Saturday, November 30, 2013

Compulsively Alone, I guess

So, Vagabond lady and super cool daughter (age 21) wanted to come see me play.  I explained that I'm not getting paid and don't know what I'm going do, whether I'll play with anyone and if so, with whom, etc.  They wanted to come anyway.

There is a regular gathering at a place which has the idea that a combination of Greek and Mexican cuisines is a good idea.  I don't even eat most things on the menu, but I can tell you it is something that triggers in me an uncharacteristic gratitude that I neither eat meat nor fish nor lamb nor fowl.

A good room for playing though.  

They showed up.  It looked like I wasn't going to play for quite some time.  Eventually they took off to go see a movie.  I was more comfortable after they took off.  I've learned that it i easier not to ask anyone to come see me play, especially when I don't know what I'm going to play.  If I am ever with a really good group, playing a really good venue, and I know and love the music, maybe then I'd invite people. 

Outside of those parameters I've never seen it work out.  It is always stressful and disappointing.  I ended up on one good song.  Amos did a good job on St James Infirmary.  A minor, so I was in my safe zone.  And the structure of the tune makes sense.  Some of the stuff people like to do makes no sense to me, but I have narrow taste.  Many tried and true tunes do nothing for me, yet many guitar players and others love the songs.

What scares me is that I have no idea how to behave in most situations involving Vagabond Lady.  I doubt it will end well.  Or maybe I am dooming it from the get go because I'd rather go straight to that lost feeling rejection can bring, without enduring the shock that comes with crushed dreams and dashed hope.

I had no idea my neglect of all had left me in such a state of social dysfunction.  Do I go to the effort of trying to change things, or go back to searching out the edge of the earth so I can drive over never to be found?  Either one sounds like more work than I want to do.  Probably better to brave it through the awkward social trials and face inevitable heart shredding as a test of courage and character.

Years ago, when I would cry, "leave me alone!", my mother cautioned me that I should be careful because I may get what I ask for.  She was way too right on that one.   I'm tired of trying to bend to fit where I wish I could.  It never works, and who could possibly fit with me in any natural, non stressful way?   I know. I can't think of anyone, either.

Vagabond lady is really trying to make an effort, I think.  I am just not sure how to handle it.  I don't have the money to take control of things and be a hotshot.  Supposedly that isn't required but I think it is.  

Documenting for ?

It has come to my attention that no matter where you go, someone is going to be putting it up on facebook.  I do not want every visit to anywhere to be documented.  I end up having to explain, in certain cases, "yes, I worked in the morning and got a call to stop by house X where they were playing music"  because the person was thinking I said I was working but there he is on some lunatic's facebook page not working.

Really, is it necessary or desirable to document every moment and put it online?  I think not in both cases.  We have a culture in which people follow themselves around like paparazzi.  They are their own stalkers, posting pictures of every move they make.  People stalking themselves for photo ops then putting it on facebook.  I'm wondering if self-cyber bullying will be the next phase.

Maybe if I quit showing up, I can avoid the shock of seeing images of myself which I'd rather not have posted.  It's just a by-product, collateral damage, of the auto-paparazzi syndrome.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Avoiding Crowds and stuff

It has become evident that I avoid crowds more now than ever.  And I always disliked being in large gatherings, unless I had a quick and easy escape.

Just something I noticed.

Another thing I noticed, but managed to miss this year, is that stupid bit of brain washing and training of the public to view the president as a monarch or despot or deity--- that stupid, ridiculous thing of pardoning a turkey.  It honestly turn my stomach and annoy me to the point of wanting to loudly protest and throw things.

Seriously, imagine what an insult to someone like Michael Behenna, or others in federal prison who should be pardoned and released.  But no, the arrogant presidents who do this ritual and the sycophantic, goof ball press make a big deal of pardoning one of those turkeys that can't even walk.

The whole ritual smacks of reminding us that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and the Lord is  the head administrator of the federal government.  What is wrong with people that they roll right along with this insulting insanity?   If only mutant, factory bred turkeys could wield a gun.  I'd love to see one cap the dog or maybe shoot a politician in the foot or off itself just as the president pronounces his pardon.  The dumb ass public won't rebel against this kind of thing. Maybe the butterball turkeys will.

I'd love to see a president with the courage and integrity to call this out for what it is, and instead pardon a thousand prisoners who ought not be locked up.  Many of them are there for political reasons of one sort or another.

At least I didn't get stuck watching the president making this annual joke of his absolute power over life and death.  Only a real creepy prick would be so spineless as to pardon a turkey and leave real, deserving humans to rot in prison.  That speaks poorly of the last many presidents we've had that none of them have acknowledged the impropriety of flaunting their power in this lame ass lampoon.   "Haha, I'm so homey.  The joke's on me as I show off my power by pardoning poultry.  Haha. What a cool guy am I.  I'm your cool president who saved a mutant turkey and left a good soldier in prison!"

Oh, but if I don't exempt this pres. from criticism, Chris Matthews say I'm racist.  Horse's ass, or what?  No, Chris, that's not it, I'm fowlaphobic, you defective nutcase.

