Stillness and Mercy

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My footprints to the left, Coyote’s to the right.

“Wishes of one’s old life wither and shrivel like old leaves if they are not replaced with new wishes when the world changes. And the world always changes. Wishes get slimy, and their colors fade, and soon they are just mud, like all the rest of the mud, and not wishes at all, but regrets. The trouble is, not everyone can tell when they ought to launder their wishes.” ~ Catherynne M. Valente

“Now that you’re an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants and could do without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you’re told that you’re “in your head too much”, a phrase that’s often deployed against the quiet and cerebral. Or maybe there’s another word for such people: thinkers.” ~ Susan Cain

“We often confuse what we wish for with what is.”  ~ Neil Gaiman

Wishes for snow are quite common these day, in this part of the world. That’s why I chose the photograph for today. This is what it should look like right now. Not even close, it’s bone dry, which is alarming because a dry Winter means high fire danger in this place that is surrounded by a National Forest. The photograph is my wishful thinking gesture for today. It’s the best I can do, at this time. Such a pretty photo, right? Now, moving forward. I have no lack of stories to tell, but this morning none of them feel right. I’m feeling down. Part of it is personal, and part of it is that the situation with that Trump fella appears to heading toward becoming a national emergency. I’ll not extrapolate on that. Just sayin’. Pulling a coup of rationality I just reminded myself that I often feel down and agitated early in the morning – it is not at all uncommon for me to feel this way. Usually I blow it off and steam ahead. Be strong, they say, and just keep moving forward. But I suspect that continuing to move forward is somewhat of a specious concept at times. Blowing off a spell of depression sometimes just ain’t the strong thing to do. It seems to me that you could be flirting with cowardice by not facing what it is you really should oughtta be facing. So that’s what I am doing today, starting with reminding myself that the dark mood of the day so far is far from the only feature the day will bring. This is not positive thinking. Me thinks that sometimes ya jest gotta stop in place, stand friggin still, and let out a good old healthy WTF. I’m thinking that you best take care of yourself by actually taking care of yourself, not by following a trend, nor by falling into lockstep with a bunch of freedom riders. Soooo . . . now that I likely pissed off some folks by saying what I just said I think I’ll have a brief word with myself before preparing to go to work. And just what might that thing be that I say to myself? That’s easy – have mercy.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


The Strange Case of Light and Darkness


“Some dreams tell us what we wish to believe. Some dreams tell us what we fear. Some dreams are of what we know though we may not know we know it. The rarest dream is the dream that tells us what we have not known.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

