The Older I Get

"Plus, I hated the thought of dying in bed, physically sealed in my own secretions, surrounded with beeping machines and morphine bags and catheters and well-intended personnel who joked constantly but whose eyes would never meet mine."

From The Hadacol Boogie by James Lee Burke

That is the fucking nightmare I hope to avoid. I have a few family members and extended family members who have gone through this - people who did not deserve the indignity - people who were fighters - people who lost the war anyway, after giving it everything they had in their heart, in their soul, in their spirit, to beat back a fatal disease.

I'm cool, got no problems. I'm also 72, and you never know when your body is going to betray you, and rain down intolerable suffering upon your physical being.

The older I get the more motivated I become to buy a gun.

Ya Think?

 Cynicism works better than despair

Careful, Now

Tequila is not harmless.

Nor is it innocent.

Nice Moves

You have to earn the right to be depressed.

If changing your life is a critical need, but you have done nothing to help yourself, you have no right to be depressed.

(Pretty harsh, huh? What if you have done nothing because you are depressed? Nothing's simple, people - nothing is straight forward.)

Ultimately, life makes no sense at all, so if you are looking for logic, you might as well grab a bottle and dance naked in the street.

Hell, Things Are Not So Bad

 Aye, laddie, if a beloved dictator is working hard to destroy your life, if your landlord is working hard to destroy your life, if you are over 70 years old and feeling a financial crunch, if the only jobs you can land are menial with meager pay, your body aches unforgivingly  - one day this hurts, the next day that hurts, then what are you to do?

As Monty Python advised, Always Look on The Bright Side of Life:

"Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad, other things just make you sweat and curse, when you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble - give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best, and always look on the bright side of life................................

For life is quite absurd, and death's the final word, you must always face the curtain with a bow, forget about your sin, give the audience a grin, enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow, so always look on the bright side of death, just before you draw your terminal breath.............................................

Life's a piece of shit, when you look at it, life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true, you'll see it's all a show, keep 'em laughin' as you go, just remember that the last laugh is on you, and always look on the bright side of life....................................

I mean, what have you got to lose? You know, you come from nothing, you're going back to nothing, what have you lost? Nothing.

Always look on the bright side of life"

Now don't you feel better?

I feel positively ecstatic. 

It Is Always Much Later Than You Think It Is

 If it's late in the game and there is a voice in your head that says "I can still pull this off. I can make something of myself. I can put a stamp of authenticity on my life" - there will come a moment, inevitably, when you will be forced to differentiate between fantasy and reality.

Your dying breath is the worst possible moment to do that.

Hello It's Me

Popped out to see Quinn Sullivan with my brother last night.

But before that I was a whiny weakling. Hard to imagine, eh?

I slept like shit the night before and was mucho tired. Planned to leave the house at 6:30. Before that, I took a nap, but didn't feel any better. Self-pity kicked into high gear. All I wanted to do was stay home, and lounge luxuriously in the recliner with both of my cats. Like I do every night.

Now dig - Quinn Sullivan is a blues dude who I love, playing at a music venue that I love, and I was attending the concert with my brother, who I love. How fucked up is my brain to not want to do that?

I got my ass up, I got my ass moving.

We got there, grabbed premium whiskeys, and settled into our seats. Quinn walks out with his sparse lineup - bass guitar, keyboards, drums, and, of course Quinn on guitar. As soon as the first note made its presence known, I was me. Just like that. Like a ghost reuniting with its host body. In fact, when the lights went down, I became me. I have experienced that so many times in my life that it triggers automatic excitement and anticipation in my tiny brain.

Endorphins stormed the gates of apathy and my brain screamed "This is who you are." It's what I live for. I was alive, I was excited, I was happy. I was supremely content. Who wouldn't want that?

Great concert, great night. Wish I could do it every night. However, I am not wealthy, I am not free. But I can certainly do it more often than I have been.

I'm hell bent on enjoying this summer. I pissed last summer away and was then punished by a brutal winter. Last night was an excellent beginning.

But April and a good chunk of May were cautionary tales - unseasonably cold, not enough sunshine. I DO NOT NEED THAT.

So......................I am obsessed. I am going to live this summer. Gonna grab every opportunity for fun and not look back.

Come along for the ride.