Lost in Translation

"treat me like a fool...."

2007-01-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

.... "treat me mean & cruel, but love me".

i have been on hiatus for many weeks, ok months, not sure this avenue of expression was a worthy cause any longer. however, this week a casual friend of mind posted something that inspired me to pick up the pen again & reminded me of the demise of 1 of my boyhood idols. ok, ok, OK.... he's still my idol & i want to pass, then pass away just like he did, just as a king should- on a throne (or sorts)!

this week was all about "the king" for me. we celebrated elvis turning 72, & we remember the infamous meeting with president nixon in the oval office ("e" forgot to check his silver-plated revolver at the door that day.... anyone could have made the same mistake). growing up i always felt as if i could vicariously experience what he must have been feeling. not the celebrity or accolades or adoration, but the internal struggles he faced- his demons. for whatever strange sense of kinship i felt, i really believed that if i had been part of the posse, the entourage, the "memphis mafia".... i could have, i would have, saved his life.

i guess at some point in our lives we all relate to someone of celebrity stature & believe they would relate just as much to us had they just been given the chance to know us.... then we grow up & put the bong on the shelf.

happy new year "e" (wherever you are).... "break my faithful heart, tear it all apart, but love me".

"they say it's your birthday...."

2006-07-26T16:35:00.000-07:00

".... happy birthday to you"- "little sister".

we have grown so far apart since our parents divorced & pasted away. i remember how close we were as kids. even during the little fights that all siblings have, we never gave up on each other. i remember how you would look up to me to be your big brother, guardian hero, & how i insisted on protecting my little sister, her honor, & keeping her from harm's way. i miss those feelings of caring dependency. in my world today, everyone close to me just seems to want what i can give them, not wanting me for me.

i miss you & i'm sorry time has watched us drift apart.... you will always be my little sister to protect.

".... i'm glad it's your birthday, happy birthday to you!"

"don't cry daddy, please don't cry...."

2006-07-20T18:35:00.000-07:00

yesterday was the 4th anniversary of my father's death. i can't remember what i've published in prior blogs, but my dad & me were estranged.... he divorced my mom when i was 16 & i blamed him totally- from him, no talk, no phone call, just a brief note basically saying "i'm out of here". materially, he left me $500 & a kiss-my-ass will.... or his 2nd family did. whatever

last night, i cried for about an hour or so. then i prayed, i prayed that he would know i forgive him, but moreover, i prayed that he would forgive me.

i love you daddy.... see you on the other side.

to everything a season....

2006-05-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

.... turn, turn, turn- & then a page. the birth-right ritual of celebrating one's first breath & slap on the face (or in this case, bum) seems less important this year than in those past. i fear complacency has set in, which speaks volumes. do as i say, not as i do.... celebrate every day as your first,

.... & your last.

.... put another dime in the jukebox, baby!

pink floyd was so 70's & so clueless: "money,....

2006-04-06T15:21:00.000-07:00

.... get away. get a good job with good pay and you're okay." yeah, right. whatever. yet they managed to get 1 lyric right.... "money, it's a hit. don't give me that do goody good bullshit."

the only thing i've really learned about work & money over the years is that there always seems to be too much of one & too little of the other- you guess which is which. i know, so irritatingly cliche. find something else to complain about you loser. ok, time. cost too much & too little of it. peace. too ambiguous & seemingly impossible to fulfill. no.no.no.no!!!! money. i would so love to exist for a day without that universally accepted vehicle for commerce. not uttered. not seen. not used. so much strife over it. always, forever & a day. whatever.

"money, so they say, is the root of all evil today. but if you ask for a raise it's no surprise that they're giving none away.".... hey buddy, spare a grand.

p.s. i'm sorry. please forgive me & allow me to offer a more pleasant ending. let's go back a decade when life moved at a slower pace. remember the beatles! remember their tribute to the tax man...."should five percent appear too small, be thankful I don't take it all, cause i'm the tax man".

there. if you are like me, moving into the 2nd week of april without having yet completed your federal income tax return, you should feel much better now. 5% my ass. losers!

p.s.s. my apologies. i beg your indulgence while i attempt to "redeem my soul, & fly". let's go back yet another decade to much simpler times. shall we? we shall. remember elvis! remember his tribute to the promise- if i can dream (yes, he & mlkj were tight).... "if i can dream of a better land, where all my brothers walk hand in hand, tell me why, oh why, oh why can't my dream come true. there must be peace and understanding sometime, strong winds of promise that will blow away all the doubt and fear. if I can dream of a warmer sun, where hope keeps shining on everyone tell me why, oh why, oh why won't that sun appear."

there. if you are like me, & you can't sleep long enough to dream anything because you are consumed with worry about money & taxes, you should feel better now. stupid fried-peanut-butter-&-banana-sandwich-eating loser!

money. whatever. money.

are these people for real?....

