what would Bob do?

Today has been a banner kind of a day. I communicated with a soldier I know whose in combat, brought a smile to his face and a civilian friend in the same part of the world, making him smile. After scolding another old friend in Texas about his drunkenness, he wrote me that he is going to get sober. Saw the error in his wicked ways and wants to change. That made me smile. Three other people's lives I touched today and for the better. My karma, or dharma, I get 'em mixed up, is running hot. If I can keep this up maybe I can save the world from itself. Not likely but if my affection for this mess continues I may have a chance to save myself. It's true what they say; you get out of it what you put into it.

And after a certain amount of anxiety for the last few months, I located my wife's birth certificate, my birth certificate, my DD214 from the Navy and both of our Social Security cards. All of which I needed to proceed with retirement paper work. Getting ants in the pants now.

room with a view

I have seen the damage and I have learned my lessons. My heroics are paying their way now through this sleight of hand we call mass culture. I can talk about it with humor and grace and sympathy and I understand the need and desire and willingness to let go and immerse in the stream of numbing chemical reactions that produce the hilarity and exhilaration before dumping the rider back into the rutted gallery of abuse and depressive twitch and numbing grief. A curious thing being surrounded by those that still require escape from bedevilment that really never goes away that control and send into scalding repetitions of self-destructive narratives of the soul, the cycles that can only be broken by shear system failure or by the inner strength found under the ice in 20 feet of water reaching for a life line as the air runs out. I find strength in the presence of broken spirits and my urge is to heal. If only they had ears to hear above the din of intoxication.

My visitor last night is an old friend and co-conspirator. We have reconstructed the world many times over through the years. It was a sad spectacle watching him hover in drunkenness over the deep hole in his soul. A bottle of rum does many things to a broken heart. One thing it won't do is fix it. It never will nor has been known to fix a fucking thing. Telling a foaming drunk that his life is fucked for good unless he unfuck it while still able is a perfect example of bleak futility. It takes courage. It takes a faith to change. Not a faith in something higher, for that just means resigning one's responsibilities to a third party but a faith in yourself. I could not give my self up to chance now. I survive on purpose through my own free will. My old visitor last night will wallow with his demons in the ruins he has made of his life by choices he made under the spell of alcohol. I have lost friends in the past to this rat shit and I seem to be losing another. The sad thing is he knows better but allows it to engulf and smother and seduce and kill him softly.

casting an orb about

Trickling along babbling like a brook important things in the air like a watermelon thump and 4x4's in the mud. Antibiotics need not apply. Beyond medicinal aid this perception of wilderness as therapy. Visitor from the metro tombs due to arrive with reams of research into lifestyle your mother warned you about. Sad baggage review over midnight oil pending. Meanwhile forest vibrating and glistening and alive as usual. Menacing weather moving elsewhere to wreak havoc on some other's day. Not mine today. Today is teeming and with Italian on the menu.

Others not so lucky: http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/061607A.shtml

The fix is in and the funeral plans should be laid by now. The families should try to face the reality of the situation and begin the healing. Fathers should not have to bury their sons. It should be the other way around in a perfect world. Why do we fight I ask myself every day I breathe and wonder at the stupid affliction know as Belief and Faith among the pious as if the degree of faith will edge you over the next guy in line. I think not.

it's in the light

... done. I finished Pynchon's portfolio. I had to. What a genius that guy just wore me out giving me the weirdest dreams keeping me up nights absorbed in another world. Few writers can transport me out of the mundane like this fucking maniac. What a flight.
I should add that re-reading "Against the Day", his latest, precluded any further exploration of other authors. Everything went on hold until I was sure. I think this will be a hard act to follow.

background wave lengths

gaahh...

Fortunes of war took it's toll and all but now I remain as ever.

Trusty confuser went down in flames like a faithful Spad. Between antibiotics and corrupted code I have been otherwise sitting on an event horizon. Disconnected from the web is a home based reality show. Have to reach back and find what I did before e-life in this modern world. Not surprising the more traditional activity prevailed; things like reading books and going to bed early. Almost finished with the second reading of AtD like a I threatened to do a while back. It's a real jewel. Being sick and then offline for a few weeks allowed some overall down time and a new set of long wind chimes humming along out in the yard. I want to get a variety of large chimes to hang around. Plenty of trees. A brasso profundo chime would be cool on a gentle day. Nice to read by.

I must be feeling better although the day job keeps me dumbed down. The wheel is grinding down though, I can feel it, the timing when it's right. I hear the scrape down slope and I hope the segue be seamless as if retiring into a new activity could be. Next stop, middle age plumbing supplies, watch yer step.

At least I hope to get out of there alive and upright. There's still time on the clock to play this out in my second childhood, get a new puppy to raise. Sunny is a frame of mind. Time I got a little practice in with the Future just around the corner.