The Irregularly Spaced Moments Of Exceptional Peacefulness

Here it is, the last day of the arbitrarily declared year of 2018.

I state "arbitrarily declared year" simply because someone, somewhere, decided to start counting days, months and years not based on a well-researched scientific calculation of any sort or anything even close to that - they just picked a period of time and named it "day one of month one of year one", started counting from there, and everyone's pretty much gone with it since.

Which is okay by me. Gotta start somewhere. If we used current scientific calculations of the Earth's age, we'd have to write "31 December, Year 4 billion two million seventy five thousand three hundred and sixty two" on our checks and such, and that is just to much writin'.

The year comes to a close on a fairly quiet note for me personally. Other than the usual vagarity of fate in regards to relationships, the losing and gaining of weight, the multiple road trips simply for the joy of going on road trips (and the various adventures and misadventures that go with them), the losing and winning, the running and resting...well, you know how life is...just a daily salad of surprises.

Yeah, that's a pretty crass summation I suppose, but it's the best I can deliver in my current state.

Oh, and favorite song of 2018 is probably I Don't Know Anything by Andrew W.K., because it reminds me of being young and alive with the energy of a million suns, still very, very confused about everything...but still thinking everything would work out somehow.

A Good Way To Spend A Cold Sunday

That Chemical Smell

I still have the smell of chemicals on me.

Chemicals like those used in fungicides and adhesives.

Primarily due to having spent the day using them.

Using them in the process of repairing damage to the breakroom.

That's what you have to do when you have a washer fail on a water connection that then proceeds to flood half of the breakroom overnight, and the bottom half of the particle board cabinets get waterlogged soaking up the water, and a small portion of the vinyl composite tile that was under the sink or close to it gets damaged as well...

The Society For The Promotion Of Idleness

On occasion I have been known to procrastinate. It has occurred to me at several different times in my life that it is highly unlikely that I am alone in this, and thus it might be a good idea to get together with a few of my like-minded fellows and form a club devoted to sharing in the many joys of procrastination.

But every single time I get that idea I put it off until a later day.

Feel Free To Take Off Your Bra, We Have Plenty Of Places To Hang It Up...

An After Christmas Conversation Between Seven Old Dudes

MJM and I gave PS a ride home last night after everyone else had left for their respective abodes. PS had taken the light rail from his new place in downtown Denver (not to far from Union Station) as he did not want to risk drinking & driving after spending the day in Lakewood eating and drinking.

MJM had not had anything to drink the entire day, so it was he who took the driver's seat (I'd had a few samples from a few of the liquid gifts I'd received, so I was just going along for the ride).

Had yet to visit the new apartment - PS had been living in the 'burbs like the rest of us, but after breaking up with the girlfriend, decided downtown was where he wanted to live.

His new place was pretty nice - it's on the third floor of a 3 story walk-up, and is probably at least 100 years old. It has been remodeled inside, complete with new HVAC and plumbing. He gave us the .25 cent tour when we dropped us off, and after another drink (me, not MJM), we said our goodbyes and MJM & I headed back to the manor house.

Except we didn't quite make it a non-stop trip back. About 3 seconds into the return trip MJM remarked that he wouldn't mind stopping someplace to get a beer, and I replied that the only place I could think of that might be open would be the R.

So we drove over to the R, and it was open.

There were 5 people there, including the bartender. HH was sitting at a table with Bob K. and somebody I sort of recognized but didn't really know, and another Bob was sitting at the bar just three feet away from their table.

Blonde L was working and she had MJM a Coors Light (in an ice cold mug, of course) and me a tall J & C almost quicker than we placed our order.

MJM and I exchanged holiday greetings with everyone in the bar, including the guy I didn't really know who turned out to be Dale, a fairly decent guy and one helluva pool player.

HH stated they'd been talking about bucket lists' when we walked in and asked if if either MJM or I had ever made an actual bucket list, or at least considered what we'd put on a bucket list if we were to ever make one.

Both of us looked over at the table the 3 were at and MJM went first, saying that he hadn't ever made a bucket list, but that he wouldn't have much to put on one other than a few places on the planet he'd like to visit that he hadn't had a chance too.

Me, I laughed a little and replied that yeah, I've made a few different bucket list, and that I usually make a new one or revise an old one every year, usually in the first few weeks of the new year.