2006-03-29T17:17:00.000-08:00

.... i selfishly refuse to believe otherwise. quite by accident, on those pathetic evenings abroad, i sometimes wonder the tablets of other bloggers minds. again without premeditation or intent (& yes i "plead the 5th"), i have encountered a rare few that are charming- & british!!! one i find most fascinating is an american literally inundated in our "motherland's" education & period experience. touting irish descent, i so envy the proximity to the emerald isle calling me home.

i often wonder (well, 'often' may to a bit of a stretch, but the word just fell smartly off the key board) what it would be like to have the capacity to sort of live a virtual life based on some of these mind releases. what would happen if co-existing with, just for example of course, the enchanting american "LOST" in the united kingdom was positively overwhelming- sensory, intellectual, & emotional meltdown. then, consider what if.... what if not? one could vicariously live multiple, concurrent existences then to cherish each moment as if another birth. let's call it 'immortality for a day', shall we. ok, we shall.

geez, dude, get a freeking grip! "houston, we have a problem".... too many viewings of fantasia for this cosmonaut! i think i'll just go out back & spit in the yard- same thing. virtual life my ass. no, these people only exist in cyberspace. ok, i'm back.... or am i?

big boys don't cry, big boys don't cry, big boys don't cry....

2006-02-22T09:44:00.000-08:00

.... or do they? i typically resist those witchy-woman type emails that are the electronic equivalent of the old "chain letter", but i received one from a friend today that was so remarkably timely, i thought i would break tradition (& common sense for most non-3rd world countries) & post it:

"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. So send this to all of your friends (and me) in the next 5 minutes and a miracle will happen tonight."

The words that struck a highly exposed, ultra-sensitive, freakishly feminine nerve were.... "You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love".... for me, it was a night re-lived.... last night in fact.

So, do big boys cry?.... or maybe a better question is: when do you actually become a boy too big to cry?

is it groundhog day, again?....

2006-02-21T17:00:00.000-08:00

.... not unlike the little guy from punxsutawney, penn., i was inspired to stick my head out just a wee bit to sample the season for a possible turn ( i learned this past week my lineage has a handsome vein of irish blood in it- hence, the "wee bit" bit (i feel it)). my inspiration to take a peek at the world again came from a fond memory on a sad anniversary. again, just as phil must feel (i'm on a roll now).... is 6 more weeks of winter a harsh reality or simply a sign hope springs eternal (wow, i'm on fire here).... a memory not quite weathered as the 'dead of winter' is surely only a gopher gaffe (ouch, just lost it) away from becoming 'all things new' again.

a week late at that, but if you were born on valentines day, had your first kiss on valentines day, wed on valentines day, gave birth on valentines day, or lost your heart on valentines day.... love each day as valentines day. now, you go ahead & do that- i feel at least 6 more weeks of uninspired slumber ahead.

if only i knew then what i know now....

2006-01-11T16:08:00.000-08:00

.... burned another one- happy new year. a time of year when all things are possible & everything is anew. a time when we make resolutions based mostly on what we either know now that we wish we had known then, or motivated by behaviors we knew had plenty of room for improvement last year (and the year before, and the year before, etc.). now we can rationalize those realizations long since past as indigenous resolve only one year removed.... ah, caught it just in time to fix it- no harm done.

i'm not big on new year's resolutions, so i typically resolve to avoid resolutions. what i feel most this time of year is not resurrected hope, not revitalization & vigor, not new found enthusiasm for possibility.... I just feel tired.

welcome 2006. any year is better than no year at all. & maybe, just maybe, "this is my break-out year".... whatever that means. i mean what does one break out of & consequentially break into? worth spending another year trying to find out, i suppose.

tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of my mother's death. i guess going forward & forever, that will be the most prominent thought as i enter each new year. it seems like a life-time ago. we were so close when i was a kid & there is nothing she would not do for me.... i miss her so much more than i ever thought i could.

i wish i knew then what i know now.... i would have appreciated & savored the precious time we had together even more than i do now. i love you mom.

no words to describe....

2005-12-07T14:20:00.000-08:00

.... the elation & the pure, unadulterated joy i can now relish- no cancer cells found after the operation on 'my baby girl'!!!.... Merry Christmas to me!

"i'm back in the saddle again, i'm back!!!...."

2005-12-01T15:40:00.000-08:00

took a bit of a sabbatical- 3 months - but i think i'm back now.... for awhile anyway. no biggy, just m.i.a., you know, "lost in translation."

the motivation for 'returning to my post' today is my daughter- my baby girl. she has surgery tomorrow to determine if her melanoma cancer has spread. i'm so desperately lost on this one. i have been reading the old crap i posted before. at least at the time i thought it was crap, but now maybe it seems a bit more introspective, a bit more insightful, or maybe i just like myself a little more now. i love my daughter so. i have now read my life. she has not yet had the chance to write hers. i offer mine for hers to whomever governs such things. please.

sorry, you still get a dash of the same ole, same ole: ".... half way there, ...., living on a prayer"- for my baby girl.

enough....

2005-09-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

.... said.

if the planet is turning, why am i standing still?....

