Not Letting The Holidays Get Me Down

Tonight I realized I am doing good for this time of year. Thing about being an atheist for ME is, things usually get depressing this time of year because most everyone else is out there doing the Christmas thing. Jolly ho ho commercialism! All that Jesus mythology and the worst part is the memories of childhood and youth that flood back and kick me in the back of my gut sometimes. I usually get depressed and freaky weird this time of year. More so than normal 😉

Work has been near death lately. I could see it coming. I found things to do to help my boss keep me going and not make it too hard for him. Happens when you know the factory. The ebba and flow of supply and demand. I had some vacation time left and asked to borrow some from next year. GRANTED!  Yesterday I blew off the Christmas banquet at work and stayed home. I ordered some gifts for myself and my bird. Bird don’t give a damn. That’s cool. Bird seemed to sense my mood yesterday. LOW. Not crazy low but just disoriented with life low. Maybe the bird could sense my body changes from not eating for 30 hours. I fasted that long. Felt good but I kept waking up in the middle of the night looking at the time. If enough time had passed for me to get up and eat. It was a great feeling FEELING some hunger. REAL desire for food. Got up at 5. Ate a simple breakfast. Out for a walk for half an hour. Walking stick tapping away.  Ordered a few operas. Feel like bursting out in hysterical laughter thinking of, “you actually LIKE that stuff?”. Got on the stationary bike for 30 minutes. Laughing my ass off at times looking over at the BIRD watching me. WATCHING ME! Probably not making any judgements but must have been entertaining. 

A big fear having the rest of the year off is blood clots from sitting around. Have had this planned, like a journey. STAY IN MOTION! Get on the bike for just a few minutes. Take a walk or 2 per day. Eat and drink healthy. My new favorite drink is Kombucha! Add enough fruit flavoring and the stuff is passable. 

Tonight I have realized that I DO LAUGH A LOT. I look at the antics of the bird and laugh. I have one way conversations and often laugh at how insane it is. Dammit! Act like you understand me for once! I make the bird look at me funny by singing to it. Off key.  

See WHY I AM DOING SO GOOD?

I am laughing often!

I don’t care if I may sound like a crazy old man.

I don’t care how I look when I go grocery shopping. 

I am not a depressed mess because I am not sleeping with a woman these days.

I am letting go of the past painful memories by simply thinking, “that was then and then is over” or something like that. 

Yeah I am alone again for the holidays. No self pity. I feel great because I am having fun in my own ways. Enjoying my own talking to myself of sorts. My own simple cooking and despite junking a bit I am working on being healthy. 

1 hour walk tomorrow. Got something to prove to myself. 

I can probably find something to laugh about. Inside or outside of me.

Laughter. 

Makes you feel alive and want to be alive for more 🙂

Sometimes, Lost In Time

Sometimes, Lost In Time

“How old are you?” They ask

I stumble,

Laughing 

Not sure.

(I’ve had so many…

Years that is)

Sometimes

Lost in time

I try to remember what year it is

I fall through the cracks of time,

Fumbling 

For this year

Not sure…

Where did the time go

I was a teenager recently, 

47 years ago.

I see a date of an event

I smile absentmindedly thinking,

“That was just recently”

But it wasn’t:

It was a long long time ago.

People I work with remember the names of former workers

I only remember a few

Because I knew so many

And carrying so many gets so heavy

Heavy with time

 

The Price Of A Laugh

How much is a laugh worth?

The kind that shakes the belly

Tears the eyes

Fills you with JOY for a thoughtless moment?

How much is a medicine worth 

That heals you for a moment

Releases you from all past agony

And sets you free

To fly on the wings of your shaking breath and body?

How much is it worth to be the creator of laughter

The joyful soul-freeing kind

That unites people in a family

A group

A tribe 

A World?

How much is that unconditional satisfaction worth to bring on the laughter?

How much pain in a few growling bellies remove

When the mind

Heart and soul

Are tuned into laughter

Into even the weakest grin for a moment?

How much is it worth to be in agony

Or dying

And groan more when someone says….

“Did you hear the one about____” ?

Then hearing it, 

Surprised 

Laughing out of the agony

Out of the dying

Renewed 

Healed 

For but one moment free of it all

Yet a moment free you wouldn’t have had

Had you not heart a good joke

And had… a good healing laugh. 

Death And A movie

When I was a kid I would see an advertisement for a movie and eagerly wait to see it

There was never any doubt I would not.

It was part of life.

Now days, I see the trailer for a movie and I go 

Wow…

I want to see that!

Then, 

I hope I can live long enough  to see that. 

