So, playing music when you are young and smooth tends to attract self destructive women who want to know you better--or so they think. At this point, I am no more young and smooth. Now I attract other weirdos who want to play music. If I liked to play, that would be good. Sometimes I like music playing OK.
Well, my friend who used to be the house manager, making her my semi-boss, was in town for one day. They had a little get together at the upscale house where she was staying. She invited friends to come say hello. There, she introduced me to the broad with the Irish name. Very fit lass considering she may be near enough my age.
I gave her my cell number so she could contact me to "see where I am playing". I did not hear anything for a day or two. I figured I would not hear. Then I received a text of inquiry from her. That is new. Maybe she is hoping to trick me into her lair. One can only hope.
If I ever get rid of this nasty chest cold and cough, maybe I will feel suitable for making friends. Even with the respiratory gunk I have somehow managed to play OK. Odd how that works.
I have tried several forms of cold medicine from sudafed to robitussin. I think mixing it up helps it work better.
Anyway, you never know how these things will go.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Only the T Shirt is Missing
I do appreciate the fact that you did not wear your Che T shirt for this photo op with murdering drug lord, Guzman.
Friggin' Sean. And he attempts to play the intellectual. It is all acting to him I think. The trouble with real life is the writers for his scripts involving his real dalliances with foreign governments and criminals are pretty lame, and possibly illiterate.
A party in the House of a Thousand Spirits
Every now and then I marvel at the places I find myself visiting, wondering, "How did I get here?".
This was one such occasion.
The connection to this event was the Day of the Dead in Old Town a couple of months ago. There is a group that plays it every year. They are aficionados of old Mexican and American music and the mix of the two. They are not spectacular, but they are serious.
I'm not sure they are real. I had this same odd vibe when I was a young child, maybe 9 years old, and we took a detour to an old town with ruins--Mayan?--near Guatemala City. The town is called Antigua, I believe. And it was a highly surreal and creepy place. The undead.
So, I heard this party is an annual thing and was under the impression that is was like a big music party with people bringing food for the buffet and their own drinks. The latter part was the biggest hit.
Those people just keep milling about ever so slowly swirling in a counter clockwise direction around the buffet table. Perhaps they hadn't eaten due to some pagan fasting ritual. All I know is they were some eatin' fools.
Earlier in my life I was often the youngest in a group, youngest in my job, not that old. Most of the time I am not the youngest guy in the room or even in the youngest 2/3. Tonight I was in the youngest eighth.
People brought instruments and there was a room, where you put them, as you would coats in some places. I thought no one would ever play. Oh, did I say; we were there because Sande works for the historical society that handles a lot of that Old Town stuff. And she'd never been but wanted to go.
She and Karen and I ended up playing some of her stuff. A guy jumped on piano and did a great job playing along. As did a violin and mandolin. That was kind of nice the crowd still scared me. As did the house itself.
It is an old house. It holds more rooms than one might think upon approach from outside. Once inside the dark wood trim and seven hundred native American dolls line to ceiling trim along the dark wood running along all the walls and doorways. Lots of doorways and halls, it seems, and everywhere were people. Old people who did little but stand or sit and eat.
There was a grumpy old guy who was very tall and miffed that Sande didn't play When the Saints Go Marching In. He had some harmonicas and was up for it. Later, in one of the many rooms a piccolo sort of flute thing and a couple of fiddles were playing Irish sounding stuff. It was good. The grumpy guy busted out into Yellow Rose of Texas, sort of, on his harmonica. Couple of choruses and that was that. Not much back up there.
I forget the name someone said applies to that sort of doll. Someone else confided in me that many native American tribes find such collections offensive because the dolls have religious-spiritual significance and this trivializes it. Or some such.
Along the lower half of the main hallway there is a dark wooden, oldish Spanish looking cabinet built into the wall. It has one place where there is wooden door covering a shelf inset, about 2 feet wide and 1 high. It threw itself onto the floor with a big bang. No one was near it, but the strange owner of the house, who I believe is a gringo but likes to dress like a mariachi, insisted someone brushed against it as they walked by.
I know it was some ticked off spirits and gods from ticked off tribes. That place has got some weird vibe going on. At least most of the others seemed to know everyone or a lot of people. There must have been fifty people or more. And this house would have been tight for a family of four, despite all the little rooms and seemingly redundant hallways.
Seriously. I was told there were 700 dolls. They lady has collected them since age 5. Probably hundreds of years ago. It looked more like 7000. They lined the entire house. Everywhere. And banjos and obscure folk string instruments, but the dozen. Maybe it gives the Indian spirits something to do. Feather, not dot. What? Is that racist or culturally insensitive. I mean it in the best of ways.
My first thought, was of voodoo. It just looked like some of them might be good for some ritual hoohah.
A fish in just a splash or two of water. Mostly like out of it though. But I did like the way some responded to my showboating. I did, a little bit. I was playing along and doing what I should most of the time, but a few times a ride fell to me and I had fun with it. I like it totally acoustic like this, sometimes. I think I appeased the spirits. They thought the crowd was very strange, too.
It is a cool house but not even the bedroom was free of wall to wall voodoo American dolls and other things from long ago. I would feel like they were going to jump me from all sides.
Many of the people are or have been associated with the Whaley House--a reportedly haunted edifice in Old Town which also houses the historical outfit's office. Some people go crazy there. They start saying things like, "they don't want us in here right now". That kind of thing. Referring to the ghosts. The girl Whaley killed herself there. In the outhouse I think. Apparently the old man is the one opposed to changed and people coming and going.
