is no big deal...

The paper work is signed, witnessed, notarized and acknowledged by the monoliths. The boss informed and the countdown in progress. I am retiring in September. The daily grind is smoother and I feel less stress than I have ever felt in my working career. My humor has returned. They tell me I'm smiling more.
I quit smoking 3 months ago and feel like a different person. After 40 years I should think so. Coupled with alcohol cessation 14 months ago and now my pending retirement, I'm on the cusp. It's scary proceeding into middle age now with a certain anxiety about the future but somehow I'm not as apprehensive as I thought I'd be. This is what I been working for half my life so I'm taking my old position of letting the future take care of itself now. It got me through the folly of my youth but these days I got better plans see. I'm smarter. Going on 57 is about where I would like to start slowing down and reconsider the scenery while there's still time. Eliminating 3 major stressors and taking more naps will help with that transition to a sharper focus.

The moms is growing ever more dotty in her old age and other than dropping in on her now and then, there's no more I can do for her. She's taken care of. Major Operation that one but it was done right. Soon, and I say soon rather than later, more hard decisions are going to be made and the fight begins anew until she slips away, robbed of her senses. It's a hard thing to watch.

So here I am trying to downplay this retirement thing at work because it's only been a 20 year run and not all together that much fun and not like some of these guys that stick around 35 years or more and me I just want to fade and I don't think I'm getting out of there without notice because everybody wants to remind me and I told 'em no fanfare but after working there for so long I know the drill.

lamentation

The future is lurking and I see it spying on me, whispering "now what?" through the salt fog and crusty moon spits before me.

Have you what it takes to forge on without the net it wonders, wonders in my mind at night when the jazz is slow and low as the light.

I see the future bending and shaping under the graceful gaze of the past, undulating, modulating hungry, waiting and fast.

bad hat, Harry

I done good.
I'm retiring from my job in a couple of months. The wife knows now. I broke it to her. She didn't flinch. I have good reason to feel all full of myself and relax and banish the dread to a place in the past and move forward into a new phase of life. I can congratulate myself for not falling victim to institutionalization as some of my long time co-workers have done past their point of diminishing returns only to be even more miserable than me.
Living the dream now.

rebirth

A new era is beginning and I feel that "ants in the pants" I used to get before going to the swimming pool as a kid. I have announced my intentions at my job and I have 2 and a half months left to dwell on a 21 year history of working in the same place every day in the same miserable cube on the same miserable bouncing, overloaded and dusty second floor of the same miserable 2nd rate office building downtown for the same miserable government entity every fucking miserable day. I'm free to pursue other avenues. I'm free from a job I've learned to walk away from without looking back. I'm free at last.

picking and dreaming

Man these health kicks are killing me. Besides abandoning alcohol and it's evil destruction, I have ceased inhaling hot poisonous gas. Will I live longer as a result of these life shattering changes? Probably not and who would want to in this fucked up world? The days are brighter however and the soul's daily forays are less despondent so on the bright side, it feels like living longer whether it is or not. So I must be doing something right. I guess I must be squeezing more sensation into the moment now that I'm no longer numb to the moment. That's a good thing since the oppression of the Cube World is a major counter point to my supposed well being and thus keeping my balance in a flux most of the time not to mention my poor sainted mother's affliction that bleeds my tolerance dry. All I can do is nod knowingly and await the next crisis to rear it's ugly head.

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.

ah... Pynchon

Lo these past five months I have been on a quest albeit a personal one but no doubt as noble as any I have attended. Sobriety brings a certain clarity to the room as I have discovered. Back in November I gave myself a birthday present. I felt like I deserved to be rewarded for my keen sense of humor and sense of the absurd. Besides I was bored with military techno-thrillers, spy games and sea stories. I had not read serious literary work since college and that was some time ago, tried to read "Gravity's Rainbow" in the 70's but dozed off somewhere over London and never finished it.

So the years went by and I forgot about the guy, this Thomas Pynchon weird writer guy. An alert friend noted in an email to me that his new novel "Against the Day" was just released in case I was, you know, interested. BOING!

The next morning I called the local retail outlet and reserved a copy. "Yes, I'll pick it up today during lunch break" I promised breathlessly feeling like a kid at Christmas. It was November 30th. I finished that delicious novel by New Year's and found myself wanting more. From there I read every one of his books ("Slow Learner" is still waiting) and haunted websites and wiki's trying to read all I could find like I was dying of thirst here. I finished "Crying of Lot 49" just a week ago.

In between deliveries from Amazon I also perused some of the others (Delillo, McCarthy, Amis, Wallace, Barth etc.) while waiting. I still gravitate back to Pynchon. I can't explain it or his writing or my utter marvel at his chops.