2005-08-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

.... & recently, with each passing day, it feels more & more like the life experiences, encounters, & possibilities that should be prospective hope are in reality 'could have been', 'would have been' lost causes. i'm losing ground- at best standing still.

i'm also no longer sure this blog is anything more than an exercise in futility. it started out as a chance for me to step back after the fact & get some sort of insight into what i'm thinking (& why) & moreover who i really am as an individual. you know the whole 'get in touch with yourself' thing. i would have more success getting in touch with myself masturbating.... that's what this posting feels like: mental masturbation! you would think that implies there are some feel-good qualities about doing it, but it seems i've heard that phrase used in a negative connotation too. you see, i can't even figure that much out. no one is listening including me. i'm not sure i am learning anything about myself, & going through the motions to find out it is only getting more frustrating.

i have this whole obsession of wrestling with myself over 'why this?', 'why that?', 'why not this?', 'why not that?' i suppose i have difficulty accepting things as they are & moving forward (gee, you think?).... hence, standing still. someone told me recently that "my thoughts are scattered." for this venue, i thought that was ok. a way of expressing myself without hesitation, editing, or purpose. just ramble & then revisit what comes out to see if it is anything more than psycho-babble or thought-vomit. evidently my scattered thoughts have yet a farther reach. they influence my ability to communicate feelings, develop relationships, & realize those things i have already mentioned as lost opportunities. if i could step far enough back into my ancestry, i'm sure i could find a simple-minded man (yet very much at peace with himself) that might suggest of me: "ya know, that boy just ain't right."

i lost an opportunity to make a good friend.... how can it feel like something is so lost that never really was? i'm afraid i'll be asking 'why?' for longer than is healthy to do so. there are days when i swear i'm on the can't-help-but-fall-over-the-top peak of an amazing struggle to breakthrough in terms of becoming comfortable with who i am, where i am, & what i am.... having hope for me to find that feels-good-to-be-me when i wake up in the morning. today is not the day. just more scattered thoughts.

it is what it is. "time marches on, time marches on...."

momma's boy?....

2005-08-18T09:29:00.000-07:00

.... i suppose that would have accurately described me for many years of my young life, but not in the traditional sense of the phrase. i was just very close to my mother. even so, i never had the kind of relationship that carried the social stigma of "momma's boy". my sister and i were military brats of a career air force sergeant & career housewife. as such, we never really enjoyed a great deal of unnecessary amenities in life. yet i can not remember ever doing without anything we needed to get by comfortably. my mother gave me more attention than i deserved or earned, she always made me feel like i was special, & she made sure i was well taken care of. today my mother would have been 75.... however, she's no longer of this world. i loved my mother so very much, but i'm struggling with the reality that she did not know just how much. i said it often enough, but my actions in support of her during her last years on this earth would leave a lot of room for doubt.

my father divorced by mother when i was 16.... same old cliche 'cheating on the wife with the secretary' story you can find in so many black & white movies. in fact that time in my life was black & white, but mostly grey- no pleasant colors of a blooming existence. but this is not about me, it is about trying in a very insignificant way to honor & pay a much warranted tribute to the most generous, courageous, and kind woman i have ever known- bar none. after the divorce my mom had to find employment in the workforce for the first time in her life. she held down minimum wage jobs for several years. then late in life my mother developed a debilitating disease that caused her to succumb long-term disability & early retirement- basically no retirement benefits at all. the nature of her disease was like a brain mass that spread to the point of impairing her memory. this loss of memory lead to overdoses of medications, or forgetting to take them at all, which resulting in several hospitalizations within a very short period of time. this eventually lead to me to having to make the decision to place her in assisted living. from there it digressed to nursing homes & ultimately hospice care. then she just died.

i think everyone should live to be 75. even as i try to rationalize this statement knowing there are children all over the world that will never reach their 5th birthday for unconscionable reasons, i still feel my mother deserved to see this day. having said that, her quality of life was so poor, it is the crutch i use to justify my belief she is now in a better place. she never owned a new car.... she never owned her own home (living in government assisted apartments).... she never was able to leave home with the exception of occasional visits to my home or my sister's when we would provide the transportation- she broke her leg in the last 10 years of her life & it never healed properly, ultimately leaving her wheelchair bound. she could never afford nice clothes & actually wore a good deal of hand-outs from people that knew her needs. recognizing all of these material limitations, again, she was the most generous person i have ever known & would do without even the very little she had to give to others. we now come full circle & this description of her existence since the divorce begs the question: why didn't i do more to help give her a better lifestyle? i was always giving her gifts (mostly necessities of life) & i helped pay for her assisted living expenses until she passed away. at the time i thought i was striking a fair & compassionate balance between her needs & those of my immediate family.

in retrospect, i can now see i was very selfish & prejudice towards by family.... i'm so ashamed of how i allowed her to live her last years. the selfish motivation was even more unacceptable. as long as i can remember, i was always trying to please my dad. as bizarre & demented as it now seems, i am his name-sake (a 'jr.'). so, i desperately craved his approval. i strived to excel at every thing i did as a kid & teenager to obtain his praise & love. it never came because i was not participating in things that were meaningful to him. on the other hand, my mother would always make sure i knew how proud she was of me & she would always boast about me. i was so obsessed with gaining the approval of my father that after he abandoned us (literally) & when i became an adult, i became consumed with a passion to show my father how much better i was than he would acknowledge (& yes, even a more successful & better person than him). so much so that i now see all too late that i lost my perspective of what was important. it should not have been having a nicer car, a bigger house, & making more money than my father ever had, it should have been providing a decent lifestyle for my mother. giving her the opportunity to maintain some common dignity during her demise. i was drunk with revenge on my father that i never realized the cost to my mother. i don't think a room full of therapists could ever remove the guilt i now feel. my mom deserved so much more than she ever had, & yet she never asked for more. she was actually quite content.... so why does that make me so very sad?

momma's boy?.... ubetcha- i could not be more proud to say so. happy 75th birthday mom.

taking care of business....