It’s a funny way to look at life

I can’t die now

Or next year

In 2 years THAT movie will be released!

I have to live that long

And then I can see it before I die.

And then another trailer for another film I want to see comes out as I am dying…

Death comes for me as the opening credits come on…

Pardon me death

We can’t go for that walk

I have to blow that date off

I have a movie to watch now before I die

And another in the future.

Rattling a sigh of agreement, 

Death lets me live that long until the end credits

I  suspend my mortality 

So I can live long enough

To finish the movie

Death comes back to see me for a date outside the theater

Grinning I say,

Hey did you see the trailer for that new movie coming out a year from now?

This time let’s go see it together

Death reluctantly agrees.

We see the movie together and death clutches my hand ready to pull me away

and there is a trailer for another movie

One that will be released in say… 50 years time.

Hey death?

See that?

I want to live long enough to see that movie in 50 years.

Death throws up the popcorn and walks out of the theatre

(That’s another movie I wanted to see before I die, 

I whisper to myself laughing

And living as long as there are movies to see)

Aging

Being alive was once so effortless.

The problems came when I fought it,

Making my life miserable by getting in my own way. 

Now,

I step away from myself

To not trip myself

To get in my own way, 

Because life takes so much effort

To stay on my feet

Keep from tripping myself physically, 

instead of emotionally –  like I did so many times in my past.

Life was once only as painful as I made it for my body

Working hard

Partying hard

Playing hard

Battered and bruised for a day then rising like the dear reborn

To do it all again.

Now this body is full of pain from all the play work and party

Battered and bruised from the past

Scars burning hot with pain at times

Joints wagging fingers at me laughing at me for my past excesses

And for trying to do the young man things I still THINK I can do.

Now I have to work so hard to just get up each day

Push the pain away

But in a way it got easier 

Because it’s all practice

(But the pains remain).

What got EASIER in life was… LAUGHTER

Because it’s all PRACTICE

Practice a life of laughter 

And the pain is easier to deal with

The fatigue

The laughing at battles created fought won and lost

The laughing at myself inside and out

Laughing at life

Laughing at how so much that once meant so much,

Now means so little

Smiling about what I once took so much for granted

Now, means so much. 

Bullies And Baddies

Sometimes I wonder about them

I so old now

They….. did they become as old as I?

Who?

The bullies and bad guys of my youth

The thieves

The twisted people with the nice open smiles

Deception clasped tight in their fist behind their backs.

I wonder about that kid that had that odd punk accent

That would hit me and wait for me to hit back

Not doing so,

Seeing me cower from him,

He hit again

And again

And again until…

I wonder whatever happened to him?

I looked for him on Facebook.

On the net

Maybe I should have looked for him in prisons

Or unmarked graves.

Because how we react to bullies and bad guys is about US,

I hope Vincent,

You changed and lived harmlessly ever after. 

I wonder about the group that stole that safe from my basement 

Then looked me in the eye

Stammering their innocence when I knew,

They were guilty as hell.

Like Vincent,

Off the radar.

Hey Dave… I hope you went clean and lived happily ever after.

I wonder about that odd kid that sold me a bag of weeds

LITERALLY WEEDS

When I was so desperate for a high so long ago.

He laughed about it

Laughed at my anger 

But it was a lesson too: Don’t be so fucking HIGH when you want to score shit.

Decades ago I remember meeting one of the most fearsome of the school bullies

Shocking how he pumped my hand smiling

Pulled out his wallet and smiled so broadly showing me photos of his wife and kids.

I still smile at how HE changed so good … so good.

I wonder about the big guy I saw beating a small kid to a pulp

Or so it seemed

When I was in the mental hospital when I was 8.

How an attendant jumped him and held him down crying.

What happened to you big guy bully?

Did you change or end up in prison

Or an early marked grave 

Or just an anonymous grave?

I constantly look around me in life at the bullies

And bad guys

My youth made me know them

See inside

I see them now and laugh a little 

Then shake my head with compassion because

How we deal with the bullies is about US

Not them.

It’s a choice

How we heal and continue on through life

Or let them win … by becoming just a little like them. 

Letting Go

I have spent a life  haunted  by my past. From the big to the small embarrassments, stupids and just plain criminal. I am a man of conscience and that in part is the problem: My conscience and maybe a touch of masochism have combined to kick my ass over and over almost every day of my life. I will remember something and feel a KICK! The past kicks me and I wince at a memory of something I said or did. As the pain of the inner kick subsides, I try to find a way to let it go and hopefully not come back. Some way to deal with it.

I believe that recently I have found it. 

