Perspective (Arc of Life)

When I got out of the GPS prostate session yesterday I was feeling emotional.

I had an errand to do which took me right by Concord High School, which is located very close to the hospital.

School was getting out. Youth was in evidence all around me - on the sidewalk, in the cars. Energy, laughter.

It was like a sledgehammer to the face. The scene went right to my heart and my soul.

Next year will be my 50th high school reunion. Fiftieth.

I was not thinking about prostate cancer in 1972.

The contrast of me preparing for radiation therapy at the age of 67, versus the hope and naivete embodied in these young humans, just floored me. Mixed my emotions up in a nuclear powered blender.

These kids have no idea what life has in store for them. They think they do, but they don't. But they do have their whole lives ahead of them to do with as they wish.

That is a powerful reality.

I was there once. 

In my head it does not feel like that big a distance between me and them. My mind does not accept my age. Mentally, I feel youthful. The truth is that light years separate my reality from theirs.

And I have cancer.

I am struggling with this whole deal. I go back and forth. But, for the most part, I come down on the side of being positive, fighting as hard as I can, and making the most of the time I have left - whether it is 2 years or 20 years.

There was a time when I was where those kids are now. Now I am here.

It was like seeing the entire arc of a life in one brief moment.

Total Annihilation

My prostate GPS session went well.

In fact it was a piece of cake. Got me thinking about the line from Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of by U2 - "You are such a fool to worry like you do." Worry will haunt me as I move through this entire process. It is unavoidable. I am good at it.

BUT not as paranoid as I used to be. All the brain work I am doing has brought about change - I am learning to shift my focus when worry begins to eat my flesh. In fact I intend to be a Superstar patient.

This experience will be intimate by its very nature. Same people, every session - we will get to know each other. I am going to let my hair down. And, I know they ring a bell and make a big deal out of the final session. I have seen stuff like that on TV and I always say to Carol that when you are in a situation like that you gotta make the most of it. Dance your way down the line.

I am going to dance.

I met the machine that will be zapping me for 44 consecutive weekdays starting on April 6. I had to lie in it yesterday so they could map everything out. Once they have you situated, they actually tattoo you in 3 different places. This is so they can duplicate the exact position necessary for accurate zapping.

The people I met were good people, the people I will be dealing with on a day to day basis. There is always an excellent chance in situations like this that you will have to deal with people afflicted with toxic positivity.

I get it. Dealing with cancer patients is tough; you want to keep them positive. But over the top positivity turns my stomach.

The people I met yesterday were earnest. I caught a sense that they understand how serious this shit is, how intimidating it is for the victim, and that they will bend over backwards to make thing easier.

One woman, who I have dealt with two times previously, really blew me away. After the GPS session she sat me down with the typical voluminous folder of information and educated me about how this is going to go, and who exactly to contact with any questions I have and in the rare case of emergency situations.

As she spoke to me she looked me right in the eye. The whole time. I saw empathy on her face, I sensed it in her manner. No phoniness. She cares. If not for Carol I would have proposed.

So this cancer thing has been elevated to the next level. From hormone therapy (which will continue for 2 years), to GPS mapping of the prostate, and meeting the machine and the people who my life will revolve around until June 7.

Next week - a giant and momentous elevation. Radiation (there is a possibility I will tell you about it). Burn, baby - burn.

Message to the fucking prostate cancer in my body: You do not stand a chance. Me and my new buddies are going to obliterate you.

Accuracy Counts, Doc

Got a 2:00 pm appointment with the radiologist, so I am keeping my mind occupied this morning.

Today is the day they GPS my prostate. They fire up a CT scan and map out the exact location and exact size of my prostate. This is so when they zap me they don't miss and accidentally destroy my liver.

I don't need any help with that. I can do it all by myself.

Most likely this is not a big deal today but, still, I am nervous. It is fear of the unknown, something I will have to get used to.

I will be nervous at the first session of radiation, having no clue what to expect. I will be nervous after that session, having no clue what side effects to expect.

Eventually it will become routine - 45 goddamn sessions of routine.

Today also involves fear of humilation. Will I have to wear a johnnie? I fucking hate those things. I firmly believe they were designed to humiliate patients. 

There was a time when I would enjoy showing off my ass to the lovely nurses and attendants. Now it is a form of torture - cruel and inhuman punishment. Still, I enjoy that too.

I might be able to avoid that - when I had the bone scan done all I had to do was take off my belt and lay my wallet on a table. I had $1400 in my wallet that went missing while I was in the machine, but it was worth it - the bone scan dude let me drink before the procedure. Bless his soul.