2005-08-10T16:15:00.000-07:00

.... even though just last week i conceded it was important to keep a promise to yourself, not totally unlike a resolution but less ambiguous in commitment, i'm not sure i'm getting the weekly return (sanity, reflection, clarity, purge, introspection) on my investment (posts). since i have been 'taking care of business', & it appears that the mental down time & wherewithal is not present to continue at this pace, this placeholder post is the best i can do this week. nice talking to you- or me.

.... back to 'taking care of business, every day....'

is a promise really a promise?....

2005-08-04T15:58:00.000-07:00

.... even if it's just to yourself? i promised myself i would post at least once a week if for no other reason than as a measure of therapy. clear the mind. cleanse the soul. mend the heart. there,done.

ok, one short story from my inspired side. i went to a local dinner-club here in austin last night with some friends.... well people i know. as you may have heard, this town lays claim to being the "live music capitol of the world", & i have taken very little advantage of my access to the abundance of local talent. a group of 4 singer/song writers were performing sets of original compositions. it was incredible. incredible for 1 reason. chelle murrey. she has an unbelievable golden voice with tremendous range, incredibly compelling lyrics, angelic & yet vibrant acoustic guitar, and a positively magnetic stage presence. this cowboy's hat is off. i love live music. i love music. it is really about the only constant source of social experience for which i can always rely on a 'feel good'. so, my sincere thanks to chelle & all the other troubadours of this planet (past & present) for helping me register a pulse.

ok, ok, one more really short one. remember the body shop i frequent for physical restoration? you know the one, 'austin powers' would be a 'gold member' ((geez, some times i try to be so clever that a read-back even nauseates me.... 'is it any wonder' (david bowie.... note to self: stop it!) no one comments on my ramblings, but then again that's not really the point of it all, now is it)). whatever. anyway, remember the magic seat! well, the baton has been passed. the magic seat is now to be found upstairs, 2nd seat on your left. like a glove i tell you!!! 'A'mazing!

.... yes, a promise is really a promise- especially if it's to yourself.

what can i say....

2005-07-27T15:12:00.000-07:00

.... no really, seriously, literally, what can i say? just another day....

ok, wait, here's something that just comes to mind. talk about a random mental meltdown of extraneous thoughts- this has no foundation or context whatsoever!

when i was a little kid, my mother would put me in a dark closet to punish me. at times, i very much still feel like i'm in that closet, not sure whether to worry more about what i've done wrong or what may be going on outside of that closet. am i still being punished? who will open the door now that my mother is gone. i think i may need some very heavy duty jumper cables attached to my temples and a peterbuilt battery. no, maybe not. after all, it was shock treatment that took the 'closet key' away from me in the first place.

wtf. why am i even thinking about this at all? worse yet, nobody is listening to this voice in my head but me anyway. wait, what voice in my head?.... hey, is there somebody in here with me?.... please!!! turn on the light!!!

what can i say.... "just another day for you and me- in paradise."

"i can see clearly now, the rain is gone...."

2005-07-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

.... but i can not yet "see all obstacles in my way". btw, have you detected what many may view as my unnatural prolific tendency to express myself through popular music lyrics (or once popular.... that in & of itself accentuates the purpose of this post). odd? maybe. yet i would be willing to wager my electronic authoring tactics to be intriguing for those who enjoy connecting the thought dots. otherwise, i apologize for my cryptic, disjointed writing style.... again, it is based on a thought pattern- not a literary design.

this musical theme line is an attempt to suggest that i feel like i may be turning a corner, coming in out of the rain if you will, in the rediscovery, rebirth, and/or reincarnation of myself (i love to use the 'and/slash/or' thing.... i don't know why, but maybe it's because it just helps to cover all the bases). although i still suffer from a bit of psychological consternation & emotional constipation on this issue, i can feel the much needed urge in my intellectual bowels to 'dump' some of the let's-get-back-into-life-paralyzing baggage.... break out a fresh new double roll of charmin for this pooper scooper project!

my "bridge over troubled waters" (sorry, can't help myself) is coming to terms with, and moreover embracing, my age. not so much my actual age as this season of my life. society tends to stereotype this cross-roads time as a 'mid-life crisis.' so cliche. & who's to say when you are mid-life or in a crisis. what if i decide to fly to syria, strap 30 pounds of explosives to my body, & drive myself into one of those gdmf terrorist training camps? mid-life for me would then have been 15 years ago.... now that's a crisis! i have been feeling resentment towards my 'gatherer' role with respect to relationships & responsibilities that i have since expressed as having consumed my life & my very being. the reality is that these things are not keeping me from reinventing myself. they define who i am. they are my life choices coming to fruition. now, once i can swallow that pill (& keep it down.... i've been vomiting up my internal conflict a lot lately), i will have crossed over to a state of hopeful acceptance versus one of futile rebellion. hey 'bobby'.... are you listening!!!!!

