes a bit bumpy and twisty. The lives of others become influenced by the unseen others who dwell upon the highways of their own misunderstood, misinterpreted lives. For Better or Worse we all share this similar undulating format that is Life. The puzzle that we are given so very early on to try and manipulate and piece together…the picture on the box…the one that is supposed to reflect our perception of who we are and where we think we will be “going”. Pieces get misplaced (-or Lost) as we take time out from the complicated endeavour that is our unique task…new pieces are tried in the slots left open by the pieces swept away while we slept…while we rested from the arduous task….square pegs in the round holes….the dis-angular shapes left behind from our other seemingly important musings….the picture on the box no longer is our guide…..the game that is us morphs……resynthesizes. A new picture takes shape from the heavily re-manipulated puzzle pieces…..we move on to new (and possibly better) but paradoxically different equally puzzled landscapes. A forward direction but not as the crow flies….the path once seen from a distance in the haze of the as yet to be realized future…the mirage that we believed to be true at the beginning of a journey….the straightaway brickwork that we envisioned from afar proceeds “North” but twists unexpectedly and takes much longer than our expectations were led to be believed….beckoning us forward still…..promising much……welcoming us somewhere into the unknown….into the Mist.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

......Count No Man Lucky

…..I mentioned in an earlier post that I’ve somehow made it, (miraculously), to the “5 score +” point in the years category of marking time ( Well past my “half life” as one of my
bouncers in a former life of mine once described my relative age!). In my working experience along this seemingly uncharted course, I’ve held quite a few very different unrelated positions in which I was able to put together “some coin” and manage to eek out some sort of sustainable existence (some better than others). No complaints here in this department, I’ve Made some Money…I’ve Spent some Money. Now if the Truth be Told, I’ve Spent more money than I’ve ever actually Made which can present some fairly serious financial hiccups from Time to Time, that can, (and Do), produce some relatively uncomfortable Stresses “a veces”, but, really on the whole I’ve developed some fairly good memories (-and Stories) which I’ve “banked” from these spending episodes so I can’t really complain too loudly or too frequently.

In my history I’ve also had the opportunity to make the aquaintence of more than a few people, some of these folks started out as business associates and some of these have become friends. The opposite has occurred less frequently, but here recently, I’ve even had an “old friend, or two” wind up in the business category…perhaps we’ll even be able to put a few coins together, hopefully some time in the very near future, although currently at least, that remains to be seen.

During the course of my overall employment history I’ve been fortunate enough ,at times again, to ask for and to be granted salary increases and various promotions that were marginally rewarding on the financial side….I’ve also had some other episodes where the job market dried up, so to speak, and the pluses turned to minuses in no short order! Que Sera Sera! S!#% t Happens, right…Now the Bigger Problem that I’ve encountered has to do with the unfortunate fact that although my own ability to put together “Paper and Coins” has been impacted negatively occasionally, my financial obligations could always seem to care less! The Bills that I incur never take the same fiscal vacations that my paychecks seem to book….as much as I’d like to get the two of them to agree upon getting together to appreciate this quality time, “these two” just don’t seem to want to enjoy each others’ “good company”! …..I’ve found this paradox to be less than emotionally rewarding. C’mon can’t we all just get along?

Here recently my current financial position has taken an unfair pounding in relationship to my own perceived quality of life…..DammitMan. How terribly disrespectful of my wallet and the things that are supposed to be residing there!

What strikes me as horribly unfair, as far as I’m concerned at least, is that somewhere along the line not only have my dollars and cents gone off on respite…not only have my obligatory financial burdens not vacationed with them….now apparently I’ve come to believe that my Car put in for, and, unbeknownst to me, was actually approved for a “raise” while I wasn’t looking! That’s right, my Car.

Now my Car and I have been in a relationship together for going on 6 years or so. When we were first introduced over half a decade ago we had both been involved in previous relationships with others. We don’t speak of these previous entanglements very often but we both know that they’ve existed and we’re Ok with that. We’re also, both of us, Older now…surely Wiser…hopefully less apt to make the same mistakes again because of our shared experience. One would think that our special time together during this involvement would have served to “bond” us together, to make us somehow stronger as we traversed the often hostile environment that is our shared existence as “a Couple”. How very surprised I was indeed when I uncovered the actual Truth regarding this decidedly uneven playing field where I resided. We both (my Car and I) know what our paycheck looks like….C’mon, we’ve spent the last 5+ years together….years of Joy (Sometimes)….years with some degree of Pain (in the financial sense, Sometimes)…. Our shared Experience if you will.