I'd do a shot today before I leave the house except for the fact I have to drink 16 ounces of water. An ounce and a half of whiskey might push my bladder beyond its limits.

However, after the appointment...........................

A CT scan is a high resolution X-ray, a bone scan machine is a nuclear imaging machine - so I really don't know what to expect. 

Dignity vs an exposed ass. We shall see.

I believe today we are going to set a date for radiation to start, and set up a schedule for the 45 visits. Thankfully, according to a conversation I had with a person in the radiologist's office, they schedule every appointment at the same time of day. That keeps things simple.

I don't, however, know this for a fact - communication has been less than efficient up to this point. I have learned to go with the flow.

I will meditate this morning, memorize, read a little James Clear - keep my mind occupied, keep my nerves under control.

Part of the anxiety is this feels like the beginning of the real deal. Bippity bopping back and forth to Concord, slipping in and out of a radiation machine. Once I get used to it, I'll probably be licking an ice cream cone in the radiation machine.

Until then, my mind will attack my nerves. I will attack my mind in a pro-active form of self-defense.

Life is such a bizarre existence. You literally never know what is waiting for you around the corner.

Sunshine or poison?

As my man Tony Soprano used to say (my go to quote when I want to minimize anything) - "What are you gonna do?"

Peace

 "How come we've got these bodies? They are frail supports for what we feel. There are times I get so hemmed in by my arms and legs I look forward to getting past them. As though death will set me free like a traveling cloud........I'll be out there as a piece of the endless body of the world, feeling pleasures so much larger than skin and bones and blood."

From Love Medicine, by Louise Erdrich

Sometimes My Mornings Are Friday Night

The 5:30 am days are killer.

Period. I just don't handle them well. Physically or mentally.

But sometimes things click. Occasionally, by the time I hit the kitchen I am feeling OK (most days I am not). I have a nice visit with Maka for about 45 minutes as I waltz around the kitchen doing "getting ready to go to work" shit.

The songs on the ride in are the ones that I LOVE, traffic is smooth and I ride that wave all the way into Spot #2406. Where I sit for another 15 minutes  - and, when I am lucky, the songs continue to be perfect.

I am feeling so good; feeling like it is Friday night. 

I am a Friday night guy. Always have been, always will be. Used to love going out on Friday night and cutting loose - crushing inhibition and airing out insanity.

I am still that guy - my ass is at home on a barstool. But now I just don't have anywhere to go or anyone to go there with.

One of my favorite Allman Brothers songs is "Nobody Left To Run With Anymore." I consider it my personal anthem. Check out the lyrics - you will understand why.

On those perfect mornings, Friday Night Joe is resurrected from the dead. In spirit, anyway. It's not like I can waltz into work with a joint between my lips and a bottle of Crown in my hand. But I want to.

I re-experience the joyful anticipation of Friday night freedom; I feel that feeling for a few brief moments.

That can never be killed in me. Which is a sign that it will be rekindled.

I need it.

My friend Phil is on the same wavelength - we get together one or two nights a year for sheer fucking insanity. And thanks to Uber and hotel reservations we can pull it off safely.

And we have a goddamn blast.

We are already making plans. A fall trip to Nashville looms supreme. An outdoor concert in Boston in July with the Allman Betts Band featuring Gregg's son Devon and Dickie's son Duane.

Phil is popping up from Florida, temporarily, in early April for family reasons. He is fully vaccinated, I am fully vaccinated - we shall throw caution to the wind. We have already made plans to get together for dinner.

I know at the end of that night we'll be saying "Do you want one more drink?" We won't go crazy because we both have to drive, but that night will be an appetizer. It will portend great things to come.

Friday Night Joe is coming back around. Coming alive.

I have a ferocious need to have fun my way in 2021. Blues and booze, good food and unbridled laughter.

My family. My friends. I will enjoy their company. Treasure it.

I will enjoy my own company.

I like Friday Night Joe.

A Beautiful Thought

 "I think...that when I die, I can breathe back the breath that made me live. I can give back to the world all that I didn't do. All that I might have been and couldn't be. All the choices I didn't make. All the things I lost and spent and wasted. I can give them back to the world. To the lives that haven't been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed."

From The Other Wind, by Ursula K. Le Guin.

The Power of Memorization

I am trying to keep (or make) my brain sharp.

So I have been memorizing stuff. I am a few lines away from being able to recite the Desiderata. I have always loved this prose poem; now I am allowing it to infiltrate my brain. Really infiltrate my brain.