i don't feel my age. does anyone? i would also suggest that I don't 'act my age', but again that seems so cliche. we tend to encourage our children's behavior to be more responsible & mature, & we tend to encourage our senior citizen's behavior to be more spontaneous & vibrant. so if that makes sense, how should i behave. for as long as i choose to remember, i always seemed to be the youngest adult in the room.... the youngest parent, the youngest professional, the youngest neighbor. one day that i could not even begin to place, i looked around & none of those things were true anymore. when i look thru my eyes from the inside out (well, i guess there is no other option now is there- but you know what i mean), at the world around me, i still feel much younger than i really am. unfortunately something like a mirror can shock you into 'the now', even though you feel in 'the then.' or, just someone you recently met casually asking your age over a beer will bring things back into focus very rapidly. i suppose the event that brought me to this moment of clarity was hearing a discussion about someone's 'legacy.' if you begin to even just contemplate your own personal legacy, it is time to cross over mentally & emotionally. youth has escaped you permanently, never to return regardless of how you feel or what you see of yourself in your mind's eye.

i now understand that the key to my future happiness & fulfillment is contingent upon my capacity to face the season of my life- & my legacy. i'm starting to think you spend the first half of your life trying to make your marks on this world, & the second half trying to redeem yourself from those marks you realize will become scares upon those you leave behind- your legacy. "yes, i can see clearly now the rain is gone...." i can see 'an' obstacle in my way. unfortunately i didn't bring an umbrella on this trip, so please excuse me while i put on a fresh change of clothing.

please don't shoot the messenger....

2005-07-12T16:54:00.000-07:00

.... for he may be well intended & the message not his own thought, but more his will. his voice speaking unbridled from within, unedited by the mind, never intended to be heard as words, but rather sensed as feelings. yet what is intended though it be sincere, innocent, & albeit clumbsy, i suppose such intentions are at best only happenings that never were.... let the need for expression be well warned.

what i just said?.... who knows?.... ask the voice.

once again, it's all lost in translation anyway.

stick a fork in me, i'm done....

2005-07-06T15:29:00.000-07:00

.... a celebratory phrase not uncommon to this time of year when like our chromosomal carnivorous ancestors we all gather around a large hot fire, burn animal flesh, & eat until we can mark our territory from a horizontal position. then we light explosives around mass quantities of volatile alcohol until we see colors in the sky. i mean didn't the native americans accomplish the same thing with a modest camp fire, a blanket, & a peace pipe. i digress. yes, the 4th of july.... auh, how much more primitive does it get? how i long for the days of caves. btw, what is so great about being independent.... is that not just another word for lonely?

at this point in my life i think it would be a better existence to worry more about avoiding becoming some thing's lunch (t-rex comes to mind) than to worry about providing lunch. this 'gatherer' thing is wearing on me big time & i just can't seem to shake it. it seems like so much give and so little take. but is that in & of itself the reward? you know, 'tis better to give than receive(sorry, wrong holiday)? is that my point, my purpose, my source of happiness? could be worse i suppose, but 'tammy tell me true'.... how does one measure self-worth & gratification within your own being? it is by that which one can provide or by that which one reaps (hey & btw2, is it true that 'you reap what you sew'?.... then where are all of the perfect women that should have spouted up from my sister's barbies i buried in the back yard that summer?) summer time, sweet summer.... that was, is, might be, my favorite time of year. no, i think fall.

where was i. oh yea, here. i had a real problem with my 4th o' july bbq guest list. i was the problem. you see i had already accepted what seemed to be a standing invitation to my own very exclusive pity party blow-out extravaganza, so i was just not available- a simple scheduling conflict. i tried to resolve the miscue, but i just did not seem to be able to cross over to the other side. "alone again, naturally" (for all you groovy gilbert o'sullivan fans) . this happiness thing is so over rated; otherwise, we could buy it in cartons or 6-packs- right? i am seriously so desperate for the answer, an answer, any answer....

where did i park my car when i crashed this pity party- who has my keys?.... is happiness in kansas toto? anybody got a clue because you can stick a fork in me.... i'm done!

every rose has its thorn....

2005-06-21T15:43:00.000-07:00

.... and every day has its dawn.

today's dawning was ambivalent. was today to be a good day? maybe yes, maybe no. no clear signs.... no hope springs eternal with each new summer (worst play on words ever).... nothing motivating the day forward to new anticipated horizons or old cherished sunsets.

this medium is quickly becoming a god-sent.... otherwise i would readily be dismissed as the babbling village idiot.... the brain-dead buffoon walking the streets talking to himself. but you know the old saying about people that talk to themselves.... they are always in the best of company! that saying sucks.

time well spent? i think just time spent. as my mother would have said on one of her less enthusiastic days (of which she tried hard to make few & far between).... "it was a day." in my case "it just was."

this was not my best day. not my time. but tomorrow, it will be my time. time to wake up & smell the coffee.... anybody got a dime for a good cup of joe? did i just say that?.... maybe the next day.

lightning strikes twice....

