Friday, December 30, 2016
Tonight, Tonight
The 2016 reunion tour continues...friends I had not seen in half a decade or more popping up like dandelions in a meadow after a summer shower...beautiful to see, beautiful to experience...
Except for S.A. - That dude is such a reprobate....could'a' gone another ten years without having to deal with him.
Except for S.A. - That dude is such a reprobate....could'a' gone another ten years without having to deal with him.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Monday, December 26, 2016
The Lure Of The Unknown
The desire to travel, to explore, to bear witness to majestic sights that I'd read about in newspapers and books starting from a very early age, has been a driving passion of mine since I was old enough to get on a bus alone and just go somewhere, whether it was a few miles across town or a thousand miles or more up the coast.
Which is one the reasons I am baffled by people I know who not only do not like to travel, but have actually never traveled.
And by never traveled, I mean that these are people who have lived in one and only one neighborhood their entire lives, and have rarely left it, ever.
To have never felt the urge to see the sun setting on a different horizon or to have never longed to look across an ocean in the opposite direction from that which you were born are as inconcieveable to me as never wanting to try a different flavor of ice cream,
Yet, I know quite a few people who are absolutely content with not ever going across town, much less going across the country. Needless to say, most of those people have never even had a passport.
This past year I was fortunate enough to be able to experience a little of the heartland of the United States during two much-too-brief visits to Iowa & Illinois, and those two much-too-brief visits were like sampling a delicious new flavor of ice cream in that now I am literally craving for a chance to go back to Dubuque and Galena, to drive along the small two-lane highways and byways of the tri-state area, admiring the well-cared for lawns and marveling at the endless miles of rolling hills.
I tried to explain that desire to a friend at a Christmas shindig the other day, but I all I got out of her was rolled eyeballs and a disbelieving "You have got to be kidding me, why would you want to ever leave Colorado, especially to go to such dull and boring places?"
To which I replied, "How can you say those are dull and boring places if you've never even been there?"
Her response? "Because they're not here, and whatever's not here is probably dull and boring."
Which of course lead me to mentally cross her off my list of people I will be mailing "Wish you were here" postcards to when I take my next vacation.
Which is one the reasons I am baffled by people I know who not only do not like to travel, but have actually never traveled.
And by never traveled, I mean that these are people who have lived in one and only one neighborhood their entire lives, and have rarely left it, ever.
To have never felt the urge to see the sun setting on a different horizon or to have never longed to look across an ocean in the opposite direction from that which you were born are as inconcieveable to me as never wanting to try a different flavor of ice cream,
Yet, I know quite a few people who are absolutely content with not ever going across town, much less going across the country. Needless to say, most of those people have never even had a passport.
This past year I was fortunate enough to be able to experience a little of the heartland of the United States during two much-too-brief visits to Iowa & Illinois, and those two much-too-brief visits were like sampling a delicious new flavor of ice cream in that now I am literally craving for a chance to go back to Dubuque and Galena, to drive along the small two-lane highways and byways of the tri-state area, admiring the well-cared for lawns and marveling at the endless miles of rolling hills.
I tried to explain that desire to a friend at a Christmas shindig the other day, but I all I got out of her was rolled eyeballs and a disbelieving "You have got to be kidding me, why would you want to ever leave Colorado, especially to go to such dull and boring places?"
To which I replied, "How can you say those are dull and boring places if you've never even been there?"
Her response? "Because they're not here, and whatever's not here is probably dull and boring."
Which of course lead me to mentally cross her off my list of people I will be mailing "Wish you were here" postcards to when I take my next vacation.
Sunday, December 25, 2016
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Friday, December 23, 2016
The Second Dragon Of Christmas
Seriously, what are the chances? Driving by one Dragon dressed up for Christmas, sure, that can happen, as the picture I posted of the first Christmas dragon I saw earlier this month will attest...but two?
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Professional Interaction
She sat down right next to the stranger without hesitation. After a few seconds of fidgeting with her jacket, purse, & cell phone, she turned to the stranger and said, "So, you got a name?"
The stranger turned to her slowly, purposefully. "Sure," he answered, "it's Leif."
"Leif?" She repeated back to him. "As in, Leif Erickson, the Viking?"
"Nope," he replied, "Leif as in Leif me the hell alone."