I have been simultaneously memorizing wisdom, lyrics and quotes that are meaningful to me.

Here's what I have noticed.

When I first start memorizing something, it comes down to rote repetition. I repeat the words but without inflection. Monotone. As my brain begins to hold on to the words, I make them my own, adding inflection - speaking them as if I wrote them.

Suddenly they begin to take on more meaning. A whole lot more meaning.

I have memorized Duane Allman's January 1 quote, the one I love so much - the one that has always been meaningful to me. Now it blows my mind and challenges me every time I repeat it. When I get to: "I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can", I get chills.

First of all, I have never thought to myself that I love being alive. I do now. Beyond that, "the best man" thing floors me because it forces me to think about my day, and almost every time, I recognize something stupid I said or did, or some situation where I fell short of what I am capable of.

It is a perfect reality check.

John O'Donahue's line: "You come home to yourself and learn to rest within." Chills. I speak those words reverently. Especially now, because it feels like that is exactly what I am learning to do.

From "Love Rescue Me" by U2: "I've conquered my past, the future is here at last, I stand at the entrance to a new world I can see, the ruins to the right of me, will soon have lost sight of me, love rescue me."

Aspiration, baby. This is where I am headed if I keep doing what I am doing.

And The Desiderata. Heavy duty, baby.

"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence."

"Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass."

"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself."

"And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."

Are you kidding me? I recite these words out loud and achieve instantaneous peace.

Memorization is another thing I chose to do that has turned into pure magic. It's all coming together.

I feel good.

Just A Tad?

Just got back from yet another medical appointment.

This one was pretty low key. A 6 month follow-up to my last physical. I did not know such a thing existed. Apparently they are keeping a closer watch on me at this moment in time.

Everything looks cool. I guess I am firing on all cylinders.

"For someone my age."

Next Monday the heat gets turned up. Meeting with the radiologist to go through "simulation (treatment planning)." A 60 to 90 minute session. During this meeting my "treatment site is mapped out to determine my daily/total radiation dose and how to minimize radiation to adjacent areas."

This is best achieved with a full bladder and an empty rectum. Ain't this a hoot?

Essentially they need to locate the exact position of the prostate, using a CT scan, and a full bladder and empty rectum improves the accuracy.

They are asking me to drink 16 ounces of water in the forty minutes before the simulation and then not urinate until after the simulation. Unless you are a 67 year old man, you cannot understand how difficult that can be. Might as well ask me to jog the 20 miles to the appointment.

We'll see how it goes.

Anyway, it is time for some honesty.

I am getting a little nervous. It was easy saying it will be no big deal when the whole thing was 2 months away, but now it is staring me in the face. Lift off will be in April and May.

The guidelines I am holding in my hand say "a full/larger bladder may help reduce some bowel/bladder side effects from the radiation dose and it will maintain treatment accuracy."

Reduce some bowel/bladder side effects. Heavy duty words. I have been warned about this, but up to now it has been a concept. It is about to become a potential reality.

I have always hoped I would die from a massive heart attack. Boom, I'm gone. Better yet, just drift off in my sleep, but I have never felt that my karma earned me the right to be rewarded in that way.

What I didn't want was death from cancer. Cancer is so undignified; such a bizarre and vicious disease.

I probably won't die from this, but of course the thought is in the back of my mind. It has to be. I would be naive to ignore that possibility.

It's ironic, the slow drip of Covid fear has been much relieved by getting completely vaccinated. Now it is replaced by the slow drip of radiation treatment and the dark thought of a bad outcome.

Next Monday the medical community will be turning up the dial. I am standing on the diving board, toes over the edge, about to take the ultimate leap of faith.

Honestly. I am a tad nervous.

Letting Go

Carol is a difficult person to live with.

She is extremely opinionated and very outspoken. That is potentially a deadly combination.

She falls into a category I call GOP - Grotesquely Opinionated People. She has opinions about everything.

None of this is bad. She is a thinker and she has balls. It's just that living with it 24/7 can be challenging.

I am the opposite kind of character - I have selective opinions. Strong, but selective. There is just a lot of stuff I just don't give a shit about. I am pretty laid back.

I have tried various tactics over the years to deal with her. At one time I would just agree with everything she said. But it didn't feel right. I was agreeing verbally to things I was opposed to.

The next phase was combative. I felt I had to speak up every time I disagreed with her opinions. Which was often - we are very different people. I found I was always tensed up, looking for a fight. It wasn't worth the stress. I gave her attitude, she responded with attitude - it wasn't pretty.