So, what a mix--native American angry, insulted gods and spirits, and the crazy Whaley ghost victims. Makes for an unusual party. Had I not still been wiped out sick I probably could have stayed and made mischief--or friends--or both.
This was one such occasion.
The connection to this event was the Day of the Dead in Old Town a couple of months ago. There is a group that plays it every year. They are aficionados of old Mexican and American music and the mix of the two. They are not spectacular, but they are serious.
I'm not sure they are real. I had this same odd vibe when I was a young child, maybe 9 years old, and we took a detour to an old town with ruins--Mayan?--near Guatemala City. The town is called Antigua, I believe. And it was a highly surreal and creepy place. The undead.
So, I heard this party is an annual thing and was under the impression that is was like a big music party with people bringing food for the buffet and their own drinks. The latter part was the biggest hit.
Those people just keep milling about ever so slowly swirling in a counter clockwise direction around the buffet table. Perhaps they hadn't eaten due to some pagan fasting ritual. All I know is they were some eatin' fools.
Earlier in my life I was often the youngest in a group, youngest in my job, not that old. Most of the time I am not the youngest guy in the room or even in the youngest 2/3. Tonight I was in the youngest eighth.
People brought instruments and there was a room, where you put them, as you would coats in some places. I thought no one would ever play. Oh, did I say; we were there because Sande works for the historical society that handles a lot of that Old Town stuff. And she'd never been but wanted to go.
She and Karen and I ended up playing some of her stuff. A guy jumped on piano and did a great job playing along. As did a violin and mandolin. That was kind of nice the crowd still scared me. As did the house itself.
It is an old house. It holds more rooms than one might think upon approach from outside. Once inside the dark wood trim and seven hundred native American dolls line to ceiling trim along the dark wood running along all the walls and doorways. Lots of doorways and halls, it seems, and everywhere were people. Old people who did little but stand or sit and eat.
There was a grumpy old guy who was very tall and miffed that Sande didn't play When the Saints Go Marching In. He had some harmonicas and was up for it. Later, in one of the many rooms a piccolo sort of flute thing and a couple of fiddles were playing Irish sounding stuff. It was good. The grumpy guy busted out into Yellow Rose of Texas, sort of, on his harmonica. Couple of choruses and that was that. Not much back up there.
I forget the name someone said applies to that sort of doll. Someone else confided in me that many native American tribes find such collections offensive because the dolls have religious-spiritual significance and this trivializes it. Or some such.
Along the lower half of the main hallway there is a dark wooden, oldish Spanish looking cabinet built into the wall. It has one place where there is wooden door covering a shelf inset, about 2 feet wide and 1 high. It threw itself onto the floor with a big bang. No one was near it, but the strange owner of the house, who I believe is a gringo but likes to dress like a mariachi, insisted someone brushed against it as they walked by.
I know it was some ticked off spirits and gods from ticked off tribes. That place has got some weird vibe going on. At least most of the others seemed to know everyone or a lot of people. There must have been fifty people or more. And this house would have been tight for a family of four, despite all the little rooms and seemingly redundant hallways.
Seriously. I was told there were 700 dolls. They lady has collected them since age 5. Probably hundreds of years ago. It looked more like 7000. They lined the entire house. Everywhere. And banjos and obscure folk string instruments, but the dozen. Maybe it gives the Indian spirits something to do. Feather, not dot. What? Is that racist or culturally insensitive. I mean it in the best of ways.
My first thought, was of voodoo. It just looked like some of them might be good for some ritual hoohah.
A fish in just a splash or two of water. Mostly like out of it though. But I did like the way some responded to my showboating. I did, a little bit. I was playing along and doing what I should most of the time, but a few times a ride fell to me and I had fun with it. I like it totally acoustic like this, sometimes. I think I appeased the spirits. They thought the crowd was very strange, too.
It is a cool house but not even the bedroom was free of wall to wall voodoo American dolls and other things from long ago. I would feel like they were going to jump me from all sides.
Many of the people are or have been associated with the Whaley House--a reportedly haunted edifice in Old Town which also houses the historical outfit's office. Some people go crazy there. They start saying things like, "they don't want us in here right now". That kind of thing. Referring to the ghosts. The girl Whaley killed herself there. In the outhouse I think. Apparently the old man is the one opposed to changed and people coming and going.
So, what a mix--native American angry, insulted gods and spirits, and the crazy Whaley ghost victims. Makes for an unusual party. Had I not still been wiped out sick I probably could have stayed and made mischief--or friends--or both.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
OK. Here you go.
I keep thinking about these mini dwellings that run on solar and wind. Rather than prisons they should just corral thousands of those things, fit each with a shower and latrine--not group. You got security and such and it costs much less. And you have a shot at letting a person earn some dignity.
I'm serious. Many other factors would be in play to thwart evil doers, by design. I believe in non lethal man traps much more than I believe in the "we know there is rape" system we have now.
Admittedly I have noticed many people--mostly women---who seemed to relish the threat of what jail implies in connection with actual culprits or imagined, hypothetical ones. Too many people go to jail who do not deserve to go. And putting those that do need a time out in a rape and thug ruled environment, you don't break the pattern for the families and groups who know their way around the yard.
That can't be what I was really thinking. Can it?
But, here's the deal. If I could get one of those houses, I could figure out how to whittle my belongings down or maybe store a small amount somewhere. Then I could pull that sucker in somewhere, hang awhile, then maybe move elsewhere. Always hang at a camp ground for awhile. Ideally it could be placed three months or so at a shot. Not sure the bano--pretend that's the other Spanish n with the tilde--situation on that european unit I saw. I think it was one of the Scandinavian countries where they made it. Could even be Germany.