2005-06-14T16:10:00.000-07:00

.... what are the odds? i have a close personal friend who has experienced this phenomenon first hand & lived to tell about it. the first round of bolts hit him.... the following strikes hit his house.... actually, both happened in his house- days apart. it was one hot summer day in a small sleepy texas town....

but before we continue, may i mix you a 'drink for disaster'? why would one ask for such a volatile cocktail? first you must be willing to drink from the cup to appreciate the contents.... & second, you may really need a drink after wading through this pathetic posting. the concoction for this concussion is 1 part history, 1 part suspicion, 1 part rage (i'm talking 'rage against the machine' in techno-color), & 10 parts makers mark.... heat to brew. now let's indulge in this tasteless vintage vicariously, shall we? we shall.

my friend and his not so better half (let's just call her the other half- or 10%, whatever) had been toiling with yard duty for several hours, keeping cool in the unforgiving sweltering heat with a glass of water here, a beer there, & the ever present shot of mm to round off the edges. hours later relative portions of each being consumed had changed and the 'drink for disaster' was inevitable. as they worked in the yard, my friend had made some untimely remarks that were not well received by the other half.... generally speaking, they were comments that did not flatter her drunken state. deciding to call it a day & hit the showers, my friend left the other half to continue her heavy watering of the front yard- and herself. however before doing so, thinking the watering of the back yard might be as excessive as the 'watering' of the other half, he turned off a sprinkler.... oh no, not that, the watering was as sacred as, well, her 'watering'- this was to be the major, big-time, proverbial crap hitting the fan (then him) screw up.

after entering the shower, my friend began to ponder the little comforts in his life.... not unlike the seclusion, the serenity, the vestibule, the oasis, the cocoon that was his shower. short lived. moments later the steady run of soothing, cleansing shower spray was interrupted by the unleashed rage of the other half. grabbing the facet & shower head she darted his eyes (& other sensitive parts) with strategically directed, cold piercing blasts. what had he done he thought? was it the angle at which he had cut the grass? did he leave the toilet seat up? had he read the newspaper before her? all significant sins in his past. then it hit him almost as hard as she eventually would when she screamed in fearless furry about the sprinkler that lay inactive in "her yard".... the beginning of the end was upon him. then she slammed the glass shower door over and over until it cried out for mercy. it would be several times (yet seemingly hundreds as he envisioned the shower scene from psycho), yet to my friend's good fortune that entry way to his safe haven that had now been violated would bend, but never break. geez that shower door showed some balls.... unfortunately for my friend, so did he.

no need, & it does not enhance the story, to go into the graphic details of what happened next. let's just say it was jerry springer-like behavior with him being wailed upon about most exposed, naked parts of his body by flying fists, arms, feet & legs. ok, i'll offer up one rather amusing bit of insight. he told me that along the lines of a lion-tamer, the only means he had to defend himself (without inflicted the obvious retaliatory abuse & a totally unacceptable response) was to pick up a chair to keep her at arms length. evidently that doesn't slow her down for awhile as she proceeded to pound the chair accordingly. the next day the aftermath was ugly & painful to observe. my friend being 100 pounds her senior, and relatively stout, showed no visible signs of confrontation. the other half had black & blue bruises all about her arms & legs from the blows she had intended to cause him damage. based on all the signs, society would have now rendered judgment that she was the one that had been subjected to domestic violence & physical abuse.... as i tell you of my friend's experience, it was obviously he & he alone that had been viciously attacked & abused. fault is really irrelevant here. the entire episode is just very, very sad. the point is that my friend now suffers from unseen wounds. he will not be able to tell anyone (other than me, so i share it with you), & he has resigned himself to having to succumb to the dark side of mental suppression. 'someone' might even comment along the lines of "you poor dear 'man'.... a least no one can see it from your appearance...." does it make it any less of a social crime or psychologically & emotionally traumatic experience just because my friend is a man. i think not.

my friend is a fortunate man really.... i learned a few days later that his house had actually been struck by lightning- no one was hurt. in fact, all things considered, the damage was relatively minor- lost a few phones, tvs, & electrical equipment, but no evidence of external damage. similar consequences to that of his first lightning strike days earlier.... no visible scars. this small sleepy texas town had now witnessed 2 of the most frightening violent forces nature has to unleash- within days of one another- a lightning strike & a strike from a raging drunken woman. it was at that time that the thought occurred to me: "lightning strikes twice." i felt compassion and empathy for my close personal friend.... but then my next thought was 'better him than me'.... & the world turns.

excuse me, is this seat taken?....

2005-06-08T15:49:00.000-07:00

.... the seat i speak of is always well taken. i guess when i first entertained the idea of joining blogmania, i convinced myself the concept was one intended to enable organized or random thought processes.... but either way it was essentially a means of expressing the sometimes "better written than said". you know, the kinds of things no one would be comfortable discussing over coffee & cheetos. & yet a subject that when taken upon as a literary achievement would be meaningful, self-fulfilling, or even enlightens others. btw, have you noticed that i'm writing to you & yet i really don't know if you is you, or you is me? huh? yet another of my self-proclaimed thought provoking realizations that is likely viewed as nothing more than releasing mental gas pains.... but then again, is it my view of me or your view of my view of me? what was i saying? ok, yeah, you see i challenged myself about this posting.... was it really "valid?".... did it serve the "social experiment?".... was it true to my "inner voice?" my answer becomes apparent?.... or does it?

so, i am a man 'someone' might refer to as seasoned, not quite past the summer of life where sensual temptation still rages free. no, let's be perfectly clear here.... i think women are the ultimate gift to man. & i must say that the most beautiful girls on this side of creation are in austin. it is seriously a very outrageous situation. for every 5, 4 are very attractive. for every 1 that is breathtaking, there are 2 more that are heart-stopping, & at least 1 of those is virtually indescribable without using hieroglyphics.... i'm talking heavenly bodies of celestial grandeur.... a magnitude of a new order.... splendor in the grass (one for you movie fans).

