The barn of the rich man's son

I am sorely tempted to tell stories.
 I have a big account that is a problem.
 oh it has a host of problems.
too many cooks. way way too many cooks
with too many hats to wear
there is no clear line of demarcation
s between who does what and why
a 20 million dollar barn
there used to be magic mushrooms that grew there
and now I have to try to figure out how to kill the fairy ring
so they can trod down the Event Lawn
so I can regrow it again

a thousand dollars here and a thousand dollars there
who's counting?
i read of growing orchids in the desert
the hanging gardens of Babylon
what sorry bastard had to make them grow?
what wizards of green had to muster up their best spells to make trees grow
where they throw all manner of BS at them
the event lawn of Central Park gets a lot of traffic and trash too
man, quit your bitching

dialect:what we say and how we say it and where we came from

How do you hear it?
This meme. Well get to vocabulary later, but the sound of the voice in your head that read this picture of a muddy kid, what did it sound like?















I don't remember the first time I realized that people did all not sound the same. The words they used to describe their world were not the same as mine. Was it the first time I heard the language of the Latin? Was it when I heard it in my family? I do not really know. It is like gravy. I do not remember the first slurp of gravy on taters.

I have a dialect. I revel in it. I have cultivated it at the dismay of my father and paternal grandmother. I have had to suppress it to pass muster with the Fathers that graded papers. My idioms and folkways were not acceptable in a formal paper. I managed to disguise myself sufficiently that it was disregarded or overlooked.

I'll never forget when he brought back Crime and Punishment and put it in my hand.
Said, "somebody might need this for the final."
sheepishly I took it. shame and misery upon me.
the protestant owes another penance
it will probably involve being on my knees in the dirt
rooting out the worst parts of myself

I meant this to be about dialects and the myriad of ways we speak to say what we want
the vocabulary unique to regions, the forgotten and isolated bits of history that still exist

but i got distracted
and it is too big way way way too big
an hour of well produced video is insufficient
I keep wandering down the trail over on youtube
I go look around on Google
would Bing have something different?
it is never ending. There is a mine of epic proportions of people talking about how we talk!
look, just point that mouse over there to that search bar and get after it.
it is too big for me
it is too much.
all i can do is skip across the surface
i have too many plants and chemicals up in the gray matter to devote the necessary neurons
to this study. it is vast.
all i did was look at those of us that came from a few islands on the western end of Europe
and that goes on forever!
having to tie in the ones on the other side of the channel
or the ones that were here before Europe arrived
and the mix of those cultures together to result in something totally different but having parts of both
TOO MUCH

all i can tell you friends and neighbors
is we all talk the same
and we talk differently
we are still trying to express the deepest feelings
and most shallow chit chat
because that is what we do as humans
and the words we use and where we got them
are as varied as the winds
oh it is a big panoply of words and humans wrestling with them
and it fascinates me

Post Debate #3 2016

Very nerdy guys everywhere are thankful that Nate Silver and Bill Gates
exist. oh let's not forget Einstein and Oppenheimer, they were uber strange cats too

Twenty days until the election. Twenty.
This is another watershed event. Monday we go vote early in Texas.
Game on. Spin the wheel and see what happens.
I

am just one I
tomorrow comes like a hope of a cooler breeze
after the sweaty gritty day of today

each of us spinning in our own circuits.

in this framework of what we call Now
can we find some common ground?

is there too much hate
wAs there ever enough?
is any too much?
can I reconcile myself with the Klan?
shall I own the trail of tears?

that was then and this is now
there is time and it goes forward
I know not where this wheel stopping comes
it keeps on rolling
I am here and now
in a moment of time
what shall be tomorrow I do not know
i am hoping it is better than today

as the night unwinds

well sure it is shopped!
He can pray over the thin white duke too
while he feels for Bethlehem
I like this friend of mine from far away
i really really do

did he watch the game too?
did he see the prematurely bald man calling for beers and kisses
did he see the petulant child leave the press
I doubt it. He was probably making his guard
double time it again as he went out
in the street
that's where you find him restless
looking for another soul to save
never quit fishing

i love him

I was there
and she was with me
I only get so many seconds in this life
so many drips of time in the glass
falling on my and where was I then? I was there! I was and then we were gone
I was someone then. I had me and there i was. Leaves in the wind
caught in the foam of the flowering water
smokes of yesterday on the wind
we go there often and it is never there again

wordlessly watching the time as it happens

i sat there and the thoughts were there

when and if the moment comes

I shall try to remember to move

we only get so many days

so very few it seems

considering I shall never live to see 

the seedlings of the bristlecone or the eggs of the tortoise

but i do get this

i do have this much of me to invest

wherein I ramble wide and far

she was bound and determined to go with me
i tried repeated times to talk her out of it
she was having none of it