Over the course of the last little while here my Automobile, (-that’s the Word that I use to describe my “Car” when I’m angry with “It”, like saying someone’s full name rather than their nickname when making an exclamatory point!), quite callously…. behind my back, if you will, started making more money than Me! Really. Just over a week ago, while I wasn’t paying attention, “It” put in for a timing-belt….I don’t recall being part of this decision-making process. I, of course, had to respond favorably to this completely disrespectful and expensive request. Why was I not involved in such an absurd discussion regarding our financial position beforehand,....doesn’t seem fair from my point of view at least. Why were we keeping these secrets from each other? What had I done to have so negatively impacted our relationship with one another. Was it something I said….something I did……some perceived slight?! I, for one, can’t get my head around what it is that I have done that could have caused “us” to move so very far apart in such short order. I thought we were “Bigger” than that!! Adding salt to the wound, my Car has now put in for a further Increase!….Ball Joints and Control Arms (-Upper and Lower…Both sides!)…really, I don’t know if our relationship will be able to withstand this current back-stabbing behavioral setback. Do I deserve such despicable treatment…..I’ve been pretty faithful…..pretty loyal on the whole. I mean there was the one time around Christmas that I splurged and bought myself the “Special Double Holiday Edition” of the duPont Registry Car magazine, but hell my Car took me to and from the store where it was ultimately purchased so, really, that one memorable incident wasn’t exactly something that I even half-heartedly attempted to Hide! I haven’t exactly been sniffing around the local car dealerships or searching the classifieds looking to discover a more attractive replacement nor do I recall speaking inappropriately in front of my Car’s back about not being satisfied with our current “Situation”!

I am beginning to suspect that this could turn out to be the Beginning of the End for Us! Tragic really. We’ve both invested so very much time together over years, mind you. I for one am perhaps more apt to remember the good times than the bad ones….I may have even seen this coming if I had but paid more careful attention to “her” needs. What is it that they say?….Apathy breeds apathy? Who knows really, I will try and remain hopeful that we can resolve our current conflict, surely an apology of sorts will be forthcoming….at this point all I can do is wait and see whether this great deal of Time that we have spent w/one another will be able to somehow help us to sort through our current problems and heal these festering financial wounds…..I will try and remain optimistic and hope for the best.

…..Wait, Two Front Tires -and a Motor Mount!!….It never Ends…..Count no Man Lucky until the day He Dies….

Friday, February 10, 2012

....."is the Place to Be"

I found myself riding home from work this evening with a friend of mine, I should say an old friend of mine probably. My car had decided that yesterday was as good a time as any to deliver its latest round of negative karma to me in the form of total engine failure on a busy highway in Asheville (another story altogether), and at any rate that’s why my buddy and I were sharing a ride.

It’s funny to me the broad range of purely ridiculous topics that Jeff and I so often find ourselves discussing, also particularly disturbing, in retrospect mind you, is the passionate quality of the debate on said discussed topics….. .For instance, somehow, don’t ask, the “discussion” began with the topic of people talking on their cellphones while driving and thereby recklessly endangering the lives of others with their irresponsible behavior. Reasonable discussion, responsible subject matter, adult oriented cautious-minded discourse……in a span of 4 or 5 minutes of highway driving, at an alarming rate of speed as I recall, (of course I only always notice this particular fact when I’m not the one driving!) we were in the middle of a debate as to how many people would be involved in this despicable behavior out of the next 10 cars that we passed (again, at Jeff’s normal alarming rate of speed). Taking our own responsible highway driving focus from the task at hand and redirecting said focus towards now trying to steal a glance into the drivers side windows of the cars that we passed (did I mention the “alarming rate of speed”?) in order to keep score of the # of reckless cellphone addicted drivers along our hurried path! In the course of our journey back to Black Mountain and while still keeping “score” we passed a narrow grassy median right next to the highway with what must have been literally 30 turkeys grazing on god only knows what. Our conversation changed directions immediately and without so much as a hiccup we were discussing the possibility of some pickup driving Swananoan hillbilly-type stopping there on the side of the highway to collect dinner for his inbred brood in the trailer park down in the holler. Could happen.