i'm a member of one of those trendy body shops- a gym. it's not really a matter of trendy for me, it's a matter of nothing better to do, so why not do something constructive. it's the place i'll identify only by the cliche "all that glitters is not gold." i've been doing my body work there for several months now. again, i tend to be a connoisseur of observation, not an engager. so i still know no one by name, never say hello or introduce myself, and yet i feel like i know the "regulars" like old friends- just anonymous friends that don't know they are my friends because they are really not my friends.... a time honored tradition for me. whatever. so one might ask, is it a meat market.... a place for "the beautiful people" to see and be seen.... an orgy of people delighting in their own physical appearance? i guess so, but i am too far removed from those undercurrents to really appreciate what must be an obsessive culture of physical advances and attractions. i even think we have an active & rather bizarre spiritual cult on-site, but i will come back to that another time as i now come full circle.

among the female portfolio of attributes most men worship not unlike a religion, or better yet- a sport, the most prominent characteristics in an environment like the body shop are obviously the genetic T&A (see the play on DNA, T&A, DNA.... whatever- and yes, although i'm in my lower case writing period, for the purposes of this posting these genes deserves to be capitalized!) at one time or another in their lives, men will be asked which of those leading & trailing characteristics is most endearing- the T, or the A. personally, i'm an A man. not that i don't enjoy a good cup of T, but at "the end" of the day, give me an A for effort. i worked extraordinarily hard in school for my As. now, at the body shop the various equipment types are aligned such that the machine i use most is strategically placed directly behind those that tend to accentuate the A work. this brings me to the essence of my story.

i do not consider myself to be a male chauvinist, nor do i fancy women as sexual objects, nor am i some sort of schizophrenic predator. but allow me this departure from my usual sensitivity to exercise my rite of passage as a male and embrace my primate neanderthal tendencies. remember, this thought process has developed over months & months of labor.... it's time to give birth (woops, there goes my macho stage left). certainly you have heard the phrase "chick magnet".... generally reserved for gorgeous men (of which i am not), but the body shop has one particular stationary bicycle seat that puts all such lookers to shame. i'm here to tell you in front of god & my country that this is a magic seat!!! this is what months & months of internalizing your thoughts at one of these body shops without an outlet will bring you to.... immortality for a bicycle seat (to be specific, seat 4 from the left as you come up the stairs to the upper deck). yet as i say, this is no ordinary seat. it is a "chick magnet." the seat can have any A it desires. it lures the A list of the As to its firm form. but there is this one particular A that gravitates to the magic seat like a passion-starved lover. she is just way too hot.

first, she is always wearing skin tight (or tighter) silk short, short, shorts thereby relieving to the casual, possibly compulsive, observer every nuance, every defining movement. she addresses the seat seductively without hesitation. as she mounts the magic seat, he greets her with reverent surrender. she re-applies her A several times, each time with a slight lift and rotation that invites the seat synthetically closer- like hand in glove. then, the game is on. the rhythmic churn begins. her stride ever so steady, rocking the immaculately conceived A like a baby in "the cradle of love" (& now, a billy idol reference for your listening pleasure) only to be interrupted with the occasional lift & separate- amazingly picturesque. then, the periodic, majestic scheduled transfer of weight forward to create the pleasure arch in the lower back becomes a driving force. the ride continues.... always hopeful for an endless journey. then, just when you feel there is no more you can endure comfortably, it happens.... the intermittent, spread of the knees slightly outward in full stride for no apparent reason other than to inflict the physiologically chaos that ensues. just as your turn away momentarily to seize control, you realize you have been on your fitness machine 37 minutes longer than programmed.... you turn back to the epicenter for the well deserved climatic moment, the crescendo, the culmination of many fine, fine minutes of cardio all for not.... the A is now chatting with a big T about the real "click magnet" on the seat 2 bikes down; & yet, somehow, the magic seat is undaunted & remains confident. however, the non-event leaves you limp & spent with disappointment. & then, you suddenly understand. the proverbial light comes on. the revelation shines through. just keep paying those monthly body shop dues & tomorrow may offer yet another, dare i suggest more exciting, journey!!!

so, excuse me, is this seat taken?.... If it's number 4 from the left as you climb the stairs to the upper deck of the body shop.... ubetcha!!! Oh, & btw, the machine directly behind the magic seat is also reserved!!!

"this one goes out to the one i love...."

2005-06-01T16:01:00.000-07:00

.... "this one goes out to the one i left, behind".... just a little r.e.m. lead-in for your musical palate, & appropriate for the flavor of this posting. i have a mini me. yea, like dr. evil's little look-alike turd. only my little guy is a blessing beyond description.... but i'll try.

again, as i've mentioned before, i travel in my line of work. & just as a footnote, we don't ever want to talk about my work because what i do, i do so very well, & yet i'm not sure what it is i do, do. i digress with the pooper slang (a covert tribute). my little boy is my world in a 51 pound angelic wrapper. he is the most beautiful child. i am so very proud of him in every conceivable, imaginable way. he is ".... the one i left behind." i see him every weekend, and we spend almost every moment together (or as much as the attention deficit disorderly conduct will allow.... that's attention as in needy- not focus.... yet another day, another posting). again, i digress. i like to call him 'my little man', or 'my little buddy', or 'my little soldier' (notice the possessive tense of these terms of endearment?.... he's mine, all mine i tell you!!!). he prefers i refer to him as 'sport'. it's a little-boy-wanna-be-a-big-boy-for-his-daddy thing. i love it. so let's run with sport.