“She tried to worry that something terrible had happened to him, but didn’t believe it for a moment. Nothing terrible ever happened to him, though she was beginning to think that it was time it damn well did. If nothing terrible happened to him soon maybe she’d do it herself. Now there was an idea.” “She tried to worry that something terrible had happened to him, but didn’t believe it for a moment. Nothing terrible ever happened to him, though she was beginning to think that it was time it damn well did. If nothing terrible happened to him soon maybe she’d do it herself. Now there was an idea.” ~ Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Enough drama for ya yet? I spend a good part of my time seeing it all as drama  . . .  drama-drama, non-drama, pending drama, needed drama. Yeh, some of it is needed. My best guess is that I found this perspective when I returned to this material world after my NDE journey, back in ’84. Many NDE experiencers found that same thing upon return. Many of those other experiencers were fortunate enough to have that perspective active, full time, over the years. Respectable researchers determined that 774 experiences occur in the US every day. Please note that I have come to the practice of using underlining only to signify a link, a “click on this” sorta thing –  any underlined word or phrase is a link. Hopefully relevant or even compelling. A couple of years ago a young woman read my book about my NDE, and shortly afterwards she asked me, “Jesus, Ken, what did you bring back with you? I just got a chill!”. Hmmmm. I consciously chose to not tell her that any spirit, dark or light, will likely raise a chill that scampers across your skin. It kinda sorta goes with the territory. Other people have suggested that I brought a dark spirit back with me on that fateful day back in ’84. I cruelly even believed it myself, on and off through the years. Such a perspective is adverse to the very essence of NDEs. Yes, some people report dark, devilish experiences on the Other Side. I wonder about that. My experience was scary through and through, and I had both dark and light phases over there, but I have come to feel, in my heart, that the dark spirit that stalks me most every day was here to greet me upon my return. What brought this to mind is that the dark spirit came upon yesterday evening, and it scared me, as it usually does. But I could feel the difference between the visit from the dark spirit and a depressive bipolar event. Bipolar disorder is a neurological phenomenon, whereas a spirit is simply a spirit. The two phenomena are incongruous, and for me, I can feel the difference. This explains, in my view, why a piece of music came into my mind yesterday afternoon, when I drove up to the convenience store and parked. At first I couldn’t recollect the composition from which the melody came. It’s a haunting melody, deeply compelling and equally beautiful. Finally it came to me: Fantasia on Greensleeves, by Ralph Vaughan Williams, a British composer. It was one of my mother’s favorite pieces of music. The presence of this visit from her made me feel connected, protected. But why the need for protection? It was the visit from the dark spirit a few hours later. Mom and I forged a close connection during the final 35 days of her life, through hours of conversation. It is hard if not impossible to explain what I felt and why it drew the dark spirit to me, and how it also helped me to push it away before going to bed. The spirit was here briefly again this morning. But the melody came back to me when I felt that shady visitor arrive once again. That spirit is trying to keep me away of a potentially valuable experience in my life, a change in life that I would welcome in both wonder and gratitude. That experience may never come to be, but I’ll be damned if I let it be because of that friggin spirit.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Kick at the Darkness


“The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind.” ~ William Blake

“New opinions are always suspected, and usually opposed, without any other reason but because they are not already common.” ~ John Locke

“Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.” ~ Isaac Asimov

. . . 5:30 AM humid, 16º. The frost is forming early this morning. Or is it just me? I have to admit, my mind is somewhat distracted by the political climate these days. It would be easy for me to drift into political commentary. The president of the United States is a bad man. There, I said it. So sue me, dude. Sigh. Back to the present. I got seven hours of solid sleep – or maybe not so solid, my disheveled hair was epic. What was I dreaming anyway? Anxiety dreams? Yeh. At least I wasn’t in Hawaii yesterday when the incoming ballistic missile attack alerts came through on peoples’ cell phones; I mean, they were shuffling their kids down into storm drains! And the president was playing golf. And he didn’t miss a stroke. Whatever. Anyway, the weather has indeed become somewhat monotonous. Don’t get me wrong, the days have been beautiful and all – but who am I to question Mother Nature? Right? In spite of the scant snow a coupla days ago this valley has had no precipitation, no moisture. It has been so danged dry. We need more moisture. Yeh, I believe in catastrophic climate change, and I firmly believe – oh, never mind. The weather has been too dry here. We need more snowflakes. Hey, maybe I am just reaching terminal cynicism. Or maybe just goofy. I should just get over myself. Today is laundry day. I’ll swing by and get a breakfast burrito from LotaBurger then slip on into the laundromat for a little wash-rinse-dry action. Then fold my clothes. Normal stuff. Likely I will go for a fairly long drive after that. Get some perspective back into my worldview. Dammit! The president is a bad man. As are his friggin congressional enablers. This place has gone dark, and is getting darker. Hey, at least I wasn’t in Hawaii yesterday . . . say, do ya suppose the president didn’t feel compelled to make a statement about the incoming ballistic missile attack alerts because an on-target strike woulda wiped out Obama’s birth records? He was born there, ya know. You do know that, right? I mean, come on now. Kenya?! Do you actually believe that our former president was born in a shithole? If you ask enough questions it all starts to make sense. Sigh. I’d better get my assets in gear here. I feel sad and angry. Outrage is a strong possibility as well. But I can’t let that keep me from doing laundry. Hey . . . ain’t it a shame we can’t hang the president out to dry? Dammit. Yeh, cynical. I told ya I was distracted. But I am still hopeful. Really.