Lately I have been letting things go. I don't agree, I don't argue - I just let it be.

Why not? It is an enormous waste of time for me to make an issue out of something that is so small in the overall scheme of things.

If I think I can agree with her without compromising my soul - I do it. If I feel that she is on the wrong track I try to let it go. Say nothing. Unless it is something I feel strongly about - then I speak up.

As a result I have carved out a larger slice of peace for my soul. And I have noticed that our relationship is better - we talk more, we laugh more, we agree more.

I also appreciate Carol more. I see her with clarity - I appreciate her more for who she is instead of judging her for who she is. It is also worth noting that, with maximum effort, she might even find things about me that she doesn't worship. So..................

Such a small adjustment providing such a positive result. It's these little things that I am focusing on in my life - don't sweat the small stuff is very good advice.

I look to James Clear for advice on how to improve my life. His overriding philosophy is baby steps. Don't overwhelm yourself. No matter what kind of change you are shooting for, try to achieve a 1% improvement every day or every time out. Consistency counts. He covers creativity, decision-making, motivation, habits, life lessons etc.

I think that type of approach works for emotional/personal stuff too. It is a very small decision for me to be consciously more accepting of Carol as a human being, but it has paid great dividends. 

It also ties in to the philosophy of one of the guides I listen to in meditation. His approach is that if you free up your mind, you end up responding to people and situations rather than reacting to them. That is an important distinction.

I am responding to Carol, which I see as a very human, empathetic thing, rather than reacting to her, which tends to be confrontational.

I am changing my life in big ways, I am changing it in small ways. I have cast a big net, indulging myself in a variety of different approaches to freeing up my mind. I have noticed lately that somehow all the things I am doing are beginning to come together; that one thing leads to another and all of it leads to contentment. And peace.

I am intuititively doing all the right things.

One of which is sitting in my recliner at night and laughing together with Carol.

Grief/Love/Death/Optimism/Reality - Strap In, Kids

In Bono's "fan letter" to Nick Cave he says - "there is no end to grief, that's how we know there is no end to love."

This is the kind of thinking my mind is absorbing right now. Haven't quite made the adjustment to actually thinking this way, but when I do I will be a better man.

Nick Cave's son Arthur died at the age of 15. He staggered over the edge of a cliff after taking LSD.

When I am sad or angry or grieving or unhappy, that is where it ends. I wallow in it. My mind is comfortable going to dark corners and encouraging despair. But thinking can turn that around, or at least take the edge off.

Thinking is pretty cool. Who knew?

You feel grief because you feel love. You don't grieve someone you don't care about. It's all about that maddening cycle of life and death, happiness and despair.

I have experienced so much death in my life, so many members of my family have died, many of them prematurely. More than my fair share? Feels like it but I suppose everybody feels that way.

My grandmother's death made a huge impression on me because of how hurt and lost my grandfather was. It was probably my first taste of grief and it has stayed with me.

I worshipped my grandfather. He is the man I am named after. Giuseppe Testa. He came to this country from Italy - alone. He worked, saved up money and eventually brought his family over. Despite the hardship of his life, he had an amazing sense of humor. He made me laugh, he was so easy to love.

He sat in that funeral home and cried and kept repeating his wife's name - Christina. It broke my heart to experience his grief.

Quick Left Turn - In the same letter Bono references the concept of an interventionist god. I have not done my homework, but I am guessing some people believe god is actively involved in your life and will respond to your prayers. Others believe he set everything in motion and then sits back in his luxury box and watches.

I am 90% of the way down the road to atheism, but the interventionist vs non-interventionist discussion would be a fascinating one to have. Again, this is the kind of stuff my brain wants to engage in, rather than debating the positive effects on society of bestiality.

Another Left Turn - Bono mentions the grieving brought on by the unnecessary deaths caused by Covid-19. But he says there is another kind of death going on - the death of our innocence. "The death of the naivety that whispers everything is going to be OK."

I am so on board with that. I am OK with positive thinking but blind optimism turns my stomach.

I have prostate cancer. I feel pretty positive I will make it through; the docs feel that as well. But I could die from it. So I will never tell you I am not worried about it; I will say I have a pretty good shot at survival and I am doing whatever I can to tip the scales in my favor.

Ironically, just last night I said to Carol that everything seems to be going our way lately (except for potentially fatal diseases) and that it feels like something magical and mystical is going on.

Blind optimism? Maybe.

But man cannot live on reality alone.

An Observation

Some days I feel like a god.