HH then asked what I had on my current bucket list that had been on any of the other bucket list I had made in the past, and I blurted out "hike the Appalachian Trail" without a second of hesitation.

I just as quickly added, "but seeing as how my knees are now at war with the rest of my body, I think my window of opportunity for that has closed."

Which opened up a whopper of a conversation that revolved around pursuing dreams, taking risks, pushing limits, refusing to give up, etc., etc., for about the next 45 minutes to an hour, and even sucked in the 3 other people who came into the bar during that time.

Which led me to the conclusion that sharing items that are on a bucket list and then following that up with a stated belief that the items may not be achievable is just not something I should do. 

Ever again.

The Beat Poet's Christmas Carol

How many chimneys is that fat little man goin' down
Every chimney on every house in every town
Before he gets through this long dark night
Oh, this lonesome long dark night
Flying under the light of a moon as big & fat as
The dreams of every child in the world 
From Caracas to Kaliningrad to Nashville and beyond
Yeah, the dreams of every child in the world
Filled with hopes the fat little man will visit them tonight

His reindeer strain under the weight of his sleigh
Filled with toys for every good girl and boy
They streak across the sky like tongues of lightning
They fly on the power of faith, without the benefit of wings

As long as the good people continue to believe
He'll continue loading up that sleigh every Christmas eve
And drive those reindeer through the long, dark night
Drive that sleigh through the beautiful long, dark night
With a sack filled with toys built by slack-jawed elves
Who slave away in toy shops though they wear no chains
Their reward is the knowledge they play a key role
In bringing happiness to the world for at least one day

His reindeer strain under the weight of his sleigh
Filled with toys for every good girl and boy
They streak across the sky like tongues of lightning
They fly on the power of faith, without the benefit of wings

Bringing happiness to the world for at least one day

Bright Lights, Small City

Not Quite The Best Way To Cut Down Your Own Christmas Tree

Have A Holly, Jolly, Inflatable Christmas

Bending The Velvet

She said, "Your cat feels like silk, or maybe velvet...yeah, velvet.

I replied, "Maybe you've had enough to drink."

Handier Than Most

The Brian Speckner Method Of Selecting Horses From The Racing Form Or Telegraph

I have no idea who Brian Speckner was, but evidently he was a gambling man for I found his method of selecting horses from the Racing Form or Telegraph between the pages of an old book (circa 1950's) I bought at a garage sale.

Not being a gambling man myself, I have no idea if this sort of thing works or not. If anyone tries it, let me know your results.

   

A Keen Interest In Everything Coupled With Ambition

Being of independent means

Is really the way to go

If you want to be able to do, that is

Whatever it is you want to do

Bear in mind, however,

It is not the only way 

To be able to do whatever it is you want to do

It is just one of the easier ways

A Glance At The Old Steel Mill & Environs In Pueblo, Colorado

I Dedicate This House To The Griswold Family Christmas

Magniloquence

The word of the day is magniloquence. It is used to describe a pompous grandiosity in language, either spoken or written.

For example, instead of stating "This beer is pretty good," a person states instead, "The mellifluous tones of the oak tannins are barely hinted at, which gives a subtle yet pleasing buttery feel to the overall crispy richness of the beverage, even if the aftertaste is still a tad too structured."

As if they were a wine sommelier or some such character.

Magniloquence is in itself, an extremely magniloquent word. 

It's An Abstract, Conceptual, Interpretive Kinda Christmas Thing

Sunday Morning Chargers / Steelers Analysis

This morning I was upstairs wrapping presents for a very early in the month Christmas party I've gotta attend tonight, and downstairs MJM was watching Game Day Sunday Morning on the NFL network.

Out of coffee, so I picked up my mug (The one that has the island of Japan and Mt Fuji featured prominently on it that my brother TL brought me back as a souvenir of Japan, which I happen to love simply because it is a souvenir of Japan that has a big "Made in Japan" sticker on it) and walk downstairs to get a refill.

While in the kitchen refilling the aforementioned mug, I overhear one of the talking heads on the sports talk show giving an analysis of tonight's San Diego vs. Pittsburgh game state that "...the Steelers have something the Chargers don't have."

And I immediately shout out, "No, the Chargers have exactly what the Steelers have, and do you know what that is MJM?"

MJM shouts back, "No, what's that?"

I reply, "A loss to the Denver Broncos."

Laughs galore ensue.