“You’ve got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight” ~ Bruce Cockburn

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Goddess and the Health Insurance


“When you’re born a light is switched on, a light which shines up through your life. As you get older the light still reaches you, sparkling as it comes up through your memories. And if you’re lucky as you travel forward through time, you’ll bring the whole of yourself along with you, gathering your skirts and leaving nothing behind, nothing to obscure the light. But if a Bad Thing happens part of you is seared into place, and trapped for ever at that time. The rest of you moves onward, dealing with all the todays and tomorrows, but something, some part of you, is left behind. That part blocks the light, colours the rest of your life, but worse than that, it’s alive. Trapped for ever at that moment, and alone in the dark, that part of you is still alive.” ~ Michael Marshall Smith

“But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already dead. He put his two hands together and felt the palms. They were not dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing them. He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead. His shoulders told him.” ~ Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

That second quote there? Yeh, I’ve been there done that, and will probably do that again, but likely not today, since I gotta work today, and yet . . . oh, never mind. That Hemingway fella? OMG he sure could write! He’s not one of my major inspirations as a writer but I have learned a few things from him. I love how he applies a sort of staccato rhythm to sentences at times. And his use of commas as well. David Foster Wallace, who is one of my major inspirations, also taught me a lot about usage of commas, as well as the importance of rhythm in conveying a level of expression that words alone cannot provide. All that said – I’m hungry, but food can wait a while. And it’s cold outside. The stars are clear and bright. The wind still. The fake rooster in the chicken coop has been silent so far this morning. He, she, whatever, has not convinced me that it is indeed a rooster I am hearing. Too timid and suppressed. Kinda sorta reminds me of Sean Spicer, who was Trump’s press secretary for a while. He, in spite of efforts to sound commanding, never lived up to the task. But the poor little fella worked for friggin Foghorn Leghorn at the time. That’s gotta hurt. I suspect it hurts all of us to have Trump as a chief executive. By the way, I in no way mean to disparage Foghorn Leghorn. He can’t help it if our chief executive comes across like a cartoon character, whereas Foghorn himself is an actual cartoon character. I’m tempted to slip on in to Rocky and Bullwinkle analogies as well but I won’t, except to point out that Boris Badenov once said “It’s good to be bad”. You do the math. Now, moving forward, the opening photo intrigues me. The photo on the wall is of my mother sitting with her mother. They watch over me in this room. OMG, if you only knew my grandmother. I’ve heard her described as both a card and a stinker. She had a very dry sense of humor. A sly and educated woman. You didn’t even expect to win at Scrabble against her, but you could learn a lot by doing so anyway. That photo on the wall also reminds me to keep focused on the matrilineal side of my self. The Divine Feminine. A man doesn’t have to go out and buy a pink t-shirt to show he’s in touch with that side. No one really needs to know, except by observation and interaction. And even then . . . as I was saying. Ummmm, what was I saying? Whatever. I’m still kinda wrung out from Thursday’s psychotherapy session. So I got plenty of rest yesterday, as planned. I got in a couple of episodes of Star Trek: Next Gen, on Hulu. And I spent about 15 minutes on the phoned talking with a sweet woman named Kaisha about the benefits of my health insurance plan. At first my questions to her seemed to be confusing her, up until a point when she said, “Oh! Oh oh oh oh. I get it now”. She obviously had the revelation that I was mostly clueless about how insurance in general works. I’m not embarrassed about that, BTW. That’s why we ask questions, right? She became quite thorough after that, and in having my questions answered by that representative from my HMO I stand educated and greatly relieved. I got the policy through ObamaCare, which gave me a great deal on this coverage. I had been afraid for my bank account, whereas now I am not. Apparently I had been somewhat influenced by horror stories from . . . you know who. So now I have a new Principle Care Provider, who will conduct a full physical exam come month’s end. I chose a woman from the list of network providers available in Taos, and she is at the same family clinic I have been using for several years now. I always prefer women as my health care facilitators, as healers. Women are better at it than men, for the most part. And nurture too. But I am not embarrassed to note that the goddess of healing, Brighid, pretty much told me to take that into consideration. She never lets me down. Putting up with her giggling is a small price to pay for having Brighid as a spiritual guide. Speaking of that, it’s coming up on the 34th anniversary of the freak bicycle wreck that killed me back in 1984. During the NDE I was met on the Other Side by Brighid. She recommended that I come back to this life. I’ve told the story many times over, even wrote and published a book about it, but there are a coupla new readers here. Soooo  . . . I’d better go feed myself, then have a few minutes for a rinse in the shower. Mmmmm, perhaps I should do a bit of grooming as well. I work in a hardware store. You never know who might show up.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Yesterday’s Shadows

