I Miss My Friends

I'm writing this because I need a place to cry. I need a place to say I wish I could explain how the world turned out the way it did. This afternoon, I read blog posts made by people I have grown to love, long distance, over the years. Robin & Roger, Tara, Kathy x 2, Teresa, Audra, Phil, Betsy, Be, Ellie, ...so many more. These are people who became my friends, albeit in most cases only electronically. But they matter. And I'm so afraid the world under Donald Trump will endanger all the goodness I found in those people. I wrote on my own blog, in a post I've since taken down for fear of being murdered by Trump supporters, that I hate America for what it's done to itself, and that is commit suicide. But suicide may be the best option in a world in which hatred and rabid nationalism are worshiped. My tears flow for democracy, decency, and decorum. Yes, even decorum. Something I once eschewed as artificial now seems synonymous with civility.

The thing that makes my experience even more troubling and difficult is that I chose to leave Facebook, because my feed was so paralyzingly horrid and painful. But leaving Facebook left me with almost no exposure to the friends I love. God, I wish another social medium without the venom would erupt into the public consciousness. But, for now, I feel alone, abandoned (I know I'm not, but I feel that way), and unable to share my grief with people who, I know, feel it, too.

Goddamn Trump and his minions. I hope the bastards suffer for what they're planning to do to freedom, decency, empathy, and compassion. I have become the sharpest sword in what I hope will be the means to disembowel them. Metaphorically.

A Brief Visit

And so, here I am, a year after almost opting to shut this down, visiting again briefly to say hello.  I've not posted on this site at all during the past year and I suspect it has not been missed.  But maybe, just maybe, someone will notice this post.  We'll see.

Or Whatever

It happened again, as it so often does. I listened to music that caused me to tear-up. And again, this time, it was a Cat Stevens piece, among others. Surprisingly, though, it started with Cast Your Fate to the Wind. It happens.

I met a friend for drinks last night. For reasons that remain a mystery to me, I was in a "spiritual" mood, i.e., I could not keep my emotions in check. Everything I thought of, spoke of, heard, or thought about, brought me to the edge of tears. I do not like that. Not only because it's not "manly," but because it suggests a level of weakness I find disdainful. I do not find tears in men disdainful, as a rule, but I find whimpering, simpering, uncontrolled sobbing unappealing. Not only in men, either. Yet that's what I sometimes deal with. It IS embarrassing. My friend said I should not be embarrassed by it; easier to say than to accept.

This same friend wishes, deeply, for me to see the error of my ways and to embrace Jesus Christ as my Savior. That will not happen. She says she will pray for me...for it...and that she hopes I will embrace religion for what it is for her. No, I tell her. That will not happen. While I appreciate that religion can provide a needed support for many, it will not provide that for me. Because I find the premise absurd. I do not believe in fairies. I do not believe in magic. I do not believe in a supreme being. She listens quietly and responds that it's not magic. It's "faith" that I lack, she says. I simply do not acknowledge that there are powers beyond my comprehension, she suggests. Poor me. No, I do not acknowledge such things. Poor her. It is embarrassing to me that people who are otherwise rational still cling to beliefs that I find such absurd bullshit.

I should not be embarrassed, though, any more than I should be embarrassed by my tears.

Yet still she prays. I cannot help but appreciate her fruitless efforts. They are genuine expressions of hope that I, too, will accept her fantasy of an everlasting life. If it weren't so utterly absurd and fanciful, I would appreciate it more. But it is, at the heart of it, mindless longing for something that has never been, and will never be.

It's hard to be friends with an atheist, I suspect, if one is a committed Christian or Muslim or Hindu or whatever.

Cast Your Fate to the Wind

I'm listening to Cast Your Fate to the Wind. I remember hearing it for the first time when I was very young. Even then I was deeply moved by it. A kid whose eyes teared listening to an instrumental piece. What is it about that music that makes emotions well up in me? Ever since I was a kid. Strange.

Music: Somebody That I Used to Know--Walk off the Earth

Soon, I t Will be Time to to Say So Long to this Blog

The time has come to acknowledge that this blog did not turn into anything like I envisioned it to be.  Rather than try to resurrect it and make it into something it's not, I have decided to examine the few posts I've made, save the ones that have merit of some kind, and kill the remainder of this beast.  That will happen soon...relatively soon...as soon as I decide to make it happen. I am in no particular rush, but I do enjoy wrapping up loose ends when the mood strikes me.   Getting these pesky glimpses into my deeply troubled psyche off the internet is important.  Taking that step, I will be one step closer to purifying something...me...that needed it long before now.  It's truly important.  It  matters. 

It matters deeply, but only in the most superficial way. 

Peace

It can't hurt to wish for peace on earth.  But the effort required to achieve it seems too great for humankind to succeed in achieving it.  Oh, it's achievable.  But we're just not willing to set our personal and parochial interests aside long enough to make it happen.

The desire for peace may be universal, but I am afraid it's not.

Regardless of that sad assessment, I do wish peace for all of my friends and my family.  If we can't achieve it on a national or global scale, let's just do it locally, from our doorsteps to the end of the street.

Street Art

This is one of the most exceptional pieces of urban "street" art! I am impressed with good, provocative, well-conceived street art. See much more at StreetArtUtopia.

Pie in the Sky

I've had to deal with it for as long as I can remember: "Oh, come on, of COURSE you want a birthday cake!" No, I don't. I want a birthday pie. (The fact that it's not my birthday has no bearing on this discussion.)

