A Strategy

It is a waste of time to feel sorry for yourself. It invites condescension.

Better to invite tragedy into your life and allow others to feel sorry for you.

Running In Place

From the first moment you understand reality, you feel empty. Wanting. Frustrated. Uninspired. Afraid.

It is not unrealistic to be pessimistic about life. Let's face it - if you are a small human (defined by a small bank account) - you really don't stand a chance. Limited funds limit your life.

Hamsters on a wheel scurrying madly in place, exerting maximum energy, without ever moving forward. Getting more and more fatigued, slowing down, torturing optimism to death, leaving only resignation and disbelief. Looking forward and seeing the same distance ahead of you as you saw decades ago.

This is how society works. Holding out an imaginary carrot, spouting baseless cliches designed to inspire false hope, outright lying about the reality of rewards - happiness, retirement, peace of mind - just to keep those feet padding along.

Once you climb on to that wheel, it is all over. And for most of us, for the great majority of us, the die is cast at birth. The first step you take will be the last time you make progress.

"Is that all there is? If that's all there is, my friends, then let's keep dancing. Let's break out the booze and have a ball. If that's all there is."

(Life wisdom sung perfectly by Peggy Lee; the song - Is That All There Is? - written by Lieber and Stoller.)

A $5 Investment in Peace and Harmony

Yesterday, I paid $5 for 1 nip of WhistlePig. 1 and 1/2 ounces of whiskey for $5. Can you believe it?

It was devine.

Running around doing errands on a 100 degree day, doing the average things of an average life. I needed that shit that cleans wax out of your ears, I had to pick up a prescription for "crazy man" medication, I had to pick up some potato hamburger rolls (gourmet meal last night).

In the morning, before I went out on errands, I failed at saving my life, so I was pretty wound up already.

Can't take my job no more. Jesus Christ, putting stickers on sheets of paper for kids participating in the summer reading challenge. What is the point of encouraging them to read?  They're all gonna grow up to be criminals and drug addicts anyway. Or billionaires, which is essentially in the same category.

So I'm looking for salvation. Need a job that does not obliterate my soul, and pays enough money to get by, with just a little extra to pad the savings account.

My essence is on life support - I can hear it wheezing, sucking desperately for life-giving oxygen, fighting to stay alive. Against all odds.

WhistlePig is rich man's whiskey. Those with fat bank accounts get to enjoy indulgently, while the rest of us suck down Seagram's 7 or, worse, Canadian Hunter. Canadian Hunter is the type of rotgut that melts your liver as you are drinking it. Smoke actually floats out of your mouth as you grimace the fluid down to your poor stomach.

It was July 3, I was feeling set upon, I was doing menial errands - I deserved a $5 shot. Please don't tell Carol. She hates it when I do that AND I was driving her car. Not that I can't handle one fucking shot - shit, man - shots of whiskey to me are like formula to a baby - life sustaining.

I am continually lectured to be grateful, so I can more calmly navigate my life.

I am grateful for WhistlePig - even at $5 a shot.

Peek A Boo

 I spend the majority of my time, hiding.

Opportunity Knocks

 Came a knock at the door. Caught me off guard because I have a doorbell. Who wouldn't choose to use a doorbell over knocking on the door?

A gruff looking man stood there with a canvas bag dangling from his left hand.

"Can I help you?" I asked. He said "I have the answer to all of your problems." I let him into the house immediately.

"What problems do I have?" I asked. "For one thing, you are old and vulnerable", he said. "You have very little money and no options to get your hands on any. Soon, you will be sick. The expenses will ruin you. You will lose your house."

I said "Sounds about right. What's in the bag?" "Your salvation", he replied. "$250,000. All you gotta do is kill the elderly lady two doors down."

I asked "Why does she deserve to die?" He said "None of your business." I said "Show me the money."

He loosened the drawstring to reveal stacks and stacks of $100 bills. I was impressed. "How will I kill her?", I asked. "With this gun" he said as he drew it out of the back waistband of his pants. I told him I had never killed anyone before. He told me it was easy - just point and shoot.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked. "Sure", I replied. He dropped the bag on my kitchen floor, handed me the gun, turned and walked out my door.

I downed a shot of whiskey, then strolled two doors down. I knocked on the door, even though she has a doorbell. "Mrs. Storkowski, it's Joe, your neighbor." She knows me because I sometimes pick up her medications for her.

She came to the door. "Hi, Joe - how are you?" "I came here to kill you", I replied. She gasped, then began to cry as I pushed her into the living room. When she saw the gun she began to beg for her life, which really pissed me off because it was so weak. So I shot her.

The next day I was driving a new Lincoln, and sporting my new Movado. They both looked good on me.

They made me feel younger and less vulnerable.

From Me to Carol

 "I'm just a man, I ain't no superman, just a man, doin' the best I can

Love you, baby, with all my heart, and give you baby everything, everything that you want, I'm just a man, baby, just a man

I just want to be your hero, your knight in shining armor, oh, and wherever we go, baby, I would defend your honor.................

So many times I've let you down, you really need me, I should have been around, oh baby, shouldn't have had you worrying about me, oh, and I'm only flesh and blood, baby, you see I ain't made of steel, and I can't hold back a flood now, oh but my love, my love for you is real...........................

And if I could see the future, baby, nobody would ever harm you, but I'm just a man, baby, that's all I am, but I'm a good man.......................

But I'm just a man, I ain't no superman, just a man doin' the best I can, the best I can

I'm just a man, baby"

From Just A Man, by Tommy Castro

Please God, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Oh, Mama, can this really be the end, to be stuck inside of Belmont with the Austin blues again.

P.S. -  This very well could be the story they tell about me when I die:

"Grandpa died last week and now he's buried in the rocks, but everybody still talks about how badly they were shocked.

But me, I expected it to happen, I knew he'd lost control, when he built a fire on Main Street, and shot it full of holes"

From Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again, by Bob Dylan