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“If there is a single definition of healing it is to enter with mercy and awareness those pains, mental and physical, from which we have withdrawn in judgment and dismay.” ~ Stephen Levine

“I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

A half inch of snow marks the places where yesterday’s shadows were. Dawn has yet to come, but it won’t be long. This is the second of two days off from work. I have no idea what to do with it. A couple of phone calls need to be made, but the rest of the day remains a mystery. Rest, heating pad, memories. Parts of my mind yak at me, to implore me to do something productive, to get out there and live a little. Ummmm. Apparently those parts don’t know me too well. I am perhaps in too serious a mood to be writing this morning. Yesterday was an emotional wringer, but I did get in a couple of episodes of The Librarians on Hulu, followed by six hours of deep sleep, until the friggin cat woke me up at 2:30 AM, by snagging my scalp lightly with the lovely claws of her right forepaw. I have been awake since that little loving gesture. It’s one of the prices you pay when you allow a cat to come live with you. Rosie has been with me for 13 years now. The emotional wringer aspect yesterday came during therapy. We went deep, and I was drawn by my unconscious into talking about the seven months during which I helped my mother die. There are no words to describe it. One thing I can describe about it in detail is something I don’t want to get into here, except to say that during that Summer the dishonest actions of someone I considered to be a friend impacted my job performance record in quite a negative manner, in a way which eventually cost me my job, after eleven years of employment. I haven’t been the same since. Wound upon wound. The time for healing is at hand. That’s what today and the coming days are all about. To heal a wound like that you have to rip it open unceremoniously then jump right in. Ouch, right? Boy howdy there are other traumas piled on top of that one, although they came . . . oh, never mind. At least I found my heating pad. That and stretching will tide me over until the massage therapist gets her hands on me next Thursday. These tight, inflamed muscles have a lot of stories to tell. Go figure.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Leaving a Question Unanswered


“And it never even occurs to them their certainty that they are different is what makes them the same.” ~ David Foster Wallace

“Metaphysics in philosophy is, of course, supposed to characterize what is real – literally real. The irony is that such a conception of the real depends upon unconscious metaphors.”  ~ George Lakoff

“Irony is a gift of the gods, the most subtle of all the modes of speech. It is an armour and a weapon; it is a philosophy and a perpetual entertainment; it is food for the hungry of wit and drink to those thirsting for laughter…”  ~ W. Somerset Maugham