"You are going to go away."
days she said. I know it's hours
scars on her back from a dog that was bound to die
another rescue says she
so be it. bring it home if they are willing
I can't bear to see it in a cage
ought to have to go to a class and get a license before you can
buy another living creature to bring home
or a gun to kill it
but that is for another nightday

Pope Frank had a birthday today
Donald Trump said something demonstrably false
and the sun came up
and the sun went round the sky
then I had a drink
did anything change while I was working?

posted up something today from
the Accidental Talmudist
not sure if Sgt. Edmonds was Baptist or Methodist
but that day he said We are all Jews
all of us. in the Stalag
maybe I should remember the German In Charge
he holstered his pistol
he kept it back
what would it have taken to wave the men down?
the machine gun is a grim reaper
cut like a cord ripped from the seams
but he didn't, some force of will or mercy or love or respect
it stayed that day
and they all walked in together, holding hands in hell

we are all in this together
there are no sidelines
there is no gallery,
each of us an audience in another's passion play

My own share of demons and angels

Everybody I love you
my heart expands each day

unless I get in traffic of your making in which case
i want a warrant to shoot you

this is how it is. each day I am presented with this new set of
programs, problems, situations and circumstances
beyond my control
this is called life
rolling a big stone up this slight incline
only to have it teeter and wobble  back upon me
chasing me back down
i better run faster
seems to be gaining on me
sooner or later
that was done last week, we are all good on them

I was over there a while back
trying to sort through the future
of where i wanted to be
so many moving parts
best i can do is keep moving forward

Pope Frank was around here last week
I was glad to see it
something existential about the Vicar of Christ
come to see you
made the Speaker of the House
cry in his hankie
and leave behind all the BS that has become the day to day

i didnt start off being political
at 13 I was trying to figure out girl X
not how to get a bill passed to be a law
but somehow I knew
when they asked me what I wanted to be
I said Federal Judge
and that was the picture I drew
many moons later the cockfighter said to me
that was because you figured out the system mijo

there was a day when I was unsullied by the sweat and grit of life
it might have lasted ten seconds
oh i had a childhood. didn't you?
wasn't there the moments of when we saw a lightning flash?
the structure of our lives
we gleam it out in another's eye

Visiting the Personality Cafe

wordsmith, beat out the keys upon your digitizer of thoughts
find some way to make the amorphous feelings get some root
that cur dog that barked at you when you offered it water
it drank it but only after you put it down and got back
getting closer only made it angry and afraid

all the old despair of ever understanding what cannot be understood
of gunshots to the head in a polar vortex moment when time ceases to be linear
rattling back at me as if it were a chained hammer come back around to swing at me again
the dust of a decade has settled on that relationship
the divorce has hardened me and the absurdity of human behavior
is in sharper focus and I don't like it any more then than I do now
even if I am sometimes entertained by it

wave on wave of emotions that I had rather not have
shocking moments of events unplanned and surprises unforeseen
there is no measuring the strangeness of this life

what if we do have an emotional intelligence?
what if machiavelli had it too?
the carnival barker surely does
and so the other temptations of this life
hoyt axton wrote the song and steppenwolf played it
and my sentiments are the same
though I won't name it in polite company
playing them like a fiddle, toying with their feelings
is a hard harvest 

I will stop thinking about it pretty soon
some other thing will come to interest me
but at the moment I would really like to know
and that means much more reading and testing


somewhere in my gut I am not sure I ever will
but it might prove useful along the way

Shocking tales of life and liberty

Not really. Most of life is no more than what you make of it.
I got here same as you. On my own two feet.