If you don't like how some outfit does things, don't go there.  I've got mixed feelings.  Probably not for any of the reasons listed in the log of what is considered the two sides of this crisis.  It must be a crisis.

Where the hell have people been if they never worked on thanksgiving, or availed themselves of the goods and/or services of those who do work thanksgiving?  I think most of the time you get double time for holidays.  I did, and it was not a union job.  Plus if my work schedule didn't fall on a holiday, I would often volunteer to work it so other could take the day off to abuse their children.

I wonder if Memphis had any of its usual Thanksgiving family shootouts.  It used to be that some family would consist of several people packing heat, and the cumulative IQ of the entire group was about 2.  An argument would break out over football, or other non crucial topic, and pretty soon their shooting one another.  Personally I think it is OK, as long as they keep it in the family.  That natural selection played through a Marshal stack, displayed in hi def.

Even I drew the line when, in Memphis, the thirty something son shot the mom over an argument about doing the dishes.  There are some weird things going on out here, but in Memphis it was a much creepier weird in some ways.  Angrier type of weird.   Sad.

Really, it all relates. Creepy Shades of Weird; saving mutant turkeys, and families giving thanks by shooting and stabbing each other.  A serious moral void either way.  

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

In the Dead of Night

Sleep rhythm seems to be off.  But it is OK to stay awake if your mind is racing in a tone of hopeful wandering.  I keep getting glimmers of things that start to make me give a damn, and actually want to outline a plan.

Under the right circumstances, and on the off chance dozens of other factors line up just right, a plan could go into action.  We'll see.  In any case, it is good to get that glimmer because I forgot what it felt like to see the glass as at least having some water.  It may not be half full but it is enough to last a family of six, in some part of the world, for a week.

These are interesting times.  I may end up liking the holidays.  That is my tendency anyway.

It has really become evident that I misread my brother for decades because I believed all the trash he talked until he hit high school.   I rarely saw him in that period so I was suspicious and intimidated by his sudden respect and good will.  Another year might have done it.  It was a complex and somewhat destructive (primarily for me) family dynamic. Those things die hard, but for crying out loud they really must be let go.

Anyway it is hard not to brag on my favorite sibling, but he has done what he's done, not me.  Besides it probably comes across a little strange.  He is remarkable, and quite generous, and would be incredulous at my negligence in many things.  He probably has an idea and marvels that I survive.  It is probably high time to bring in some dough.

Not to say he makes everyone happy.  He' learned how to turn his natural eccentricities into charm, whereas in early life they seemed as charming a fingernails scratching down a blackboard.  If you are too young for that one, try as charming as a frisky cop with a taser.   Adults of that era hated a kid that could out debate them, and with a larger vocabulary than they could manage.  But I thought he was an idiot for not knowing when to be silent.  Younger brothers did not enjoy being taunted with unknown words by one who refused to define or spell them.

If I'm not going to kick the bucket soon, gaining some security would be a considerate thing to do.  Then those who care won't think of you in some pained way.  And you don't think of yourself in some pained way, which removes a barrier that causes you to avoid those who care the most for fear of letting them down.

It costs a bundle to get a major service done.  No matter that I had no idea it was not running as well as it could. Discernible difference.

These danged kids making babies.  What can you get a 6 month old?  In the good old days you just got them BB guns, and at three, a .22.  Then a small motorcycle or a tractor.  Of course you gave them knives along the way.

I'd get the two six month olds, well one is six months and the other is five months,  BB guns but in this dadgum nanny state state of affairs that would bring outrage.  Maybe even get me arrested.  Same deal if I give them pocket knives.  Most dolls are stupid, but I'm thinking authentic voodoo dolls, fitted with velcro so the pins could be replaced with velcro tipped darts--for safety.  When they get a little older, like old enough to walk, the velcro can be removed and the real pins brought out.


Monday, November 25, 2013

Getting Short, as we used to say

At one of my old jobs, in NC, when someone was approaching vacation they said they were getting shorter and shorter.  I guess until they disappeared.  OK.  You had to be there.

I'm looking forward to this trip.  And now I get word that Vagabond lady is due in town and may want some company.  I can't imagine that he'd want my company if she knew me well.  I'm no fun; don't drink, hate uppity restaurants, am in no way able to pay for much, oh geez, the list goes on.

I no longer hate myself for my various diversion from the norm, like being a non-carnivore who doesn't care if you hunt or eat your cat.  A long a the cat is not a friend of mine.  In that case I'd object.

What I foresee is possibly the next source of unpleasant rejection, rendered in kind and glowing praise. That does make the "get lost" pill easier to swallow.  I have avoided being available for so long I am not sure if I have the guts for the gamble any more.  Nothing beyond casual seems possible to me, yet experience shows that is not the best thing, or how my stupid mind and heart work.  I'm too something.  Whatever it is, it leads me to analyze these things with a view toward the long haul.