It just occurred to me, as I wrapped up this morning’s quote search, that I can spend an hour searching for quotes, so that I will have something to say. That sounds a tad ironic to me. I’m not sure that irony can be subject to degree, so maybe I will take back the word “tad”. What got me thinking about irony today? Your guess is as good as mine. It seems I simply woke up this way. I have no complaints about that. Something in my dreams, no doubt. After the previous sentence I went to find something to clarify David Foster Wallace’s views on irony, because I am well aware that he thought it was something that should be mostly avoided in art and literature after decades of being cool and rebellious. This fascinates me. I like irony, especially when pulled out of thin air at just the wrong time, which is one of the life skills I seem to have been born with. Go figure. So in clarifying what he meant by his stance I found a nice article on the topic of David’s views, and the article’s author noted that “The rebellious posture of the past has been annexed by the very commercialism it sought to defy”, which is something I have snarked about for years. What I mean is – just how many people do you know who claim to be a rebel? Think about it. How many people do you know who claim to be a non-conformist? Or crazy? That last one gets my dander up. It takes a certain amount of conformity when all of your closest friends are crazy and so are you.

I just took a break to go out and sit on the deck for a while, then I returned to feed the cat, who is being annoying this morning. It snowed lightly overnight, so things out there look all pretty and stuff. Now, back to irony for a moment before I move on. The writer of the article mentioned the irony in the whole concept of reality TV. The article was written before Trump flopped into office after a lengthy gig as a reality TV star, so he had no way of commenting on the irony of Trump rebelling against the status quo in Washington by emulating said status quo. That’s one scary nitwit there. Just sayin’. I don’t expect that the man is much capable of personal insight, nor even that he actually knows at all what he is doing most of the time. Anyway, two of my favorite writers were quite fond of irony, and did it well – Mark Twain and Christopher Hitchens. I like irony, but David Foster Wallace left me wondering about it. His perspective leaves me to adopt the issue of its relevance as one of those questions that need not be answered because it serves more and better purpose unanswered, because it gets you to think beyond the thoughts that you only think you are thinking when all you are actually doing is repeating thoughts you got from other folks somewhere along the road. I’m guilty of that. Are you? That is why I need the exercise provided by that unanswered question.

It’s coming up on sunrise so I will wrap this post up and head on out to look at the scenery for a while. This one has been fun to write, and it exercised my brain more than I am used to this time of day. I s’pose that’s healthy one in a while in a life of routine.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



Up Into Beauty


A scene from Great Sand Dunes National Park, at the northern end of the magical San Luis Valley, in south central Colorado.

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand 
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour.”  ~  William Blake

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”  ~  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“We are an impossibility in an impossible universe.” ~ Ray Bradbury

Take another look at the opening photo. I want to urge anyone who lives in Northern New Mexico to take a drive up to Colorado to see the Great Sand Dunes National Park. The place appeals to my sense of wonder, and wordless beauty. It’s about a two hour drive from Taos. Just go. Now, go back and look again at the photo. The folks walking up into the dunes – up into beauty – will give you an idea of the scope of the place. It boggles the mind. Of course I am easily boggled, but this is something different.

A storm is coming. Rain, they say. And maybe even some snow. It has been so dry that the ground will suck this stuff right up. One might be tempted to go out and dance in the rain. I’ll be at work so that may not be such a good idea, but my spirit will dance anyway. Not only that, history is in the making in our nation. It is fun to watch come down, however disturbing the whole shit storm may be. I’m kinda sorta on overload this morning so I am making this post short. It’s sorta like this – it’s 5 AM. Do you know where your good senses are? I think I’d better go look and see if I can find them.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Keeping the Rational Mind on a Leash


“There is always time for another last minute”  ~ Terry Pratchett

“It’s all fine to say, “Time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget”—and things like that when you are not involved, but when you are there is no passage of time, people do not forget and you are in the middle of something that does not change.” ~ John Steinbeck