She rolled her eyes at his retort, gathered up her things and moved a few seats down the bar, happy to oblige his cranky old ass.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Epitaph In D Minor
Once again I'm walking in to see my Doctor
With whiskey on my breath
And once again I'm sure he's going to tell me
I'm drinking myself to death
And I'm going to have to remind him of what I said
The last time we went through this little dance "What's a man to do Doc,
When he has already blown his last chance?"
Again, again, again
For the last time
"I've already blown my last chance."
But my Doctor doesn't listen
He just looks at me and shakes his head
Tells me I'm the keeper of my own prison
And that I'm making my own bed
Yeah, I know
I know
I know
I know
But I've already blown my last chance
With whiskey on my breath
And once again I'm sure he's going to tell me
I'm drinking myself to death
And I'm going to have to remind him of what I said
The last time we went through this little dance "What's a man to do Doc,
When he has already blown his last chance?"
Again, again, again
For the last time
"I've already blown my last chance."
But my Doctor doesn't listen
He just looks at me and shakes his head
Tells me I'm the keeper of my own prison
And that I'm making my own bed
Yeah, I know
I know
I know
I know
But I've already blown my last chance
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Mostly Icy, Very Dicey
There is a chance, I suppose, that there are one or two people new to the state who might not suspect that heavy snowfall coupled with below freezing temperatures might add up to ice on the roadways...but fortunately for them the state put up these handy signs to alert them to that very fact.
Wonder how the drivers of yesteryear worked out what the road conditions would be like after a night of heavy snowfall and sub-freezing temps? Probably with some sort of ice divining rod or like primitive tool I suppose.
Friday, December 16, 2016
The Interrogation
He asked the question directly, forcefully.
"Are you now or have you ever been...a hypocrite?"
His eyes flitted about the small room before he forced himself to stare intently at his questioner and reply just as directly, just as forcefully, as he had been asked.
"Yes, yes I am now, yes I have been, and yes, I probably will be again in the future."
Eyes locked on eyes for seconds that seemed to stretch into minutes. Then he turned away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom...back into the living room where the young woman was waiting patiently to continue the "discussion."
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
Storm
A cold wind wailing like a tortured cat
Trapping garbage up against a chain-link fence
Sun blotted out of the sky by dark rolling clouds
No reason to be out, no reason to be about
It's a day unfit for man, for beasts,
For heroes or villains
Cracks of lightning
Booms of thunder
Howls of the dogs
Left out in yards
Rain lashing the trees
Into giving up their leaves
Rain overflowing gutters
Washing clean the filthy streets
Of a city desperately
In need of a bath
Hard rain
Relentless
Like a man obsessed
Hard rain
Insistent
Like a woman possessed
Trapping garbage up against a chain-link fence
Sun blotted out of the sky by dark rolling clouds
No reason to be out, no reason to be about
It's a day unfit for man, for beasts,
For heroes or villains
Cracks of lightning
Booms of thunder
Howls of the dogs
Left out in yards
Rain lashing the trees
Into giving up their leaves
Rain overflowing gutters
Washing clean the filthy streets
Of a city desperately
In need of a bath
Hard rain
Relentless
Like a man obsessed
Hard rain
Insistent
Like a woman possessed
Sunday, December 11, 2016
I Wanted To Hear Her Voice
Not the voice full of contempt or anger, not the voice full of disappointment
I wanted to hear the voice that said I love you
As I had heard (and ignored)
All those years ago
But it didn't happen
The voice I heard was full of disappointment
Full of a sadness that defied description
Full of sorrow, regrets and remorse
A lack of innocence
A lack of truth
Somewhat fitting
I wanted to hear the voice that said I love you
As I had heard (and ignored)
All those years ago
But it didn't happen
The voice I heard was full of disappointment
Full of a sadness that defied description
Full of sorrow, regrets and remorse
A lack of innocence
A lack of truth
Somewhat fitting
Saturday, December 10, 2016
Fragments Of A Mystery
He had woken up in an elevator. It was stopped on the garage level of a 36 story office building located in the heart of Chicago.
His wallet was still on his person, as was were his car keys. But he could not locate his cellphone.
The events of the night before were hazy at best. He was sure he had met up with a few co-workers at a bar near west Barry & north Racine, but for the life of him he could not remember who had actually been there, or how long they had all stayed, or where he had gone afterward.
Running his hands through his hair he reflexively checked his head for bumps, but he felt nothing unusual. He also checked out his face in the highly polished steel of the elevator doors, but did not notice anything amiss.