Those are my favorite days.

Only Milestones

I dropped 10 pounds.

Started at 195 - today I weigh 185.

I promised not to bore you with pound for pound details. But milestones deserve celebration.

I am 5'7" tall. Me weighing 195 is equivalent to my cat Maka weighing 75 pounds.

Feels good to be moving in the right direction.

2046

The magical, mystical parking spot.

I have found a few locatons in the concrete and steel sanctuary called a parking garage where I can get radio reception. Mostly facing out to the open sky. Most are sketchy, however.

A little thing affects them. Like an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. Wait, sorry - I lapsed into dialogue from "A Christmas Carol".

A little thing affects them. I was idling contentedly in one spot after lunch one day, luxuriating in U2, when a car pulled into the spot next to me - boom - no reception. Are you kidding me? And it wasn't a full size Hummer or anything like it - just your normal, everyday car.

Sometimes it's the weather that causes fluctuations. Sometimes it's just a goddamn mystery - I can sit in the same spot under the same weather conditions two days in a row and get beauty one day and nothing the next.

Except for spot #2046. 

This baby is 100% reliable. Which is bizarre because it is located in the belly of the beast. Apparently this spot has been blessed by Jesus for my own personal use.

On Thursday and Friday mornings I am virtually guaranteed to get the spot. No person in his right mind is up that goddamn early. But Wednesday afternoons, and Thursday and Friday after lunch (I take a ride at lunchtime to leech the poison out of my brain) are a crap shoot.

It makes my return after lunch a thrilling game. As I drive up the ramp on the lower level I look to my left and up to see if the spot is available. If it is, I pop the champagne cork. If not, I commit hari kari.

U2 has a song called "Miss Sarajevo", featuring Luciano Pavarotti. I love this song. The song itself is a bit melancholy. In fact the story behind it is heavy duty. Be that as it may, U2 make the song beautiful and emotional. Pavarotti makes it mind blowing.

Pavarotti comes in around 2 and 1/2 minutes into the song and sings for about a minute and a half.

If he doesn't give you goosebumps you are dead. Absolutely beautiful. Stunning.

In fact I urge you to go to YouTube right now and type in "U2 Miss Sarajevo". Listen to it. Seriously. It will make your day and leave you wanting to come back to it over and over again. To fill your soul with beauty.

The song came on Friday morning. I was almost two minutes into the song as I pulled into the garage. No reception. I gunned the gas a bit, looked to my left and up, and saw that it was champagne time.

Pulled into #2046, and a few seconds later Pavarotti made my morning.

Thank god for parking space #2046.

And thank god for Pavarotti.

In Between

I am reading U2's autobiography.

In it Bono references a preacher friend who once told him "Pain is evidence of life because it reminds you there are things in your life that aren't right. So you should be thankful for it really and celebrate that there is so much to live for."

This is a level of thinking I aspire to. It goes to a deeper level and looks at life and experiences from a different angle. I am moving in that direction but I have only taken 10 steps in a 500 mile journey. At least I am no longer satisfied with skimming the surface of things.

There are many examples from different disciplines that make the point.

One of the meditating approaches I am leaning on right now is a 16 minute job that opens up with the guide speaking. At one point he says that to settle down the mind we need to be able to access the space between our breaths, the space between our thoughts, the space between our words.

Maybe this sounds insane on the surface, but if you give it a little thought it makes perfect sense. 

Speaking for myself, my mind never shuts up - it continuously hounds me with all manner of thought. In the past when I tried to shut it up it would just blow past my roadblocks and keep on jabbering.

Meditation has put the breaks on that to a certain extent. Meditation fits into the spaces between my thoughts. The quiet. The open. The vulnerable.

Deep breathing forces you to focus, which muscles superfluous thoughts out of your head. Not talking is a noble goal indeed - most people vomit words at an alarming rate. And say nothing.

You have to get in between that stuff to give your mind room to breathe.

Musicians say that the notes you don't play are as important as the ones you do. They talk about "leaving space". They admire musicians who have the discipline to leave some space. They equate not playing with playing. It is all part of the same experience.

All of this is what I am trying to get at. The concept of quiet, of focus, of space, of the value of "not". 

These things allow you to think differently, approach things from a fresh perspective, stimulate your mind with original thought instead of falling back on the familiar, on habits, on learned behaviors.

It is worth the effort.

Privileged Elite

I am a member of The Privileged Elite.

Because I work for the city of Concord I did not have to lift a finger to get vaccinated. The city called me and set me up. I did not have to wrestle with a cumbersome website, as the Great Unwashed are forced to do.