Well, tomorrow should be a fun day – rain, snow, wind; 70% chance of the wet stuff, and 20-30 mph winds. Fun. I know I will enjoy it. It will be interesting to see how many people will complain, even though most everyone I come into contact with has been expressing dismay at the lack of precipitation for weeks now. However welcome it is, for some it is an inconvenience. Alas, we live in a time of inconvenience. If it is not this or that it is another thing. Sigh. It’s been a long yet timeless morning here for me. I’m in a state of mind where rationality is not really holding sway. Don’t get me wrong, my rationality is heathy and doing what it does, it just lacks priority, so it sits, waiting. I like an old quote from Stephen Levine, from his book on vipassana meditation,  A Gradual Awakening, “the rational mind doesn’t know which way to turn and the heart couldn’t care less”. Yeh, what he said. I got up early, as usual, and made it on through to about 4:15 AM, when I could not hold my head up. So I leaned back in the chair to snooze a bit, but sleep never came. I spent the next 40 minutes half-listening to Rachel Maddow. She’s always a nice hit for the rational mind. I have to work today so keeping that portion of my mind on a leash is pretty much prudent, necessary, whatever. I don’t need it wandering off someplace. Still, I feel the timelessness of the day. Time is not what we think it is. Trust me on that. Hey, did ya notice I had a bit of a romantic spell in yesterday’s post? Early in the workday a woman came in whom I have been thinking about lately, because she is one of those authentic sunshine people, and I haven’t seen her in a while, so I have been missing her. This may seem like an odd reference to romanticism, seein’ as how she is a lesbian, but that has nothing to do with whether or not romanticism is applicable. Tis a thing of the heart, so love is the key, and how that love is assigned and practiced is something that comes later. Love comes first. The rational mind sometimes simply knows not what to do. As for now, going forward, tis shower time. My hair is a mildly unruly mop these days. I’ve been letting it grow out and right now it has that 60s rock musician look to it. The point is that it takes longer to dry. And on that mundane, practical, whatever, point I smilingly wrap up this post, first noting that I often find that the shower has a time warp in it. Rationality will return when it is time to give the cat her injection, then feed the chickens. Both are weird creatures, yet they do indeed have a grounding effect on me.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



If It Leaves You Smiling


“If the single man plants himself indomitably on his instincts, and there abides, this huge world will come around to him.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I’m a writer and this is what I do no matter what name we put to it. Year by year, the world is turning into a darker and stranger place than any of us could want. This is the only thing I do that has potential to shine a little further than my immediate surroundings. For me, each story is a little candle held up to the dark of night, trying to illuminate the hope for a better world where we all respect and care for each other.”  ~ Charles de Lint

There is one hen in the coop that pipes up like a half-baked rooster, but only at night, never by daylight. Not even at sunrise – only in the dark. None of the birds displays any signs of being a rooster except for this one. It’s perplexing. I’d like to make light of the situation but I’d more like to leave it as the mystery that it is. The call is rooster-like. I will give it that. There is just no edge to it. It is muffled in some strange way. I don’t know. Weird. But what do I know? What I do know is that I have had a wicked bad headache since I woke up this morning. I won’t call it a migraine, like some people do, not seeming to know that a migraine is a specific medical condition, not just a really really bad headache. I treat that misunderstanding in the same way I treated that statement by the young woman a few days ago, when she said coyotes are going extinct. I mean, why bother? It doesn’t hurt me, save for the pain of my own judgement. And that can hurt like the dickens at times. The thing here is that the headache is making me kinda grouchy and irritable this morning, yet I have only slipped and snapped at the cat a couple of times. Maybe it’s the Stephen Levine pain management meditations I’ve been listening to as I fall into sleep at night. It’s about acceptance, about softening the hard edges of life through self-mercy. No judgement, no resistance. Tis a worthy cause. I found myself, yesterday, thinking about writing some spiritual, inspirational stuff for a change. Yes, I know I can do it, especially if it should come to the topic of lovingkindness. I’m pretty good at that, almost as good as I am at practicing “idiot compassion”. Idiot compassion is letting people walk all over you in the name of practicing compassion for all living things, by remaining sweet and gentle in the face of really gnarly human behavior. People take advantage of that attitude. A couple of months ago a woman told me that I am too easy with people, and I was like duh. I had a trance channeler in Cassadaga, Florida tell me that once, right out of her mouth the minute she reached the trance state, and the friggin woman had never seen me before. It was eerie. I’ve heard that numerous times during my life. You’d think I’d learn, right? Apparently not. Idiot compassion, right? I’ll hafta work on that. I get tired of being pushed around, and letting that happen is one of the more existential, fatalistic characteristics of a depressive phase in bipolar disorder; like, no wonder I stay home most of the time. It’s like why bother? Lack of hope, despair in abundance, low self-esteem – like viewing the future as some looming recursive phenomenon. But – I did kinda like a quote I found this morning, from Joe Biden, saying that the Irish are the only people who feel nostalgia for the future. That has some real quantum truth in there somewhere. I love Joe. Anyway . . . moving forward . . . another example of this . . . well, not really, this example more tends toward pessimism, or disobeying the Law of Attraction. A few months ago I told a woman that you can’t make money at writing, except for a rare few, and she said “Oh, don’t say that! Take it back!”. I took it back. I like her enough that I am willing to make an effort to believe that I can make money at writing. But all I have to work with right now is the novel, which I am convinced few people will ever read once it’s published, and even fewer will find it to be palatable. And yet I am going to go for it anyway. Writing is supposta be for yourself, to create something that cannot be un-created once your mind has accomplished that; and if the finished work touches even one person in some meaningful way it will have been worth it At the moment I suspect a shower will be worth it. Tis indeed a workday. Time to put on my brave face and saunter through yet another day, in spite of feeling so low this morning. Usually, very usually, as the president might say, no one notices my dank mood when I am wearing my brave face, which is as it should be. And if that optimistic woman comes around, and tells me “Oh, don’t be that way!”, I just might comply. It’s not idiot compassion if it leaves you smiling.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Waking to a Strange World