Still doesn't settle the bano--tilde n--question. I could design something. And there are components on the market. Now and then you go to one of those deals like at campgrounds where they can empty your waste tanks.
Another gig at Pine House Cafe in Mt Laguna, in February, with Valor and Lace band. Right now there is snow up there and they require chains. I may try to find some prior to the gig. I've always wanted to. It is not really far. Maybe 35 or 40 minutes. Cool place. Pacific crest hikers are through there a lot, too. Sande, too, will be booking. I need to figure how to avoid conflict or anyone worrying about being shorted. It is hard to explain how I need both of them at this time.
They are my lifelines, in a way. One group provides one thing and the other, something else. I offer both groups a little different thing, but in both I am fattening the background more than running single note leads. I feel freer and more intense, usually, with Sande's music. But there is a feeling of helping Valor and Lace grow. And it keep getting better. The more I see of country and learn, the more respect I have for that world. There are some killer performers and groups, and song writers floating around Nashville, apparently, who are doing very well.
Lots of cool women like country. I got hit on at the Pine House last time. Never happens much any more. Almost never. I'm surprised it wasn't like this by twenty years ago, so I can't complain. But I do, right? Cracking up
I need to get my marketing hat on. Chris/Valor and Lace is a good visual stage presence. Good looking 30 year old guy and girl. And he's got the Marine thing going which maybe helps his general presence. Not sure. But he has that kind of presence that you can't manufacture, teach, or whatever. He just is, and it fits. Emily is quite an impressive presence as well. I'm also learning that she can be one of those fun people on stage too. It has taken both a while to start loosening up and having fun with it. That may be one reason Richard has worked so hard to bring me into the heart of this band. He and I set an example. Or try. Got to have fun with it, and don't fight it. Unless you just enjoy angry sounds, getting all wound up and playing is no good.
Got to get over this cold and learn the stuff for the big Country at the Grand event at the Horton Grand theater downtown. Around the corner from hard rock. Playing it next week I think. Alread a ton of gigs between now and end of February.
I'm serious. Many other factors would be in play to thwart evil doers, by design. I believe in non lethal man traps much more than I believe in the "we know there is rape" system we have now.
Admittedly I have noticed many people--mostly women---who seemed to relish the threat of what jail implies in connection with actual culprits or imagined, hypothetical ones. Too many people go to jail who do not deserve to go. And putting those that do need a time out in a rape and thug ruled environment, you don't break the pattern for the families and groups who know their way around the yard.
That can't be what I was really thinking. Can it?
But, here's the deal. If I could get one of those houses, I could figure out how to whittle my belongings down or maybe store a small amount somewhere. Then I could pull that sucker in somewhere, hang awhile, then maybe move elsewhere. Always hang at a camp ground for awhile. Ideally it could be placed three months or so at a shot. Not sure the bano--pretend that's the other Spanish n with the tilde--situation on that european unit I saw. I think it was one of the Scandinavian countries where they made it. Could even be Germany.
Still doesn't settle the bano--tilde n--question. I could design something. And there are components on the market. Now and then you go to one of those deals like at campgrounds where they can empty your waste tanks.
Another gig at Pine House Cafe in Mt Laguna, in February, with Valor and Lace band. Right now there is snow up there and they require chains. I may try to find some prior to the gig. I've always wanted to. It is not really far. Maybe 35 or 40 minutes. Cool place. Pacific crest hikers are through there a lot, too. Sande, too, will be booking. I need to figure how to avoid conflict or anyone worrying about being shorted. It is hard to explain how I need both of them at this time.
They are my lifelines, in a way. One group provides one thing and the other, something else. I offer both groups a little different thing, but in both I am fattening the background more than running single note leads. I feel freer and more intense, usually, with Sande's music. But there is a feeling of helping Valor and Lace grow. And it keep getting better. The more I see of country and learn, the more respect I have for that world. There are some killer performers and groups, and song writers floating around Nashville, apparently, who are doing very well.
Lots of cool women like country. I got hit on at the Pine House last time. Never happens much any more. Almost never. I'm surprised it wasn't like this by twenty years ago, so I can't complain. But I do, right? Cracking up
I need to get my marketing hat on. Chris/Valor and Lace is a good visual stage presence. Good looking 30 year old guy and girl. And he's got the Marine thing going which maybe helps his general presence. Not sure. But he has that kind of presence that you can't manufacture, teach, or whatever. He just is, and it fits. Emily is quite an impressive presence as well. I'm also learning that she can be one of those fun people on stage too. It has taken both a while to start loosening up and having fun with it. That may be one reason Richard has worked so hard to bring me into the heart of this band. He and I set an example. Or try. Got to have fun with it, and don't fight it. Unless you just enjoy angry sounds, getting all wound up and playing is no good.
Got to get over this cold and learn the stuff for the big Country at the Grand event at the Horton Grand theater downtown. Around the corner from hard rock. Playing it next week I think. Alread a ton of gigs between now and end of February.
Almost a Shame
Only Almost.
Since I quit addressing matters of state so much, I drifted into matters of what ails my lifestyle, and general tone of psyche. That is highly unfair to those who enjoy reading some of my stories. They want to back hand me when I sound weak and uncertain; defeated. Only some of them.
Maybe that is a wonderful thing. Often it takes a balance of positive and negative stimulus to get a person to move. And not give up. I prefer it heavily weighted in favor of those who read, yet do not verbally or emotionally back hand me. (or physically, for that matter!) Works best if the back hand readers are in the minority.