He pushed the open door button and walked out into the parking garage after the doors did just that.
Looking around at all the cars in the the spots near the elevator bank it suddenly occurred to him that he could not recall what kind of car he drove. Wasn't it a sedan? Maybe a Toyota Camry? What color was it? Blue?
He fished his keys out of the pocket he had felt them in when he had patted himself down and found two keys to two different vehicles on a key ring that also held what looked like 3 keys for doors of either a home or a business.
The two keys to vehicles were both the type with remote fobs. He pushed the horn button on both of them and waited. A full thirty seconds of silence passed before he tried again. Still nothing.
Momentarily he thought he would walk down every row in the garage but then it occurred to him that this might be just one level of many levels of a large parking garage.
Then he thought that there might be something in his wallet that could help - maybe a parking stub or a receipt for payment.
He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. The familiarity of his wallet in his hands helped to calm a slight panic that had been slowly building.
Then he looked at his Drivers License. The picture was him, he was certain of that, but there was something a little bit off.
The picture was the same face he had gazed at in the polished steel of the elevator doors, but the hair...his hair...looked grayer in the picture, and his hairline appeared to be a little more receded.
Putting his fingers to his face he traced them over his features as if he were looking for a lost needle in a shag carpet. He felt smooth, soft skin on his forehead and around his eyes, and morning stubble on otherwise taught cheeks and chin.
The picture on his Driver's License, however, showed wrinkles and creases on a face - his face. The picture on the Driver's License showed a face that had to be at least twenty years older than the one he was tracing his fingers over.
His wallet was still on his person, as was were his car keys. But he could not locate his cellphone.
The events of the night before were hazy at best. He was sure he had met up with a few co-workers at a bar near west Barry & north Racine, but for the life of him he could not remember who had actually been there, or how long they had all stayed, or where he had gone afterward.
Running his hands through his hair he reflexively checked his head for bumps, but he felt nothing unusual. He also checked out his face in the highly polished steel of the elevator doors, but did not notice anything amiss.
He pushed the open door button and walked out into the parking garage after the doors did just that.
Looking around at all the cars in the the spots near the elevator bank it suddenly occurred to him that he could not recall what kind of car he drove. Wasn't it a sedan? Maybe a Toyota Camry? What color was it? Blue?
He fished his keys out of the pocket he had felt them in when he had patted himself down and found two keys to two different vehicles on a key ring that also held what looked like 3 keys for doors of either a home or a business.
The two keys to vehicles were both the type with remote fobs. He pushed the horn button on both of them and waited. A full thirty seconds of silence passed before he tried again. Still nothing.
Momentarily he thought he would walk down every row in the garage but then it occurred to him that this might be just one level of many levels of a large parking garage.
Then he thought that there might be something in his wallet that could help - maybe a parking stub or a receipt for payment.
He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. The familiarity of his wallet in his hands helped to calm a slight panic that had been slowly building.
Then he looked at his Drivers License. The picture was him, he was certain of that, but there was something a little bit off.
The picture was the same face he had gazed at in the polished steel of the elevator doors, but the hair...his hair...looked grayer in the picture, and his hairline appeared to be a little more receded.
Putting his fingers to his face he traced them over his features as if he were looking for a lost needle in a shag carpet. He felt smooth, soft skin on his forehead and around his eyes, and morning stubble on otherwise taught cheeks and chin.
The picture on his Driver's License, however, showed wrinkles and creases on a face - his face. The picture on the Driver's License showed a face that had to be at least twenty years older than the one he was tracing his fingers over.
Friday, December 9, 2016
Monday, December 5, 2016
On The Wrong Way Down
She's got a big shiny shovel in her hands
Going to dig a hole big and round
Big enough so that she won't mess up her hair
When she buries her head in the ground
Two good eyes that can't see anything
A beautiful voice that can't sing
Two good ears that can't hear a word
A generous heart living on a shoestring
Sells herself short, may as well
No one is buying anyway
Sells herself short, everyday
May as well give it away
Sells herself short like an underpaid
Actress in a one-man play
And a band of winos sing:
Live your life respectfully
Live your life with clarity
Try not to be totally blind
Live your life respectfully
Live your life with clarity
Try not to be totally blind
Live your life respectfully
Live your life with clarity
Try not to be totally blind
That's all I've got