And that means I run away if I detect a possible end to that which never really got started or was wholly owned on my part.  But it might be a lack of goal management which landed me here.  One is supposed to eliminate expectations if one cares to be happy.  Easy to  say.  I expect to end up feeling even more isolated.  But I'll see what happens.  Need to change my viewpoint, I can see that.  About a 40% chance that I will.

Cuteness can go a long way, but only so far.  Good start.  At least the next imagined assailant to crush my heart is easy on the eyes.  The all are, actually.  All those who couldn't just tell me I know nothing and therefore need to remain under their guidance, despite my protests.  How were they to know I was malleable?

In another week I'll have been a non-drinker for 27 years.  I can screw up a dot.  How I managed to drink for any period of time, I do not know.  I'm good at many things.  Living well and drinking are not among them.

Finally. Or at least, momentarily

After experiencing all the ups and downs of dealing with ISP issues, which included violent temper tantrums and passive, bland thoughtless acceptance, I am connected, I think.  This could be a fluke.

My situation in connectivity to the inter tubular net is somewhat different than most.  You can't get any cable related service out here, and it seems that any affordable satellite option is not good or limits data to low relatively low levels.

I've been running a cellular modem of over five years, beginning shortly before I left the racially obnoxious and hostile town of Memphis.  I don't think I could ever voluntarily live in such place again. I spent a lot of time in places where the majority of people hate you if you aren't their race, and they hate you if you are of the same race but think for yourself and aren't a bitter bigot.  Everyone has their tale of injustice.  Those tales do not justify violence, proud stupidity, rape, robbery and torture which sadists who suffer from perpetual victim mentality commit, with alarming frequency, without media attention or concern from fake "civil rights" activists.

Who cares?   The dumb ass victims in our country can't seem to peel back the layers to see that the very authorities to whom they appeal for relief are the same ones that, through not doing the job right, and with honor and integrity, enabled the injustice, theft, harassment and dead end culture which just keeps on building resentment, anger, and a hatred of well thought out reason, logic, and productive behavior.   Much is built on half-truth.  Much on total fiction.  The big pretense.

Anyway, I had so many things I wanted to write when the connection was down, but didn't feel like writing in a word program so I could paste later. I think it depresses me to use the computer when I don't have the option of going online.  That is bad.  Maybe everything depresses me.  I worry about that.  When it comes in a wave and you have no idea why you can't stop the tears, you are probably screwed and should paddle out to sea and disappear.

My car is set for my trip. My household is not, yet.  My hair is turning grayer every day, except for a clump at the very front.  I don't think old bothers me so much.  I just don't like becoming that much uglier.

How am I ever going to bite my tongue when seeing family?  We've got more than one misguided obama worshipping Bolshevik in the crowd.  My brother will take the opposite side no matter what I say, and I do poorly in debate, even if I am armed with all the facts and logic is on my side.  I just fold in that circumstance.  One of the main things that sends people like my kin over to the dark side is that they assume that republicans are the opposite of democrats, and the republicans' religiosity, and goof ball approach to selling themselves drives otherwise intelligent people into democratland.

They actually believe that the democrat party is less the plaything of evil billionaires and corporate cronyism, and corruption, in general, than the republican party.  How can they be such dupes?   I don't know.  Maybe they only look as far as is convenient in conducting research.  Maybe they don't want Bill Maher to make fun of them or call them names, so they giggle with the cool kids, leaving critical thinking and investigation to the pros, like John Stewart.  A defensive posture to dodge being bullied or ridiculed.

And since people are lazy, it all works out.  You got your two teams, and people to tell you what to think on both benches.  You don't have to do anything but nod and laugh on cue.  Don't bother to verify.

So, I'm headed into a hotbed of ignorant commies.  Until such policies come back to bite them, they are all for authoritarian, state involvement in your affairs.

I won't argue.  In my family, I always lose no matter how weak the opposing points. I just kind of wither under the ridicule.  Of course when I have been proved right, any disagreements with my views on the matter in question are flatly denied; and once again I'm the idiot making it all up.

Maybe I will never come back once I get on the road.  Right now I don't care if I do or not.  I'm angry and seething.  A slow, self destructive boil.  I'm in a solitary kind of life and I'm not sure I can change it.   Things that get in the way, I won't change. Not going to drink.  Can't convert to carnivorism.  Nothing worse than dealing with drunks.  Well, maybe dealing with me is worse.   Apparently.

I'm so angry.  If you think I am not mad at you then you were never close to me in that way.  I'm mad all the way back to the beginning of time.  Why?  Because I offered too much respect, demanded too little, and believed the lies and the liars--almost everyone.

That's it.  I'm an angry nobody, heading south to see various friends and my goddam red guard. little red book carrying, koolaid drinking, bolshevik relatives.   Maybe they just do that because it is cool.  Few of them were automatically cool, like me.  Just born that way, so I don't share their fears of not being cool. I don't care.

======online or no, the s still tends not to register so the above may have many errors which I missed.  I'm angry and not in the mod to read it.  Other letters, too, tend to get lost.  Keyboard has about had it.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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