Now, if you have only two or three visitors, it makes it all harsher I think.
As far as public affairs and politics, Anything not in the progressive playbook has been so ridiculed, in somewhat erudite circles, that these seemingly bright people refuse to look at their own established order and its flaws, corruptions, abuses, and fits of waste and negligence. The assumption always made is that if you don't like the status quo in this country, then you are what the media portrays as "the other side". I don't even know for sure what the first side is trying to do. The PR is based on ridicule as much as anything, and half truths fly like projectile vomit.
And the alleged opposition plays at opposing abuses, but then they get as far away from constitutional doctrine as the first group.
Republicans have had the House for awhile. And enough power to do things if they are worth doing. But they do not want half of what they say. The people on both sides are pandering to their own precinct's demographic. Give the people what will keep you in a job.
For that reason, disagreeing with an elected official or the party of that official does not mean you are gung ho in support of the other body of panderers. It is an insult.
Really, look at the old fashioned "stump speech" or bar b que in the park, with bands and carnival-like decorations, pep rally marching band music. This is how people audition for the job of making laws; either protecting or eroding your rights.
Somehow I find the blatant con-man, back slapping bully mentality to be thuggish and plainly disrespectful. But the news and the parties putting on the show continue with this nonsense. They'll pretend seriousness with cookie cutter talking points which permeate the internet, but which are invariably very cleverly skewed. Half truths. But to talk people who can't critically assess the nuances of an argument out of blindly jumping on the bandwagon is a waste of time.
Just get the marching band to strike up a lively rendition of "Happy Days Are Here Again!" yippee.
That and a pack of smokes will buy you a vote or two.
I definitely do not want to join the culture that is developing of people absolutely cutting off friends who support someone they don't like. I'm waiting for someone to be refused when they order a Trump cake of some kind. Then people will point at what happened when bakeries refused to do a wedding cake for same sex couples. It would be interesting, but the divide and attitudes are not interesting. They are ominous.
Seems like someone on facebook had a big post--apparently cut and pasted from a talking point site---saying that if you could support a guy like Trump, you were clearly no longer their friend. That was the bottom line. It went through a litany of Trump offenses, twisting facts where needed. It worked itself into a fit of self righteousness before casting out the evil supporter of he whom you do not support.
People could think whatever they want and still be harmless if actual power of government had been severely limited over the years. But that in itself appears to be a philosophy. Unpopular one. But it stands to reason that the more power it has, the more prone to abuses.
But that also goes for the unsupervised public as they develop resources and such. Few have the integrity to do what is right rather than what provides some form of immediate gain; whether it be money, power, fame, etc. What you end up with is a government fronting for the powerful, even as they pretend to put them in their place and all that. Right and wrong, as far as should be enforced by government is not that complicated, in reality.
But we cleverly developed the habit of making laws so complicated that no one knows what they say or how to comply. That brings in lawyers. Big surprise. What it does is cover how the corrupt collude to use government to lock themselves in in their industry, and lock many others out.
See? Just explaining how I see things in the most general sense, while claiming I am now a-political, has become a lengthy, tedious process.
So, we can conclude that while other material here may be acutely down lifting, maybe it is not a shame that I haven't felt like discussing public affairs.
Since I quit addressing matters of state so much, I drifted into matters of what ails my lifestyle, and general tone of psyche. That is highly unfair to those who enjoy reading some of my stories. They want to back hand me when I sound weak and uncertain; defeated. Only some of them.
Maybe that is a wonderful thing. Often it takes a balance of positive and negative stimulus to get a person to move. And not give up. I prefer it heavily weighted in favor of those who read, yet do not verbally or emotionally back hand me. (or physically, for that matter!) Works best if the back hand readers are in the minority.
Now, if you have only two or three visitors, it makes it all harsher I think.
As far as public affairs and politics, Anything not in the progressive playbook has been so ridiculed, in somewhat erudite circles, that these seemingly bright people refuse to look at their own established order and its flaws, corruptions, abuses, and fits of waste and negligence. The assumption always made is that if you don't like the status quo in this country, then you are what the media portrays as "the other side". I don't even know for sure what the first side is trying to do. The PR is based on ridicule as much as anything, and half truths fly like projectile vomit.
And the alleged opposition plays at opposing abuses, but then they get as far away from constitutional doctrine as the first group.
Republicans have had the House for awhile. And enough power to do things if they are worth doing. But they do not want half of what they say. The people on both sides are pandering to their own precinct's demographic. Give the people what will keep you in a job.
For that reason, disagreeing with an elected official or the party of that official does not mean you are gung ho in support of the other body of panderers. It is an insult.
Really, look at the old fashioned "stump speech" or bar b que in the park, with bands and carnival-like decorations, pep rally marching band music. This is how people audition for the job of making laws; either protecting or eroding your rights.
Somehow I find the blatant con-man, back slapping bully mentality to be thuggish and plainly disrespectful. But the news and the parties putting on the show continue with this nonsense. They'll pretend seriousness with cookie cutter talking points which permeate the internet, but which are invariably very cleverly skewed. Half truths. But to talk people who can't critically assess the nuances of an argument out of blindly jumping on the bandwagon is a waste of time.
Just get the marching band to strike up a lively rendition of "Happy Days Are Here Again!" yippee.
That and a pack of smokes will buy you a vote or two.
