Sunday, September 27, 2015

Visceral Times

I recall this spring having read through some esoteric bit of astrological blah di dah about the next five months (these last five) and how I would come head on into collision with the more visceral elements of being human.  I'm paraphrasing of course.  But that was the gist.

Now at the end of that time period I'm looking back on exactly that.  Confirmation bias not withstanding.  Of course.

But I'm also wondering if this is an end point to it?

I've certainly seen a lot of the shittier aspects of humanity this summer.  Manipulation, treachery, weakness, and cruelty.  And as a result my appreciation of humans is yet lower.  But still I have been trying to take these witness experiences as ingredients from which to prepare a lesson.  And I think, in concert with some of the mistakes I've made with both my past relationship and my disastrous early spring attempt at dating I've been able to solidify some things about how I want to conduct myself.  The tricky part is not projecting those lofty expectations on other people.  Their lives are none of my business as long as they are not harming me and those I choose to hold under my sphere of protection.  And of course the really tricky part is living up to those expectations myself.

But that's beside the point.  The point is that I am in a peculiar way right now.  Very satisfied with my life and yet feeling rather distant from other people.  In a way it's a badge of victory, being self-accomplished enough to not require anything significant from others, but on the flip side I worry of contagion.  Can this general attitude toward humans, this attitude of expecting disappointment spread into closer, dearer relationships?  And what is the cost?

I ask this because sitting only a few inches from me across my mattress is a long-legged, green-eyed girl, and like me she is sharp and harsh, and reckless and loving, so it matters a lot to me right now.

The past four years or so have been something of an emotional holocaust for me when it comes to trusting and respecting women, as if the Fates have insisted in teaching me that doing either thing is a certain and terrible mistake.  And yet here I am having refused to listen entirely, and wondering if this is courage or stupidity, and not really caring one way or another because, goddammit, the only way to live, in my opinion is in such a way as to create a story worth telling, worth reading, worth hearing.

And I'll be homeless in a month.  And I have barely given it consideration; I can survive in the wilds.  It's a non-issue.  The issue is simply this:  Can I accept the words "I love you."

And my viscera churn on.

Tuesday, September 01, 2015


August was indeed a fatiguing month.

And my mandatory overtime is now finished, along with the accompanying 6, 10 hour day work weeks.

And yet I'm having difficulty catching up on sleep, still up at 4am on the regular, and all too often staying up past 11.  Four or Five hours a night catches up with you quickly when you move large rocks and swing a 3 lb hammer all day in the sun.

Over the last month, things on the social front have morphed and melded in bizarre near-psychedelic ways and it has been a month of drama for many people, and I haven't done quite as well as I maybe ought to have in staying out of it all.  But it is making for rich stories and memories at the least.

This morning I was so tired from paddling along this rip-tide that I went home within an hour of arriving at work and decided to make a rest day of it.  September it seems is going to be the breaking of a cresting wave and as much as I ought to gather up overtime hours and as much as I ought to push myself in the gym, I'm rather thinking it may be best to focus on managing my energy so I don't drown in the break.

I, again, have no idea what happens when October becomes November and the doors of this home are locked to me.  And I'm not terribly worried about it.  I just want to make sure to have the peace (and rest) of mind to make a better choice than I did last year, when I drifted from the West that I love and need and ended up hurting and being hurt more than I care to recall.

I wish I could rectify all that, to replay it and make it right, but it is beyond me, and so I just hope to have learned from it all as the wheel turns again.

Sunday, August 02, 2015

Nomex Daze

I just got off a 12.5 hr shift doing Fire overtime.  And for some reason I thought, Yeah! This would be a great time to make a cheesecake.  And now I'm waiting in a special sort of fatigued daze.

One of my employees quit early which has opened up a huge amount of overtime for my normal work.  So now I'm working 6 10hr days a week minimum for the next month or so.  Not much time for anything else in life.

But when I can force a bit of time for something other than work, among the choices of working on my cabin, pursuing women, and making and eating food, I am, of course going with the latter.