That is called a tease. It got you in the door didn't it?
Seen a man called Fat Albert
BIGGEST MAN YOU EVER SAW!
beaten down old boy. Felt sorry for him
in his sideshow tent
I guess it is a lot like that
that chick up there on the stage
shaking what she got
trying to make a buck
she don't want to fuck you
she just wants to go home and smoke a bowl
and go to sleep after she has some dinner

Don't go see the judge before lunch
or late in the afternoon
all he will want to do is put you off if he gives a damn
or throw your ass back in jail if he doesn't
if they let you give him a Snickers
maybe, just maybe his blood sugar will cause enough synapses
to click well enough to see mercy

me? I'll settle for another taco and maybe some better days
a boss who isn't so full of shit it isn't rolling out his ears
and cannot bear to hear the truth
until he tells you he doesn't want to talk any more
good. I didn't want to hear your crap any more either

A Declaration of sorts

Be it known to all interested parties or those ever so disinterested but on the contrary somewhat bored enough to muddle through this rambling declaration I am no longer a single man.

Well at least in the sense that if I went on a date with a female other than the one whose bags I loaded in her vehicle yesterday and said goodbye to this morning before she took off for a week in Houston and Austin she would likely exact severe retribution. So in that regard I am no longer in charge of some things in my life.

Like dressing myself. Those worn out old blue jeans? Probably makings for a purse or some sort of other craft project. Broke down old boots? Replaced. New cologne that I have previously never seen or heard of? Check. Shaving even though it is just an ordinary old Friday and the fanciest place we have to go is dinner? Done.   I accept these things because I am generally incapable of dressing myself in a manner that is fit for public viewing. I am very likely to keep wearing jeans that have seen their better days five years ago. Shirts with one or two burn holes in them? Still good. It is a good thing women find something tolerable about men because otherwise we would still be living in a cave and eating meat on a stick, perhaps quivering from the kill and while that is fine for oysters and perhaps some other meat, it is generally a good idea to scorch the hell out of the bacteria that is likely to be lingering on my preferred protein sources. So, all in all I accept the fact that I do need a handler. Probably 2 or 3. No, make that four, I have a sister too. Between my mother, daughter, sister and now girlfriend it is less likely that I will turn up to some event wearing clothing that should have been donated, no sorry, burned or otherwise disposed of.

That said, this is going to take some adjustment. I am not used to finding tools in a state of complete disarray. Neither am I accustomed to finding .22 long rifle shells rolling around in the bottom of the tool box. That was cause for a discussion of the concept of rimfire ignition and the relative ease with which they would penetrate said toolbox and the ensuing trip to the hospital if it found meat on its wayward path. Since she has recently moved into new digs I found myself helping out with the unpacking. This continues to be a work in progress. I have managed to thin out the stack of boxes that were sitting on the porch and store them properly in the shed/barn. Hung one shelf, a couple dozen decorative doohickeys and one rod for hanging clothes in the laundry room. I was somewhat dismayed that the sockets had been summarily dumped into a vase, but they do in fact exist and I will give her credit for that. Considering that she was making a hasty departure from a particularly bad relationship I count it in her favor that she had the presence of mind to load them at all. I can overlook the pink hammer that would fold under impact with anything more resistant than a tack. I can disregard the seemingly endless supply of wind chimes which I affectionately call clang-bangers. The 682 items in the bathroom, the closet full of nothing but coats (on the back porch to boot) and the shoes....I swear I might have an even ten pair of shoes, which is not enough for this week in Houston if you were to ask her...all these things are par for the course. I expected it and would have been nothing less than shocked if it were any different. It is however going to be an adjustment. In my wildest imagination I could not have foreseen the need for 14 t-shirts for a one week trip. Oh right, morning and evening. The idea that one might wear the same t-shirt in the evening for more than one day? Unthinkable. Yep, some adjustments are in order.