When I get through with these others on my pile, it's getting shorter, I intend to reread "Against the Day" with more otium cum dignitate. It will be a scholarly appeasement of the muse and I'll be in a slow soak mode. I smell a Nobel Prize lingering somewhere.

D. F. Wallace almost turned me against post-modern fiction but I prevailed and deep-sixed his smart-ass. He will never be as much fun I don't care what they say.

When I read I don't like to multi-task and work several books at a time. So first things first. One more Delillo and half an Amis to go. Then I will single up all lines and get the hell outa here...

white hot wire

Today was one of those days. Ya know, one of those days. One of those days when you wake up in the morning ears ringing, numb at the prospects of sharing pale watery sunrise with the traffic crawling like seekers to the mountain and it's wizened old guy at the top that tells you every time "go back and start over, you don't know yet" and sadly we trudge and trudge into the din doing what we have to do so we can eat and drink and play and laugh and cry and yell at the sky and pretend we have some semblance of a life away from the wizened old man on the mountain telling us every time what we don't want to hear again like a voice in our heads.

The day was a relief however as is the night and every night and every day and every solution proffered is a relief because like pain it reminds you that you're still alive with nerve endings spreading like tendrils gathering the bombardments of relentless provocation, shaping into projectiles to launch back and splash like protoplasmic calculations to make the muses cry and curse and agree it's all an endless parade stretching in time from one mist to the next.

...static discharge running up and down pegging meters fluxing singing the currents and always crisping the contrasts sharper in cold bare light...

hot iron and dust

Here we go again. Sunday on the Shores of Anticipation. Time away from the grinding stone is slipping by like the proverbial hourglass. A week off is never long enough to re-acclimate. At least the rain stopped long enough to mow and talk with the creatures that inhabit the grounds. Just the usual tip o' the hat in a jovial sort of way. The copperheads stayed hidden as well they should. Colonel Colt was riding shotgun with me on patrol today and was positively vibrating at the possibility of shredding reptiles. No such luck today Colonel, maybe next time.

The clouds are diving in again like Stutkas dropping pellets of rain and banking away to refuel. Another day in the bunker... The Evil One is lurking in Kansas far to the north.

some bread and a circus

May Day.

All good oppressed workers unite! That time of year again for the teeming millions to march demanding better pay, health care, etc. WE WANT MORE STUFF! (hint: Stop having so many babies.)

Do they think that the leaders really give a shit? Do they really think the Power Elite is going to share? Ah but everybody loves a parade right? Make their voices heard! Let's roll people. Yo!

Sadly the working class is always going to be in the hapless position of neediness. Law of the jungle my dear. Of course if free education was a reality then we'd all be rich and no menial tasks would get done because there wouldn't be any undereducated around to do the work. Ever mowed the grass in Gucci's? I didn't think so. Of course a pair of Gucci's does not an education indicate. More of a status totem that says "I got more than you." More what? Money? Hope you choke on it.

Human culture has always been a pecking order. Just like (gasp) the animal kingdom except we're just a bunch of stink-footed bi-pedals in the minority that fuck for fun while other people pay money to watch.

Why are these immigrants coming into this country? Don't they know there aint no money in America? Nasty rumor I heard. Oh sure there's minimum wages for those of you who are called to a life of servitude to the Junior League with a swarm of brats at lunch time. A lot of roofs in that new subdivision you can't afford to live in to build. Whose going to dig all those sewer lines anyway? More power to you people. Lemme get outa your way.

Mandatory community service at age 18 for all citizens. Combat arms? No problem. The Marines are always looking for a Few Good Men. Be an Army of One. Accelerate Your Life. Aim High. GI Bill for continuing education. No? No military service because of moral issues? Well then, step right up. Darfur needs you. The starving refugees need you. New Orleans needs you. Get off your fat collective asses you selfish bastards and help somebody instead of whining for more tit.

stress in the rear view mirror

Things are looking up... man, vacation week is looming and it's time to take a well needed rest doing whatever comes to mind and off schedule. Starting in 24 hours we will be 80 miles away immersed in fun and frolic with old friends who are crazy enough now to farm the kids out to Grandma for a few days and let the dogs loose. Adults only acting out suppressed energy in the sun, sharing food and games just being ourselves for once without any serious responsibility oh the highway humming on the road back home in no hurry for a change.

born out of grief

The kids are alright. Yep. I can see it. Feel it. Life goes on and smiles are returning to the cell phones and a generally springyer step across the way captivates. Lo the wariness tempered with determined fire is penetrating and sharing a communion of like spirits and there is hope breaking out all over after all. The concept of random death at inappropriate intervals just got hammered home. That future looks pretty important now that now is here.