I definitely do not want to join the culture that is developing of people absolutely cutting off friends who support someone they don't like. I'm waiting for someone to be refused when they order a Trump cake of some kind. Then people will point at what happened when bakeries refused to do a wedding cake for same sex couples. It would be interesting, but the divide and attitudes are not interesting. They are ominous.
Seems like someone on facebook had a big post--apparently cut and pasted from a talking point site---saying that if you could support a guy like Trump, you were clearly no longer their friend. That was the bottom line. It went through a litany of Trump offenses, twisting facts where needed. It worked itself into a fit of self righteousness before casting out the evil supporter of he whom you do not support.
People could think whatever they want and still be harmless if actual power of government had been severely limited over the years. But that in itself appears to be a philosophy. Unpopular one. But it stands to reason that the more power it has, the more prone to abuses.
But that also goes for the unsupervised public as they develop resources and such. Few have the integrity to do what is right rather than what provides some form of immediate gain; whether it be money, power, fame, etc. What you end up with is a government fronting for the powerful, even as they pretend to put them in their place and all that. Right and wrong, as far as should be enforced by government is not that complicated, in reality.
But we cleverly developed the habit of making laws so complicated that no one knows what they say or how to comply. That brings in lawyers. Big surprise. What it does is cover how the corrupt collude to use government to lock themselves in in their industry, and lock many others out.
See? Just explaining how I see things in the most general sense, while claiming I am now a-political, has become a lengthy, tedious process.
So, we can conclude that while other material here may be acutely down lifting, maybe it is not a shame that I haven't felt like discussing public affairs.
OK. Here is the real point
Before it gets lost, the real point is that I was touched by the love and concern and generosity of my family on this recent trip. Only once did something which reeked of old trigger patterns come up and I kept silent. Let it go.
But I really did not want the visit to end. I just wanted to live any of those days forever, in a way. Because I found myself like a ship afloat with no rudder and no direction when I got home.
Now my goal is to straighten out some stuff so that I won't have as much risk of being a worry or burden to them. I am cutting the unhealthy dependencies here in SD, and hoping to get this mess in order. I have done it before but apparently, like the other times I quit smoking, it was not quite enough. This time the quit smoking has taken hold for two years. Maybe the dealing with my basic life and clutter/hiding from reality issue will take this time.
But that is the real point; that family showed me something I did not know I had. I wish I could believe in what religions believe. Most of it I just do not. But I do think there is more than meets the eye and that I have had some very extraordinary second, third, etc. chances and breaks. I really want to believe something. I did, kind of, at one time. It helped then.
Be that as it may. I think if I get my life filtered and sorted, I will probably once again move. I'd like to have one of those mini home things that runs on solar and wind, is portable and independent. That would be perfect. The I would write the books I've started and those I have floating around in my mind. Someone my buy it. Or maybe I could write a script.
Who knows. Truth is, without a woman to keep me on course, I may be kidding myself. I think men need women far more than they need us once everyone is over age 40. Just my theory. But it my case I needed them more than they needed me from age 5.
But I really did not want the visit to end. I just wanted to live any of those days forever, in a way. Because I found myself like a ship afloat with no rudder and no direction when I got home.
Now my goal is to straighten out some stuff so that I won't have as much risk of being a worry or burden to them. I am cutting the unhealthy dependencies here in SD, and hoping to get this mess in order. I have done it before but apparently, like the other times I quit smoking, it was not quite enough. This time the quit smoking has taken hold for two years. Maybe the dealing with my basic life and clutter/hiding from reality issue will take this time.
But that is the real point; that family showed me something I did not know I had. I wish I could believe in what religions believe. Most of it I just do not. But I do think there is more than meets the eye and that I have had some very extraordinary second, third, etc. chances and breaks. I really want to believe something. I did, kind of, at one time. It helped then.
Be that as it may. I think if I get my life filtered and sorted, I will probably once again move. I'd like to have one of those mini home things that runs on solar and wind, is portable and independent. That would be perfect. The I would write the books I've started and those I have floating around in my mind. Someone my buy it. Or maybe I could write a script.
Who knows. Truth is, without a woman to keep me on course, I may be kidding myself. I think men need women far more than they need us once everyone is over age 40. Just my theory. But it my case I needed them more than they needed me from age 5.
In Answer to Whomever
Dear Anonymous
I took your advice and removed the last few posts. You didn't exactly say to remove them, but you indicated my narration of my inner conflicts and battle not to let depression and other issues beat me has become a bit too macabre and personal for this venue.
Maybe you are right.
My life and mind exist as if in a novel of the "magic realism" variety. Seriously. That has probably been my battle, and blessing, from the start. Although it is possible all the raps on the head before my skull had properly hardened may have contributed to this odd life experience.
This post originally took a slightly different tack at this point. I hid that, too. You said something regarding whether my aim was cathartic release, suggesting this is the wrong place. Your tone or something angered me. The hint of superiority that the critic at large tends to carry came through I think. But I dislike most criticism anyway.
I've heard people say they welcome "constructive criticism". I don't welcome criticism, period. But I do know it is needed at times. I welcome praise, love and interesting sugar mamas. That latter part is new. As of now.
Then again, maybe you are right. What I am looking for is change I find hard to affect. Maybe that I am looking for miracles. At least today is better than a couple of days ago. It is a cloudy world.
No idea how to ease the anger of my friend. I think that friendship will never be anything but cool from here on out. I have seen how it works. That is why there was no contact for many decades. You never know when you inadvertently make a misstep. I don't think anything I did was so bad, but I think the MO here is to build off of a trigger and freeze the culprit out. I've seen it before and even understood, but I still found the willingness to turn on friends who'd been brought into her world, eyes open, was a little off.