It all comes down to the simple fact that the past is the past. What happened, what was said is in the past. It’s only in the present as a distorted memory. It only has as much impact on us as we want. 

I don’t want it. 

I am tired of it. 

I want to let it go 

Now I do. 

I train myself to let it go. 

I think of something embarrassing that happened and think to myself that THAT happened long ago and that I did not continue doing THAT or saying THAT. Whatever was painful THEN I STOPPED DOING AND SAYING. 

I learned.

I changed.

Hey do you remember me from THEN and what I SAID BACK THEN?

I am not that person anymore. 

I don’t have a reckless big mouth anymore.

I am not that drunk some knew.

I am not the druggy guy.

I am not that insecure self obsessed person I WAS.

I lived

I learned

I CHANGED. 

Going forward in life, 

I saw the changes I needed to make to myself.

I became the sculptor and the clay OF the sculptor

Shaping myself with my own mind

Own decisions

As to who and what I became and am now.

There is no need to feel guilt for what I did

Who I was. 

There no positive reason to beat myself for what I did long ago

That few remember

And if they did…

I changed.

Over and over I shed my inner skin to become my own new invention

Evolution 

I grew-up

I still try

What would have been a truly horrible thing is if I did not change

I kept on doing the same stupid things over and over as I aged.

I used to think I was a failure for my past

No I am not: I changed.

Failure is NOT changing and being the same person you were in your past

An older mirror image of an asshole and fuckup

And that ain’t me now

That ain’t me

Hey momma I’m ok 

‘Cause I grew up 

I changed for the POSITIVE 

Over and over …

And when I am dead,

I hope I can keep on rolling

Spinning and changing

Becoming a BETTER in what comes after…

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust 

But new improved ashes

Dust …. 

The Hunter

The owner of my company is a great white hunter. 

He is white 

He is great

He is a hunter.

He hunts those defenseless harmless animals that we in the USA refer to as “deer”. They have no weapons to fight back with against humans with guns, bows and arrows and maybe even spears. 

Poor bastards. 

Then again maybe deer are very harmful to some. Maybe some of them cause accidents by jumping in front of cars on the roads thus often killing or maiming themselves. (I saw one such very messy one today.) Ah and the fields and gardens they eat from! Oh and they over populate! STOP FUCKING SO MUCH DEER! MAKES SO MANY OF YOU TO POSSIBLY STARVE TO DEATH; GET KILLED BY HUNTERS OR DIE TRYING TO CROSS ROADS!

Where was I?

Oh yeah…

The owner killed a dear, had the animal butchered and brought the meat in to work offering the flesh to the workers. He offered me some of the brownish red flesh but I declined. I have fond memories of my father THE HUNTER. The “fond” part is of how dad would go hunting and go for a CLEAN MERCIFUL KILL. He would then honor the animal by using as much as he could of the animal’s body. Like the Indians used-to do.

I am not fond of deer meat BUT!

BUT!

I wish The Great White Hunter would take up… TURKEY hunting. I love the taste of turkey. Wild turkeys have richer flesh than domesticated. The turkey probably finds it’s flesh very rich especially when the flesh is alive and running very happy living as a live turkey.  It would be great if the Hunter would enter the factory with TURKEYS he had shot or maybe just scared to death and offered me one. 

Hey I like CHICKEN TOO….

I can easily imagine (with much giggling) the company owner coming in with many chicken bodies and bragging about how he went to a farmers farm and SHOT HIM SOME CHICKENS! YEP! STOOD THERE IN THAT FARMERS CHICKEN COOP SHOOTING CHICKENS!

Ahhhh sportsmen, the Great American Hunter.

You know…. I like delicatessen honey roasted ham…

It would be cool if the Hunter came into the factory offering packages of honey roasted ham to people with … a farmer hunting him with a shot gun for shooting his pig, chickens and scaring those wild turkeys to death out in the woods…

Never tried ostrich.

Heard that is some amazing flesh to eat.

Now THERE’S AN IDEA!

I need to go up to the company owner and say, Hey ___? Have you ever hunted… OSTRICH? Now I hear THOSE birds are some good eating and maybe they’ll let you ride them first then go BOOM BOOM!

Don’t think he would like that.

Probably think I was ridiculing him…. 

Like ummm now…. 

Some Thoughts On Music In My Life

When I was young, I listened to rock n roll and never questioned the lyrics. I just grooved on the sound of it. I sang along with the rocking songs and thought the lyrics were so cool because it was rock and it was cool! THESE WERE MY GODS! Never question the gods. Never question the meaning of the words they scream and shout.

Eventually I did.

I still listen to rock songs.