As we made our way off the main highway and began the last short leg of our journey veering (at a reduced rate of alarming speed) onto Old Highway70 through Swananoa/Black Mountain, the conversation took a hairpin curve and somehow arrived abruptly at a new but equally invigorating subject: “Green Acres“. All of a sudden the characters of Fred Ziffle (“Mr.“ for the less familiar) and Arnold, Mr. Haney, Eb, Mz. Douglas; the telephone that could only be accessed by climbing the pole, all of that useless trivia nonsense that represented our “re-memory” of that long ago watched show re-surfaced for absolutely No Good Reason! With 5 minutes left to complete our trip we found that after what has to have easily been 25 years or better we still somehow remembered every word to every verse of that long since wrapped up show!…….I took an entire semester of Geometry in High School pretty much around the same time as I occasionally watched that less than intelligently stimulating show…………….I can remember every word of the Green Acres theme song………every word mind you…….. apparently I can even halfway sing it between gales of laughter at the absurdity of my uncanny ability to be able to recall such wholly disuseful information……………….but, for the life of me, I could not at gunpoint begin to recall even one “theorem” from my time spent that semester at Page High!!!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

....And Then Again,

…I recently ran across something that struck a chord with me, essentially it was a post that made the claim that there is nothing that can be said that hasn’t already been said in some form or another before. It went on to speculate that we are all, each of us today here in this World, equally guilty of some form of plagiarism or another as we communicate our thoughts and ideas. Apparently, through the books that we have read,  the broad array of varied and assundry media that we share, and our wide berth of collective history…we’ve kind of already said it all and are basically “re-hashing” the same ‘ol, same ‘ol again and again , just simply inserting different adjectives and adverbs in the dim hope that we can retain some sense of  “uniqueness” within our shared discourse …How Depressing is that!!!

You know I’ve gotta tell ya I’ve been involved in more ridiculously imaginative verbal intercourse than I have the “noun-based” kind (-Oh well, right!) and in retrospect I must say that I’m challenged to contemplate even the remotest of possibilities that the crap that I’ve sometimes discussed has ever been uttered by another even semi-sensible individual! (-“God” I hope not at any rate ...that would be Doubly Pathetic).  That being said, (possibly for the “umpteenth time” if the passage that inspired this rant is indeed true), we must truly live in what I can only characterize as a “WoodyAllenesque-Plane-of-Existence”, one as dark as the deepest Black Hole!!

Now I, for one, have a fairly broad spectrum of what I would call acquaintances, a decent array of folks that I can assume (I Hope!) are friendly in nature (most-of-the-Time), and an infinitely smaller variety of humanoids that I can get to listen to my own “inner-workings” without too much noticeable yawning and cursing (at least in front of my back!). Now, That being said , perhaps I need to reanalyze my own mumblings and start  paying more implicit attention to the message and not just the “verbal dressing” part of the subtext that so tantalizes and enrapts me in the Grand Hope that I may be able to put together something that more uniquely represents ME to each of YOU !!!

Then Again….Maybe Not…..

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

...On Avoiding Meaningful Human Interaction.

...Warning, potentially useless and unneccessarily wordy drivel piece. I don't suggest that you read any further than this, unless of course you happen to be a glutton for ridiculous prattle, and, you are too bored to bother with any other form of Real Adult Interaction, which, by the way, is my reason for posting this essay in the 1st place!...If, by the way, this warning describes you, please read on and feel free to comment, if, unlike me, you can figure out how to do so within this comepletely un-navigatible site!


Just lately it's become more and more apparent to me that I find myself living in a world that chooses "back-door" communication styles rather than the more "Intimate" "Face-to-face", or even "Mouth-to-ear" variety of human interaction. Would somebody please explain to me why it has become so terribly much more important to hammer out a text or a facebook "splash" rather than to pick up a telephone and utter the same sentiment along with their useful "understood" nonverbal "cousins" like "tone-of-voice" and inflection.  Haven't we all spent so much of our lives specifically crafting  these nuances in order to make ouselves that much better understood?!

Now don't misunderstand me, I realize that there are times when a quick text, especially when we're in a hurry and literally don't have time for idle chatter, can be useful. No, what I'm witnessing is the evolution of a useful communication tool (texting) that was designed for quick "over-and-out"... "on-the-go"..."slam-bam" barrages of syllables and words into some sort of other-worldly way of escapism from each other...Yes and I Am aware of the fact that I am, just now by blathering on in this manner,  participating in what I am attempting to describe!...Yes I too am Pathetic!!

What I guess pisses me off about this current Darwinian leap is that we are excising an important part of how we have historically represented ourselves to one another by removing the nuance in our voices and replacing it with written characters that can't possibly convey the same emotion! How often have you found yourself "finger-tapping" some seemingly important idea to some obviously important person w/n your constellation of friends or relatives? Why-The-Hell would we choose to be so blatently impersonal with someone in our lives who we felt compelled to share idley-important-chattel with in the first place?!...Dammitman...

Hell I do it myself, but lately it occurs to me how ridiculous, how emotionless and just how hopelessly disinterested I must appear to be to the people whose very approval I find myself seeking. Just Sayin'.

..."tappin' one off here Boss"

"...The World is the World'