Maybe that is how smart people do it. I tend to hide from people only because I feel I am failing in some way, not because I want to cut the friendship. If people aren't ill intentioned or trying to make me take on their enemies and demons, I don't generally look for transgressions for which to punish them.
I'm still reassessing everything. But no matter what is next, I have to first get over this heavy duty cold thing, and get this life halfway under control. Face the music. Open the mail. Pay the MAN. Etc.
It has been raining like crazy for days here in SoCal. Toward the coastal areas people have been riding paddle boards down the street, getting stuck by driving cars in water that is too deep, and other standard SoCal rain madness. Flash floods happen all over around here when it rains much. At 3000 feet on a hilltop, I am fairly safe. Even in parts of Poway people have to build up sandbag barriers around their houses to keep the water out. It goes down when the rain lets up for awhile.
Nothing like the floods around the Mississippi.
Anyway, Anonymous, I do what I can to try to avoid going completely over the edge. In the original post I said that if you are a guy I wanted to give you a swift kick in the cajones, but if you were female maybe we should get married, because I don't know how else to get back at you. You are probably right but you triggered anger in me anyway.
Another thing I mentioned is that by doing things as I do, maybe I am looking for an undefined safety net, or I am just putting things down so if I kick suddenly, it will be no surprise that this has been a rather troubling struggle for most of my existence. It is what happens when you live in the surreal world and do destructive things without ever getting the point. Like, why would anyone have made that move to NC with the person I did? Obvious that it would never work. And on and on.
Idiot savant, sort of. Or maybe just idiot. There's no fun in that. But I am not an idiot, and all this may lead to being in the right place at the right time to save some dear baby child from a speeding bus or other disaster. I like babies so that would be OK.
If nothing else, those of you who got away know perfectly well that I was your finishing school, helping you through a particular time, preparing you for a wonderful life elsewhere. I absolutely claim credit for my role in your successes.
I took your advice and removed the last few posts. You didn't exactly say to remove them, but you indicated my narration of my inner conflicts and battle not to let depression and other issues beat me has become a bit too macabre and personal for this venue.
Maybe you are right.
My life and mind exist as if in a novel of the "magic realism" variety. Seriously. That has probably been my battle, and blessing, from the start. Although it is possible all the raps on the head before my skull had properly hardened may have contributed to this odd life experience.
This post originally took a slightly different tack at this point. I hid that, too. You said something regarding whether my aim was cathartic release, suggesting this is the wrong place. Your tone or something angered me. The hint of superiority that the critic at large tends to carry came through I think. But I dislike most criticism anyway.
I've heard people say they welcome "constructive criticism". I don't welcome criticism, period. But I do know it is needed at times. I welcome praise, love and interesting sugar mamas. That latter part is new. As of now.
Then again, maybe you are right. What I am looking for is change I find hard to affect. Maybe that I am looking for miracles. At least today is better than a couple of days ago. It is a cloudy world.
No idea how to ease the anger of my friend. I think that friendship will never be anything but cool from here on out. I have seen how it works. That is why there was no contact for many decades. You never know when you inadvertently make a misstep. I don't think anything I did was so bad, but I think the MO here is to build off of a trigger and freeze the culprit out. I've seen it before and even understood, but I still found the willingness to turn on friends who'd been brought into her world, eyes open, was a little off.
Maybe that is how smart people do it. I tend to hide from people only because I feel I am failing in some way, not because I want to cut the friendship. If people aren't ill intentioned or trying to make me take on their enemies and demons, I don't generally look for transgressions for which to punish them.
I'm still reassessing everything. But no matter what is next, I have to first get over this heavy duty cold thing, and get this life halfway under control. Face the music. Open the mail. Pay the MAN. Etc.
It has been raining like crazy for days here in SoCal. Toward the coastal areas people have been riding paddle boards down the street, getting stuck by driving cars in water that is too deep, and other standard SoCal rain madness. Flash floods happen all over around here when it rains much. At 3000 feet on a hilltop, I am fairly safe. Even in parts of Poway people have to build up sandbag barriers around their houses to keep the water out. It goes down when the rain lets up for awhile.
Nothing like the floods around the Mississippi.
Anyway, Anonymous, I do what I can to try to avoid going completely over the edge. In the original post I said that if you are a guy I wanted to give you a swift kick in the cajones, but if you were female maybe we should get married, because I don't know how else to get back at you. You are probably right but you triggered anger in me anyway.
Another thing I mentioned is that by doing things as I do, maybe I am looking for an undefined safety net, or I am just putting things down so if I kick suddenly, it will be no surprise that this has been a rather troubling struggle for most of my existence. It is what happens when you live in the surreal world and do destructive things without ever getting the point. Like, why would anyone have made that move to NC with the person I did? Obvious that it would never work. And on and on.
Idiot savant, sort of. Or maybe just idiot. There's no fun in that. But I am not an idiot, and all this may lead to being in the right place at the right time to save some dear baby child from a speeding bus or other disaster. I like babies so that would be OK.
If nothing else, those of you who got away know perfectly well that I was your finishing school, helping you through a particular time, preparing you for a wonderful life elsewhere. I absolutely claim credit for my role in your successes.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Austin; not just for weird Texans
Other than a case of insomnia, I can't imagine a better first day in Austin. Two little two year old girls and one four year old will cure almost anything. At least when the parents are good and smart and don't raise up junk.