I still groove on it                           but, 

Because long ago I questioned and LISTENED TO WHAT THE HELL THEY WERE SAYING and read the lyrics …

I realized so much of what the rock gods sang and yelled was just total shit. It was even embarrassing to think I was going around singing along or just singing the rock songs because I thought there was something great to it all. My adolescent young man religion.

Laughable now.

I thought the rockers were so WISE. They were talking to the youthful condition! They knew all about love and relationships and life!

Bullshit. 

Kids just older kids than I.

Sometimes a real songsmith would come along. Craft something that was a good story. Not just a cavalry charge through a pub. Good lyrics that were like reciting a great story. 

Which is how so many songs WERE in the past. 

Take for example what I am listening to now: AN OPERA. A movie sung and played on instruments. Long ago they did not have cameras and such to show a story. Instead, someone would sit for sometimes YEARS to write lyrics to a story and either they or someone else would add music to it. Just like how many songs are made now. But opera… damn OPERA! Not just one song but song after song and bits of music that were like mini symphonies. 

True Genius.

No guitar or drum solos.

People with finely trained voices that could read and sing the musical notes they read on a page of music.  Not just making shit up or playing and singing by ear something they heard and then playing it over. 

I have no idea WHAT that woman is singing about in my headphones as I listen to an opera now. I DO KNOW that it is part of a story carefully composed. The story may be corny bullshit but it is a real story. Carefully crafted with music added to it. Now I hear a harp … ahhhh… then an orchestra and soon a singer will go solo…. Ahhhh there it is! A rich baritone accompanied by a cello and harp.

Brilliance.

A woman sings and then a man joins in. They sing back and forth – a conversation in soaring beautiful voices. I have no idea what they are singing but I know it is part of some story.  Often romantic. A movie for the EARS SOUL AND HEART.  Sound that does not make you want go beat someone but sound to make you want to find a cure for cancer with it’s beauty.

So many of the songs and artists of my youth were repetitive and copied each other. Whatever it takes to get a good selling hit. Same now with the rap artists. I find it difficult to write or refer to them as “artists”. That seems to be a current view of them. I find it all repetitive and non musical. No MUSIC to it. Yelling chanting talking with constantly recycled lyrics changed a little to not be cause for a law suit. RHYME used to jumble the words together but not tell any good story. So many not questioning it because….

It’s cool.

And you don’t question the words and lyrics of your gods. 

My new gods are old and dead but alive still in the brilliant music they crafted often 200 years ago. The stories are retreads through the years.  They are real STORIES. Dialog sung back and forth and often in chorus. 

Audio movies.

Plays with music.

I have to laugh at myself now.

I once listened to rock music and loved it with trite often nonsensical lyrics that I rarely understood but held so high because my gods sang them. 

NOW I listen to opera and classical I have a deep love for with probably corny trite lyrics I do not know because I only know English and so many operas are in German, French or Italian. The LANGUAGES the operas are sung in have a beauty to them. Even though I do not know what the lyrics mean, I trust they are good. I can look for the libretto (text of an opera) and I will some day. But for now, I trust it to be brilliant. I trust it and imagine so and so pouring their LIVES into writing the words and music to it. Yes they did it for money but it sometimes took YEARS to make a finished sellable performable product.  It is amazing to me now. It’s not like some someone sketching a few words and lyrics that often rhyme any meaning out  but making a cool sounding song that some person may walk down the street sounding stupid by singing along with it. 

Yeah, like I used-to…

And sometimes still do 

Then find ecstasy in something that often took massive effort and brilliance to create long long ago.

On This Thanksgiving Day, I AM THANKFUL REGARDING TRUMP

(Posted in a liberal group)

On This Thanksgiving Day, I AM THANKFUL REGARDING TRUMP

No I am not a troll. Bear with me on this…

We are closer than ever to a madman destroying us all so more than ever I am grateful to be ALIVE and not dying of radiation burns or sickness or just plain DEAD. ASHES.

I am more grateful than ever to those like you, the reader that stand-up to fascist bastards like trump and his friends and supporters.

AWARE that because of this sonofabitch being in office, life is more fragile and possibly fleeting than ever, I am thankful for the most simple of joys in life.

I am thankful for how the BEST in many of us is rising and manifest to counter the WORST that is trump and those that work with him and support him.

Trump as president is a near death experience for us ALL every day every moment. Along with the anxiety and rage of him AS leader, there is that profound gratitude of SHIT YEAH THAT ASSHOLE DID NOT KILL US ALL!

YET.

I am more thankful than ever for you and others – ordinary people – that stand-up to the rising fascists.

I look forward to a day when I don’t have to be so thankful for all the wrong reasons.