In The Good Ol' Plein Air Wintertime

The War Between My Left Knee & Me

There is a war on...one that features a part of my body that I had relied upon for years

It's me against my left knee

My left knee seems to be winning

For now

C'mon, modern medical science, show me what ya got.

At The Temple Of The Forgotten Gods

At the temple of the forgotten gods
Are gathered
Prayer books, hymnals, and tracts
Discarded by disillusioned devotees
Who had yearned 
For salvation, to be saved, or at least given a little insight
None of which ever came to pass
So the promises put forth to the supposed chosen
By the various exalted priests
Of the gods of bygone eras
Crumbled into dust
Much like the deities themselves
Who were denied much hoped for reincarnation 
Into beings of much greater substance
For the directionless drifters to admire and idolize 

Oh, the sting of rejection
And lack of zen
Burning holes in the souls like hot coals on a carpet
Leaving many with a feeling not unlike malaise
Along with a pronounced feeling of helplessness
In the face of the overwhelming tyranny
That comes from having to think, to decide, for oneself
And discovering that the lies were not simple ones
Forced to deal with a deep, dark truth
The nature of the matter being
That it was their own feckless minds
Their own insidious consciousness,
That created their faith in something external

Pay attention, cried the teacher, not all is devine
Sometimes the world is just another planet,
Thrust into a heliocentric orbit around a sun
The world is not the playground of various gods,
Intent on causing discord and unrest

In the beginning there may or may not have been
A lack of knowledge
However, now it is a stretch to beg that excuse
Adam & Eve didn't have the luxury of comparative studies
And certainly not the opportunity
To discuss alternatives with their friends and fellows
Just, as far as the record shows, a yearning to know
Of and about everything that the world had to offer
And whether or not the garden 
Was really where they wanted to be
Who knows, maybe they looked for a home on the coast
A quaint little cottage by the sea
Where, it could probably be surmised;
They could raise the boys to be less selfish
And a hell of a lot less violent

The idea of an ideal existence
Is not unique or exclusive to any one culture
And neither is the desire to live forever
However, that is not what really matters
When it comes down to universal truths

The world is wonderful place, isn't it?
It is indeed, except for the occasional strife

It does bear repeating, that; 
The world
Is a wonderful place


Especially at sunset

Surprisingly Entertaining Despite The Derivative Nature Of The Plot

They cast a favorite leading man of the day and not just one but two of the more popular young up-and-coming ingenues, plus a once popular, now a bit faded but still with a little drawing power, actress as the femme fatale.

The Director was proven to be in touch with the current zeitgeist, and could be counted on to lure the targeted demographic, good for at least a two-week box office run.

Of course there would be a huge marketing campaign, tied to promotional appearances on various talk shows by the cast members and maybe a "win a chance for a walk-on role" contest.

Everything would be done according to the formula, and even if the the formula was so well-known it had become an embarrassment, no one connected to the project could work up even half a blush. The formula made money, and that was all that mattered.

Not one word was spoken on the set about art, or integrity, or craft.

Hell, there were more accountants milling about most days than actors or actresses, even on days that required a crowd of $100.00 and lunch extras to fill in the background for the big party scenes.

The script had long been dis-avowed by the original writer, and even three of the four writers brought in to punch it up. 

So the only screen credit for a writer went to a woman who had added 4 lines of dialogue in the mandatory break-up scene, and another 5 in the make-up scene.

In spite of the overall crass approach to the production of the film, there were still a few bright spots in the final print. One of the ingenues actually had solid acting chops, and there was a full 5 minutes of largely improvised dialogue between the leading man and a bank teller (played by an actor who once starred in a sitcom that revolved around a pet store and it's zany staff) that left just about every member of the audience laughing.

Of course, all of the bright spots were shown in the trailer.

Alone In The House At Night

Every single creaking of the old fence, every single whisper of the wind through the leaf-less trees, every single groan from the loose clapboard siding, seemed to echo throughout the cold, drafty house.

Windows shuddered and pipes rattled as the large clock at the end of the hall ticked out it's relentless cadence.

She had come back to her parent's house, the house she lived in until the day she left for the University, in an effort to lay to rest the memories that had been haunting her since the day of the accident.

The accident. That fatal 18 seconds of driving that were the last 18 seconds of her parents lives.

An Act Of Disrespect, Cowardice, and Ignorance

Yesterday was a day of gratitude here in the states. People all over the country sat down with family and friends and shared not only a big dinner, but also in each others lives, catching each other up on the good and the bad that they had to endure since the last big gathering.