So, this was a good day. The hard part is for me to refuse to let my inner thoughts focus on what a failure I am, and use the success of my brother and both his sons as proof. I failed on purpose, it could be argued. Certainly my actions, decisions, delusions, etc. are responsible for where I am, what I am, and what I am not.
Many influences my have been in play, but that does not change it. And it is unfair to not enjoy such company and hospitality because you think they aren't as tormented and miserable as yourself. Really, that is underhanded and selfish. And, whatever else I may be, I do not have to be that selfish and unkind.
So, putting my own demons away ensures a much more pleasant time. Let's hope I can do that for the duration here.
This cold snap has been perfect for me---helps stave off any weird attacks of pruritus and the thermal heebie jeebies. Maybe it is a Christmas miracle and I am being healed. Sometimes I think so. It is trying anyway. I made the trip without extreme discomfort, embarrassment, or forcing the plane to land to get me out. Huge deal. I do not think it would have been possible a year or even six months ago.
I am learning. And we have become better at balancing dope and blood and what have ya.
Looks like I'll be playing with Valor and Lace for a new year party at Chris' family's barn north of here on Thursday. We shall see.
I saw myself walk away from, and destroy my shot at, this level of life a long time ago. And to this day I do not know why. Blaming alcohol or any of that doesn't truly fly. That was only the symptom of something far deeper. I have destroyed a lot since then, and still no idea why. Not much left to blame except a defective view of life and the living, and myself.
The craziest thing is that I wonder if this means Bolsheviks are right. Some of the crew is way deep in the statist, Obama-is-swell camp. I do not discuss it other than to express my dismay at these lefty lunatics in our midst. But they are so nice and straight dealing in person. They would never tell their friends what to do with their resources. But on the grand scale they have no prob with the state encroaching everywhere.
So, I broke the ice by giving the main Obamabot a golf tee which was carried around by the big O himself, along with other AF1 souvenirs with the presidential seal and signature. A big hit. I loved it.
So, this was a good day. The hard part is for me to refuse to let my inner thoughts focus on what a failure I am, and use the success of my brother and both his sons as proof. I failed on purpose, it could be argued. Certainly my actions, decisions, delusions, etc. are responsible for where I am, what I am, and what I am not.
Many influences my have been in play, but that does not change it. And it is unfair to not enjoy such company and hospitality because you think they aren't as tormented and miserable as yourself. Really, that is underhanded and selfish. And, whatever else I may be, I do not have to be that selfish and unkind.
So, putting my own demons away ensures a much more pleasant time. Let's hope I can do that for the duration here.
This cold snap has been perfect for me---helps stave off any weird attacks of pruritus and the thermal heebie jeebies. Maybe it is a Christmas miracle and I am being healed. Sometimes I think so. It is trying anyway. I made the trip without extreme discomfort, embarrassment, or forcing the plane to land to get me out. Huge deal. I do not think it would have been possible a year or even six months ago.
I am learning. And we have become better at balancing dope and blood and what have ya.
Looks like I'll be playing with Valor and Lace for a new year party at Chris' family's barn north of here on Thursday. We shall see.
I saw myself walk away from, and destroy my shot at, this level of life a long time ago. And to this day I do not know why. Blaming alcohol or any of that doesn't truly fly. That was only the symptom of something far deeper. I have destroyed a lot since then, and still no idea why. Not much left to blame except a defective view of life and the living, and myself.
The craziest thing is that I wonder if this means Bolsheviks are right. Some of the crew is way deep in the statist, Obama-is-swell camp. I do not discuss it other than to express my dismay at these lefty lunatics in our midst. But they are so nice and straight dealing in person. They would never tell their friends what to do with their resources. But on the grand scale they have no prob with the state encroaching everywhere.
So, I broke the ice by giving the main Obamabot a golf tee which was carried around by the big O himself, along with other AF1 souvenirs with the presidential seal and signature. A big hit. I loved it.
Friday, December 25, 2015
One Day and Outta Here
I am not ready, but I better manage to be ready before noon Sunday, because that is when the flight leaves for Austin (via San Francisco). I'd explain the pressure and apprehension, but I won't. T^here is no explanation because all that is self induced and free floating to a large degree.
None of that changes the force of it. It may be a healthy thing. So much is needed in the getting organized and right as rain department. It may not be that hard to fix. I almost have to. Here I am falling apart and people are all over it trying to make me feel real and worthwhile. It is touching and sad at once. But it makes me think I need to get on top of things so I won't be a needy friend.
Tomorrow is work and try to unclutter and prepare for trip, tons of laundry, etc. I'll stay with Pt Loma friends and leave my car on their street. It is how you do it there. That is cool. Everything feels weird lately, like I am in a foggy bubble. There but not there. That is better than melting depression, even though it is probably a manifestation of depression.
It is a trying time. It will be OK. It will be OK. Pay the Man. Fix the clutter. Exercise and be of good cheer. That's the hope of a plan.
None of that changes the force of it. It may be a healthy thing. So much is needed in the getting organized and right as rain department. It may not be that hard to fix. I almost have to. Here I am falling apart and people are all over it trying to make me feel real and worthwhile. It is touching and sad at once. But it makes me think I need to get on top of things so I won't be a needy friend.
Tomorrow is work and try to unclutter and prepare for trip, tons of laundry, etc. I'll stay with Pt Loma friends and leave my car on their street. It is how you do it there. That is cool. Everything feels weird lately, like I am in a foggy bubble. There but not there. That is better than melting depression, even though it is probably a manifestation of depression.