i am old school. by that i mean to say that i am nostalgic, a hopeless romantic. i have an almost introverted passion for what could be or might have been, with an overactive sensitivity toward life events and people. i just sum it up as 'old school.' sport brings out the very best of my being. being 'old school' around sport feels good. he appreciates me for who i really am, and has an awesome innocence with no patience for pretense & bravado. & he's only 6. he is my hero. although i am extremely cognizant of dogmatically avoiding any tendency to try to live vicariously through sport, he is everything i might have been. but he's so much more than me already.... i would never encourage him to settle for less than he is. sport gives me hope that i too may still be the person i could have been- or will be. he is a very, very special gift.

my home away from home (again the consulting gig) is one that shall go unnamed, yet is one most prominently known for its icon shower heads.... yea, whatever. i met a woman staying at the inn who is in p.r. (no, not promiscuous relationships.... however, remember everything is about relationships with nouns). yes, once again, i digress. on several occasions we happened to run into one another in the dining area or at the front desk. we acknowledge one another, exchange pleasant salutations & go our own way. eventually i learn that she is from whence i came, & is on a long term engagement as well. long story longer, last nite i was at the front desk talking to the clerk about the possibility of changing rooms. i stay in the same room every week. with a recent contract extension, i thought i would nurture the opportunity (bullshit my way) to move up to the penthouse- ok, a little bigger room. so, the p.r. princess steps up, joins the conversation, & suggests that i should view her digs as a considerably better configuration. so i do, did. i'm thinking i've just been seduced. she's thinking she is clairvoyant & needs to save my soul. long story even longer, she offers me a beer then begins to feed me religion & the afterlife. she has a intuitive intuition- she feels things & it wasn't me. now i know i'm not being seduced- big time!

at the end of the day, or nite in this case, she gets me to tell her about my father who has since passed (my father.... at least a 3 or 4 posting discussion in & of itself), & has me believing that even though me & my father never developed a relationship, the best part of my father was now part of sport.... hence my precious relationship with my son is also now my long lost desired relationship with my father. ms. p.r. has offered to read scripture to me nights, but i think i'll stay close to cnn. the point is, as spontaneous & bizarre as it was, i think i actually feel good about the experience. i love my sport so very much. i wanted to love my father. now i think i can do both at the same time. does that sound just way too extraterrestrial?

so, "this one goes out to the one i love.... this one goes out to the one i left, behind...." is it sport-ubetcha, but i'm coming back to him. is it my father- maybe, & is he coming back to me?

ok, it's complicated....

2005-05-27T11:39:00.000-07:00

.... is it not? i think most everything we are, do, & think is based on relationships. relationships with nouns (you remember- people, places, & things). relationships are complicated, so life in general gets complicated. and before you go off on me as a philosophical plato wanna-be or dr. phil groupie, i think i should get a token break here with this social experiment. i'm just trying to lose my blogger virginity, so be gentle.... it is still a bit uncomfortable, but then again it's only my 2nd time. i am, however, starting to enjoy the climax of 'publish post'!.... that's a good thing, right?

again, the theme of this initial week of mental diarrhea & ramblings is the reincarnation of me. me as just me. not 'the gatherer', not the domestic captive of relatives, and not the professional pretense. just me. i feel like i have become a chameleon of sorts that finds it necessary to change who i am as my encounters with those nouns change. i have an unhealthy 'pleaser' personality. i just know i can make everyone happy & be their best friend if i just be who i should be at that time. now i can no longer be me (the core being) at the right time because i don't have a relationship with me.... i miss me.

i travel in my work. i like to travel because i like to see people. not necessarily meet them, just observe from afar. people fascinate me and terrify me at the same time. i think i should want to get to know people, not just inspect them as specimens of life. but what if they don't want to meet me?.... what if i can not engage the proper transformation to meet their needs?.... what if they don't like me? wtf is that all about- seriously. i have got to make an appointment with myself and get reacquainted. did someone once say "i'm ok, you're ok"....

ok, BUT it's complicated....

ok, it's time....

2005-05-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

this is so much why i need to be doing this.... because i don't know how. i have been expression-suppressed by me for so long i got "lost in translation." what i mean to say is that i lost myself in the translation of who i am to the world and people around me. then i met someone. someone opened a window for me to view the value of what we all think, feel, & desire as unique totally autonomous minds & souls.... each as unique as an individual snowflake.

today seems like a fine day for a reunion with myself. yesterday was my birthday. the day before would have been my father's birthday, & today would have been someone's grandfather's birthday.... ok, see the significance? were those last statements "lost in translation?" so much is. regardless, this inaugural entry is in honor of someone's grandfather. so thank you someone. you are a very special someone.

i feel compelled to exploit the most insignificant symbolism.... again, a first, small expressive step. that is why all my words are in lower case- just like i feel today, the case for my self-expression is low. when my confidence reaches unfamiliar heights, i will use upper case again(get it? upper, heights).... whatever. i guess i have too much too say to say anything at all.

btw, get used to the exaggerated, nauseatingly abundant use of ".... & -" that will likely annoy & paralyze the casual reader.... such is the magic that is me!

ok, NOW it's time....