When I afford myself a moment of introspection of finding or rather being found by someone I wonder at what sort of meandering path it was. I do not know the odds of meeting someone from 20+ years ago on that wild assed world wide web. Facebook has indeed made it simpler to do so, but that is by no means a guarantee. Further, even upon finding one another, the timing for a relationship has to be right. It does not do for one or both to already be in a relationship. I am not the sort of man who goes after someone when they are in a relationship; good, bad or meh. I didn't before and I am not starting now. When she first found me a couple of years ago we were both involved. I kept my distance and said hi and howdy when it was called for but I made no attempt at reconnection, in any capacity. Then one day I received a picture of myself in the inbox. After a bout of raucous laughter I immediately posted it as a profile picture. Sweet memories of ill-spent years in college. Not so sweet for my mother though and she began to inquire of its origins I had to throw up the Heisman and say," not so fast woman, you really really do not want to know." Little did I know that my response to the maternal figure was going to be somewhat misread. The next day after some rounds of liquid bravery were consumed at a girlfriend's place she sent me another note asking if I was mad or somehow offended. Typical of me, I was scratching my head and trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong this time. At least I knew enough to say, "Mad? Why would I be mad at you? That was great! If you are talking about my comment to my mom, that was me throwing up a road block before she ventured off into dark woods she did not want to enter."

"Oh. Ok! How have you been?" and so the interrogation period began.

As I said this was a request to say something, a few syllables at least, about where I stand and what I think about it at the moment. She particularly wanted me to mention the wretched pink hammer and the shocking fact of bullets in the toolbox. I included the part of my inability to dress myself properly of my own volition. It is undeniable and symptomatic of my existence as male human being.

That'll do for a start.

Crushing Depression

I have heard the term before. I have probably seen it in other people. Now, I get to experience it for myself.

I suppose I can go copy and paste some clinical checkmarks to describe how I feel right now, but even that seems like a waste of time. I know them by heart anyhow.
1) nothing seems to matter. what I do seems to have no positive impact on my life. No matter how many resumes I send out or how much I polish my resume, there is no response. The things that I do seem to have no importance.
2)It is hard to be around other people. If I could lock myself away or walk off into the wilderness and abandon it all, I would be sorely tempted to do so. I can't because I am a dad and a member of a family that would break down the door or send bloodhounds to find me.
3)I have no desire to do anything. When I can muster up the energy to do things they have lost flavor and any impetus for me to continue doing them.

Ok, I am rapidly losing the desire to even write this down. Nobody will read this besides me and it sounds too much like whining. It is so hard to go out and look for a job that I know is not there. It is hard to see people that do nothing and have more money than they know what to do with. It makes me jealous and angry. I can understand why people would eat a bullet or down a bottle of pills or drive off a cliff. It feels like God has set me adrift. I can understand why someone would become agnostic or actively dismiss God entirely. Yeah, I might be saved into the Bosom of Abraham, but I might also be the starving leper outside the gate of the rich man destined to poverty my entire natural life and only after dying experience my basic needs of existence met. That prospect does not engender hope in me. The fact is that even Jesus himself said that the poor would always be with us. Perhaps the "us" is me. I do not think he was referring to the poverty of the soul. I think he meant what we generally understand as poor; broke, unemployed and without visible means of support. Elijah got sent to the poorest widow in town and her one son and then asked them to bake the last bit of meal they had and feed it to him. She has more faith than I do. Abraham was told to sacrifice his son and got held back at the last second. Job sat there and pondered his fate, argued with his friends and even was so bold to ask God "why". The answer he got was simply, sit there and take it, you're man and I am God. Not telling you why I do what I do or when I am going to do it. Gee, that makes me feel SO MUCH BETTER. Random chance is even more impersonal. At least the despondent believer can still cling to the idea that he might be saved from himself. The atheist believer in random chance has resigned themselves to the idea that very little in this life time is at our control or that things happen for any reason whatsoever.

Gone by the point of caring. some old bed i'll soon be sharing
Gloom, despair and agony on me. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

It is so tempting to curl up on the couch and shut out this day, but I have to come to grips with the failure of my life and continue packing up my stuff as evidence of it. I hate moving, even under the best of circumstances and these are decidedly not that.

The third may become first.

I am going to start giving more love to this blog. It is a solid blog area and I will either begin reposting some old ones or post some fresh stuff. As I have said earlier I do have other blogs that have gotten more of my time, but this one has features that I have missed. Will be seeing you more often.