It is a trying time. It will be OK. It will be OK. Pay the Man. Fix the clutter. Exercise and be of good cheer. That's the hope of a plan.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Let's Examine the History of Dimwiticisms in One's Life
Ha! No way am I going to specifically enumerate and elaborate upon my forays into the dark world of "what an idiot" endeavors. However, I can say that I often thought things like, "Oh my God!! I'm 35 and have to start life all over again. I'm too old to ever...blablabla".
I have been reasoning that way since I was 25. One way or another. And I have been stuck in a certain way, under certain conditions (common conditions) for all that time. So, if I now say, "I am too old" or "I am too sick with rare and exotic ills", I will never get anywhere.
I will yet prove to the world that I am somewhat strong and hard core. Wait. That is a lie. I may yet prove that to myself. The world is oblivious to such things for the most part.
Certain aspects of life are similar. Sort of like how the typical human has two arms, eyes, and such. How well those items serve a person varies a great deal. Check your buff bod privilege. You know who you are.
The point is: things are confusing, dismal, neglected, cluttered and confusing again in my life. Facing it all in an organized fashion is probably what has to be done. I freeze. And I have been known to tell myself that it is too late for any sort of stability and domestic bliss.
I have told myself it would be unfair to let anyone in close because I have only pain to offer. I decided that because of my rare but probably manageable disease. But I had other versions of the same thing running in years past. The point is that I copped out. We are here. We exist. We live and life is a very bizarre circumstance. Really. I never would have dreamt it up. Existence itself is really beyond the scope of your highly intellectual forums, like The View, and other authoritative bodies.
So, the point is probably not what people tell you who send others to war, or even the media stuff. There is that grubby sort of greed. Lately, people nail it on the "one percent" but I don't buy it. I have seen what the workplace does to normally moral people of integrity. They will go against all values in the name of "just doing my job", and for no big salary at that. Really, what people will do. The dishonesty, which is a pillar of many institutions and firms, expected of employees is deplorable. Many times the customer service rep is used as a shield while skulduggery is afoot in all the upper levels of management directing policy and behavior of the reps. They get hung out to dry and rather than face their own truth or yours, they find themselves lying. Or enforcing policies, as directed, in ways that make no sense.
That is neither here nor there. Unfreezing and losing the martyr routine and other nonsense, would make me so much happier, and probably healthier, too.
Playing VFW tomorrow--a Christmas party. That's about it. Had great practice over at Sande's. I just happen to really like her songs. I think the right arrangement is the ticket. We should be recording before too long. Even if the arrangement curbs my participation, I am all for the best move for the tune. And I like to see good things get their just due.
If I do this even half way right, it will be a miracle and make life vastly better. What is wrong with someone who has such a hard time doing what is best? Anyone can claim fatigue, etc. Exercise is the best hedge against fatigue and mitigator of chronic fatigue. It can become such a habit that one may react as if he were in the throes of exhaustion when in fact he was in the throes of a behavior rut.
I had some pain free hours and some brief peace of mind. So, it is possible. And probably within reach.
I have been reasoning that way since I was 25. One way or another. And I have been stuck in a certain way, under certain conditions (common conditions) for all that time. So, if I now say, "I am too old" or "I am too sick with rare and exotic ills", I will never get anywhere.
I will yet prove to the world that I am somewhat strong and hard core. Wait. That is a lie. I may yet prove that to myself. The world is oblivious to such things for the most part.
Certain aspects of life are similar. Sort of like how the typical human has two arms, eyes, and such. How well those items serve a person varies a great deal. Check your buff bod privilege. You know who you are.
The point is: things are confusing, dismal, neglected, cluttered and confusing again in my life. Facing it all in an organized fashion is probably what has to be done. I freeze. And I have been known to tell myself that it is too late for any sort of stability and domestic bliss.
I have told myself it would be unfair to let anyone in close because I have only pain to offer. I decided that because of my rare but probably manageable disease. But I had other versions of the same thing running in years past. The point is that I copped out. We are here. We exist. We live and life is a very bizarre circumstance. Really. I never would have dreamt it up. Existence itself is really beyond the scope of your highly intellectual forums, like The View, and other authoritative bodies.
So, the point is probably not what people tell you who send others to war, or even the media stuff. There is that grubby sort of greed. Lately, people nail it on the "one percent" but I don't buy it. I have seen what the workplace does to normally moral people of integrity. They will go against all values in the name of "just doing my job", and for no big salary at that. Really, what people will do. The dishonesty, which is a pillar of many institutions and firms, expected of employees is deplorable. Many times the customer service rep is used as a shield while skulduggery is afoot in all the upper levels of management directing policy and behavior of the reps. They get hung out to dry and rather than face their own truth or yours, they find themselves lying. Or enforcing policies, as directed, in ways that make no sense.
That is neither here nor there. Unfreezing and losing the martyr routine and other nonsense, would make me so much happier, and probably healthier, too.
Playing VFW tomorrow--a Christmas party. That's about it. Had great practice over at Sande's. I just happen to really like her songs. I think the right arrangement is the ticket. We should be recording before too long. Even if the arrangement curbs my participation, I am all for the best move for the tune. And I like to see good things get their just due.
If I do this even half way right, it will be a miracle and make life vastly better. What is wrong with someone who has such a hard time doing what is best? Anyone can claim fatigue, etc. Exercise is the best hedge against fatigue and mitigator of chronic fatigue. It can become such a habit that one may react as if he were in the throes of exhaustion when in fact he was in the throes of a behavior rut.
I had some pain free hours and some brief peace of mind. So, it is possible. And probably within reach.
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About Me
- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