First vaccination - 2/15. Second vaccination - yesterday. Which makes me a member of another privileged and elite group: Fully Vaccinated People.

I walked out of that joint feeling lighter than air yesterday. Covid weighs heavily on your mind - omnipresent and depressing. When that weight is removed you have to step back and reassess who you are. You also have to smile.

A guy was walking out in front of me, and as he held the door I asked him "So, how do you feel now?" He responded enthusiastically "Great!!!!!!!". We both laughed, wished each other good health and went our separate ways.

It is the dawning of a new age. We have all been changed. There is no going back to normal. The word normal should be stricken from the language. Our perspectives have been altered by this thing that swept into our lives and wreaked havoc - life will be different, but it will be oh so fucking sweet.

New Hampshire is handling the vaccinations beautifully. Both of my experiences were quick, flawless and efficient. Except for one hiccup. After the first vaccination they scheduled the second one for March 7. A Sunday. I thought that was odd but I decided they must really be hammering this thing.

Wrong.

Carol came along for the ride, we pulled into the parking lot and walked up to a locked door. Nobody home. Other cars were pulling in as well and soon became bewildered as they tried the door too.

It took a few phone calls as we sat in the parking lot, but I finally got a hold of a guy, explained my situation - he explained that none of the vaccination sites are open on Sunday - and he immediately re-scheduled me for the very next day, which went off without a hitch. Super service.

Also, a State Trooper showed up and came around to all the cars to get our information (somebody obviously made the Troopers aware of the fuckup) - which he would then pass on to the vaccination gurus.

Not a big deal, a minor glitch, and since everything else went so smoothly - especially considering the large number of people who were at both of my appointments - I got no complaints.

Besides, Carol and I made the best of it - grabbed a pizza from Pizza Hut and motored on home to get older, slower and fatter.

I feel good. I feel awesome. I will feel perfect when Carol is done - her first shot is on 3/19. I tried to slide her into my second appointment but the dude I talked to said it couldn't be done.

The second half of 2021 should be spectacular. That means we all lost a year and 1/2 from our lives. That is precious time, baby - for anyone, but especially for us older folk. But we will make up for it.

Fun, love, family, friends, and enjoyment - that is my new mantra going forward.

And, now that I am a member of The Privileged Elite I will be greeted with red carpets, fanfare, and autograph hounds everywhere I go.

As Mac Davis wrote - "Oh, Lord it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way."

Hope I don't get a big head.

Fucking New England

Carol and I went food shopping last Saturday.

It was a weird day weather-wise - it snowed, it rained. We left the house around 4:30.

The ride to the store was uneventful. The ride back was anything but.

It is a 1/2 hour trip one way - we live in the boonies. Most of the trip is on a long, easy going road that has long straight stretches, with some gentle curves to keep a driver alert.

I came around a curve to see cars spread across the road; a truck off my side of the road facing me.

Ice.

I started pumping the breaks, pro that I am. But I knew this was going to be a close call. The car in front of me was pumping his breaks too and we weren't accomplishing much.

My car was swerving a bit and skidding freely. I pumped, I pumped until I couldn't pump any more - I was getting too close to the car in front of me.

Cool character that I am, as I was doing this I was saying "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

I had to stamp on the breaks and, luckily, the wheels grabbed and the car finally stopped skidding.

I was about three feet away from the car in front of me - maybe closer.

My brand new car was three feet away from getting crunched.

This would not happen if I lived in Arizona.

Hate

 "I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain."

James Baldwin

The Flame Has Been Lit

We have always been a two cat home.

Started with Lokai and Max. Morphed into Max and Lakota. Morphed into Lakota and Maka.

We put Lakota down in January 2020. Since then Maka has ruled the roost.

It has been cool - Maka is a special cat - loving, a little crazy, cute as hell. Tremendous company. Very comforting.

Frankly I have not been able to think about getting another cat - it really floored me when Lakota died. She was my sweetheart. I think Carol felt the same way. But lately Carol has been checking out the SPCA ads in the paper. Talking to me about what she has found.

I haven't been real receptive and I have not looked at any of the picures. I'm too soft - if I see irresistible cuteness the decision has been made.

We talked about it a little more last week and came to the decision that we will get a second cat in July - when we are both 100% retired and can be here to make sure they adjust peacefully.

Now I have guardrails. Time to adjust to the idea.

So I looked at a picture. Cute little black cat. Adorable face. The flame has been lit. I am ready to bring another cat into this home in July.