Good morning children. And how was our little nap? Oooh, cover mouths when we yawn. There, there that's good. Okay, now today our lesson is "The Art of Living" by a well-known author that you are all familiar with; B. T. Love a.k.a. yourself. Please open to Chapter One.
Remember my little darlings that there are no problems, only opportunities. No need to nod curtly back to a passing nod but rather return it with a clear steady gaze, one of knowledge and wisdom forged from despair, horror and the keeping in mind precious lambs it can be far, far worse.

Now then, let's begin anew shall we?

faith in a can

And I was sitting here taking in this not so glorious day thanking my lucky charms it was Saturday watching a deer in the yard when I stumbled upon a Test of Faith in the on-line edition of the local right-wing rag. Having come from a church going family whose head of the household was also the head of over a dozen parishes in my hometown, Bible studies were sort of expected of me whether I liked it or not. Mostly not. I was force-fed the New Testament, Western Civilization, cathedrals built to the glory of God on High out the WingWang, how to swear like a sailor before I was 18 and other hubris that somebody thought I couldn't live without. My dad was a multi-talented old sop with a yen for gin and communion wine on Sundays. Mom was a chirpster in the choir who wielded a leather belt with the best of them on Saturdays. The old man on the other hand cleared the air with a glance. The following link is to a vanilla extract quiz that asks nothing outside the bounds of daily headlines.

http://www.statesman.com/life/content/life/interactive_sm/04/042107_faithquiz.html

If you think Joan of Arc married Noah Ark and they had a son Bois D'Arc who later moved to the south of France and became the Architect for the Arc de Triomphe, you need to call me for some clarification... hark.

I might add here that after I took this so-called test of faith (missed 4 out of 10 because they were trick questions) I was informed by the author that there is more to it than praying for the Longhorns to win. Whaa, wait a minute, this is bullshit what's college sports got to do with it anyway?

lost at sea...

Yeah, the world is still a mean-ass bitch, brimming with resentment, still looming without remorse to beat you down at the top of your game. The light and passion extinguished under a hoard of senseless and random acts of violent nature, the warnings ignored, never saw it coming. Look up one morning bright and cheery into the path of a bullet before your coffee gets cold just days away from a new life all full of promise. There is no reason, the motive now dead.

Another shred of innocence died within me as did those bright and vibrant minds in Virginia. The children caught in the vortex of insanity, lives cut short...
The warnings were all there.
Are we to become tattle-tales to maintain civility? Are the terrorists coming out of the backyard home grown and bitter? Should we watch each other for danger signs?

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/shared-gen/ap/National/University_Bomb_Threat.html
http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/18/18stedwards.html

The outpouring of support for one another in the student body of that campus reminds me of another generation before them, mine. Seemingly self-centered this generation, they truly love one another and maybe a new foundation of trust can come from this tragedy. I hope there is a lesson here somewhere, the days are short and there's much to see.

I looked at the students at UT Austin today and remembered a shooting on that campus when I was younger. My heart went out to them. I remembered the hopelessness and waste. Today, 24 hours after their world changed forever, I look upon these bright young minds now with compassion and wish them well. I'm confident they will emerge even stronger from this horror and more determined to make their world a little better than the mean-ass bitch that was handed them and hopefully, God help 'em, they will start looking both ways before crossing the street while they still can.

The young people that died this week are gone. They are lost but they will live on in the reactions of their colleagues and their families so that their deaths will not be in vain.

whose life is it anyway?

There is a local woman in the news lately. She has a terminally ill 17 month old child. He has Leigh's Disease, a neurometabolic disorder that causes the central nervous system to collapse. The boy is blind, deaf and on a respirator. Has been for weeks. An MRI indicates his brain is as close to dead as dead can be. The medical staff wants to let him die with dignity. His unmarried mother wants to prolong his suffering because to do otherwise would be akin to murder. She can no longer conceive because of complications during child birth. May be a good thing to keep her out of the gene pool anyway. Where is the father of this child in all of this? Prison? On the run?

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/15/15emilio.html

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/15/15bioethics.html

In my opinion, this woman is not only selfish but stupid. This is not a baby doll like the one she had when she was a little girl. There are hundreds if not thousands of children alive and well who need adopting in order to have a normal, loving upbringing. But no, she wants this child. A child that will never know life in the sunshine of childhood. Never grow up to love and enjoy his time amongst the living. He is broken and cannot be fixed and his mother is killing him softly.

Let this infant have peace and while your at it you stupid woman, get a life of your own and stop abusing the staff and this infant with your immaturity. It is not murder to let Emilio go.

It's shit like this that jacks up medical costs for everybody and causes undue stress on those who are trying to do the right thing. Not to mention my blood pressure. I have zero tolerance for the stupid.

highway love

Love. Ya gotta love it. My faithful truck went into surgery today for suspension work. We made love all the way home. We were One with the road. Every delicious curve rose up to greet us with a caress and a sigh. We were an item without an audience.