Almost everyone seems to think it's just WRONG to turn down a birthday cake in favor of a birthday pie. But I don't. It's not that I have anything against cake. Cake is OK. In fact, there are plenty of cakes that I find appealing. But when it comes to my birthday, or anyone else's for that matter, I prefer pie. I don't think I have a favorite pie. If I did, it would probably be apple. Or cherry. Maybe pecan. Possibly peach. Chocolate pie is not my top choice, but I can eat it. Buttermilk pie is good. So is coconut cream pie.  And lemon meringue has a place.  As does black-bottom pie. 

It seems a bit odd to me that I, never much of a sweets-eater, have always liked pie.  What's odder still is the fact that the older I get, the more I like it.  I guess it would be even more odd if I were to like it more the younger I get.

Transformations

This first post-business road trip was supposed to be fantastic. Somehow, though, it's lacking the transformational character I expected and hoped for.

I wonder if I was looking for the wrong transformation? There will be transformations, I just don't know now what they will be.

Questions

My father never, to my recollection, spoke to me about religion or god or his religious beliefs. I knew, though, that he was religious. He was just very, very private about his beliefs. I don't, to this day, know exactly what his religious beliefs were, but I do know (or I think I do) they were Christian beliefs and he was a religious man. My mother told me, after he died, his favorite hymn was Amazing Grace. I remember a few occasions when I heard him humming it...or maybe even singing it. Or maybe those are false memories. I don't know.

Regardless, I associate that hymn with my father. Whenever I hear it, I think of him. When I hear it, I get very emotional and I tend to tear-up. Don't know just why, but I do.

I'm not religious, at least not in the traditional way. I don't believe there is a god that has ultimate responsibility for everything. I don't think there's a powerful being that created mankind. All of that stuff strikes me as utter fantasy. But I believe there is more to "us" than higher-level animals who can think and plan. I don't think there's an afterlife, but I think the lives we live allow us to have a mark on the future...or at least on the present. I believe in concepts of goodness and badness. I believe people should be good to one another. I don't believe people should steal from one another. I don't believe murder, whether by individuals or the state, is acceptable. I have morality. I just don't quite know how to defend it. I don't do it through god.

Physics cannot explain all the "BIG" questions to my satisfaction. But I don't buy the religious explanations, either.

It's late. I have to sleep. These questions won't get answered tonight. They won't get answered in this lifetime.

Without a Point

My "local" friends are few and far between. That's due, in large part, to the fact that I tend to be more than a little aloof in some circumstances. That aloofness tends to make people a little less than enthusiastic about approaching me. Another factor in "aloneness" can be attributed to my desire for private time. Though I'm by no means a loner, I enjoy people (in general) in small doses. I don't "bond" over the most common bonding factors, either. Sports...not my thing. Politics...I'm deeply liberal on most issues, but tend to get bored talking about politics. Social consciousness...I care deeply, but I have to be in the right mood to converse about those matters.

I'm not an easy guy to like. Often, I don't even like myself. If I have any claim to fame, it is the depth, breadth, and complexity of my flaws. I have so very, very many of them.

Before you say I'm overstating it, listen to this: my flaws do not include self-aggrandizement. I don't oversell myself. I say it as it is. Usually.

The purpose of this post? There isn't one. That's another thing about me that many people find perturbing. Sometimes, I go on and on without a point.

The End

I may be at the very end. We'll see.

I Turned 58 Today

I "turned." George Carlin's routine about "hitting" a certain age, then "reaching" another and "turning" yet another is on my mind.

Same Day Traveler

The association I'm with this week is having a special event tonight at an upscale bowling center. Open bar, food, bowling, billiards, big screen televisions. Big shindig. I'm staying in and letting the crowd have fun on their own. I slept one hour last night. I'll make it an early night and maybe I'll get a good night's sleep tonight.

I am anxious to get back home and continue the process of closing things down. I want to hit the road. I want SO MUCH to hit the road. I want to be able to say "Hmm, today is Wednesday, a good day to head toward Nova Scotia." And then do it. Same day.

As I sit here typing this, I'm listening to Girlyman on my iPhone, connected to the iPod player in my hotel room. Good music. I like it.

Fruit of Nature

Odd as it may seem, I had an interesting thought today as I was driving to work.

I was listening to an NPR piece about how the PawPaw fruit is becoming a real "thing" in foodie circles, even to the extent that it is being celebrated at festivals named in its honor. Yet the PawPaw is not a particularly viable product, from a commercial viewpoint. To an extent, maybe, but not in a significant way. So, it seems, these festivals are not about the money, as festivals usually are.

That got me thinking. If the festivals are not about milking the PawPaw for every possible penny, what are they about? And then it occurred to me: maybe we as a population are not as crass as I am wont to believe. Maybe, sometimes, we celebrate the gifts Nature gives to us simply because we're glad to have them. Maybe we're not as crass as I thought.

And then I began to wonder about other festivals that celebrate fruit and nuts and eggs and chicken and god-know-what-else that are, to our way of thinking, the bounties of Nature. And the more I wondered, the more I wanted to know.

So, here's the idea: explore these festivals and try to get to the bottom of them. Why are they celebrated? Why did they start? Are they truly celebrations of Nature? Are they, or were they, noncommercial in their origins?

I want to know. Maybe someone else has already written about it. I hope not. I want to learn first-hand, not through the fruits (no pun intended) of someone else's work.

Concerned about the World

I've not been blogging lately. I've been thinking, instead. Thinking deeply. I'm concerned about the world. I'll explain later. Maybe much later.

Beer

I spent a while with a friend tonight, celebrating his wife's new job over a few beers. Whether you like it or not, beer is an excellent celebratory juice.

The Measure of Love

If we could measure love, what would that measure tell us?

Late News