The black cat thing brought back memories. Back when we lived in Billerica I decided I wanted a black cat so I bought one at a pet store. The only time we ever got a pet from a pet store - we always adopt. I named him Lucifer.

He was an asshole.

He would hiss, scratch - never sit in my lap or anyone's lap. We just had to leave him alone. That sucked.

Our pets have to be loving. We won't even consider a cat unless the SPCA describes it as a lap cat that gets along with other cats. Dems da rules.

Lucifer was a massive failure. The only failure in our pet history.

The cat in last week's paper was adorable and matched our lovability requirements but we just aren't quite ready yet. But it's coming and I am kind of excited.

We are animal lovers and take great pride in rescuing cats from cages and giving them all the love and care and attention in the world. And they always love us back.

When July rolls around we will both be fully vaccinated, the world should be more recognizable, I am going to arrange a major Fuck Covid celebration for my family, we will be retired, and we will have a new cat to love.

This could very well be the best summer of our lives.

Dead Man Walking

More proof that my mind is regaining flexibility.

As I drive to work on Thursday and Friday mornings I take the time to look around. We live in a naturally beautiful area. I look at the trees, the sky, the clouds, the country houses, the fields, an occasional animal - frequent turkeys. I drink it all in. 

Sometimes I even look at the road.

It's kind of a cool time because it's so early in the day. The lighting has a unique character to it. Makes everything more artistic.

Another reason for appreciating where we live, is the lack of people. One of Einstein's lesser known theories states: "Happiness is inversely proportional to population." But I digress.

Used to be I would hold the steering wheel in a death grip, occasionally shattering one. Swearing, trembling in anger, screaming like a lunatic. Laughing maniacally, smashing the back of my head into the headrest.

You know, just a typical commute to work.

Now I try to find some peace in the ride.

Let me put this in perspective for you. Me enjoying the ride to work is like a Dead Man Walking enjoying his final stroll.

As the condemned makes his way from his cell to the execution chamber, he takes in the paint scheme of the hallways, noticing how the shading offsets the color of his eyes beautifully. He thrills to the echo of his footsteps and admires the architecture of the building; the general ambiance soothes him.

He feels peace in his soul. Minutes later he is adjusting to the ambiance of Hell.

Just a typical Thursday and Friday for me.

I am doing the best that I can.

One Tiny Moment

Caught a clip at the end of a news show last night that validated my existence.

It was about a kid who was born deaf. Months down the road the parents decided on surgery to give their child cochlear implants.

The clip showed the first time he was exposed to music. The first time he ever heard music. He is still a little guy - around 1 year old - can't walk but he was standing next to a bed holding himself up. Apparently they played a music clip from a cartoon show that typically captures his attention.

The parents said "Here we go - we are turning the music on." The little man's eyes went wide - and he started dancing. Bending at the knees, up and down a little bit in absolute delight.

That is the power of music, folks.

I lost it. Clapped my hands, tears rolled down my cheeks.

I have written 237 billion words in here to express my love of music - what it means to me, what it does for me - the absolute religious nature of my relationship with music.

But that moment, that one tiny moment in time, with that little dude - the look in his eyes, his spontaneous dance moves - demonstrated the beauty of music better than I ever could.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

And The Definition of Stupidity Is....................

Corporate America.

I work for the City of Concord. Not really a corporation but very corporate-like. The fucking rules, man - the forms that have to be filled out - what is allowed, what is not allowed, the permissions that have to be obtained. 

I have to submit a request form to go to the bathroom - in triplicate, to be reviewed by the Defecation and Urination Board. I am generally ok as long as I don't exceed the time limit allowed for each activity.

We are not allowed to accept food in our office. For health reasons obviously - somebody could be donating a batch of brownies dosed with strychnine. 

Pot would be better. I'd love to get the entire office high and then strap the mentally weak to their chairs, attach electrodes to them and ask "Why do you think Covid-19 is a joke and trump a god?"

If they sleepily say "I don't know, man - can I have another brownie?" - they will go unpunished. If they attempt to defend their beliefs in any way..............zzzzzzzzzzzap! Such fun.

Another justification for the donated food ban involves bribery. Seriously.

The department I work for is primarily involved with enforcing codes. An electrician, a mechanical/plumbing guy, two zoning guys, two building inspectors, a couple of health inspectors - their primary responsibility is to go out every day, visiting construction sites and restaurants - and make sure that what is going on there meets city regulations.

The thought process is, if we accept food it could look like we are accepting bribes.