Today I received a text message from a-brother-from-another-mother close friend that one of our mutual acquaintances ended his own life last night.

That hit me hard.

I didn't know the acquaintance in question well, but I knew him well enough to be completely mystified as to why he chose to take his own life. He was generally a high-spirited guy, always smiling, always enjoying life. Or at least it appeared that way to me.

And now I am angry at him. Angry and disgusted. 

He left behind a devoted wife and beautiful children, the oldest just 11.

Suicide is selfish, plain and simple. I type that and I immediately chastise myself, thinking, "What a minute, you have no idea what demons he was dealing with, you have no idea what mental stresses or difficulties this man may have been wrestling with on a daily basis, you can't judge him."

But then I thought, "No. He chose a holiday, a holiday of a specific nature, for a specific reason. To cause a lifelong trauma for those who survived him".

I think of his wife, and his children, and his friends, and I get angrier. 

I do not possess enough knowledge of the human psyche to understand what causes a person to want to end their own life. 

I have, however, read a number of books that cover the topic, spurred on by the suicides of a few people I have known.

But all I've really garnered from those books is that people who want to commit suicide usually succeed eventually, and that the demographic in the U.S. that is most likely to commit suicide is white males.

7 out of 10 suicides are white males.

Why? What is the causation? And where is the media outcry? 

The Recitations Of The Blessings, Actual

Thirty-plus people gathered together this afternoon. FS and JH had cooked up enough food to feed twice that number, and as everyone who joined us brought food or drink, there was plenty to go around.

First though, there was the traditional listening of Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant", It's not Thanksgiving until we listen to Alice's Restaurant.

Then we went around the table (actually three of those temporary tables lined up in a row) with the gratitude declarations.

From the oldest to the youngest, the number one declaration of gratitude involved family and friends. However, there were also a few other declarations of gratitude that encompassed a bit more.

SS, whose parents divorced when she was very young, was grateful that her parents were united in their commitment to have her attend college, and, after earning an academic scholarship to college, has only one more semester to finish before becoming the first member of her family to earn a college degree.

HJ, a naturalized citizen originally from a country in Central America, simply said "This country".

SK stated he was grateful that he was alive at this particular time, as it was the best time ever to be alive.

Several people mentioned how fortunate we all were not to have had to deal with the wildfires that have plagued California, or any of the other calamities, natural or otherwise, that have plagued the world.

And all of us were grateful for present company, and the food.

Oh yeah, the food.

The Recitation Of The Blessings

Tomorrow afternoon I'll be sitting down to dine with family and friends, and while the food and drink will be plentiful, they will both take a back seat to the primary reason we will be gathered together.

Gratitude will be the heart of the day. 

I live with and among a group of people who truly understand how lucky we all are, for almost without exception each and every one of us are living better lives than we ever dreamed of.

So, when it comes time to pass the gratitude candle around the table, each and every person who takes their turn holding it will have a fairly long list of things to be grateful for.

And at the top of everyone's list will no doubt be, each other.

Cat & Dog Harmony

Hiding Out In An Abandoned Warehouse

He had been leaning up against the chain-link fence that surrounded the long-abandoned dilapidated brick building for nearly a half hour.

"This," he thought to himself, "sucks like mad."

He was a few months shy of his 21st birthday but he had the shakes, due to being without alcohol for the past 3 days, which was about as long as he could remember being dry without being in the joint since he was 12.

"Where the hell are they?" He said that out loud, in hopes that one of them would hear it and reply, "We're over here."

But no answer came from the darkness that surrounded him. 

"I knew I shouldn't have listened to Paulie, he's so full of it. Now I'm stuck here freezing to death. I gotta get out of here."

He looked through the gap cut with linemen's pliers in the fence that he was leaning against and tried hard to see if there was anything moving in the large overgrown lawn that spanned the distance from the perimeter established by the fence up to the falling down entrance of the building.

He really couldn't see a thing, but he could certainly hear things.

Creaks and groans made by loose trim or unsecured doors and windows that moved when the wind picked up, and the constant sound of shaking branches and shivering leaves.

Those sounds alone were enough to spook him, but when coupled with the DT's that had kicked in the other day, well, it was almost enough to drive a man insane.

And then he heard the laughter.

Denver Retro Con, 2018