Dear Whatever is God

Am I really as hopeless and lost as I feel?

Please answer in a way which will mold the truth into something like,
"Hell no, son, you are destined for marvelous things, all of it exciting happy and perfect, with plenty of wild sex, money, travel, good health, and lots of respect from your fellow earthlings, both human and inhuman--like bears."

Secret Life of [name withheld by my request]

My friend who lives in or on the North Pole, whose name may or may not be Sally, has been holding out. Before I go further, the reason I don't give a name and then stipulate, "not real name" is because that gives you one name to rule out, narrowing it down a little. I prefer to keep you completely in the dark.

Who knew? This chick plays great finger picking on guitar. She hasn't even been playing in ages and picked it up and went to town without once having the dead fret thing that happens if your fingers aren't chording hard enough, and not once did I see one of those instances of falling out of rhythm because she forgot a particular fingering. It was quite surprising. Even good players who haven't played in months and possibly a year or so before that will fumble a bit.

Not Sally. And she can sing. I had no idea she was that much better of a musician than I am. Most people are, but still, not everyone. And then I heard her daughter sing. She sang with her fiance and the blend was spectacular. I thought their sound and style was the kind of thing that could really go somewhere. They have other lives and I doubt the poverty life of trying to get your music out there appeals to them. But making music certainly does.

Sally was down here to see family and they invited me to a gathering at her brother/and/or sister's (see I am not going to give too many clues, but the item in question is in no way gender confused) home at an undisclosed beach, right on an undisclosed ocean. The fiance who is in a branch of the armed forces, which I will call the possibly air, land or sea Militants, wrote some pretty interesting stuff while based somewhere other than here.

I don't know what it was I expected, but the quality of the Sally crew when it comes to playing music exceeded whatever I must have expected. Sally was looking good, too, which creates lots of confusion, partly due to her citizenship in The North Pole, and because lots of things tug at me in various directions lately and I have no map of my future.

It is quite obvious this mild mannered popcorn cook woman has been hiding the musical mojo within. Previously she led me to believe she didn't even care if she played an out of tune guitar, and acted like she didn't know how it worked anyway. Wimmins, they will fool you any chance they get. They won't admit it, but it is a key element in the Secret Code of Wimmins.

I was nice to witness such art after watching the Chargers throw away yet another game. I'm convinced that the mob is threatening to harm Phil Rivers' family unless he throws X amount of passes per game to the other team, and that they are paying his line to let the other guys in to chase him around and tackle him. Either that or the coach has handed out different playbooks to the receivers so they cut left when Rivers thinks they are supposed to go right.

I'm highly skeptical of Norv, the coach. He's a good guy, I think, but lets his team and the other teams walk all over him. I've offered to counsel him but I get no reply.

Too Confused to Know

Sometimes I have no idea what to do with some situations. Just do not know.

I think this is why I hide away. When I don't I miss the simplicity and freedom.

The matters of time and space and logistics etc can be a bit daunting. It is always feast or famine in so many aspects of life. Usually the feast lasts a very short time then the table gets rudely cleared by the Ur life suks police, and somebody gets pissed off because you didn't rave about the duck beak soup, or select their pie for desert.