So here's my story. On Friday, 2/19, a woman came in to pick up permits. She coordinates the sale of Girl Scout cookies and needs a permit for every location they are sold at - you can imagine how many permits are involved.

Anyway..................she gave me a box of Girl Scout cookies. I figured the box was sealed, how dangerous can it be, it ain't no bribe, and I have little respect for rules anyway. I took it.

Put it on the common table in the middle of the office. The big boss asks "What's up with that?" I told him she gave it to me. He asked "You took it willingly?" Me being the wise-ass I am said "No, she actually put a gun to my head." That did not go over well.

I told him if it was a problem to just throw them in the trash.

Went home for my 4 day weekend and returned on Wednesday, 2/24 to the following insanity. Apparently on Monday the big boss had a conversation with the office manager about "what to do with the Girl Scout cookies." They decided they had to be returned. They actually called this woman and told her to come by and pick up the cookies, which they left on my desk.

When I came in on Wednesday they were still there. They will still be there in 2029. This woman is not going to go out of her way just to pick up the fucking cookies.

Can you fucking believe this? They could have just thrown the fucking things out. 

How does 1 box of Girl Scout cookies (Thin Mints) become an international crisis?

Corporate America, baby.

And the definition of stupidity is...............

21 Grams

"The soul needs love as urgently as the body needs air. In the warmth of love, the soul can be itself. All the possibilities of your human destiny are asleep in your soul. You are here to realize and honor these possibilities."

John O'Donahue

The concept of "the soul"fascinates me. I don't see the soul as a physical or metaphysical thing. I see it as the pure essence of who you are. 

A scientist in 1907 - Duncan MacDougall conducted an experiment that attempted to measure the mass lost by a human when the soul departed the body. He placed the beds of fatally ill patients on an industrial sized scale and weighed them before they died and again right at the moment of death. He concluded the soul weighs 21 grams.

Suprisingly his "experiment" was considered flawed and unscientific because he only weighed six patients and only one of them lost 21 grams. But the 21 gram thing has become an urban myth. 

The point is that there is a fascination with the idea of the existence of a soul, because a soul offers the hope of eternal life.

My "pure essence" point of view is no less mysterious in my mind because I believe most peoples' essence gets buried under a massive pile of bullshit as they go through life. Every defense you put up, every adjustment you make to minimize wounds and lessen pain covers up another part of who you truly are.

At some point you become nothing more than an actor, projecting a personality that suffices to minimize your exposure as a human being. You don't even realize that you have suffocated your soul. This is why I often refer to myself as the Al Pacino of lost souls. I have perfected a persona that I slip into effortlessly, even if I try not to do it.

This is what blows me away. I have been doing it for so long that I can't stop it. As I trudge from the parking garage to work I am still me. But as soon as I set foot in that office and one person says anything at all to me - BOOM - I am "nice guy Joe" (kind of like Nice Guy Eddie in Reservoir Dogs, only completely different).

The persona is the nice guy shit, spiced with a hint of insanity, irreverence and darkness and twisted humor - which is interesting because those are true aspects of my essence - but it is all covered over with a sickeningly sweet coat of armor. Trust me, sickeningly sweet is not my nature.

I do not think my approach to life is unique. I think the majority of people do the same thing. Although I would put my acting chops up against yours any day - I kick ass, and I deserve an Oscar every day as well as the Screen Actors Guild Life Achievement Award.

The sad thing is that the soul is lost. You are lost. So to get back to John O'Donahue's quote, I believe that love is the key to liberating the soul. "In the warmth of love, the soul can be itself."

I think you gotta love yourself. If you love yourself, anything is possible. But I think loving yourself is a more difficult process than it should be because life forces you into situations that suck the life out of you - jobs you hate, a lifestyle that you hate, rules you gotta follow that you don't believe in.

How can you love yourself if you are living someone else's life?

I hold out hope that if you are loved by someone else, that too may serve to liberate you. If another person's love is strong and true enough it might be enough to help you to realize yourself.

"All the possibilites of your human destiny are asleep in your soul. You are here to realize and honor these possibilities."

In other words, all your potential, everything you can and should be, is asleep in your soul.That is why love is so important. When your soul is awakened, your life begins. 

Love is the magic that awakens your soul.

I feel my soul. If I shed tears of happiness or sadness they come directly from my soul. Tears are honest.

I feel my soul awakening. It is shaking off some of the slime it has been mired in for decades, and taking a look around.

I have love from family, love from friends, and the beginnings of self love.

Pretty heady stuff, baby.