It's going to be an exhausting month for sure.  But I'll eat well.

Saturday, July 18, 2015


Still nothing really new to speak of.  =/

Work's OK.

Social life is meh, but OK.

Good health, getting stronger....  bored to shit.

Calm before the storm?


Have you ever thought
about your next lover?
the one you haven’t met
She’s with someone else
right now
His filthy hands on her body
His stubble chafing her neck
His flaws in her heart
And you know you’ll meet her
And she knows she’ll meet you
but this is what is happening
It makes her happy
…but she feels the emptiness
or will
or… it helps to think
I’ve spent a lifetime
learning to let go of the past
but how do I let go
of the now?
I thought being present was key
to happiness
to meaning
to depth
to fullness
and it is
and it is
and it is key as well
to heartbreak
of another kind
the kind that says
and I
aren’t ready for each other
But I don’t want anybody
’s filthy hands
on my body
And I don’t want anybody
’s neck to chafe
And I don’t want anybody
to hold my flaws in her heart
I just want my beard to grow
red and fiery
my white skin ripe for woad
should the need arise
This is my land
I’ve taken it for myself
My Danelaw
And I will not be in thrall
to the English
or any demon they abandoned here
and I would see them all dead
so that you might have a home in me
When the last throat is cut and bled
on your battlefield
my shieldmaiden

Sunday, July 05, 2015

Somewhere Over The Speed Bumps

Oh! I have been to the land of Oz
I have been there twice
And I have seen the beaches
and the liars

And I have been to Wizard Island
I have been there twice
an empty margarita glass
salted with dead pines
and crimson cinders

I have conjured many things
I have birthed many dreams
and I have lived a life of majesty
resplendent with wonder
through desert sands
and across the sparkling ice

And I have met the Wicked Witch
she is from Queens
not the West
don't be confused
neither Rodgers nor Hammerstein wrote her song
and I do not think she owns a monkey
but she is one

and so are we all

There is no Wizard on Wizard Island
and sooner or later
we all wake up in the Midwest
Tin men behind our screens
searching for our hearts
in a land
where no one practices magic
where no one believes in magic
and the ends thereof
are the ways of death

but this is not despair
my friend
it is acknowledgement
and an invocation
an obituary to disbelief
if you will
you will

and that is how it starts
riding into the West
where even the Wicked Witch
can practice magic

Mirror, Mirror
in you all
who's the dumbest monkey of them all?
It is you my Lord
It is you my Queen
You're the dumbest bitch you've never seen!

And from the mists
I think you'll glean
I don't know
you tell me, I've never seen

But I'm writing this oh-bitch-you-ary
and oh yes!
it is very...

Saturday, July 04, 2015

A Heavy Solstice

On the Solstice I did something I haven't done for 18 years.  I went to the gym and lifted weights.  Ouch.

And to be fair, 18 years ago that was only because I was required to for a high school weight lifting class.

I was getting to a point with calisthenics and the dumbbells in my room beyond which I wasn't progressing  so, yup, crossed the line.

I still hate the idea, and try to go at absurd times of the day when no one else will be there, but I just really can't deadlift or do heavy squats in my room.

I guess there are certain ages that have a psychological component to them, ages where you say, "damn, that just sounds a lot older than the age before it."  And to me 34 (which I will be in a few days) sounds a hell of a lot older than 33.  I'm not sure why exactly it has that depressing fatigue to the number, but I'm using it as a point for action.  A decade from now my body is going to have a hell of a lot more difficulty adding muscle and recovering from injury so I suppose I had best get ahead of the curve now and add some meat for the ravages of aging to rob and to help prevent injury while I still have a bit of youthful advantage.  This work is damned hard, and I can't afford not to do it for the foreseeable future given there is really nothing else I could really see myself enjoying as much as building and destroying things in mountain forests.

Anyway...  It's been a pretty quiet summer so far.  The social situation here is muted at best.  That's not all bad, it just leaves a bit of a vacuum.  So I guess I'll just fill it with strained muscle tissue and turned pages.  (Starting another Pynchon novel, hehe)