“If anyone is unwilling to descend into himself, because this is too painful, he will remain superficial in his writing. . . If I perform to myself, then it’s this that the style expresses. And then the style cannot be my own. If you are unwilling to know what you are, your writing is a form of deceit.” ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

“If people never did silly things nothing intelligent would ever get done.” ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

“Please, don’t worry so much. Because in the end, none of us have very long on this Earth. Life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star steaks through the darkness, turning night into day…make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular.”  ~ Robin Williams

Air temperature is 40º. I’ve got me a lap cat on duty; beats a blanket any day. Still a little hot coffee in the mug. I don’t usually do product placement but I want to share that I bought myself a Yeti mug, and I am more than pleased with it. This new coffee vessel really improved my mornings. Anyway . . . I woke up in a strange world this morning. It was two different things that likely shoved me into this odd world. One was the president (it still to this day sounds no less than bizarre to say that!) stating that he is “a stable genius” when he couldn’t be further from the truth. I mean WTF Donny?! The other thing was a young woman, maybe no more than 20, saying that coyotes are going extinct. That’s another further from the truth kinda thing. I mean WTF lady?! My mind can only accept so much. Whatever. Today is laundry day. Because the morning temperature is 20º above what it has been for weeks now I might go down there early, because I won’t freeze my assets of while I sit in my car and read. Then probably a long drive north, to the Colorado border and back. The scenery is spectacular, and it never looks quite the same twice. Talk about wide open spaces! Wow. And populated by volcanos as well. I love it.

I just went out to sit on the deck for a while. The penumbral shadow is lifting so I could see the texture of the clouds of the overcast sky. The forecast said a chance of snow showers but that hasn’t panned out. We need it. It’s been as dry as carne seca for many weeks now. Climate change? Likely so. I’ve heard people from all three predominate cultures here express dismay at the dryness. If it does start snowing we might be seeing snow on into May. I say bring it on. Let’s go. Enough is enough. As a longtime barefoot island hippie boy I simply love to see snow. The islands have a stable sameness that is laced with tedium at times. Now, moving on . . . let’s wrap it up here. I’m still feeling the residuals from the brief bout with the flu I and a few days ago. The headache is a firm distraction so my focus leaves a lot to be desired.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.